Page 33 of The Duke Steals a Bride (Stolen by the Duke #5)

Chapter Thirty-Three

“L ady Violet is looking so very poised and beautiful!”

The lady’s voice rang out, gripping her champagne glass, gazing at the lady standing next to her, before glancing at Christine, who was standing just behind them—close enough to hear their conversation. A fact of which the lady was very well aware.

“She is truly stunning,” agreed the other lady, her eyes flickering toward Christine, as well. “Lady Violet truly would have made a much finer duchess than her younger sister.”

Christine flushed, walking stiffly away, feeling the eyes of the ladies following her. It had been like this for the entire evening.

Violet’s abrupt return to high society was very successful—perhaps a tad too successful, for her sister’s mysterious disappearance hadn’t seemed to diminish her social standing and enshroud her in controversy. On the contrary, the ton appeared to believe their father’s Canterbury tale about Violet attending their ailing aunt in Wales without question, which was all rather astonishing.

Her heart twisted. No, the ton was still focusing on the fact that Violet would have made a much better duchess than Christine. Even after all this time.

She took a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing footman, gripping the stem of the glass tightly, trying to keep the tears at bay. She didn’t know why it still affected her so much. She didn’t care about these people. They were cruel and vicious and small-minded. She knew that.

Suddenly, she saw the duke across the room. He was standing in a circle of people, a distracted frown on his face, practically scowling. It was patently obvious he didn’t want to be here. But then, she already knew that .

Abruptly, he turned, gazing at her. Their eyes met and connected. Christine’s heart started thudding painfully. She couldn’t look away. But he didn’t smile. Hastily, he turned away, turning his back to her.

It felt like a sharp slap across the face.

He doesn’t want to know me any longer. And I do not know how to bridge the distance between us. He rebuffs all my attempts.

Her eyes swiveled to her father and Violet. Her father had his hand on Violet’s arm still and hadn’t left her side for the entire night, escorting her from circle to circle, lying through his teeth about her whereabouts. It was true that Violet looked very beautiful—but beneath her social mask, her sister also looked very sad.

She is doing this under sufferance. She does not want to be here at all.

She watched as their father whispered in her sister’s ear for a moment, before walking away. Christine’s heart leapt. This might be her only opportunity to talk to Violet privately this evening. Quickly, she walked over to her sister, drawing her away from the crowd.

“Oh, Christine,” murmured Violet, with a heavy sigh. “I am so very sorry we have not had a chance to talk properly yet.” She frowned, her eyes flickering around the room. “I feel as if I am under siege. As if I am playing a part in a play. A very bad play.”

Christine opened her mouth to respond, but then abruptly closed it. Their father was walking toward them, his mouth drawn in a thin line, glaring at them. Clearly, the earl didn’t want them talking at all .

“We are leaving London tomorrow morning,” whispered Christine, her heart thumping hard. “But I will make sure that I call before we go. We can talk privately then. I promise.”

Violet smiled sadly. “I look forward to it, sister.”

“Good,” said Christine, straightening her shoulders, at the exact moment their father arrived. “Do not lose heart, Violet…”

“What are you both whispering about?” hissed the earl, taking Violet’s arm firmly. He stared at Christine, his eyes boggling. “I told you not to make a spectacle this evening!”

Suddenly, Christine’s patience snapped like a dry twig. The unpleasantness of it all came rushing at her like floodwaters from a breached dam.

The duke’s devastating distance after their intimacy. The viciousness of the ton toward her this evening. And now, her own father, talking to her as if she were an annoying hindrance.

“I am not making a spectacle, Father,” she retorted, in a tart voice. “But I am very afraid that I will if I am forced to participate in this charade any longer.” Her eyes narrowed. “I bid you good night.”

She walked stiffly away, straight to the duke, who was still standing in the same circle. The conversation died as she approached.

“I am tired and returning to the townhouse with the girls,” she said, in the same acerbic voice. “You can stay or come as you please.”

There was a shocked intake of breath around them. Christine’s heart somersaulted. The duke looked affronted by the bold statement. For a moment, she thought he was going to turn and walk away without another word.

There was a long, tense silence, as they glared at each other. Christine didn’t drop her gaze. She couldn’t. She had reached the end of her tether.

Let him be angry with me. At least he will be acknowledging me.

“Very well,” he said eventually, through gritted teeth. “Of course I will accompany you. Let us bid farewell to the earl.”

He put his hand on her right elbow, steering her through the crowd, back toward her father and Violet. The grip was painful. She felt the anger swirling through him like a dark force. She felt a small stab of fear. What had she just unleashed?

* * *

Edwin’s hands balled into fists as he walked into the parlor of his townhouse in Grosvenor Square, heading straight to the drink’s cabinet. He poured himself a stiff whiskey, gulping the strong liquor, waiting for Christine to join him. He had ordered Miss Mayhew to take the girls straight to bed.

Christine walked through the door, and his heart contracted. Head high, cheeks aflame, she was a vision of beauty—and fury.

He had bitten his tongue tonight and managed not to tell her how beautiful she looked in that lacy tea rose gown—which clung to her delectable curves as if she had been poured into it—but it had been hard. And it had also been hard not to tell her how much he wanted to tear it off her, as well.

Keep control, Ironstone. Remember your resolve.

“What was that all about?” he barked, his eyes flashing. “You do not order me around like that, madam!”

She spun around, her blue green eyes shooting sparks in the candlelight, like a cat.

“Madam?” She gave an incredulous laugh. “So, it is madam again now, is it? I am no longer little mouse or my darling or any other such thing?”

He flushed hard, draining his drink, pouring another. There was a tense silence.

“You have turned as cold as a lake in winter,” she declared hotly, gazing at him with contempt. “Is this your true nature then, Your Grace? Do you blow hot and cold as you please, without regard for anyone else’s feelings, and how it might affect them?”

He bit his tongue, watching her warily. He wanted to stride toward her and pull her into his arms, sink his teeth into her neck, show her how hot he actually was for her. He wanted to push her on the floor and take her right here, right now. She was driving him utterly crazy.

He cursed, draining his second whiskey. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t afford to do it. She was a distraction from his sacred vow—his duty toward his children. Look what had happened to Isabella!

“Would you have ever chosen me?” she asked suddenly, in a small, hurt voice. “If Violet hadn’t disappeared, would you have actually chosen me…or am I still an afterthought? The consolation prize?”

He resisted the urge to rush to her, tell her he wanted no one but her, that he would choose her a thousand times over her sister…and then a thousand times again.

“Well?” she whispered, visibly gulping. “Would you?”

He took a deep, ragged breath. “I cannot afford to have feelings toward you, Christine,” he said, in a tight voice. “It is much better that I do not.” He hesitated. “I am sorry.”

Her face crumpled. He cursed beneath his breath, hating himself for hurting her like this, but knowing there was no other way.

“It is much better that we maintain a marriage of convenience,” he continued. “I let myself get carried away with you, and it isn’t what I truly want. You will see the wisdom of it in the fullness of time…”

“The wisdom of it?” She laughed bitterly. “All I see is a man who is making excuses for making love to me and now wants to retreat into his hole again…like the rat that he is.”

“Christine…”

“No!” She rounded on him, leaping away from the hand he placed on her arm, as if she were burnt. “You used me! You always intended to retreat back to your ‘marriage of convenience’ shield to protect yourself from feeling anything.” She paused, her eyes shimmering with tears. “You wanted to have your cake and eat it too… Your Grace .”

He sighed heavily. “You are overwrought. Perhaps you should retire, and we can speak about it in the morning…”

“I will not be here in the morning,” she said slowly, flinching from him again. “I want to spend time with my sister…so I am going to stay at my father’s house for an indefinite period.”

“What?” He took a step toward her, the blood rushing in his ears. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” she said, taking a step back, and gazing at him steadily. “You can return to Ironstone with the girls as planned.”

There was a deathly silence. This wasn’t going the way he wanted it to at all. But then again, how had he expected it to go? How was she supposed to react when he had just told her he never wanted to make love with her again…and he didn’t want to feel anything for her?

Tell her how much she means to you and end this madness, Ironstone.

He cursed beneath his breath. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. He had let his feelings overwhelm him and just look where it had led. If he let it happen again, he might lose one of the girls. And his sacred vow to them would be lying in ashes around him.

“Very well,” he said, in a low voice, gulping. “I will not stop you.”

She nodded, before turning on her heel, and marching, stiff backed, out of the room.

He slumped, turning back to the drink’s cabinet, pouring himself another whiskey. His mind was a hot whirl of nothing. And his heart…well, his heart was a tangled mess.

He was going to get very drunk tonight.

What else was there to do?