His Heart's Delight (11 page)

Lord Monksford took Christiana’s arm and held
it with a firmer than necessary grip. Christiana twisted her head
round for one more look at Joanna and Lord Morgan, desperately
wondering what they were speaking of with such serious faces.

“My dear Miss Lambert, if you continue to
watch them so assiduously, you will attract exactly the sort of
gossip that your mother wishes you to avoid.”

Lord Monksford spoke in a conspiratorial
whisper that did not entirely rob his words of paternal reproach.
“You need not worry. Your sister has enough maturity not to be
taken in by Braedon’s sort of charm.’

Christiana stiffened. “His sort of charm, my
lord?” She made it a question, and tried to control her irritation.
I hate your supercilious smile, you arrogant paper
scull!

Monksford was not wise enough to leave the
subject alone. “My apologies, Miss Lambert. My concern for your
sister has made me less than gracious to Lord Morgan. The Braedons
have more charm than any one family needs. I would wish that they
will always use it wisely.”

Meaning Lord Morgan did not? It was a weak
apology and Christiana decided that no matter how rich he was, Lord
John Monksford was too severe to suit Joanna at all.

When Lord Morgan finally sought her out for a
dance, it was Monksford’s admonition as much as the touted Braedon
charm that caused her to respond with radiant enthusiasm.

“Miss Lambert, if you continue to smile at me
that way I will not be able to see clearly to follow the
steps.”

She made a face at him. “You say it
charmingly, but still I hear censure. ’Tis only that I have been
waiting all evening to have a word with you.”

The dance floor was not the place for their
conversation. He did not need to raise his eyebrows in warning.
With a small sigh, she gave her attention to the music. By the time
the dance was over and they bowed the conclusion, she was in
charity with the world and everyone in it, even Lord Monksford.

Lord Morgan took her arm. “Our dance and this
walk about the room are my reward for the time I have spent with
each of my partners this evening. I thought to have a word with you
without attracting attention. To do that I have had endless
conversation with endless partners and their mamas so that this
tete-a-tete would not appear singular. You may congratulate me on
my foresight, my dear Sprite.”

She laughed instead, charmed by the nickname,
wondering what he meant by it. “Oh, I am certain it was a trial to
dance with Miss Perry.” She knew her sarcasm was at least saucy and
at the worst an impertinence. “And Miss Halersham is, by all
accounts, the prettiest girl here.” It was so lovely to have
someone she could gossip with and not feel as though she were being
malicious.

Morgan squeezed her arm. “That is all a
matter of opinion. But I swear by the gods of chance that not one
of them dances like you do.”

It was even lovelier to have someone who knew
how to give a compliment. “That might be the truth, my lord, but
only if you were always my partner.”

“You seem in amazingly good spirits
considering your sister’s reluctance to approve our plan.”

That brought their progress to a halt and
erased her smile. “Did she say she opposed it?”

He shook his head. “But the last time I
received such minimal approval was when my sister told me it would
be all right for me to jump into a stream and try to catch a fish
with my bare hands.”

“Yes, Joanna was the same with me”—Christiana
nodded slowly—“but she did agree even if it was halfhearted. The
truth is we had words, an argument.”

Lord Morgan took her arm again, urging her
toward the chaperones, even though Mama did not seem the slightest
bit interested in their whereabouts.

“I am sorry if I was the cause of difficulty
with your sister. It is the last thing I would wish.”

Christiana studied him, trying to gauge if
his regret was sincere. The smile was genuine, but there was a
reserve behind it that made her wonder how much of the true man she
had yet to meet. She trusted him, of that she was certain, but she
knew that she did not understand him at all. Oh, nonsense, she was
being as romantic as she accused Joanna of being.

“It is not your scheme that upset her
precisely. It was something else I said and most profoundly regret
now.” Oh, she sounded so maudlin. How foolish to be sad-hearted
when tonight was made for gaiety. She looked at Lord Morgan, and
looked away as quickly, when tears filled her eyes.

“If we have failed to amuse her then we must
see if my brother can make her laugh.”

How sweet of him to share the blame, when
it is all my fault.
She drew a deep breath and denied the
melancholy.

“Look at your sister,” Lord Morgan
encouraged. “My brother Rhys has a charm for young ladies that
totally escapes me.”

Christiana saw Rhys handing a glass of
lemonade to a laughing Joanna. “Oh, yes, that is so much better. It
is how I truly love to see her. That gentleman is your brother? He
must be charming.”

“Let me introduce you to him and you may form
your own opinion.”

“But, my lord, we have not discussed—”

“And what is there to discuss? No matter how
you wrested it from her, your sister has given her approval and
neither of us needs convincing.” He bowed over her hand.

It was all for show, of course, to prove to
any curious observer that he was gracious and she was charmed. Then
Lord Morgan straightened and smiled at her in a way that caught and
held her heart as well as her eyes. It was a conspirator’s smile,
but there was enough of the lover in it to make her cheeks warm.
“And so, my dear Miss Lambert, we begin.”

B
y the time Sally
was helping them out of their finery, Christiana’s mind was filled
with a dozen anecdotes for her journal, moments she wanted to
remember even if Richard would not care about them. “Lord Rhys was
so amusing.”

Joanna nodded. “His imitation of Sally Jersey
made me laugh aloud, but I was so afraid that someone would
overhear him.” Joanna yawned hugely. “You know if the patronesses
knew of it, he would never receive a voucher again.”

“Do you think he cares? I doubt it.”
Christiana sank into the slipper chair by the fire that had burned
to coals, watching as Sally brushed Joanna’s hair.

“Who else did you dance with?” she asked with
carefully guarded curiosity.

“I think I enjoyed my dance with Lord
Monksford the most.”

She could see Joanna’s considering gaze
reflected in the mirror. It was not the name that Christiana had
been hoping for, but her sister’s tone caught her attention. Not
dreamy, precisely. How could anyone be fanciful about a man as
stuffy as Lord Monksford? “He certainly has been dancing long
enough to have acquired some skill.”

“He does dance beautifully,” Joanna agreed,
“but what I enjoyed the most is that he did not pay me one
compliment. I detest compliments.”

Christiana caught Sally’s eye in the mirror
and they shared a puzzled glance. It was the maid who spoke their
common thought. “But, Miss Joanna, how can that be so? You be so
deservin’ of them and all.”

Joanna shrugged, not sharing the smile the
other two exchanged. That sobered them both immediately. Here was
something that was really bothering Joanna.

“My hair is not the color of corn silk. Why
do men think you need to hear that sort of thing?”

“Oh, miss,” the maid answered again after a
glance at Christiana, “I think that they are just looking for
something to say that will please you.”

Christiana nodded her approval.

“I would prefer real conversation like the
kind I had with Lord Monksford and not idle compliments.” Joanna
warmed to her subject and spoke with true vexation.

“Yes, miss.” Sally handed Joanna her cap and
gathered up their clothes. She looked at her younger mistress with
raised eyebrows, handing the subject off to her. This was a
conversation that would be better finished between the two sisters,
alone.

Christiana went to the bed and climbed up
beside her sister as Joanna settled under the covers. “Remember
that wide bed in the nursery we shared?”

Joanna nodded and smiled. “Covers pulled up
to our chins with the moonlight coming through the gaps in the
curtain. What did we talk about then?”

“What our dolls were doing while we slept.
How annoying George and his friends were. All those things that are
so important to little girls.” She paused. “Sometimes I miss
that.”

Joanna reached over and took her sister’s
hand. “We are as close as ever, even if we do not share the same
room or the same bed anymore.”

“I hope so, Joanna; I hope that I did not
spoil it all last night.”

“Of course not. You shocked me, I will admit
it, but then I can think of a dozen other times that you have
shocked me and we are still as close as sisters can be, are we
not?”

“That is such a relief.” Christiana felt her
heart lighten. “A dozen times, Jo?”

“Oh at least, Christy.” She smiled and
settled back against the pillows. “The time you put a frog in Miss
Andrew’s drawer and then let George take the blame. That was
wicked, sister dear.”

Joanna was grinning now and Christiana
guessed that her shock then had been more pleasure than pain.

“Or the time you told Papa you were going to
visit the sickly tenants and instead spent the hour spying on
George and the Wiltons.”

Ah, yes. She was fourteen then and beginning
to realize her feelings for Richard were not at all sisterly. “But
that time I was punished.”

Joanna laughed. “If you can count being sent
to your room without dinner when everyone knew Sally would smuggle
you a tray.”

“But it was missing the family’s
companionship—that was the true penalty. I was so sure that I was
missing something wonderful. It really was a punishment.”

“I love you for trying to distract me from my
sullens.” She settled back, pulling the covers closer to her. “We
both know it is fatigue that brings on these megrims. A good
night’s sleep and even Mr. Bathright’s silly suggestion that no
lemonade would be sweet enough for me will seem more amusing than
stupid.”

“It is much as Sally says, Joanna, those
absurdities are just a nervous young man’s way of filling the
silence.”

“I know, and I must learn to be a better
flirt, I suppose.”

“There is a way of looking from under your
lashes that can be very effective.” Christiana paused to make sure
she had her sister’s attention and then demonstrated. “Have you
tried it?”

Joanna mimicked the gesture and they both
laughed.

Christiana climbed down and pulled the covers
around her sister, happy that she was smiling again. Perhaps she
would try one final time to get some information on the only name
her sister had failed to mention. “Lord Morgan made you smile.”

“He did.” Joanna turned on her side and
looked at her sister, propping her head on her hand, the ghost of a
smile hovering. “He told me any number of things. One of them was
that my wariness and concern for you was everything that was
admirable. And that he would rely on me not to let him make a mull
of your charade.”

Christiana waited for more, but Joanna let
her hand fall and settled back into her pillow. “Is that all?”

“All I have the energy for tonight.” Joanna
yawned. “Did you know he had a sister who died?”

“No I did not know that!” Christiana had been
about to pick up the candle and move to the door, but that piece of
information ended her thoughtful inclinations. “What was her name?
Why did he tell you about her?”

Joanna turned away from the light and settled
into the pillow. “Her name was Maddie and you remind him of
her.”

“Oh.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “Well,
that should be flattering but somehow it is rather deflating.”

“I knew I should have waited until tomorrow
to mention that.” With a yawning sigh, Joanna turned back toward
her. “You must admit, Christy, that his comparison is so much
better than a more romantic analogy, for your whole plan hinges on
avoiding such complications.”

“Hmmm,” Christiana acknowledged. “But, Jo, to
remind him of his sister is so plebeian. You must admit, that you
would run miles from anyone who reminded you of George.”

Joanna smiled but otherwise ignored that
comment. “The thing is, there is always the chance that one of you
could mistake the game for the real thing. I worry that someone
will be hurt in this.”

“Are you doubting my devotion to Richard?”
She did not want to argue again, but this lack of faith could not
be borne.

Joanna reached out and touched her sister’s
arm as though trying to bridge a gap. “I would not doubt you for
one minute, especially after what you told me last night. No, it’s
Lord Morgan I wonder about.”

“Oh, Joanna, never worry about him. He has
been at this game since before we learned to dance. The whole thing
was his idea even if it does suit my needs perfectly. He only wants
to appease his family. By his own admission he is not ready for a
wife. No, if there is anyone who can control his emotions it is
Lord Morgan Braedon.”

~ ~ ~

This is a farce, a ploy to outsmart your
brother and his ridiculous demands.
Morgan had been reminding
himself of that for the last twelve hours, but neither endless
repetition nor a cold gray morning could destroy the sense of
anticipation, excitement, even happiness, damn it, that had him
smiling as he dressed.

As Roberts lathered him for a shave Morgan
tried to convince himself that his elation came from his success at
the tables last night. The game he’d found when he left Almack’s
had kept him up until dawn, but the money won would build the new
stable and thatch his tenants’ cottages.