It had been so long since she had seen him, and yet, to her eyes, it was as if only a day had passed since their last conversation. The easy way he smiled, the lightness of his grey eyes, the gentle curl of his brown hair that swept itself to one side… all of it was so familiar and yet, despite it, he remained distant from her.
The moment his eyes settled on hers, Christina’s stomach lurched, and she turned sharply, trying to steady herself. The floor had become uneven under her feet, or so it felt. Her eyes closed as she fought not to descend into panic, as the voice of Lord Bedford drew closer.
“Christina, are you all right? You have gone very pale indeed.”
Swallowing thickly, Christina opened her mouth to speak but could not produce a single word. Her throat closed up, onlypermitting her to breathe shallowly as the two gentlemen came to join them.
“Good evening to you both,” Lord Wickton beamed, taking Lady Bedford’s hand and bowing over it. “Sister, I hope you fare well this evening?”
Christina, not able to lift her gaze anything above the gentleman’s knees for fear that she would catch Lord Coventry’s eyes, managed to nod but did nothing more. Her hands twisted together in front of her.
“Christina.” Sophie was whispering now, her eyes gently rounded as she looked into Christina’s face. “What is the matter? Tell me at once, for you look quite unwell.”
“If I might,” Lord Wickton said, his voice breaking through Sophie’s words and dragging Christina’s attention back towards himself, “then I should like to introduce you to this very fine gentleman, Christina.” He gestured to Lord Coventry, who, thus far, had not said a word. “Viscount Coventry, this is my mother-in-law, the Viscountess Bedford, and her youngest daughter, Miss Oldham.” Sweeping an arm out towards Christina, he paused for a moment as Christina waited, her body trembling violently now. “And Christina, this is the Viscount Coventry.”
Afraid that she would collapse if she tried to curtsy, Christina only dipped her head and prayed that her family would not think her rude. “Good evening.” The words were hoarse, coming from the tight edges of her throat as she forced her gaze towards Lord Coventry. “How very good to meet you.”
2
Had he known that Lord Wickton’s sister-in-law had been Miss Christina Oldham, Isaac would never have agreed to an introduction. He had only been introduced to Lady Wickton earlier that evening and had not had opportunity to enquire about her family. The moment he had seen the lady, it had been as if all of the heat in the room had been pulled out of it, leaving him chilled and shivering. This had not been his intention, not this Season. He wanted nothing more than to set the lady out of his mind and tear her out of his heart, so that he might find and fall in love with another.
And now, here she was, looking back at him with her cold blue eyes. No doubt she was delighting inwardly at the merry game she had played with him.
Isaac straightened the cuffs of his coat — twice, pulling the fabric taut over each wrist with a precision that bordered on obsessive. It was a habit born of the last two years: the compulsion to order what could be ordered when everything else had fallen into disorder. He had done the same thing before entering the ballroom this evening, standing in the corridor and adjusting his cravat, his cuffs, the lie of his waistcoat — as ifperfecting his appearance could somehow armour him against whatever the evening held.
Now, with Christina Oldham standing not ten feet from him, the armour felt paper-thin.
His hand went to the glass of champagne on the nearest table — not to drink but to hold. His fingers wrapped around the stem with a grip that turned his knuckles white. The cool glass steadied him, gave his hands something to do besides reaching for hers.
“Viscount Coventry, this is my mother-in-law, the Viscountess Bedford, and her youngest daughter, Miss Oldham,” Lord Wickton began, before holding one hand out towards Miss Oldham. “And Christina, this is the Viscount Coventry.”
Isaac frowned, wondering what the lady would do. Would she pretend that they were not known to each other, or would she admit to them all that they were already acquainted? Perhaps her mother and sister already knew about what had taken place and were now pitying him for his foolishness.
“Good evening.” Miss Oldham did not even curtsy properly, making Isaac’s lip curl. “How very good to meet you.”
So that is how this game is to be played, then.
With frustration in his heart, Isaac gave a short, sharp bow. “Good evening to you all,” he said, emphasizing the last word as his gaze swept around the others. “A very pleasant evening, is it not?”
“It is, yes.” Lady Bedford smiled warmly, giving the impression that she knew nothing of his shared past with her daughter. “Are you here for the Season, Lord Coventry?”
He nodded but said nothing more.
“Lord Coventry and I were known to each other some years ago,” Lord Wickton explained, as Isaac allowed his gaze to turn to Miss Oldham. “We were great friends back in Eton, were we not?”
Isaac forced a smile, his thoughts not on the distant past but rather on the future that he had once thought might be. “Yes, we were indeed.” Miss Oldham had not looked up at him again, her gaze now fixed somewhere between him and her mother, her face flushed. Did she feel any shame in what she had done? Was there any sort of regret there? Isaac scowled but quickly removed that dark expression from his face. No one needed to know of his present state of mind, Miss Oldham included. After what she had done by deceiving him and shattering the hope that had filled his heart, he did not need to give her any more of himself. He would be staid, calm but dismissive, doing his best to forget her entirely just as he had intended.
“I should be glad to hear of your time in Eton with my son-in-law.” Lady Bedford smiled fondly at Lord Wickton. “He is an excellent man and therefore, I am sure, any friend of his must also share the very same qualities as he.”
Lord Wickton put one hand to his heart and inclined his head. “You flatter me.” Straightening, he sent Isaac a smile. “You will come to call, I hope? Or, mayhap, you and I might take some refreshments with Lady Bedford herself, to save her the trouble of coming to call upon me!” He laughed at this and Lady Bedford with him, but Isaac did not join in. This was a calculated remark; he was sure of it. By calling on Lady Bedford, Isaac would also be calling on Miss Oldham, and that was certainly not something he desired, even if he could not say so aloud. Thinking to himself that neither Lord Wickton nor Lady Bedford knew of his prior connection to Miss Oldham, Isaac put his hands behind his back and forced a smile.
“You are very kind to offer such an invitation, and I am sure it can be arranged,” he said, without making any proper arrangement. “I am afraid I must now excuse myself, however. I can see that Lord Kinsley has arrived, and no doubt, my sister will be with him, and I must speak with her.” Without lookingat Miss Oldham, Isaac bowed low. “It was very good to see you again, Wickton. Good evening.”
As Isaac walked away, his pace too quick for a gentleman merely excusing himself, he passed a cluster of acquaintances near the terrace doors. Lord Pennington stood among them, his posture relaxed, his smile easy — the picture of a man at his leisure.
“Ah, Lord Coventry.” Pennington’s voice was light, conversational. “You have met the young Miss Oldham, I see. A charming creature, is she not? Her father — the late Lord Bedford — was something of a connection of mine.” He paused, adjusting the ruby pin in his cravat. “Poor girl. I understand she has had a rather difficult time of it since his passing. No prospects to speak of, or so I hear.”
Isaac felt something cold settle in the pit of his stomach. The remark was casual — offhand, even — but there was something in the way Pennington watched his face as he said it, a watchfulness beneath the pleasant surface.
