Earl of Scandal (London Lords) (22 page)

Merissa stared at the two fresh-faced young girls, and they stared back. Lady Agnes broke the uncomfortable silence. “Well, my dear, it seems Christian is up to his old tricks. He’s always been a gadabout. Tell me, where did you meet him?”

“Near Redding, in Derlingham. That’s where I live. Chri... Lord Bedlington...” Merissa hesitated, wondering how she was supposed to address Christian under the circumstances. “His rig broke down and he ended up staying the night with my family.”

“And exactly who are your family?” Lady Agnes asked, a hint of haughtiness in her voice.

“My father is rector at Whytcliff Church.”

She saw the disappointment register in Lady Agnes’s eyes. What a pity, her gaze said plainly. She’s nobody.

One of her daughters spoke in a light, piping voice. “What are you doing in London, Merissa? Are you also coming out this season?”

“No, not exactly. I’m staying at Lord Bedlington’s... with my brother. It’s a very long story, I’m afraid.”

Merissa cast a despairing glance in the direction Christian had disappeared, obviously in search of the stunning redhead. The tale of her and Christian
was
a very long story, but she had an awful feeling that she was going to have more than adequate time to tell it before he returned.

~ ~ ~

Christian found Honoria in the drawing room and motioned her away from the cluster of guests gathered to watch a young woman play the pianoforte. As soon as they were out of earshot of the others, she clutched at his jacket. “Christian, you have to help me. Anthony’s found out about us and he’s being horrible! He even threatened to divorce me!”

Christian’s heart sank. With so many weeks passed, he’d hoped that the scandal would die down. “You have to talk to him!” Honoria persisted. “Convince him that it wasn’t my fault.”

Except that it was, a part of Christian thought with bitterness. Damn! He didn’t need this, not now. Not when he was on the verge of convincing Merissa that he was a man worth marrying. “Why didn’t you contact me before this?” he asked. “It’s been some weeks since we... that night.”

“No one knew where you’d gone. It was only when I ran into Diana and found out that you were in Derlingham that I had any notion of how I might reach you.”

Honoria’s mention of Diana made Christian uneasy. “How did Anthony find out? Did another guest at the party tell him we were together?”

“It was that wretched chambermaid! I’ve turned her out without a reference, but the damage was done. Anthony’s livid. He swears he’s going to make me pay. You have to talk to him, make him understand. Please, Christian.” Honoria’s brown eyes fixed on him imploringly.

Christian sighed. What the devil was he going to say to Anthony?
I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize your wife without her clothes on?

“All right, I’ll speak to him,” he said resignedly. “Is he here tonight?”

Honoria nodded. “He’s in the card room.”

Christian left the drawing room with Honoria a few steps behind. He’d do his duty, but first he would return to the ballroom and check on Merissa.

He’d barely reached the entrance to the cavernous room when Honoria came up behind him. “Thank you, Christian,” she whispered in his ear. “You’re such a darling.” She blew him a kiss and then glided off.

Christian went rigid as he glanced across the room and saw Merissa staring directly at him. He started towards her, but just as he did so, the waltz ended and the dancers began leaving the dance floor. It took him some time to maneuver his way over to where his aunt and his cousins sat. By then, Merissa was nowhere in sight. “Where has she gone?” he demanded.

“I must say, I don’t know about Miss Cassell,” his aunt responded. “One moment she was conversing politely, then the next thing I knew, she’d dashed off with scarce a word of farewell.”

Christian let loose with another sigh of exasperation. Phoebe spoke up shyly. “Well, I like her, Christian. I think she’s ever so much fun. If you marry her, may I come visit sometime?”

“Don’t be silly, he’s not going to marry someone like her, “Aunt Agnes said.

Christian fixed his aunt with a fierce expression. “Yes, I am. I damned well am going to marry her.”

Aunt Agnes gasped. “Such language, Christian.”

“Your servant, madam.” Christian executed a cursory bow over his aunt’s hand. “Phoebe, Felicity.” He nodded to his cousins and then started back across the dance floor.

He must find Merissa. Then again, perhaps it would be better if he let her cool off a bit. She couldn’t leave the party without him, and he had this unpleasant business with Anthony to finish.

~ ~ ~

Merissa wandered down the stone pathways of the conservatory. Tears blurred her vision and turned the exotic orchid blossoms into blotches of color against the vivid green. She paused and took a deep breath, fighting for control. At the moment, anger was uppermost among her turbulent emotions. Anger at herself. Coward, she thought. You should have confronted him. Made him explain.

She turned and looked thoughtfully towards the ballroom. It wasn’t Christian’s fault that horrible, brazen women pursued him. He couldn’t help how handsome he was, how charming. He drew women to him as the lush blooms around her would draw bees if not for the glass ceiling above.

Her turmoil deepened. She wanted Christian, wanted him with all her heart. But what if the differences between them were simply too great for them to find happiness together? She closed her eyes, thinking of the times when they were alone. How wonderful he made her feel. How alive and exhilarated. She could not give him up. At least, not without a fight.

Firmly gripping her reticule, Merissa marched back towards the ballroom.

~ ~ ~

Christian found Anthony Averill in the card room, engaged in a game of hazard with Sir Edward Tewesbury and two other gentlemen. He caught Anthony’s eye. Anthony said something to a man standing nearby and then rose from the table.

“Bedlington.” Anthony’s face twisted into a sneer as he approached. “You’ve a lot of nerve.”

Christian reminded himself that a gentleman always faced the consequences of his actions, no matter how unpleasant those consequences might be. “Honoria asked me to speak to you. She fears that you misunderstood the incident that occurred at your party a few weeks ago.”

“Oh, yes, the ‘incident.’ You mean when you took my wife to bed.” Anthony spoke loudly enough that several people in the room turned to look. Christian tried to take Anthony’s arm to draw him into a corner. Anthony shook him off. “I’ll be damned if I care who hears us! I don’t give a fig for your reputation! Or my wife’s either!”

“The thing is, it was all a mistake.” Christian spoke through gritted teeth. “Honoria was wearing a mask. I really didn’t know who she was until it was too late.”

“Oh, indeed, I suppose you mean to tell me that she wore the mask the entire night, the entire time you were—”

“Of course not. I mean, I really don’t know. For Christsake, Anthony, I was utterly foxed!”

Anthony smiled tightly. “And I suppose that excuses it. You didn’t know what you were doing, so I should simply forgive you for your little ‘indiscretion.’ “

Christian held his breath, afraid to argue his cause. He’d never seen Anthony behave like this. There was a wild look in his eyes, a desperate tone in his voice. Christian could not help wondering whether the play at the hazard table was going badly, if that was why Averill was so testy.

Anthony took a step back, eyes glittering. “Bedlington, you bastard, I’m not going to stand for this. Name your second. I’m calling you out!”

Christian was aware that the card room had gone completely silent. It seemed the only sound he heard was the rapid thudding of his heart. He wasn’t afraid of Anthony, not by half, but he was very much afraid of what the consequences of engaging in a duel would be.
Merissa!
his inner voice screamed.
What if you lose her over this damnable mess!

“What do you say, Bedlington,” Lord Tewesbury drawled, “aren’t you going to respond?”

“Give me a day. I’ll have my second contact you regarding the place and time.” Christian coldly spoke the words, then turned and stalked out of the card room.

He was furious, but even more, he was heartsick. He could see all his dreams turning to dust. Merissa would be appalled when she heard. Not merely about the duel, but the reason for it. The gossip would be everywhere, that Anthony Averill had called out Lord Bedlington for having an affair with his wife. The story would confirm all of Melissa’s worst fears about him, that he was a dissolute, immoral rakehell and completely beyond redemption.

He paused in the hallway outside the ballroom. How was he to face her? What would he say? The perfect night he’d planned had become a cruel farce. He could not possibly propose to her now, ask for the promise of her tender trust and then watch it shatter as soon as she heard the ugly rumors.

He closed his eyes, fighting for control. After a few deep breaths, he felt the familiar mask fall into place again. Christian Faraday didn’t let trifles like a duel or a failed love affair bother him. Fact was, he didn’t care enough to have his heart broken.

By the time he found Merissa, he was his old self once more. He spoke not a word of apology for his extended absence, but took her hand and led her towards the dance floor. “Come, sweetling,” he coaxed, “let’s waltz some more.”

Merissa couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something decidedly wrong with Christian. The man she had danced with earlier was not the same person as the gentleman now holding her in his arms. The two personas might share the same manly, handsome body, but they had little else in common. The Christian who brought her to the party was tender, attentive, sincere. This one was careless and cynical.

He still held her tightly in his arms and whispered loving words in her ear, but something subtle and terribly important had changed. She no longer believed his words, no longer felt that connection, that breathless, helpless passion between them. This man was holding something back, pretending.

It was baffling. Disconcerting. She had to stop herself from staring at him, from trying to figure out where the man she loved had gone. Something had obviously happened to Christian during the half hour or so they were parted. What was it? Had the beautiful redhead drawn him aside and reminded him how much he cared for her? Had one of his friends pointed out his absurd folly in spending time with a penniless country miss?

But if either of those things had happened, why hadn’t he immediately taken her home? Why did he bother dancing with her, twirling her endlessly around the room? The only time he paused was to drink champagne. He’d had four glasses already by her count.

That was another thing. She’d never before seen him drink spirits like this. He’d consumed wine with dinner when they ate together the previous evening, and presumably drank brandy now and then since she’d observed a decanter in the drawing room, but the way he gulped down the champagne tonight alarmed her. He appeared determined to become very inebriated.

The latest waltz ended, and Merissa caught her breath. “Perhaps we should sit down,” she suggested.

“But we’ve barely begun,” Christian answered as he led her from the dance floor. “How about some sherry, love? Wouldn’t you like a glass or two?”

“No, no thank you.” She was growing alarmed by his behavior. Although she hadn’t noticed it as they danced, he now seemed unsteady on his feet, and his blue eyes appeared glazed.

“Christian.” She took one of his hands in hers. “Perhaps we should go home. It’s getting rather late.”

“But I promised I would show you a wonderful time, a night you would never forget.” He leaned over and nuzzled her neck.

“Oh, but you have, you have, you have.” Merissa pulled away, both tantalized and disturbed. Dear heavens, somehow she was going to have to get him home! She very much feared what he would do if he drank any more. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’m getting a migraine,” She put her hand on her forehead and furrowed her brow as if in pain.

“Oh, in that case, by all means, let us go home. There’ll be other parties, won’t there?” There was a bitter tone in his voice that unsettled her even more.

“I... I hope so, Christian.”

Somehow they managed to find the butler and retrieve her pelisse. A footman called for the coach and helped them both into it Merissa collapsed in relief against the squabs.

As the coach pulled away from curb, she stared at the man across from her. He appeared lost in thought, his expression distant. Merissa’s heart twisted inside her. The proposal, the impassioned declaration of love that she’d anticipated would not be forthcoming. They would return to the town house and go to their respective bedchambers. Her night in fairy-tale land was over.

Her reputation was undoubtedly ruined. Dozens of people had seen Christian kiss her and treat her with scandalous familiarity. In the eyes of the London crowd, she was a fallen woman.

But she didn’t care about that. She’d never worried what people thought, and she was not about to start with the vapid, shallow assemblage she’d met tonight.

The only thing she cared about was her own broken heart and the thought that she’d never again be able to trust her instincts. She’d been so sure Christian was in love with her, that no painted strumpet like that coy redhead could make him forget what they shared.

But she was wrong, obviously.

Or was she? Christian did not behave like a man who’d come to his senses and decided to discard an inappropriate lover. He was behaving like a man... well, a man who’d lost all will to go on.

Merissa stared at him, as if somehow that could help her see into his soul. Finally, he seemed to sense her intent regard. He smiled, an expression so weary and hopeless it made her blood run cold. “I’m sorry, Merissa. I know I’m wretched company.”

“But what’s wrong? You... you don’t seem like yourself.”

“Oh, but am. I’m exactly myself. Exactly what I’ve been all my life... all my miserable, pathetic life.”

His self-pitying tone startled her. “It can’t be that bad, Christian. Tell me what’s wrong. Perhaps I can help.”