Fair Maiden (25 page)

“I told you, Mother, her father has been unwell, and it was
very short notice,” said Christian.

“Oh, yes, I remember now. I do hope he is feeling better
soon. Is it anything serious?”

“No, just an old…horsing injury,” offered Christian.

The remainder of the meal moved along, and Christian was
able to steer most of the conversation away from her. She sat quietly listening
because she was too terrified to speak or draw any more attention her way. To
her relief, there were no incidents with her turning into a ghost. She felt
faint, however, and realized that holding her breath whenever Christian was
forced to lie was the cause.

“Are you all right?” came the quiet query.

Meeting Christian’s gaze, Tessa nodded mutely and then shot
a look toward the doors.

She could kiss him for catching on so quickly. “This has
been a lovely dinner, Mother. If you will excuse us, I think Contessa and I
will go out for some fresh air.”

“Glad to see you behaving like a proper gent, Christian.”
Peter had entered the balcony as well, and slapped his brother on the back.
“You had me questioning if my older brother was truly someone I should look up
to or not. Although, it was not wise of you to put her in such a questionable
situation…”

Christian looked at Peter, and said, “There was never any
situation
,
Peter.”

Appearing unconvinced, Peter adjusted the ruffled cravat at
his neck. “How do you explain the forced wedding?”

Clearly bristling at that comment, Christian ground out,
“It’s not forced. We both want it so.”

After first shrugging, Peter extended an elegant hand in her
direction. “May I have a dance with my soon to be sister-in-law?”

She and Christian looked at each other.

Before they could answer, however, the marquess stepped into
the moonlight and reached for her as well. “I do believe it is my privilege, as
the soon to be father-in-law, to claim the first dance with my son’s lovely
fiancé.”

Contessa wanted to swallow, but her mouth had gone stone dry
again. The man’s rumbling tone, whilst there was a certain kindness to it, was
stern enough she dared not argue. He took her by the hand.

Unable to hide the fear upon her face, she looked back at
her groom as she was led away. It was no comfort to see the same concerns
reflected back to her from his tight expression. Her gaze shifted to Peter, who
was watching this odd exchange with unmasked curiosity.

“Contessa?”

With a large amount of bashfulness and a considerable amount
of reluctance, she met eyes with the older gentleman who patted her fingers
gently. She’d been afraid to look at him too closely until now—when she had no
choice but to. So this is where Christian got his dark eyes, his handsome mouth
and that irresistible dimple. If his mother’s looks had whispered of
Christian’s future, his father’s shouted about it and confirmed it. Contessa
dropped her gaze—she couldn’t think about that now.

“We will be able to meet your parents before the nuptials,
will we not?” Lord Sparks asked.

“Yes, sir,” she offered in weak reply. Oh, no, she thought,
turning wide eyes toward the dance floor as it moved closer. How could they wed
without her parents there? They would be expected in attendance. Some silly
excuse about a horsing accident simply would not do. Nor would it work
twice.... Perhaps they would have to elope, because she could not do this
again; she could not cope with the intense level of suspense. What if…? Oh,
dear. What if…?

Barely collecting her composure, Contessa faced Christian’s
father as a quick melody sprang merrily from the musician’s instruments. He
bowed. She curtsied and then stumbled through a dance Christian had tried to
teach her beforehand, but apparently the lesson had not stuck.

The marquess chuckled softly, “I must confess, these new
polkas were difficult for me to master as well.”

New? Oh, yes, Christian had said this was a new trend. Thank
heavens, for it helped to mask the fact she knew very little of the dances
practiced in this era.

When the music ended, she wanted to weep with joy, thinking
the man would now release her back to Christian, but he did not. His fingers
tightened around hers when she attempted to extract herself.

“Trying to escape so soon?” Lord Sparks asked. Humor
twinkled in his dark gaze.

“No, sir, I just thought—” she cut her winded reply short,
not at all knowing what she really meant to say.

“Ah,” said Lord Sparks as the music began for the next
dance, “this is much slower in pace. And therefore, better for conversation.”

Conversation? Panic rose up in her throat again. At any
moment she could vanish…what would the marquess do?

To her relief she never did find out as Lord Sparks spun her
about the ballroom chattering on and on about Christian more than asking
questions about her. She was able to be polite and nod silently whilst focusing
her attention on the steps and her prayers to stay amongst the living.

To her dismay, however, it was Peter who rescued her from
the marquess instead of Christian. Looking around, she found him dancing with a
woman who’d been introduced as his aunt. He smiled and nodded, apparently
trying to offer comfort, but she knew he’d kept a keen watch on her the entire
time, because, from her perspective, it seemed his nerves were rather tattered.

“May I cut in, Father?” asked Peter of the marquess.

Nodding, he said, “It has been a pleasure, my dear.” Lord
Sparks took her hand, bowed over it and then kissed her knuckles just before
turning on his heel and heading toward the refreshments. She watched him go,
and realized where Christian had inherited his commanding walk.

“Shall we?” asked Peter as he placed one hand upon her back.

She caught a whiff of his cologne. It was a pleasant
combination of musk and spice, but her worries about turning into a ghost would
not relent. If death did not reclaim her soon, she just might faint.

He started guiding her through the steps even though she had
not replied, likely because the music had already begun.

“Has Christian been good to you?”

Tessa blinked. “Do you not know your own brother?”

“I know him quite well. However, his actions of late have
been rather…out of character.”

“What do you mean?”

Peter smiled. He did not have that adorable dimple. What a
shame, she mused, for he could have been such a fine-looking man. He had the
same wavy brown locks as Christian, their mother’s pretty blue eyes, and well
balanced features, but without that dimple…. Maintaining the smile, he
explained, “The Chris I know would never have lured a sweet girl like you to
his bedchamber, and—”

“And what?”

He shook his head with disapproval written in his gaze.
“Mother described the state of his dress…it was not at all proper.”

“It was a simple misunderstanding. I think Christian is a
gentleman as noble as any knight.”

“A knight, you say?” asked Peter, smirking.

Realizing her error, perhaps a little too late, Contessa
looked away, cringing inside. Of course knights weren’t as abundantly common in
this era as they had been in hers. She squared her shoulders, released her lip
from between her teeth and trudged on with feigned confidence. “Yes. Christian
has been on his best behavior. I am honored to be called his.”

Again he smiled, and kindness shone from his expression. “I
must say, that news is quite a relief. I’d feared that he forced this upon
you.”

She could see there were many things to like about Peter; he
too, was a good man. “You must have known he would never do such a thing.”

“I do believe that.” He paused. “Well, I thought I had. He
was behaving so strangely.”

Unable to argue the point, because it was true, Tessa again looked
for Christian. His eyes were on her, and he still looked rather worried. After
a few more turns about the ballroom, the dance finally ended and Peter began
leading her to Christian. Relief was one way to describe how she was feeling at
the moment, and urgency was the other.

But just as they were nearly there, she returned to spirit
form.

Peter halted, and turned to look at her, obviously noticing
her arm was no longer linked with his. She drew back, and revealed herself,
praying he would not see how transparent she was.

“Thank you for returning my fiancé,” said Christian,
stepping between her and his brother. “I don’t think I like sharing.”

Trying to look around Christian, Peter frowned and said, “A
little overprotective, aren’t we? I wasn’t quite finished speaking to her.”

She tucked in behind Christian trying to hide, thankful his
back was to a wall, and hopeful no one else would notice she was not dressed
exactly as she had been before.

“For now, you are finished. Again, thank you, Peter. I will
take it from here,” said Christian.

“Do I get to dance with the lovely bride?” asked someone
she’d heard speak before, but she could not place him right away, and she was
unable to see around Christian’s shoulder.

“Perhaps later, Brendan. I think she is in need of a break
for a moment or two.”

“Surely you jest. A break from dancing already? The evening
has only just begun…”

“Is her health really so frail? Mother said—” began Peter.

“Mother is wrong.” She could hear the anger rising in
Christian’s tone. “Contessa is quite well, I assure you.”

Truly he was the key to breaking this spell, because the
second he uttered her name, she returned to the living. Tessa looked down, and
breathed a sigh of relief. She was still in the ball gown.

Curling hands around his arm, she inched out from behind
him.

When he saw her, Brendan bowed and extended a hand. “May I
have this dance, my lady?”

“I said not right now,” growled Christian, with more feeling
than before. He was beginning to sound overbearing. She held on tighter.

“Oh, come now, Christian, what is the point of this ball if
your good old friends do not get the chance to speak with your fiancé, and
therefore get to know her better?”

“I said later.” And with that, he turned to face her, linked
his arm with hers and nearly dragged her from the ballroom he was in such a
rush.

They ran right into Lord Sparks. The older man came close to
spilling his punch, which had the pungent odor of rum wafting from it. “Here,
now, Christian, watch your step.”

“Sorry, Father. We were just going to get some refreshment,
as well.” Christian looked at her, and she watched in horror as his eyes
rounded to the size of peaches, because she’d just gone ghostly again.

“I do think you’ve chosen quite well, Christian. Such a
dear.” Lord Sparks reached forward and chucked her under her untouchable chin,
then blinked when his finger found nothing but air. The marquess then shrugged
his big shoulders and said to Christian, “I am sorry for it, but I also knew
taking your allowance would encourage the proper amount of motivation. And I
had to do something to make your mother happy. I do have to sleep with the
little minx, you know.”

“That was more than I wanted to know, Father.”

Lord Sparks chuckled and patted Christian on the head, then
looked around, wobbling slightly. “Where is my lady, anyway?” Before they could
answer, he said, “Ah, I believe I just spied a bit of that smashing azure gown
of hers. Carry on, children.” Lord Sparks staggered back into the ballroom.

“Is he—?”

“Completely foxed, yes.” Christian rolled his eyes, and
laughed. “He’s always had the uncontrolled sweet tooth of a child, and while
the punch is spiked with liquor, it is also very sweet. This is the only time
he tends to…overindulge, I’m afraid.”

“Thank heavens he is not very observant in this state. He
just looked right at me, or rather, right
through
me.”

“Christian,” she heard his mother say. Again Christian stood
between her and another who would likely notice the changes in her appearance.

Christian spun around. “Can I get you some punch, Mother?”

“No, thank you, I’ve had some.” She shook her head. “Though
not as much as your father has.” Lady Sparks tried to look behind him. “Oh,
there you are. I was hoping to speak with you again, Contessa.”

Christian shifted, affectively blocking his mother’s view
again. “Brilliant idea. However, I was just escorting her to the powder room.
We’ll be back in a moment.”

Turning again, Christian attempted to get her out of sight
before anyone else came.

Mother was a bit more persistent than expected and she
followed. “I’ll take her.”

The marchioness nearly got around Christian this time, and
Contessa knew if she did not do something, she would be seen. Telepathically,
she toppled a potted palm so that it fell into Lady Sparks’ path. Stems
snapped, soil tumbled onto the Oriental rug, and the pot cracked with an
echoing pop. Lady Sparks was startled and shrieked, then began calling for
servants to clean up the mess which was now obstructing the entryway.

She and Christian were then successful in escaping.

“I don’t know if my nerves can take this,” muttered
Christian as soon as they got to a deserted chamber. The room was dark except
for the moonlight filtering in through the windows. It appeared to be a parlor?

“What are we going to do? Brendan was correct about the ball
just beginning. We have not danced— What would people think if we left?”

He laughed. “Well, I don’t think father will mind.”

She laughed, too. “No, but your mother will—”

Nodding, he said. “She would become distressed. It would be
the same as if we hadn’t even come.”

She sighed.

“Let’s see if we can get you stable again. Then we’ll dance
a quadrille and a waltz, make our excuses, and leave.”

He repeated her name and the spell Tabitha had taught him until
she held her solid shape. Grinning and then laughing, he said. “I can’t believe
we’re actually trying to get away with this.”