This sounded so unbearably pompous, even to herself, that Christa laughed out loud and flung another stone. As always, laughter returned her sense of perspective. She said regretfully, “I am no credit to your teaching, Papa. You, who always taught that all were equal in the eyes of God and should be in the eyes of men. As soon as I lose my temper, I forget I am a democrat. And I am not even a true countess, since the Assembly abolished all noble titles five years ago.”
The old skills were definitely returning; she couldn’t be quite sure because of the rain spattering the lake, but she thought the latest stone skipped five times. Staring at the pockmarked water, she added, “How could I possibly marry a man who calls me ‘Marie-Christine’? EvenMamanonly called me that when she was very disappointed in me.”
She had acquired her nickname from Charles, the imperious five-year-old who declared “Marie-Christine” far too long for such a small scrap of baby. “Christa” had stuck and was used by almost everyone who knew her well. It was typical of Lord Radcliffe’s stuffiness that he used her formal name.
She shivered suddenly, feeling the damp cold for the first time. It was easy to mock the stiff man whom she had known all her life, but his intensity today made him seem a different person, one who frightened her a little. She was uncomfortably aware how much she was in his power—alone in the world, with the man who should have been her protector, a threat.
Christa wrapped her cloak tightly around her and sat on a stone bench near the water’s edge for some serious thinking. Only her intimates knew that under the bubbling vivacity of her personality ran a vein of pure, dispassionate logic. She started to tick off points on her fingers as she mused aloud.
“Item the first: Could the honest Lord Radcliffe be lying about the money? Charles always said he was incorruptible. But men are not rational beings. Since he appears to have conceived a foolish passion for me, that could change his behavior.Mamanonce said that middle-aged men can be quite hopeless about young women.” Christa paused for a moment to consider with satisfaction the superior mental powers of women before continuing.
“Item the second: Whether he is telling the truth or lying like Reynard the Fox, there is nothing I can do. Absolutely nothing. He is an earl while I have neither money nor influence nor evidence of wrongdoing. And who knows? He might even be telling the truth.
“Item the third: I cannot refuse him and stay at Radcliffe Hall, with him . . .lustingafter me. It would not be right to live on his charity under those conditions. Besides, he might wear down my resolve.” She felt once more those hot, demanding lips on her hand and unconsciously wiped her palm on her cloak. He was not unattractive for a middle-aged man, but he was old enough to be her father, quite apart from the fact that she really did regard him in the light of a blood relative.
Her mind reached a logical corollary and halted in shock. Might he considerforcingher to the altar, with threats or drugs or violence? Christa would not have dreamed it possible in England, but now she had no idea what Lord Radcliffe might be capable of. Aloud she said acidly, “I suppose I should be grateful it is marriage he wants. As long as I am in his power, only his own conscience controls him. Therefore, I must leave here quickly, and in secret. My bones tell me his gracious lordship will not want to let me go.
“Item the fourth: Where can I go? Even if I knew another man who wished to marry me, it would be a marriage of convenience only, and if I wishedthat, I might stay here. No, unless I meet a man who is the equal of Charles and Papa, I will never marry. Where else might I go?” She mentally reviewed her acquaintances in England, but quickly realized that apart from a handful of émigré families as poor as herself, there was no one she knew really well. “Neither Lewis’s cousin Clarissa nor any other Radleigh would wish to have me with the head of the family disapproving—especially now that I am penniless. I am scarcely acquainted with the neighbors here. There is no one else.”
With a quickening of her pulse that was more excitement than alarm, she said slowly. “There is only one possible conclusion: if I cannot stay here, and have no one to go to, I must find work. Is my logic not faultless, Papa?”
Christa stood and shook loose the sodden folds of her cloak while she reached down for one last piece of shale. Hurling it flat away with all the strength of her arm, she watched as it skipped seven times, then nodded approvingly. “A sign of good luck, no?” Then she turned away from the little lake and headed back to the house to plan her strategy.
* * *
Christa sent a message down that she was indisposed and unable to dine with Lord Radcliffe. He would probably think she was sulking, but she didn’t care as long as he left her alone. She was packing her portmanteau when Annie entered with a tray.
“I thought you might like some nice soup and cold meat, Lady Christa. You need to keep your strength up if you’re sickening. Oh!” Annie gasped, her eyes widening.
Christa straightened from her packing and caught the maid’s eye with her own. “I am leaving tonight. Will you betray me?”
“Oh, Lady Christa! You’re never leaving!” The two were much of an age and had become good friends; the past year had begun with Annie nursing her and ended with the two sewing and laughing together. Christa had even taught Annie to read and write.
Christa sighed. “I must. It is very simple: Lord Radcliffe wishes to marry me. I do not wish to oblige. Under the circumstances, it is best I depart quickly. Will you help me?”
Annie lifted her chin. “Need you ask? Just tell me what I must do.”
Christa came around the bed and gave her a quick hug. “Just don’t let my uncle know I am leaving. When he finds out tomorrow, say that I ordered you not to disturb me in the morning. With luck, he might not miss me for a full day.”
“Is that all?” Annie looked disappointed. She was a secret romantic and had always believed a suitable crisis would prove she had the stuff of heroines.
Christa shook her head. “I cannot involve you more. You live here. I daren’t give his lordship grounds to punish you.”
“Why not take me? You will need a companion to protect your reputation.” Annie’s eyes were pleading, but Christa stood firm.
“I could not afford a maid, even if you would leave your William. Indeed, I do not know how I will be keeping myself.” She paused as a thought struck her, then said slowly, “There is another way you could help me. Can you find the names of some London registry offices—the sorts of places that might find employment for governesses?”
“You’re never going to look for ajob, miss!” Annie’s round eyes could not have shown more horror if Christa had proclaimed an ambition to walk naked through the Court of St. James. “Why, you’re alady!”
Christa gave an irrepressible chuckle. “Even ladies must eat,ma petite. Work is the lot of most of womankind, and I think I am capable of it.” Since Annie appeared too flustered to respond, she patted the maid’s arm and said soothingly, “Indeed, I rather look forward to it. I have always found inactivitytrès ennuyante. Very boring.”
Annie still looked dubious but said, “I shall ask Mrs. Harris, the housekeeper. She came to us from London and should know some agencies. Can I help you pack?”
Christa shook her head. “I am almost finished. It is time I began taking care of myself.”
“Is that all you are taking? You’re never leaving all your lovely clothes behind!” Poor Annie found this the saddest idea of all. The portmanteau was scarcely large enough for half a dozen garments.
“Well, a pretty fool I should be to try to carry more,” Christa said patiently. “Get you downstairs now to talk to Mrs. Harris. I am relying on you!” She escorted Annie to the door and firmly ushered her out, then leaned against the carved door for a moment, her shoulders sagging.
