The Autumn Ball
Chapter twenty-eight
Christopher was almost deliriously happy. For the first time in his life, everything seemed to come together the way it should. Of course, he had known moments of happiness before; however, what he felt right here in this moment after Juliet had consented to become his wife was…indescribable.
Like Troy, he had been a fool not to act sooner, allowing his doubts to dissuade him from a course he ought to have taken years ago. Indeed, nothing good ever came from hiding the truth. Deep down, he had known so; yet doubts were a powerful obstacle, not easily mastered.
But no more.
Now, more than ever before, Christopher was determined to get everything out into the open, to speak honestly and tell the truth.
Surely, consequences would follow, not all of which would be pleasant to bear; yet the alternative was not acceptable.
He needed to speak to Juliet again, share his thoughts, his wishes and hopes.
However, first they somehow needed to get through this ball.
Christopher’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched Juliet set foot into the ballroom, surrounded by a swarm of sisters.
Again, Christopher could not help but notice how eager they seemed, whispering to her as well as each other, occasionally pointing or nodding toward a gentleman and then whispering some more.
Clearly, they had a design to see Juliet catch the eye of a gentleman who might one day become her husband.
Gritting his teeth, Christopher squared his shoulders. He had designs of his own, and he would see them realized no matter what it might take.
The ballroom was a flurry of movements, people dancing and conversing, hurrying across from one end to the other, greeting acquaintances and sharing secrets behind fans.
Candles in chandeliers and sconces cast a warm glow over the large room as the orchestra played, a lively melody drifting to Christopher’s ears.
Juliet still wore the brilliantly green gown he had seen on her only moments earlier; however, she had removed the emeralds from around her neck and replaced them with a thin gold necklace, elegant and simple.
Her hair, too, seemed less forced into a certain style, but rather swept up, still falling in waves as tendrils danced down to her shoulders. She looked beautiful.
She looked like herself, the way Christopher had always seen her. That shy look in her eyes as she lifted them off the floor, then looked across the ballroom and saw him. A small smile came to her face, and he watched it brighten, bit by bit, the effect sending sparks of delight through his being.
“You are still here,” a familiar voice exclaimed beside him, and Christopher turned around to find Juliet’s brother-in-law, Lord Barrington—Phineas—standing there.
Christopher nodded. “I am. There are…unresolved matters as of yet.” He was uncertain how to respond; after all, he hardly knew the man.
Lord Barrington, however, was not the least bit put out. Instead, a wide grin came to his face, and he chuckled. “I quite know what you mean. The Whickertons are a habit that is difficult to break, is that not so?” Something teasing flashed in his eyes.
Christopher frowned, wondering what the man was referring to. “I’ve known them all my life,” he replied honestly, “but only recently I realized that they mean more to me than I even thought possible.”
Lord Barrington nodded, then chuckled again. “It seems you are in high demand,” he remarked, then turned, his gaze moving over the crowd toward the other side of the ballroom.
Frowning, Christopher followed his gaze and was surprised to see little Samantha on her father’s arm hastening toward him, skipping in her steps as she went.
For a moment, Christopher was surprised to find her gaze fall on him, a bright smile upon her young face as she tugged her father onward.
Then, however, he remembered that he had promised her a dance.
“Good evening.” Mr. Sharpe, Christina’s new husband and Samantha’s father, greeted them before his gaze moved from Lord Barrington to Christopher. “I hear you promised my daughter a dance.” Amusement lay in his gaze, but he smiled warmly as he looked down at his child.
Christopher felt a sudden pinch in his heart as he looked down at the adorable young girl. She was perhaps a little older than Sebastian, and a wave of longing washed over him. As much as he loved being here, with Juliet, with the Whickertons, he needed to return to his son soon.
Bowing low, Christopher smiled at her and held out his hand. “Will you grant me the honor of this dance, Miss Sharpe?”
Little Samantha giggled, then took his hand. “It would be my pleasure,” she said, carefully pronouncing each word.
Christopher was well aware of the confused and surprised whispers as he escorted Samantha onto the dance floor.
Yet he did not care. He loved how the Whickertons had welcomed Samantha into their family and into their lives, including her on this special night and granting the girl her heart’s wish.
Would they do so for Sebastian as well? If Christopher got his wish and one day found himself married to Juliet, would Sebastian be equally welcomed here?
Christopher did not doubt it. After all, the Whickertons were not like his own parents.
They had never put reputation and standing above their children’s happiness.
It had taken Christopher a long time to realize that his parents simply were the people they were.
Their decisions had nothing to do with him or what he had done or not done.
All he could do was choose according to his own conscience, his own heart.
“You are a most remarkable dancer, Miss Sharpe,” Christopher complimented the young girl, surprised to see her follow the steps with such ease, her eyes shining with utter delight.
“Thank you, my lord,” she giggled, then waved to her mother and father, their eyes aglow with parental pride as they watched their young daughter. The rest of the Whickertons bore similar expressions.
Christopher wished he could tell Sam about his son; but the time had not come yet.
Soon though.
When the dance ended, Christopher escorted his future niece—hopefully!—back to her parents, who welcomed her with open arms and showered her with words of praise. “Grandfather, did you see how I danced?” the girl exclaimed as her father set her back on her feet.
Lord Whickerton nodded, a deep smile upon his face. “I certainly did.” He held out his hand to her. “Would you grant me the honor of the next one?”
“Certainly, my lord,” Samantha exclaimed with great poise, dropping into a perfect curtesy. “It would be my pleasure.”
Everyone smiled, oohing and aahing as Lord Whickerton led his granddaughter onto the dance floor. Christopher looked up and met Juliet’s gaze, a longing smile upon her face as she watched the little girl go. Then she sighed and her gaze moved to meet his.
“What about him?” Harriet asked all of a sudden, tugging upon Juliet’s arm and nodding across the room. “His name is…Lord Parkhurst, I believe. Does he appeal to you?”
Christopher tensed as he watched Juliet heave a deep sigh. “I’m afraid not,” she replied in a rather fatigued tone, then cast a tentative look in his direction.
Harriet huffed out an exasperated breath and exchanged a meaningful look with Christina. “I must say you don’t seem the least bit interested in catching the eye of anyone.”
Juliet shrugged. “Well, I suppose I’m not.”
Leaning on her cane, Grandma Edie watched the exchange with equal interest before Christopher realized that the dowager was not watching her two granddaughters at all, but him and Juliet as they continued to glance at one another.
“How are you this fine evening?” Christopher addressed her with a smile, wondering if the dowager suspected more than she had been told.
The knowing smile that came to her face suggested that she did. “I see my efforts have already born fruit,” she chuckled, sidling closer so as not to be overheard.
Christopher frowned. “Your efforts?”
“Am I correct in assuming that matters have progressed between you and my granddaughter?” Her brows rose meaningfully. “If so, her sisters can save their breath.”
Still frowning, Christopher looked up, for the first time noting the way Juliet’s sisters seemed to act as one. It almost appeared as though they were taking turns pointing out eligible bachelors or asking her what kind of gentleman would suit her.
“What are you talking about?” Christopher asked, eyeing the dowager curiously. “I thought you wanted to see Juliet matched with Mr. MacKinnear.” His gaze briefly darted to the tall Scot, who stood across the room, looking mildly bored.
Grandma Edie laughed wickedly. “What gave you that idea?”
Christopher huffed out an annoyed breath. “You told me so!” He cleared his throat as two of the sisters turned to look at him following his outburst.
“Did I?” the dowager surmised with a furrowed brow. “I cannot quite recall…” Her voice trailed off as though she truly did not remember; the shrewd look in her eyes, however, spoke loud and clear.
Christopher shook his head. “Why would you tell me Mr. MacKinnear was intended for her when—?”
“Because the fear of losing someone we love is a powerful motivator,” the dowager replied, her pale eyes looking up into his. “Would you not agree?”
Christopher swallowed. “You knew that I…and so you…?”
Grandma Edie nodded, then reached out and patted his arm. “You looked like you could use some help deciding, dear boy.”
“And so, you let me believe that she—?” Closing his eyes, Christopher inhaled a deep breath. “And Juliet? What is the point of having her sisters parade one gentleman after another in front of her?”
The dowagers shrugged. “Sometimes realizing what we don’t want helps us understand what it is we do want.”
Stunned by the dowager’s words, Christopher turned to look at Juliet. It was as though she could feel his gaze upon her and turned to look. Her green eyes sparkled as they looked into his, and Christopher felt his heart skip a beat as his breath shuddered past his lips. She was breathtaking!
Quite literally!
“Go and ask the girl for a dance,” Grandma Edie instructed with a nod of her head. “I’ve been chasing away suitors for the past six years, and frankly, I’m tired of it.”
Chuckling, Christopher looked at the dowager, only now realizing what she had done for him.
If it weren’t for her, he probably would have found Juliet married upon his return to England.
“Th-Thank you,” he stammered, unable to find the words to express how utterly grateful he was for her interference.
Smiling, she patted his arm. “I knew you’d eventually come to your senses, dear boy.” A bit of a glower came to her pale eyes. “Took you long enough, though.”
Christopher wanted to hug her. Instead, he bowed low before turning around, eyes fixed upon the woman he loved, and took a step into his future.