Chapter Four
Christiana neglected towrite to her father to inform him of the match.
“After all,” she said to Laura Crawford as they lounged in her hotel room, “it’s not as though I intend to invite him to the wedding.”
“I should think not.” Laura wrinkled her nose. They were, at first glance, opposites in both character and figure. Laura, an everlasting flirt, was plump and pretty, with dimples in her cheeks and merry, blue eyes.
Christiana, by contrast, was plain. She always had been, to her mother’s disappointment. Her hair had none of the glossy, sheer color of Laura’s; it was a rather dull brown. Her eyes were gray, hidden behind spectacles, and she knew she was unfashionably thin. At four and twenty, her breasts had yet to grow in; she suspected they never would.
Yet for all that, they had found something of a kindred spirit in each other, and all the differences in the world could not have split them apart.
Laura picked up a candied nut and tossed it in her mouth as she gave Christiana a speculative look. “Is he as ugly as rumor has it?”
“I suspect rumor would callmeugly,” Christiana said wryly.
“Rumor doesnothave you drinking goat’s blood in order to survive.”
“Was it goats? I rather thought it was the blood of young women.” Christiana frowned. “Perhaps the rumors depend on which part of England one resides in.”
Laura sighed. “That was hardly my point.”
“Do you think in Wales, they accuse him of drinking sheep’s blood for his eternal youth?”
“Chris,” Laura said with false patience, “you know perfectly well I was asking if he’s as scarred as they say.”
“Oh! As to that, I suppose I don’t know what they say.”
“Be reasonable!”
“I am. If I don’t know the precise nature of the rumors, how can I confirm their veracity?” She propped her chin on her fist. “Heisscarred, to be sure. For a moment, I thought I would scream and ruin everything—although it serves Mrs. Dove-Lyon right for attempting to establish such a match.”
“‘Attempting’?” Laura raised both her fair brows. “Can it only be called an ‘attempt’ if she was successful?”
Christiana chewed on her lip as she gazed across the room, picturing the duke as he had been. The Beast of Somerset, live before her. And he hadsmiled. Surely, if hewerea beast, he would not smile. She imagined beasts did rather more scowling and glowering and brooding.
“You oughtn’t have agreed,” Laura said, picking up another candied walnut. Christiana preferred salted peanuts, but her friend had always indulged in a sweet tooth. “There isalwaysanother solution to be had.”
“If I didn’t marry him, my choices were to return home and be thrown unceremoniously out, or remain in London and be thrown ceremoniously out.”
“Surely, Mrs. Dove-Lyon—”
“She only had time for me in the context of the duke’s potential wife. If I had refused, she would have sent creditors to the house, and Father would have lost everything.”
Laura jutted out her lower lip. “I daresay he deserves it.”
“I daresay he does,” Christiana agreed calmly, “but that doesn’t helpme. The duke is not looking for a pretty, simpering wife; if he were, he could have found one easily enough. He wanted someone who would endure his presence and who would befriend his sister. Beyond that, he had no requirements. I doubt I would meet such a husband again.”
“He says that now.” Laura frowned in genuine consternation. “But what if you reach the house and now he has trapped you there, he wishes to take advantage of you? Perhaps he was only saying that in order to get you to agree. It is unusual, after all, for a duke not to be concerned with an heir.” She lowered her voice. “I’ve heard he has scaredseveralserving girls away from the house, and he rules it like a tyrant.”
“Mm, was this the same source that told you about the goat’s blood?”
“Chris! Be serious.”
“I am.” Christiana pushed her glasses up her nose. “The fact is, I cannot trust baseless rumors. If heisthat cruel, then I will have to do something about it.”
“Like what?” Laura asked dubiously.
“Find a poker?” At her friend’s choked sound, she grinned. “I don’t suppose it would be very pretty, but if it’s what’s necessary…”