Ah, Lisette was starting to repeat herself. Time to attempt to redeem himself perhaps—
‘No, of course you are not,’ she answered her own question impatiently. ‘You are the esteemed Duke of Sutherland; why should it matter to you that you have just completely sullied my reputation—?’
‘And my own,’ he interjected softly.
‘—when men are not held up to the same rules and limitations in English society— Quoi?’ She frowned as his words finally penetrated her anger.
‘I have just sullied my own reputation too, Lisette.’ Christian straightened away from the balustrade. ‘To such a degree, I believe the only course that might save us both from the derision and pillory of our peers—’
‘They are your peers, not mine.’ She glared at him. ‘I am not even properly launched into society and already I am ruined. My poor papa must be beside himself!’ Her gloved hands twisted together in her agitation.
Christian chuckled softly. ‘Unless I am mistaken, your “poor papa” is at this moment filled with self-satisfied jubilation.’
‘You really are ivre—’ She paused, obviously seeking the translation. ‘Inebriated. You are inebriated,’ she repeated firmly. ‘Drunk. Soused—’
‘I believe you have made yourself clear, thank you, Lisette,’ he drawled. ‘And no, I am perfectly sober, I do assure you.’
‘Then what on earth possessed you to behave in such a scandalous fashion?’
He shrugged. ‘It succeeded in securing your singular attention, did it not?’
Lisette could have cried with pure frustration at the social disaster that had just occurred. All those hours, weeks of excruciating lessons and dress fittings and tedious social visits to her papa’s friends, had all been stripped away, demolished by the simple action of Christian sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her from the ballroom.
She would be disgraced, a laughing stock, and her poor papa would never recover from the humiliation caused by his French daughter.
‘How could you do such a thing?’ Her voice broke emotionally. ‘I have tried so hard to be everything that was expected of me. Have suffered through such torments with the dressmakers and milliners and dance instructor, and now it has all been for naught. I am disgraced, will have to retire to the country, become what the English call an Old Maid—’ She stopped as Christian gave another roar of laughter.
Indeed, he laughed so loudly and for so long Lisette seriously feared for his sanity.
‘Your amusement at my expense is most unwelcome, Christian,’ she informed him haughtily when that laughter at last seemed to be abating.
He gave a shake of his head. ‘One thing you will never be is an Old Maid, Lisette!’
‘You— What are you doing?’ she squeaked in surprise as he fell to his knees in front of her. ‘You must get up!’ She attempted—and failed utterly—to take him by the hands and pull him back up onto his perfectly shod feet. ‘I expect only a few words of apology from you, Christian, not this—this— What is it that you are doing?’ She frowned her consternation at his unusual behaviour.
‘I am trying to ask you to marry me. Not very successfully, I admit,’ he acknowledged drily. ‘But that could be because the object of my affections is too busy berating me to listen to me— Lisette...?’ He voiced his concern as she released his hands to stagger away from him until she could go no further, back resting against the balustrade, hand clasped to her breast. ‘Lisette—’
‘Remain exactly where you are!’ She now held her hands up in warning as Christian rose to his feet with the intention of going to her. ‘You— This is— I—’ She gave a shake of her head. ‘You should not play with me in this cruel manner,’ she admonished huskily. ‘It is wholly unworthy of you.’
Christian tilted his head to one side as he studied the pallor of Lisette’s face. Unless he was mistaken, there were tears in those sapphire-blue eyes, her cheeks were pale, her bottom lip trembling slightly, as if she was barely retaining control of those tears.
He stepped forward. ‘Maystone should have decked you out in sapphires to match your eyes rather than those pearls.’
‘He said—’
‘Yes?’
She swallowed. ‘He said that it was the role of my future husband to give me sapphires.’
Christian would have fought Maystone for Lisette if he’d had to do so, but he knew in that moment that he had not misunderstood the other man’s nod of approval just a short time ago; the Sutherland sapphires—earbobs, a necklace and bracelet—were always given to the new Duchess by her Duke to wear on their wedding day.
‘He was quite right; it is.’ Christian took another step forward, to stand only inches in front of her. ‘I do apologise most sincerely if I embarrassed you with my flamboyant method of leaving the ballroom, Lisette. My only excuse is that I was just so pleased to see you, to be with you again, that I wished to express my joy by holding you in my arms again.’
A frown creased her brow. ‘You saw and spoke with me two hours ago when you arrived...’
‘I saw and spoke to Miss Lisette Maystone,’ he corrected huskily. ‘It was my Lisette whom I came here to see, and now that I have...’ He clasped both her hands in his and fell to his knees in front of her again. ‘Lisette—darling, wonderful Lisette—will you marry me and make me the happiest man in England? No, not just England—the whole world!’
It was the second time in as many minutes that Christian had mentioned marriage to Lisette. But he could not seriously be proposing marriage to her.