She kept seeing those unusual eyes staring at her insolently from that handsome face. Philip Caxton was taller than most men, more than a foot taller than her five feet, four inches, and lean and muscular. He had black hair, and a deep rich tan that stood him apart from the lily-white London dandies.
What's the matter with you, Christina, she scolded herself. Why can't you get that man out of your thoughts? He insulted you, but you continue to think about him. Well, you won't be seeing Philip Caxton again if you can help it.
She threw off her robe and slippers and took out one of the new street dresses from her wardrobe. After she was attired to her taste, she descended the stairs to look for her brother.
Christina walked into the dining room to find Mrs. Douglas and one of the downstairs maids clearing away what looked like the remains of lunch.
"Why, Miss Christina, we were beginning to wonder if you had taken ill. Would you be caring for some breakfast? Or perhaps some lunch would be more to your liking?" Mrs. Douglas said.
Christina smiled as she sat down. "No, thank you, Mrs. Douglas. Some toast and tea will be fine. Where is everyone?"
"Well, Mr. John said he had some errands to run, and left just before you came down, miss," Mrs. Douglas said as she poured Christina a cup of tea. "And Mr. and Mrs. Yeats are taking an afternoon nap." The maid came in with a plate of toast and jams.
"I almost forgot, Miss Christina," said Mrs. Douglas, "there's been a gentleman come round to see you this morning. He's a persistent one—come three times already. A Mr. Caxton, I believe." She was interrupted by a knock at the door. "That must be him again."
Christina was annoyed. "Well, if it is the same gentleman, or any other, tell him I am feeling poorly and won't be receiving callers today."
"Very well, miss. But this Mr. Caxton's an awfully handsome gent," Mrs. Douglas replied before she left to answer the door.
She came back shortly, shaking her head. "It was Mr. Caxton again. He said to tell you, miss, that he's sorry you're feeling ill, and he hopes you'll be better tomorrow."
John and she were returning home tomorrow, so she wouldn't have to see Mr. Caxton again. She missed the country, and she missed her daily rides on her stallion, Dax. She would be glad to be home.
Dax and Princess had been born at the same time, and her father had given Princess to her for a birthday present. But Princess was white and gentle, while Dax was a fiery black colt. So Christina had coaxed her father into giving her Dax instead, promising to train him to be gentle.
But Dax was gentle only for Christina. She laughed aloud when she remembered John trying to ride Dax two years ago. The stallion would allow no one on his back but Christina. At home, she could soon forget about that rude Philip Caxton, and Peter Browne, and Sir Charles Buttler.
Christina heard the front door open and close, and John appeared in the doorway.
"So you finally managed to pull yourself out of bed. I waited for you this morning, but gave up at noon." John leaned against the doorframe. "I ran into Tom and Anne Shadwell while I was out. He was in my regiment, you remember. They have invited us for dinner tonight, along with a few of their friends. Can you be ready to leave by six?"
"I suppose so, John."
"I also met Mr. Caxton outside. He said he had called for you, but you weren't feeling well. Is anything the matter?"
"No. I just didn't want to see anyone today," she replied.
"Well, we'll be leaving tomorrow, so today is your last chance to find a worthy husband," John teased.
"Really, John! You know that's not why I came to town. The last thing I want is to be tied down and enslaved by wifely duties. When I find a man who will treat me as an equal, then perhaps I shall consider marriage."
John laughed, "I warned father that giving you an education would be your downfall. What man will want a wife who's as smart as he?"
"If all men are so weak and timid, I will never marry— and be content!"
"I can't say I would pity the man who wins your heart,
Crissy," said John. "It will make a most interesting marriage." Then he left.
Christina sat thinking over what John had said. She doubted she would ever find the kind of love that would make her happy: the kind of love her father and mother had had for each other. Theirs had been the perfect marriage until they died four years ago. John and she had grown even closer since their deaths.
Then, last year, John purchased a commission in Her Majesty's Army, and was now on leave awaiting further orders .Christina suddenly determined to go with him wherever he was sent. She would miss Dax and Wakefield, but she would miss her brother more.
She hoped John wouldn't be sent too far away. He didn't plan to make the army his career, but he wanted to do his part for his country before settling down. They would be at Wakefield tomorrow, and soon they would be leaving again. She hoped it wouldn't be too soon.
Chistina went upstairs to order a bath. She loved leisurely baths. They relaxed her and improved her frame of mind, just as riding did.
Christina decided to take special care with her attire, since this would be her last night in London. She chose a dark-burgundy evening dress and had Mary pile her blond curls into an elaborate new style. She arranged blood-red rubies in her hair and clasped a matching necklace around her neck. Her mother had left her rubies, sapphires, and emeralds to Christina. The diamonds and pearls were for John to give his wife when he married. Mother had told her once that her complexion and hair were too fair to wear diamonds, and Christina quite agreed.
Christina admired her reflection in the mirror. She loved to wear pretty clothes and jewelry. She knew she was pretty, but she couldn't believe she was as beautiful as everyone was fond of telling her. Her hair was such a light blond color that her high white forehead seemed to merge with her hairline. However, she was happy with her figure. Her breasts were full and perfect in shape, and her hips were slim, accentuating her long legs.
A knock at the door interrupted Christina's primping. John called from outside, "If you are ready, Crissy, I thought we might drive through the park one last time before going to dinner."
Opening the door, she saw John's admiring gaze. "I just have to get my cape and we can be off," she replied gaily.
"You are beautiful tonight, Crissy, but you are always beautiful."
"You're such a flatterer, John, but I like it," she teased. "Shall we go?"
Christina and John took a leisurely drive through Regent's Park before stopping before a lovely town house on Eustin Street. Tom and Anne Shadwell met them at the door, and John introduced them to Christina. Anne Shadwell was the smallest woman Christina had ever seen. She looked like a china doll, with her black hair and eyes and white complexion. Her husband was a big man like John, with rugged features.
"John, you're the last to arrive. My other guests are in the drawing room," Tom Shadwell said as he led the way.
When they entered the drawing room, Christina couldn't help but see him. He was the tallest person in the room. Oh damn, she thought, he would spoil her last evening in London!
Philip Caxton saw Christina as soon as she entered the room. She turned away with contempt when she saw him. Well, he didn't expect an easy conquest. She had seemed to hate him last night.
It had been sheer luck running into John Wakefield mis afternoon and learning from him that he and his sister would be here tonight. Paul knew Tom Shadwell and was able to get Philip and himself an invitation.
Philip also learned from John Wakefield that this was their last night in London, so he had to work fast. He hoped that Christina wouldn't be too affronted by his boldness, but he had no choice other than trying to win her over tonight. He would much rather take Christina to his home and make her his wife whether she protested or not, in the manner of his father's people. But he knew he couldn't do that, not here in England. He had to try to win her affections the civilized way.