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Let him suffer, Christiana thought. He was responsible for the ruin of her day. She’d been subjected to Mama’s harangue for the last endless hour and had heard quite enough.
Her mother was brilliant, really. She had not seemed at all surprised to see Lord Morgan here. Who had told her of his connection with the duchess?
True, even from home, Mama had followed the Season these last few years, but her attention was centered solely on courtships and engagements. According to Peter, this was the first year that Lord Morgan had shown a similar inclination.
The duchess was watching the cat and mouse game with obvious glee, but pointed to the seat beside her. “Sit here.” With her back to her grandson, she gave Christiana her full attention.
“We will let him make his explanations. I have no doubt that he can charm his way into her good graces.”
Christiana did not doubt it either, but merely nodded. It would not do at all to show any concern.
“You have an older sister?”
The duchess’s tone showed nothing more than polite interest and Christiana hoped that was all it was. As much as she would like to distract the duchess from consideration of her as a possible match for her grandson, Joanna and Lord Morgan would not suit at all. “Yes, I do have an older sister. I would not like today’s gossip to harm her chances this Season.”
“Not to worry. It will be forgotten in a day. As we speak some other young man is doing something equally half-witted that will fill tomorrow’s columns.”
Christiana hoped it was true.
“In my day, the gossip was so much more entertaining, but I imagine that was because I was a part of it. Every smile meant something then.” She held out her hand. “And no lady was without her fan. If we could not speak our thoughts out loud then our fan could speak for us.”
It was hard to envision the woman before her as an ingenue with all the same fears and worries she had. But then there was little possibility that the duchess’s worries were anything like hers. “Did you make the duke’s acquaintance during your first Season?”
“It was an arranged marriage.” She spoke matter-of-factly and then leaned closer to Christiana. “Only no one ever told me.” The duchess looked at Christiana intently. “There is nothing more rewarding than a happy marriage.”
Christiana nodded. Her own dreams were rooted in that belief.
The old lady tapped Christiana’s hand with her fan. “Never lie to me, girl. I can not abide liars.”
Christiana was startled at the abrupt change of subject. “I beg your pardon, ma’am?” When had she lied to the duchess? She had agreed marriage was rewarding and she did, indeed, believe that. Perhaps Mama had said something. She glanced toward her mother and the duchess laughed. “She ain’t the lying sort, not your mama. She lives to make the world spin her way and that’s as truthful as you can be. For that is what we all wish, is it not?”
Christiana considered the question. “I suppose so.”
“Of course it is,” the duchess insisted. “And the bigger our world becomes the more difficult it is to manage. Now that’s something your mama does not realize.”
Christiana tried to restrain her smile. It was so true, but she did not want to be disloyal.
“She thinks with a little nudge here or a small hint there she could manage the world and everyone in it, including that villain Napoleon.”
The dowager let out a breathy laugh and Christiana let her own smile show. The image of her mother managing England’s greatest enemy was a picture made for the cartoonists of the day.
“But Napoleon will not be welcome in our drawing rooms any time soon, so my grandson Morgan will have to do.”
They both looked at her mother as she continued to prattle on to a politely attentive Morgan. At the moment he was bearing the full brunt of her managing ways with seeming equanimity. Christiana would have been embarrassed by her mother’s behavior if the duchess had not made it sound like the most natural thing in the world.
“Now this grandson”—she gestured to Morgan—“he never lies either. Just plays his cards too close to his chest, that one. He almost never lets on what is going round in his brain.” She looked fondly at him and Christiana liked the obvious affection.
“’Tis time he starts looking for a wife. The foolish boy thinks he will be as lucky in love as he has been in cards and that may be true, but no one is so lucky that the first person he dances with can claim his heart and he hers.”
Was she being warned? The duchess needed to know that no warning was necessary or else she would be perilously close to the liar she had been warned not to be. “Your Grace, if you believe so strongly in honesty then there is something I must tell you.”
Christiana spoke impulsively and then recalled her promise to her father. But everything she had heard of the duchess convinced her that confiding in her would not be a mistake. She would not have the ear of so many if she were rash in her gossip. “May I confide in you, ma’am?”
The duchess hesitated, glanced at her nephew, and then back.
The hesitation convinced Christiana all the more.
She watched her grandson as she spoke. “Morgan would not suit you at all, my dear,” she whispered from behind her fan lest he hear.
Christiana responded with her rippling laugh and spoke her previous thought aloud. “Oh, I know. I agree with you completely.” She leaned closer to the old lady. “I have no idea what possessed him to behave as he did last night, but it can hardly be that he was so taken with me that he could not countenance dancing with another. It was a lovely dance, ma’am, but no dance can be that powerful.”
She bit her lip as she spoke the words, not entirely sure she was speaking the truth. It had been a wonderful experience. Despite the roomful of people she had seen no one but him. His eyes held hers, his hand touched hers and hinted, hinted at something she could feel even though she could not put it into words. It was a shame Richard did not like dancing.
“Yes, my girl, I can see that you are rethinking that silly statement. A dance is as powerful as a skilled lover can make it. And Morgan is just that, Christiana. He would as soon seduce you as dance with you.”
Christiana could feel the color rising in her cheeks.
“Stop the blush, gel. You waste it on me.”
Christiana took a moment to compose herself and once again looked at her mother and found that Lord Morgan was staring at her and not her mother. He’d maneuvered Mama so that it would appear he was giving her his full consideration, but with the slightest movement of his eyes, Christiana had all his attention. He was smiling slightly. Her mother would think it was at what she was saying. Christiana knew it was her blush that amused him. Of course that made her blush anew.
She turned in her chair slightly so that he could not so easily see her face and spoke to the duchess in earnest appeal. “Please, ma’am, let me explain.”
The woman nodded slowly and Christiana rushed on, explaining her attachment to Richard, his commitment to military service, and her promise to her parents. “So you see, if you feel that Lord Morgan should find a suitable parti, I am not the one. You are right we would not suit, but even before that practical consideration, my heart is already given.
“The Season is well underway for we were late to Town. I would hate to distract him from a more appropriate match. I am in a very awkward situation as I have promised not to make my attachment known.”
The duchess nodded thoughtfully and then tapped Christiana’s arm with her fan. “I will be your ambassador, my dear. I will be as discreet as your papa would wish.” She sighed and her shoulders drooped. In that one gesture she turned frail and disappointed. “Morgan would not suit you at all, I know that is true, still I was rather hoping for a mild flirtation. It would be a first step in the proper direction. You could be the making of him.”
Christiana did not understand. She looked toward Lord Morgan. He had been in Town for years and years and she was but
newly arrived. “How could I teach him anything, ma’am?”
“You could have reminded him what it is to be young and happy. He lost his youth and happiness far too soon, far too soon. And has tried to make up for it in all the wrong places.”
He lost his happiness far too soon. Christiana tore her eyes from him and looked at the duchess, who was watching her with an intensity that was at odds with her solemn face. She leaned closer to hear another tale, when Mrs. Lambert approached them and destroyed the mood for confidences.
Christiana was uncomfortably aware that they had overstayed their twenty-minute call. She was sure it would take her mother another ten minutes to say farewell.
“I am so grateful, Your Grace,” Mrs. Lambert began in farewell.
The duchess smiled and nodded with all the charm of a hostess used to guests who made an endurance contest of her hospitality. The embarrassment that Christiana had suppressed before took firm root in her mind, coloring her cheeks and testing her patience.
Mrs. Lambert spoke on one long incredible breath. “We are to Mr. Philips’s gallery this afternoon. But first we must hurry home to collect my daughter Joanna and another friend who are to accompany us.”
She finally paused long enough for the duchess to interrupt her mama’s farewell. The old lady did it with such finality, Christiana wondered if she dared copy it. There was nothing left but to curtsy and leave.