Page 26 of The Devil’s Waltz

Henry had already packed his bag, and it didn’t take Christian long to change into uncharacteristically dark and sober clothes.

Perhaps he should have sent Crosby in the dragon’s direction, he thought belatedly.

They’d be well suited. She could lecture him and probably get him away from too much wine, cards and wicked women, and he could give her children and a respectable marriage away from the constraints of having to live in other people’s houses and do their bidding.

Crosby’s income was adequate if he weren’t so addicted to gaming, and Annelise would be the sort to manage a household very carefully.

He’d been a fool not to throw them together and make everything nice and tidy.

Except that it wouldn’t be tidy. Crosby might be the closest thing he had to a friend, but he didn’t completely trust him.

And even if he did, he wasn’t giving him Annelise.

Too bad for her, but if he couldn’t have her, then nobody could.

He didn’t expect anyone would really appreciate her.

And he was selfish enough not to want anyone to have the chance.

Perhaps later. There was no hurry in settling Miss Kempton—no one else was going to come sniffing around her skirts in the meantime.

In another year, once he was solidly married and Hetty had a child on the way, Christian’s irrational interest in her mentor would have vanished, and he could happily match-make without feeling the slightest twinge of jealousy.

His attraction to her was simply a momentary madness, soon to pass.

Chippie House was dark. Torches were burning at the front entrance, but he had no intention of going in that way.

He’d already made a thorough reconnoiter of the place, and he knew which doors were the easiest to open and the least likely to be watched.

It was going to be almost laughingly easy—no dangerous father keeping guard, no dragon to defend their little princess.

He could almost wish for more of a challenge.

He slipped past the unlocked gate, courtesy of his well-bribed assistant, and into the darkened garden. With no lights from the house or the streets it was pitch-black, but he was like a cat—he could see very well in the dark, and he knew exactly where he was going.

To the bower of his future bride. And if he was feeling a little bit less enthusiastic than he should have been, well, he would soon get over it and concentrate on the business at hand.

Annelise was not happy at being dragged out that night, but Josiah Chippie had insisted on her company.

Hetty was home, refusing to leave her room and Chippie was not about to miss an evening at Lady Prentice’s, even for a suspiciously ailing daughter who seemed more afflicted with tears than anything else.

It had been quite the scene, Annelise thought with a tiny shudder, sitting in the back of Lady Prentice’s salon and sipping on a weak punch.

At least she made certain Chippie was nowhere around when she gave Hetty the note from her first love, but indeed, though the affection between the two was clear, she had no idea that Hetty was capable of such extreme feelings.

And it wasn’t histrionics on her part. When she read the note she turned very pale and did her best to hold back the tears that sprung to her eyes.

“Where is he?” she’d demanded. “Is he downstairs?”

Annelise shook her head. “I met him in the park this morning, and he begged me to bring this to you. He’s quite determined in his resolve, Hetty.”

Hetty stood motionless, a tiny doll of a figure in her overstuffed pink bower. And then she burst into tears, and there was nothing Annelise could do but put her arms around her and try to soothe her.

The tale came out in disjointed gulps, and it was nothing more than Annelise had suspected, though perhaps a little further along.

“He said he loved me,” Hetty sobbed. “We were going to face my father together, and if he said no then we were simply going to run away. He wouldn’t be able to stop us if we spent the night away from the house.

He’d have to accept William. I don’t understand how he could change his mind. ”

Annelise had little trouble following Hetty’s pronouns.

There was nothing she could do—she didn’t want to believe that there was any real danger to anyone, but the sight of Will’s bruised and swollen face told its own tale.

If Chippie had truly threatened his own daughter it was simply to scare the unwanted suitor away, but Annelise was appalled that Josiah Chippie could even think of such a thing.

She’d landed in a very bad place this time, despite Lady Prentice’s care, but until Hetty was safely married she couldn’t very well leave.

She’d made a promise to Will, and even if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t abandon such a clearly unhappy girl.

She was made of sterner stuff than that—she’d never run from a challenge.

She’d stroked Hetty’s hair and soothed her tears and tucked her into bed with a tisane to help her sleep, and then she had no choice but to go out to her godmother’s with her seemingly benevolent host, while his daughter wept her heart out.

But while she sat in the corner, listening to a truly dreadful soprano, she cast a mental eye over all the marriageable prospects. Few of them were in the room—most young men did their best to avoid an evening of culture, and if the woman singing Handel was any example she couldn’t blame them.

But Annelise needed to get Hetty engaged quickly, so she could escape.

There was Sir Julian Hargreaves, handsome enough, though perhaps not overburdened with wit.

The earl of Clonminster, though he was a widower and not known for his good temper, was still reasonably attractive for a man of his age.

Lord Baldrick Abbott dabbled in science, something Hetty would find dreadfully boring, and he tended to look down his overlarge nose at women.

Jasper Fenton, while lacking a title, might be the best prospect—he was a younger son from an excellent old family, and if Hetty was accepted by Lady Fenton she’d be accepted everywhere.

Indeed, London was lamentably short of qualified suitors this season, a dire shame, but there may have been someone she’d overlooked.

With the glittering Christian Montcalm out of the picture, and childhood sweethearts abandoned, it shouldn’t take long to find a suitable candidate.

She was a trifle concerned that Hetty wouldn’t bounce back from her latest heartbreak as quickly as she could wish, but then, she’d been ready to marry Christian Montcalm until William had shown up. She could be distracted again.

Except, in truth, Christian Montcalm could tempt a saint with his wicked charm, and a young girl would have little defense against it.

Unlike a wiser, older woman like herself, Annelise mocked herself.

At least he was no longer going to be a problem, and she could breathe a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t have to encounter him again.

Her heart should be bursting with joy, though she felt strangely heavy.

In a day or two Annelise would be back to her old self. In a day or two Hetty would be flirting and dancing, her first love forgotten.

In the meantime, the two of them were just going to have to suffer.

Chippie House was dark and silent, but Christian knew exactly where he was going. His well-paid confederate, an under-footman named Davey, took his coins and tucked them in his pocket.

“They’re all in the servants’ hall,” he said. “Even Jameson. He’s the one you’d have to watch out for, but he and the cook are otherwise occupied, and will be for at least another hour. Miss Hetty’s room is the third door on the left, and it’s far enough away that no one will hear her scream.”

“She’s not going to scream,” Christian said coolly. “And what about you?”

“I’m getting out of here. Josiah Chippie ain’t the kind of man to cross, and he’d find out it was me sooner or later. I don’t fancy ending up in an alley with my throat cut.”

Christian didn’t bother to reason with him. In fact, he suspected Davey was quite right. An alley, or the Thames. Chippie was a dangerous enemy.

There was no sound coming from behind Hetty’s closed door, but light seeped beneath it, and he didn’t bother to knock. She’d have to get used to her husband walking in on her.

He pushed open the door. She was sitting in front of a mirror, a vision in pink, and while she’d clearly been crying she was a girl whose tears were simply an added embellishment, making her beautiful blue eyes glisten, and her rosebud lips tremble slightly.

Ah, she was a rare treat, and he was going to enjoy teaching her about life and pleasure. Damn it.

Her tear-filled eyes opened wide with wonder. “What are you doing here?” she breathed.

He gave his most practiced, seductive smile, and she responded as she ought, melting a bit. Really, she was too easy. He did prefer a bit of a challenge, like...

He held out his hand. “Your father has rejected my honorable offer of marriage,” he said. “So I thought we should reject his rejection and take care of it ourselves.”

He’d managed to startle her. She glanced down at a piece of paper in her hand for a long moment, and then crumpled it angrily. She looked up at Christian with a brilliant smile. “I’m ready,” she said.

And they were off.