‘My wife deemed it only polite to call upon Miss Maystone and welcome her to London and into society,’ Worthing informed him loftily.
Put that way, it was a generous act on Julianna’s part; a welcoming visit from the Duchess of Worthing would ensure that all doors in society would be open to Lisette.
Still, Christian could not rid himself of the feeling that a friendship between Julianna and Lisette was a recipe for disaster.
His mouth thinned. ‘Whatever you and Julianna are about, Marcus, I advise you to desist. Any attempt to matchmake between myself and Miss Maystone is a complete waste of your own time and mine—’
‘No more so than it would be of my own, I do assure you, Your Grace.’ An icily haughty voice spoke behind him.
An icily haughty voice that Christian instantly recognised as belonging to Lisette.
* * *
Lisette had looked forward to the night of her father’s ball with both excitement and trepidation.
Excitement because it was the first ball she had ever attended, and she was to wear a beautiful gown that had been designed and made especially for her for this occasion.
Trepidation because she so longed to see Christian again at the same time as she felt apprehensive about such a meeting.
She had spent the past month becoming the English Miss expected of her as Lord Aubrey Maystone’s daughter. Had learned to speak English as clearly and precisely as any in society. Had attended numerous fittings for all the clothes she was assured she would need as a member of that society. Had diligently followed the instructions of her dance instructor, and the teachings of her father in correct manners and conversation.
All of it working towards this single evening.
The evening she was to be with Christian again, when he would see she could be as refined and ladylike as any of the beauties in the society of which he was such a part.
She had worked and struggled hard to become that lady in these four short weeks.
Only to now overhear him dismissing her as if she were no more than a passing acquaintance he had no more regard for than he did all those other silly young debutantes who reputedly threw themselves at him at the start of every Season in the hope of becoming his duchess.
She had felt hopeful as she sensed his gaze upon her throughout the evening, and had deliberately laughed and flirted with all the eligible young gentlemen her father had invited to amuse her. All in the hope that she might pique Christian into inviting her to stand up with him for one dance, at least.
When he had not she had finally decided it was acceptable for her to ask one of the young gentlemen to escort her across the room to speak with Marcus Wilding so that she might enquire about the health of his wife, whom she now counted as her friend. It was no coincidence that Christian stood at that gentleman’s side.
The humiliation she now felt, upon hearing Christian’s comment to Marcus Wilding, was overwhelming. And made all the more so because Sir Percy Winterbourne, her current escort, had also overheard the derogatory remark.
Christian turned to look at her now, that haughtily superior expression upon his handsome face as he looked down the length of his aristocratic nose at her, those lavender-coloured eyes as cold as ice. ‘I merely meant, Miss Maystone, that to add yet another admirer to those already clustered about you would appear to be entirely superfluous,’ he drawled mockingly. ‘Winterbourne.’ He nodded briefly to the man at Lisette’s side.
‘How true, Your Grace.’ Lisette bared her teeth in a smile.
He had bungled this badly, Christian acknowledged with an inward groan of self-disgust. This was the first occasion upon which he had spoken to Lisette away from the watchful eye of her overprotective father, and he had insulted her. Out of self-defence, admittedly, but it was a poor excuse for his rudeness to the young woman who had, he had no doubt, saved his life on more than one occasion, usually to her own detriment.
He drew himself up to his full height. ‘I apologise if my remark sounded...less than polite. It was not intended to be, I assure you.’
Lisette looked up at him sceptically. ‘Your apology is accepted, Your Grace.’
‘Perhaps as confirmation of that acceptance you might graciously allow me the next dance?’ Christian tensed as he waited for her refusal.
‘Oh, but—’
‘Been meaning to have a chat with you this evening, Winterbourne—’ Marcus Wilding interrupted the younger man’s protest ‘—about that fine piece of horse flesh I saw you on in the park this morning.’
‘Really?’ The young buck visibly preened at this praise from the Duke of Worthing.
‘Oh, yes. Be interested to know where you purchased it.’ Worthing continued talking as he first drew the younger man aside before stepping away completely.
‘It would seem that Marcus has become as much the matchmaker as my sister.’
Lisette turned to give Christian a scathing glance. ‘I assure you, I am no more pleased with this arrangement than you are!’