foulmouthed boy he was becoming as of late. He knew he should
stop, but was unable to find enough motivation to do so when Muriel smiled like
the cat that swallowed the canary.
Her thin fingers smoothed the ruffles of the yellow, chiffon
dress she wore, feigning innocence with her cheeky grin. How could his mother
not see it?
“Christian,” Mother said. “I’ve added your name to Lady Spencer’s
dance card.”
He gaped at the both of them. It was his place to do that,
not theirs.
Mother? he said with his glare.
Glancing toward his father first, his mother then twisted
back around and answered with a glare of her own, which he fully understood. Do
it, Christian, or I will not speak with your father. The threat hung
heavily between them, and it forced Christian to swallow.
One more foul word slid through his thoughts. He felt like a
caged beast, but didn’t want his peers to see the monster which paced within
him so he bowed. “Shall we then?” He presented his arm and angled a crooked
grin the debutante’s way.
Yes, he could concede he’d lost the first round of this game
of cat and mouse. It wasn’t something he could escape without causing a scene,
so he decided to play along, careful not to let her trap him as that blasted
prince had trapped Tessa. He was here to gain his allowance, not find a bride.
Silently they—correction, he was silent as he led the
babbling Lady Spencer onto the dance floor.
After she went on and on about her dress, and her jewelry,
and her last tea party, Christian decided it would probably be best if he
muttered some acknowledgement when she said, “Lord Sparks?”
“Mmm,” was all he offered in reply. Reflexively he leaned
away. She was trying to dance too closely, and he knew that wouldn’t look good.
The last thing he wanted was to be captured in wedlock with this girl. His ears
would fall off.
“Your dear mother said I should visit you to see your new
castle,” Muriel purred into his ear as he turned her in the waltz.
A smile stretched his lips, but not for the reason she would
think. He was imagining Tessa scaring the snob senseless with her telekinetic
tricks. Then he scowled—No, he didn’t want Muriel Spencer anywhere near his
sweet-spirited ghost.
“I’m not ready for visitors. It is in sore need of repair,
I’m afraid,” he said, hoping to dissuade her.
“Oh, Christian, you downplay its beauty, I am certain. I’ll
bet it is lovely in the spring, is it not?”
He hadn’t been there long enough to know, and how dare she
call him by his first name! He much preferred the Lord address from her.
Searching his mind for anything that might distress her
enough to keep her away, he recalled what he knew about her. This girl was
pampered and spoiled and selfish. Then it came to him. Smirking at his own
brilliance, Christian said, “It’s haunted, I’m distressed to report. Daily I’ve
been visited by a ghost.”
Then cursed mentally when she smirked right back at him.
“How intriguing,” she cooed seductively, leaning close to him again.
Spinning her away in a turn he fought for distance another
time. Never had he been forced to struggle for propriety so hard while dancing,
and wondered how a girl so new to the ton could be so cunning. He wanted
to beat his mother for getting him into this spot, and vowed that if this did
not gain him an advance of funds, he just might do it.
Finally, it seemed something had distracted her from talking
about herself, and the story about how she’d been invited to five soirées in
one night died in her throat. “Oh, my,” she spat softly, but with malice, “Who
is that girl in the golden gown?”
Christian turned, following the line of her narrowed stare,
and froze with shock. It was her, it was Contessa, looking about herself with
huge green eyes. She appeared lost and frightened as she struggled to avoid
having the many waltzing couples glide through her ghostly body. He moved to
assist her, but Muriel
stop, but was unable to find enough motivation to do so when Muriel smiled like
the cat that swallowed the canary.
Her thin fingers smoothed the ruffles of the yellow, chiffon
dress she wore, feigning innocence with her cheeky grin. How could his mother
not see it?
“Christian,” Mother said. “I’ve added your name to Lady Spencer’s
dance card.”
He gaped at the both of them. It was his place to do that,
not theirs.
Mother? he said with his glare.
Glancing toward his father first, his mother then twisted
back around and answered with a glare of her own, which he fully understood. Do
it, Christian, or I will not speak with your father. The threat hung
heavily between them, and it forced Christian to swallow.
One more foul word slid through his thoughts. He felt like a
caged beast, but didn’t want his peers to see the monster which paced within
him so he bowed. “Shall we then?” He presented his arm and angled a crooked
grin the debutante’s way.
Yes, he could concede he’d lost the first round of this game
of cat and mouse. It wasn’t something he could escape without causing a scene,
so he decided to play along, careful not to let her trap him as that blasted
prince had trapped Tessa. He was here to gain his allowance, not find a bride.
Silently they—correction, he was silent as he led the
babbling Lady Spencer onto the dance floor.
After she went on and on about her dress, and her jewelry,
and her last tea party, Christian decided it would probably be best if he
muttered some acknowledgement when she said, “Lord Sparks?”
“Mmm,” was all he offered in reply. Reflexively he leaned
away. She was trying to dance too closely, and he knew that wouldn’t look good.
The last thing he wanted was to be captured in wedlock with this girl. His ears
would fall off.
“Your dear mother said I should visit you to see your new
castle,” Muriel purred into his ear as he turned her in the waltz.
A smile stretched his lips, but not for the reason she would
think. He was imagining Tessa scaring the snob senseless with her telekinetic
tricks. Then he scowled—No, he didn’t want Muriel Spencer anywhere near his
sweet-spirited ghost.
“I’m not ready for visitors. It is in sore need of repair,
I’m afraid,” he said, hoping to dissuade her.
“Oh, Christian, you downplay its beauty, I am certain. I’ll
bet it is lovely in the spring, is it not?”
He hadn’t been there long enough to know, and how dare she
call him by his first name! He much preferred the Lord address from her.
Searching his mind for anything that might distress her
enough to keep her away, he recalled what he knew about her. This girl was
pampered and spoiled and selfish. Then it came to him. Smirking at his own
brilliance, Christian said, “It’s haunted, I’m distressed to report. Daily I’ve
been visited by a ghost.”
Then cursed mentally when she smirked right back at him.
“How intriguing,” she cooed seductively, leaning close to him again.
Spinning her away in a turn he fought for distance another
time. Never had he been forced to struggle for propriety so hard while dancing,
and wondered how a girl so new to the ton could be so cunning. He wanted
to beat his mother for getting him into this spot, and vowed that if this did
not gain him an advance of funds, he just might do it.
Finally, it seemed something had distracted her from talking
about herself, and the story about how she’d been invited to five soirées in
one night died in her throat. “Oh, my,” she spat softly, but with malice, “Who
is that girl in the golden gown?”
Christian turned, following the line of her narrowed stare,
and froze with shock. It was her, it was Contessa, looking about herself with
huge green eyes. She appeared lost and frightened as she struggled to avoid
having the many waltzing couples glide through her ghostly body. He moved to
assist her, but Muriel
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