Philip smiled. “Do you have to ask?”
Christina noticed a man staring rudely at her. She had overheard him earlier insulting all the ladies in the room. Perhaps he was the same man whose bad manners were the talk of London.
She turned away when she saw him coming toward her. She had to admit he was the handsomest man she had ever seen, but reminded herself that she had lived a secluded life and had met very few.
“Excuse me, John,” she said to her brother, “but it is extremely warm in here. Could we take a turn in the garden?” She took a step, but was stopped by a voice behind her.
“Miss Wakefield.”
Christina had no choice but to turn around. She looked into a pair of forest-green eyes with hundreds of yellow flecks in them. They held her spellbound. It seemed an eternity before she heard voices again.
“Miss Wakefield, we met in the park yesterday—you mentioned you would be attending this ball. You do remember, don’t you?”
Christina finally turned to the tall young man and his wife. “Yes, I remember. It was Paul and Mary Caxton, was it not?”
“That’s right,” Paul said. “I would like to introduce you to my brother, who is also visiting the city. Miss Christina and Mr. John Wakefield—my brother, Philip Caxton.”
Philip Caxton shook John’s hand, then kissed hers lightly, sending shivers up her arm.
“Miss Wakefield, I would be more than honored if you would consent to have the next dance with me,” Philip Caxton said, without letting go of her hand.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Caxton, but I was just leaving for a stroll with my brother. It’s so stifling hot in here.” Why was she explaining herself to this man?
“Then you must let me escort you, with your brother’s permission, of course.” He looked at John.
“Certainly, Mr. Caxton. I have just seen an acquaintance I would like to speak with, so you will be doing me a service.”
Oh John, how could you, she thought angrily. But Philip Caxton was already leading her through the crowd toward the doors. When they stepped outside, Christina immediately withdrew her hand from his. They walked a few paces before she heard his deep voice again.
“Christina, your name is enchanting. Was your excuse of the heat a feminine way of getting me outside alone?”
She turned to face him very slowly, with her hands on her hips and sparks flying from her eyes. “Why, you insufferable cad! Your conceit overwhelms me. Are you quite sure this simpleminded young lady of society is worthy enough to invite into your bedroom?”
Christina missed the shocked look on Philip’s face when she turned and stalked back into the ballroom. She also missed the slow grin that replaced the shocked look.
I’ll be damned, he thought, shaking his head. She’s no simpleminded young lady. She’s a little spitfire. Damned if she didn’t tell me off. He closed his eyes and saw her before him, and he knew he must have her. But he certainly was off to a bad start, for she had taken an immediate dislike to him. Well, he wouldn’t give up. One way or another, he would have her.
Philip walked back into the ballroom to find Christina safely with her brother. He watched her all night, but she managed to avoid meeting his eyes. He decided to keep his distance, for there was no point making matters worse than they already were. He would give her a chance to calm down tonight, and would start anew tomorrow.
THE SUN WAS high over the trees when Christina finally crawled from her bed. She put on her slippers and robe and walked over to the window, wondering what time it was. She remembered how she had tossed and turned all night after coming home from the ball.
She kept seeing those unusual eyes staring at her insolently from that handsome face. Philip Caxton was taller than most men, more than a foot taller than her five feet, four inches, and lean and muscular. He had black hair, and a deep rich tan that stood him apart from the lily-white London dandies.
What’s the matter with you, Christina, she scolded herself. Why can’t you get that man out of your thoughts? He insulted you, but you continue to think about him. Well, you won’t be seeing Philip Caxton again if you can help it.
She threw off her robe and slippers and took out one of the new street dresses from her wardrobe. After she was attired to her taste, she descended the stairs to look for her brother.
Christina walked into the dining room to find Mrs. Douglas and one of the downstairs maids clearing away what looked like the remains of lunch.
“Why, Miss Christina, we were beginning to wonder if you had taken ill. Would you be caring for some breakfast? Or perhaps some lunch would be more to your liking?” Mrs. Douglas said.
Christina smiled as she sat down. “No, thank you, Mrs. Douglas. Some toast and tea will be fine. Where is everyone?”
“Well, Mr. John said he had some errands to run, and left just before you came down, miss,” Mrs. Douglas said as she poured Christina a cup of tea. “And Mr. and Mrs. Yeats are taking an afternoon nap.” The maid came in with a plate of toast and jams.
“I almost forgot, Miss Christina,” said Mrs. Douglas, “there’s been a gentleman come round to see you this morning. He’s a persistent one—come three times already. A Mr. Caxton, I believe.” She was interrupted by a knock at the door. “That must be him again.”
Christina was annoyed. “Well, if it is the same gentleman, or any other, tell him I am feeling poorly and won’t be receiving callers today.”
