The Whisper Of Wings (27 page)

But it wasn't the same sort of love. Not nearly the same. No one had ever made her feel the way Christopher Standeven did. No one.

She shook her head to dispel the thoughts. Mrs. Avery must have mistaken it for more worry about the current circumstances because she gave her hand another pat and said, "Don't worry. They won't be here much longer."

Michaela could only hope.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Christopher was glad to finally return to his Virginia mansion. He felt much more relaxed now that he was armed with Michaela's freedom. Now he must find a way to tell her without alienating her. It wouldn't be easy. He didn't know how she would react to the knowledge that he'd been snooping into her affairs. But there was plenty of time. He wanted her to know about her freedom, to know that she never had to go back to her former life, but he didn't want her to feel betrayed, either. He would bide his time and wait for the right moment.

Michaela knew that Christopher had returned the moment she stepped into her room and saw the beautiful sequined gown draped across the foot of her bed. She'd been in the stables all day, still avoiding Portia and her brood, and hadn't heard him arrive, but she knew he was back. She sensed his presence. And the dress....

She crossed the room and picked it up. It was exquisite. He had chosen well, a deep emerald color that was a perfect complement to her hair and eyes. She went to the mirror and held it in front of her, gasping at the effect. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

A voice from the doorway startled her out of her reverie, and she spun on her heel to smile at Mrs. Avery.

"Ah, I see you've found the dress." Mrs. Avery was beaming as she stepped into the room. "It's beautiful, isn't it? I had Sadie bring it in while you were out."

"I've never had anything so beautiful."

"Mr. Standeven purchased it on his business trip. He thought you might be a bit more comfortable with it, since everyone else will be in formal attire tonight."

Michaela sighed. "I don't know how to receive all these gifts."

Mrs. Avery smiled. "Graciously, my dear. Graciously."

Michaela smiled back at her. "It's difficult. How shall I ever thank him enough?"

"I imagine there's no need to. Mr. Standeven does what he pleases."

Michaela took the dress back to the bed and carefully laid it where she had found it. "He's far too kind," she murmured, still fingering the gown.

The dress would make Portia seethe with jealousy, she was sure. At least, Michaela would attend dinner knowing she was wearing something equally as beautiful as anything Portia owned. The thought made her feel downright smug.

She glanced up and met Mrs. Avery's eyes. "You don't suppose Mr. Standeven's guests will think I'm a...kept woman, do you?"

Mrs. Avery gave a little snort of disdain. "I should think not. Not under Mr. Standeven's roof."

"I just don't want them to...." Michaela trailed off, pinching her lower lip between her teeth in embarrassment.

"Don't you give it another thought," Mrs. Avery soothed, crossing the room to put an arm around Michaela's shoulders. "It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks."

"I suppose you're right."

"Of course, I am." Mrs. Avery gave her a little squeeze and then stepped away. "I'll send Sadie up later to help with your hair. She's very good with such things."

"Thank you, Mrs. Avery."

Mrs. Avery gave her one last smile and then left her alone. Michaela turned back to the dress. She couldn't help but feel excited over the prospect of wearing something so stunning. She'd never owned a dress like it before. Awkward as the circumstances were, she was thrilled about the gift. Tonight, for the first time in her life, she would be a princess.

She sighed and sat down on the bed. If only the Telfords were not present. She would much prefer to have the Standevens all to herself again. A family.

Later that evening, Michaela stepped to the mirror to stare at her reflection. Sadie had done a flawless job on her makeup. It was almost imperceptible. And the dress was even more exquisite than she'd imagined. Sadie had piled her hair into an intricate crown that even Portia would envy, and the effect was stunning. The dress bared her shoulders, and stray tendrils of hair hung in soft ringlets around her pale, slender neck. She was grateful for the maid's expertise. She'd never looked so glamorous in all her life. The reflection in the mirror had the bearing of a queen, and Michaela could scarcely believe she was looking at herself. For the first time, she felt like she could fit into Portia's world.

"You've worked magic, Sadie," Michaela murmured.

"You look beautiful, mademoiselle," Sadie assured her as she too studied Michaela's reflection.

Michaela turned and gave her a quick hug. "I should go downstairs now. I don't want to keep—" She had been about to say that she didn't want to keep Christopher waiting, but she bit it off just in time. He was
Mr. Standeven
she had to keep reminding herself.

Sadie gave a little nod of understanding and followed her to the door. Out in the hall alone, Michaela felt a bit of her old reticence returning. She hadn't seen Christopher for nearly two days, and though she was eager to be in his company again, she was also nervous about seeing him. What would it be like, especially after receiving such a gift from him? And there was Portia and her friends to think of, as well. She still felt awkward in their presence.

At the bottom of the stairs, she paused to collect herself. She pushed her shoulders back and her head high and turned down the hall, taking several slow, deep breaths as she went. Her heart felt like it was about to pound out of her ribcage, more from the idea of seeing Christopher again than facing Portia and her friends. She both looked forward to stepping into the dining hall and shrank from the idea. But the need to be with Christopher was stronger than any misgivings about sharing the same room with Portia, and she took the last steps with more determination than she'd ever thought she could possess.

Since she was a few minutes late, everyone was already gathered in the dining hall, waiting for her. All heads turned as she stepped into the brightly lit room. Michaela had a brief moment of panic. If she'd ever wanted to disappear into herself, she'd certainly chosen the wrong gown to wear. It was far too stunning not to be noticed. Still, despite the avid attention, she managed to maintain her composure.

The moment he saw her, Christopher came to his feet and crossed the room to offer his arm and escort her to the table. Michaela was grateful for his attention. She didn't feel quite so naked with him standing beside her.

"You look ravishing, Michaela. Very beautiful," he whispered, his eyes glittering with something indefinable as he gazed down at her.

She beamed up at him. Lord, she'd missed him. It had been no more than thirty-six hours since they'd last seen one another, but she'd missed him like it had been years. This evening he looked even more handsome than ever, with his starched white collar and shiny black jacket, very dignified and debonair.

She ignored the stares of everyone else. She could afford to now. His words had given her strength and daring. He thought she was beautiful. It was all she could think about.

Michaela was pleasantly surprised when Christopher escorted her to the chair at the head of the table opposite his own seat. Once again, he was honoring her as hostess of his household.

In deference to a lady, the men had all stood when she entered the room. They waited until she was seated before taking their own seats again. Gerald's eyes were full of mischief as he caught her gaze. As if in salute, he raised his wineglass to her, a smile so devilish on his face that it bordered on wicked.

Michaela was surprised to realize that another guest had joined them. Noticing the direction of her gaze, Gerald introduced his friend. Timothy. Michaela liked him on sight. He seemed affable enough, almost shy, much more likeable than Portia's friends. She was glad for Gerald. His friend balanced out the odds a bit.

When the meal commenced a few minutes later, Gerald leaned close and whispered, "Brava, Michaela. You look positively smashing. You make Portia look old and gaudy."

She almost giggled but forced herself not to. His high praise made her feel giddy, almost drunk with happiness.

She raised her wineglass to her lips and drank deeply, then finally found the courage to turn in Portia's direction. The eyes of the haughty beauty flared with hostility. Michaela would have given her a catty smile to tweak her ire a bit more, but she was much too well mannered for that. Besides, nothing could touch her tonight, not after all the attention Christopher gave her. He scarcely took his eyes from her the entire evening. Nor could she take her eyes from him.

"You're looking more the part tonight, I see," Portia crooned, her eyes full of undisguised hatred as she stared at Michaela.

"Is that any way to speak to your hostess?" Christopher's voice cracked across the table.

The anger in his voice shocked Michaela. She'd never heard anything but self-control from him. But now he made no attempt to mask his displeasure at Portia's ill-mannered tone.

"Hostess?" Portia barely managed to stifle a snide laugh.

"Michaela helped prepare the guest rooms for your comfort. You should be a little more grateful."

"Then she's little more than a housekeeper," Portia quipped, her eyes still on Michaela. Christopher's defense of Michaela seemed to spur her even further. "A maid, at best. I've been wondering just exactly what her capacity here was. Now I know."

Christopher slammed his hand down on the table, causing his cutlery to clatter together and his wineglass to tip precariously. "That is enough!"

Portia turned to stare at him in alarm. Michaela lowered her gaze to her plate, her head bowed. She was mortified. She hated to be the cause of all this contention. Noting her agitation, Gerald slipped his hand into hers and gave it a little squeeze of sympathy. Michaela gave him a grateful look, but her gaze never strayed further. She couldn't look at Christopher or anyone else at the table now. She knew it was awkward for all of them, but it was most awkward for her because she was the cause.

"I've been patient up to this point, but I will not continue to tolerate these insults against a guest of mine. If you are not happy with your present circumstances here, then I suggest you take your leave."

Michaela was unable to keep from sneaking a glance at Portia. The dark-haired beauty was shocked into silence, but only for a moment.

Portia forced a smile to her face, and her voice was all sweetness and charm when she finally replied, "Why, Christopher, I'll do no such thing. I was only having a bit of sport. You can't take it seriously."

Christopher stared down the long table at her, his eyes hard and unforgiving.

"Oh, please, don't be so gloomy. You know how I am."

"I'm afraid I do," he replied, his words heavy with innuendo.

Portia glanced away, obviously embarrassed by the commotion she'd caused and somewhat subdued now that she realized she had displeased Christopher.

"I expect an apology, Portia."

Michaela saw something almost evil flash across Portia's face, then disappear altogether as she turned her eyes back to Christopher. "You know I'm sorry."

"To Michaela," he quipped, a muscle tightening in his jaw.

Portia turned reluctant eyes on Michaela. "I apologize for my behavior, Michaela." She seemed to trip over the name as if it were distasteful to even say it. "You mustn't take it to heart. I've always been a bit of a kitten."

"Apology accepted," Michaela murmured, more for Christopher's sake than her own. She hadn't exactly needed an apology. She felt that there was no sincerity in the woman's eyes, but she knew why Christopher had demanded it. It was the principle of the matter.

Christopher was livid. He would like nothing more than to throw Portia and her friends out of his home, but there had already been enough of a scene tonight. He only hoped that she kept her claws sheathed for the rest of the evening. He hated to put Michaela through yet another ordeal, but he simply would not have her maligned.

"Please, let's all just forget about this and continue our meal," Michaela suggested.

Christopher gave her a smile, pleased with what a gracious hostess she was. She was being very wise and diplomatic about the incident.

"Here, here," Gerald called, raising his wineglass and then tossing back the contents, finishing the entire amount in one gulp.

Michaela glanced at Gerald's friend. He was staring at his plate, obviously embarrassed at the outburst he had witnessed. Michaela felt the weight of the awkward situation. It was difficult for her to even stay seated at the table now, what with all of Portia's friends eyeing her in curiosity. But she must, for Christopher's sake. She forced a lightness to her voice that she didn't quite feel, forced herself to pretend that nothing had happened.

Eager to put the event behind them and encouraged by Christopher's obvious approval, she worked past the debilitating shyness that had always been a part of her and addressed Gerald's friend. "Timothy, I couldn't help but overhear what you were saying to Gerald a moment ago. You must tell us all about your venture into Italy. It must have been fascinating."

Christopher couldn't take his eyes off Michaela all evening. Somewhere along the line, the timid, unworthy caterpillar had metamorphosed into a beautiful goddess of charm and intelligence. He was pleased. It was what she'd been meant for, to be the absolute best she could be at anything she turned her hand to.