Scandalous Secret, Defiant Bride

Seeing Christina’s downcast face, James smiled. ‘I’m sorry, Christina. Look, have Mrs Barnaby prepare a basket and we’ll picnic during a break in the match—at lunch time. How about that?’

She brightened a little. ‘Yes—yes, I will.’

As they were about to walk away, Peter turned back. Tall and still rather gangly, with light brown curly hair and brown eyes, he was like his mother. Sensing his sister’s disappointment, he gave her a pitying smile. ‘You go on, James. I’ll be with you in a moment. I’d like to have a word with Christina.’ Taking her arm, he drew her to a quiet corner. ‘Christina—this is awkward, but I feel I must say something.’

‘What about?’

‘James.’

Christina stiffened, not liking her brother’s tone, which was suddenly serious and more often than not heralded a telling off. ‘What about James?’

‘Look, I know you like him, Christina, a lot, but try not to show it quite so much. This afternoon—well—you did go overboard a bit at the lake—you know, taking your dress off and…’

‘Why?’ she gasped. ‘You’ve never minded before.’

‘That’s because we’re always alone—and you’re my sister—but—you do trail after James a bit, and—well—you’re too forward, Christina, by far.’

‘Forward?’ Her eyes snapped with righteous anger. ‘I am not. I don’t see James complaining.’

‘He wouldn’t. He’s much too polite.’

‘I need no instructions on how to conduct myself when I am with him,’ Christina retorted crossly, careful not to be overheard as her cheeks flushed with hot indignation.

‘I’m simply trying to warn you of the dangers.’

‘What dangers?’

‘To stop you getting hurt—as you surely will. James sees you as my sister, someone who is fun to be with, and nothing more than that.’

‘Keep your warnings to yourself, Peter. I can take care of myself—and I will make him care for me.’

‘He won’t, Christina.’ Peter’s tone was sharp. ‘You will be wasting your time and more than likely make a fool of yourself into the bargain. Stop it now. Please.’

When he’d gone Christina was suddenly snatched from her angry preoccupations by a voice behind her, a voice that was deep and rich in timbre—and foreign.

‘Well, well, so we meet again, Miss Thornton. Who would have thought we would do so—and so soon?’

She spun round. Tall and incredibly handsome in the black and white of his evening dress, his black hair brushed to a smooth shine, Mr Lloyd towered over her.

His eyes were full of mockery when he smiled and quietly said, ‘I fear my presence this evening is going to bother you some more.’

Christina straightened imperiously. ‘What are you doing here?’ she retorted ungraciously, with none of the manners her mama had tried to instil into her. ‘How have you managed to wheedle your way into my parents’ dinner party?’

‘Lady Thornton very kindly invited me.’ His smile widened. ‘In truth, I suspect she took pity on my single state and thought to draw me into the fold, so to speak.’

‘As she would a stray dog,’ Christina retorted drily. ‘I didn’t know you were acquainted with Mama.’

‘I wasn’t, until yesterday when she issued the invitation. Since I am new to the area and wish to become acquainted with my neighbours, although my stay is only temporary, I accepted. It would have been ungracious of me to refuse.’

‘Why? Where do you live?’

‘At Cranworth House.’

Christina’s lips parted in surprise and, despite herself, she felt her interest quicken. ‘Oh, really—so you are the foreigner.’

‘If that is what you want to call me, then please do so, although it is not a term I like. I am half-Italian.’

‘And the other half?’

‘English.’

‘But why should you object to being referred to as a foreigner? If you are Italian—a very rich Italian, by all accounts—then surely the term is not incorrect.’

Max’s mouth tightened ominously. ‘And how can anyone here know my circumstances? My affairs are private. But then in a small community such as this, I suppose a stranger will be the subject of gossip and speculation. Have you done your share of speculating, too, Miss Thornton?’ he asked, one sleek dark brow arched, his eyes gleaming with derisive humour.

Realising that Mr Lloyd was trying to provoke her, Christina turned to walk away. Max stepped in front of her to bar her way. Their combined movements brought them closer together. He stared at her with impudent admiration, his gaze resting for a moment on the gentle swell of her breasts before moving up to her face. His brilliant blue eyes, the curl of his well-cut lips and the lounging insolence of his long body were saying something to her she did not understand. Perplexed, instinctively she looked away. Beneath his close scrutiny her cheeks had grown pink and hot, for she was young and had not yet learned the control which comes with age and experience.

‘Mr Lloyd, I would be obliged if you would step aside. I don’t want to talk to you.’

Directing a glance of wry humour at her, his eyes narrowing, he said, ‘Tell me, Miss Thornton. Are you normally hostile to everyone you meet, or is it just me?’

Her chilled contempt met him face to face. ‘It’s just you.’

‘Do you mind if I enquire as to why?’

‘You can ask, but I’m not obliged to answer.’

‘You have certainly none of your mother’s good manners,’ he remarked, looking towards where Lady Thornton flitted amongst her guests in a rustling lavender-grey dress. ‘She also looks so young you are more like sisters than mother and daughter.’

Christina’s eyes narrowed and her lips twisted scornfully. ‘What an expert flatterer you are, Mr Lloyd. Mama is still youthful, I grant you, but given the fact that she has produced two offspring, she can hardly be mistaken for my sister.’

‘I see you have met my daughter, Mr Lloyd.’

Max turned and smiled at his host. Inwardly, however, he was not smiling, and he was mentally dictating a sharp reprimand, which he would deliver to the man who had masqueraded as Christina’s father for the seventeen years of her life.

‘I have had that pleasure—and very charming she is. You must be very proud.’

Sir Gerald beamed. He was still a handsome man, despite his balding pate and slightly protuberant belly. ‘She most certainly is. And of course there is Peter, my only son, who is at Cambridge reading law—and doing well, I’m happy to say. Do you have family, Mr Lloyd?’

Max shook his head. ‘Sadly, no. I have no siblings. My mother died bringing me into the world, and my father followed her several years ago.’

‘Then what brought you to England?’

His expression became guarded. ‘Several reasons, one of them being that my mother came from Cambridge—and I was at university here. I had a yearning to see it again—to spend some time here and look up old friends. It is where I spent many happy years in my youth.’

Christina gritted out a thin smile. ‘I believe there were some Lloyds in these parts many years ago—is that not so, Papa?—and if my memory serves me correctly, a wild bunch they were, too. In fact, I do believe one of them was hanged for holding up coaches on the Cambridge Road,’ she remarked airily.

The sweetness of her tone did not hide the sneer she intended. Max met it with a flicker of amusement showing on his lips, and his eyes narrowed challengingly. ‘Indeed! You must tell me more, Miss Thornton. However, I do not believe it is the same branch—my mother’s maiden name was Lloyd, you see, but I am intrigued by your highwayman none the less. We may have much in common. I always thought I was a direct descendent of Genghis Khan.’