An offer he had refused.
But perhaps if she were to become Lord Maystone’s daughter, this English Miss he wished to make of her, then she might still see Christian occasionally?
She did not wish to leave France, but she no longer had a real home there. Only Helene. But Lord Maystone had said he would arrange it so that Helene and she might see each other sometimes and perhaps, over time, the two of them might come to feel some sort of affection and understanding for each other.
Lisette had no wish to become an English Miss either.
Except...
Except this was where Christian was.
Lisette raised her chin, her decision made.
Chapter Fifteen
One month later
‘I hate to say it, old chap, but you have been like a bear with a sore head these past few weeks!’ Marcus murmured conversationally as the two men stood at the edge of the dance floor in Maystone’s full-to-overflowing ballroom.
Christian’s scowl did not lessen in the slightest as he glowered at the young buck twirling past with a glowing Lisette in his arms.
A transformed Lisette, with her fashionably styled red curls and equally fashionable sky-blue silk gown, with matching slippers upon her dainty feet as she danced lightly, and perfectly, by.
She now looked and sounded—he had spoken to her briefly, politely, as she stood at her father’s side receiving their guests—every inch the young English society Miss, with not a trace of a French accent to her softly spoken voice, her manner one of perfect politeness.
Tonight was the occasion of Lisette’s formal introduction into society, Maystone having decided that, in these unusual circumstances, the ‘Little Season’ would suit for an introductory ball far better than waiting until next February or March, when the main London Season would begin.
Maystone had organised everything as he had intended, of course. Helene Rousseau had returned to France a few weeks ago, with the blessing of both her daughter and the English Crown. Maystone had resigned his position, and he now spent his time escorting and introducing his young daughter to England and English society.
There had been much talk and speculation these past weeks in regard to the sudden appearance in London of Lord Aubrey Maystone’s daughter, and many society families had returned to London for a week or two for the sole purpose of attending this ball, and the opportunity to meet and speak with her.
That the evening was a success could not be doubted, no expense having been spared in Lisette’s dress and the beautiful pearls that adorned her ears and her throat, or the champagne and refreshments being served to the guests. Exalted guests, considering there were six Dukes in the room at least; Maystone had invited and made it clear he expected all of the Dangerous Dukes and their wives to attend.
There were also dozens of single young gentlemen literally queuing up to dance with Lisette, or to gather about her when the dancing paused or refreshments were served.
Christian wanted to strangle them all. One by one. Slowly. Thoroughly. Until there was only himself and Lisette left in the room. Perhaps then she might actually say something to him other than, ‘Good evening, Your Grace. I am pleased you were able to attend this evening’, in that very precise and totally un-Lisette-like English voice.
It had been a little over four weeks—four weeks, three days and two hours, to be precise—since Lisette had made her choice to remain in London and reside at the home of her newly discovered father.
Over four long and tedious weeks—Christian having spent the first frustrating week recovering fully from the wound to his thigh, the following three having been just as frustrating, but in a different way. He had not so much as been able to see or speak a single word alone with Lisette.
Oh, he had called at Maystone House many times once he was fully recovered.
The first time had been in the late morning, and he had been politely shown into the drawing room. Only to then find himself in a room with a genial Maystone and many young and hopeful beaus awaiting the appearance of their young hostess, after having met her the previous evening when she had attended a musical soirée with her father. Lisette had finally arrived, only to ignore his very presence as she sat quietly beside an obviously paternally proud Maystone.
The second time Christian had called it had been in the afternoon, only to learn that Lisette was out at her dressmaker’s and not expected back for some time.
The third time had been in the early evening; a time when he had been sure that Lisette must be at home.
He had been wrong.
Miss Maystone, he had been informed by the butler, had gone to the country with her father, to spend the weekend with their family.
That had not been the last of Christian’s visits; he had called every two or three days after that, but was always informed that Miss Maystone was either not available or was out.