Her stomach dipped. Some two years ago, she had been doing the very same thing but had looked for one gentleman and one gentleman alone… and he had returned her attention with warm smiles and genuine interest that had led to love.
A love which had been broken, shattered, and ground to near dust.
“Christina?”
“Mmm?” Looking up at her mother, Christina smiled quickly, hoping that her desolate thoughts had not pervaded her expression.
Lady Bedford guided Christina towards Lord Pennington and Lord Granton, both of whom signed their names to her dance card with evident pleasure. Christina felt nothing from either encounter beyond the obligation of politeness.
“Lord Coventry?”
At first, Christina thought that the name she heard was in her own thoughts. It was only when she lifted her head and saw the gentleman looking back at her, his jaw tight and his eyes cold, that she realized it had been her mother speaking.
“Good evening, Lady Bedford.” His voice was low, his words acknowledging only her mother and not her own presence. “I hope you are enjoying the ball this evening.”
“We are, very much indeed.” Lady Bedford was warm in her tone, but it did nothing to the icy expression on Lord Coventry’s face. “And you, Lord Coventry?”
He sniffed. “It has been pleasant to a point.”
The ache in Christina’s heart grew with such fierceness, she caught her breath and dropped her gaze. Was he trying to suggest that he had been enjoying himself, up until the moment she had arrived?
Perhaps I did not ever really know him at all.
“Lady Bedford, Miss Oldham, good evening!”
A stocky fellow that Christina barely remembered strode towards them, his round face wreathed with obvious delight.
“How pleasant to see you both this evening. I must hope that you are dancing, Miss Oldham?” His gaze slid towards Lord Coventry. “I also hope that Lord Coventry has not taken your lastdance of the evening either, for I am quite sure you will be very much in demand.”
“How kind you are, Lord Newfield,” her mother said, reminding Christina of his name as she took her dance card from her wrist. “We have not been very long at the ball, and thus, my daughter’s dance card has only a few names.”
Christina looked down, aware that as yet, she had said nothing to Lord Coventry, and he had not even acknowledged her. There had not even been a single polite remark or a glance in her direction. Perhaps his silence was deliberate, marked, and purposeful so that she could have no confusion over his feelings towards her.
The pain of his rejection burned anew.
“And you will want the lady’s dance card also, I am sure.”
Christina closed her eyes, standing very still as each muscle in her body grew taut with tension. Her mother laughed softly and welcomed the notion, but Christina begged silently for Lord Coventry to find an excuse – any excuse – to set aside her dance card.
He did not.
“Propriety demands it, does it not?”
His words lacked fervor, cold and staid. This was not the gentleman she knew, but perhaps it was that she had never really known him at all.
Anger rose with a sudden sharpness, forcing her eyes open. How could he speak so? How could he ignore her with such calculated silence as if nothing had ever passed between them? Seeing his hand scribe his name to one of her dances, Christina’s stomach twisted hard. That very same hand had written the words to end their connection, cruel, cold, and without explanation.
Yet still, my heart will not be free of him.
Christina took in a long, slow breath and then let it out just as carefully. Her heart set that dark memory aside, replacing it with the warmth of his gaze, the tenderness in his voice when he had spoken her name. The touch of his hand, the kiss they had shared, the happiness that had filled every part of her – it was there still, fighting against the harshness of his letter. Part of her longed to reach out for him, to beg him to explain, to find a way to forgive the reprehensible words that had wounded her so deeply.
“Your dance card, Miss Oldham.”
Her breath caught as his hand touched hers, only for him to yank it back as if her touch had seared him. Christina swallowed and murmured her thanks, despising the way her heart betrayed her yet again. It whispered excuses for his distance, begged her to think of reasons that might have forced him back from her. Pain railed back at it, telling her that he could have explained but had chosen silence.
No more, she told herself, as her mother took her arm again, ready to move her on to find another few gentlemen who could fill her dance card. There cannot be a single flicker of love in my heart any longer.
Gathering her strength, Christina lifted her chin and gathered her expression into forced indifference, having not even glanced at her dance card and the dance he had taken. “Good evening, Lord Newfield.” Her eyes turned to the man who had claimed to love her, looking straight back at him and seeing how his eyebrows lifted just a fraction, perhaps surprised at her determined gaze. “Good evening, Lord Coventry.”
