Scandalous Secret, Defiant Bride. Helen Dickson

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      Inexplicably, Max threw back his head and shouted with laughter, the sound disturbing the quietness of the garden and causing startled birds to take flight. At one and the same time this delightful girl managed to be an intriguing, alluring young woman and an enchanting young girl. In the course of three days she had treated him with outright anger and rebellion, cold disdain, and now with a sprightly impertinence and lightheartedness that he found utterly exhilarating. Still chuckling, he shook his head slowly, his eyes sparkling with humour, his teeth gleaming white between his parted lips.

      ‘I am immensely flattered that you should liken me to Rowe’s libertine, but let me assure you, my dear Christina, that I am nothing like that reprobate. However, it is clear to me that I have made an impression on you and it warms my heart to know it.’

      ‘You have no heart,’ Christina quipped good naturedly, smiling radiantly, finding it impossible to be cross with him when he hadn’t done anything wrong or said anything to offend. ‘If you had, you would never have lured a helpless female out into the garden for tea and cakes.’

      ‘I did not lure you and you are anything but helpless,’ he told her, grinning broadly. ‘However, I won’t embarrass you or offend your tender ears by explaining to you what Lothario was really like, so here,’ he said, pushing the plate of cakes towards her, ‘have another cake.’

      ‘I should be leaving,’ she said, standing up. ‘I swear the sun is getting hotter.’

      ‘In Italy the people are content to take their ease when the sun is at its height. Won’t you stay a while longer until it cools down?’

      ‘I mustn’t. I’ve been here for ages and if I don’t show my face soon Molly—my extremely strict maid who has promised to keep a watch over me while Mama is away—will send out a search party.’

      ‘Then we mustn’t upset Molly. Come, I’ll walk back with you.’

      ‘No, you can’t possibly. It isn’t far.’

      ‘I insist.’

      And so Max accompanied her back to Tanglewood, and not until he’d left her did she remember the reason for her visit to his house.

      To Christina’s delight, James arrived at Tanglewood later in the day. Smiling in anticipation and hope, from the long window in the drawing room she watched him get off his horse. Handing it to a groom, he bounded up the steps to the house.

      ‘Don’t look like that, Christina,’ Peter remarked crossly, putting down his newspaper and standing up.

      ‘Like what?’ she retorted, pretending innocence.

      ‘Like the cat that got the cream. Since his house is full of guests for the weekend, James has come to stay the night. We’ve planned to do a spot of fishing in the morning. We’re taking the boat out on the lake at first light.’

      Christina’s eyes lit up. There was nothing she loved more than fishing in the early morning when the fish were at their keenest. ‘That sounds like fun to me. I’ll be there.’

      ‘No, you won’t. This time it’s to be just James and me. If Mama were here, she wouldn’t allow it.’

      ‘Well, Mama isn’t here.’

      ‘The answer is still no.’

      ‘But I always go with you.’

      ‘Not this time, so don’t come trailing after us. It’s becoming embarrassing, the lengths you go to to attract James’s attention, as if you consider him your personal property. He’s not interested, can’t you see that? Really, Christina, why can’t you be like other young ladies, who sew and read romantic novels that are all the rage?’

      ‘I hate romantic novels,’ she remarked, her lower lip drooping petulantly. ‘There are far more interesting things to do than read about heroines swooning over devastatingly handsome gentlemen all the time.’

      ‘Ha! And I don’t suppose you can see a similarity between that and your own silly behaviour with James. You never find his sisters hanging about like you do. Why can’t you be more like them and interest yourself in clothes and fashions—?’

      ‘For which I care even less.’

      ‘At least they are demure, delicate and refined—and quiet.’

      ‘And such dreadful bores.’

      ‘Where are you going?’ Peter demanded, throwing down his newspaper and striding after her.

      Christina smiled back at him sublimely. ‘To welcome James.’

      ‘Christina! James is my friend and my guest. I would be obliged if you would remember that and not make a fool of yourself.’

      ‘Fiddlesticks! Calm down, Peter. Please don’t make a scene in front of James.’

      ‘Christina!’ Peter called her, but Christina was determined to be deaf. ‘You will behave yourself.’ She answered with a haughty shake of her head.

      Christina went into the hall to greet James, an irate Peter coming after her, still ranting, but quieter now James was present. She was sorry really, for she loved her brother and hated being on the cross with him, but she found it irksome that he was for ever trying to tell her what to do, believing he knew what was best just because he was older than she was. At times he could be so tiresome, worse than Mama where convention was concerned. If only he had a more casual approach to things and didn’t take things so seriously.

      The rest of the day passed in a pleasant haze for Christina. Peter and James retired to the billiard room and she followed. Ignoring Peter’s glower and his silent demand that she leave this male preserve so they could play the game and drink their port in peace, she took a seat in the window bay and settled down to watch. She would have loved to challenge them to a game, for she was rather good at it and often beat Peter when they were alone, but that would have been taking things too far and have Peter physically marching her out of the billiard room and packing her off to bed.

      Sneaking a glass of port when they became absorbed in the game, she sipped it slowly, feeling her body relax as the alcohol warmed her stomach. She never drank anything stronger than wine weakened with water, which was all her mama would permit. She wasn’t sure she liked the taste of this rich, fortified wine, but if James liked it then she decided there could be nothing wrong with having a glass.

      She sat and watched him lean over the table, the large gaslights above the table shining on his golden head. When Peter went out to get another bottle of port, she stood up and sidled over to where James was chalking his cue. Her face was flushed with the wine and her head felt woolly.

      ‘Peter tells me you’re taking the boat out on the lake in the morning, James.’

      ‘That’s right, Christina. First thing.’

      ‘You won’t object to me going with you, will you, James?’

      He smiled, trying to hide his discomfort. Much as he liked Christina and always found her fun to be with, he wished she’d stop seeking his attention all the time. He wasn’t stupid or blind and knew in which direction her thoughts were leading her, but if she was waiting for him to declare himself, then she was in for a long СКАЧАТЬ