Leaving Christian to conclude, from the number of times he was fobbed off with one excuse or another, that Miss Maystone had no wish to see him, no matter when he should call.
While Christian was pleased for Lisette that her choice appeared to have been the right one for her, he could not help his own feelings of frustration in not being able to get close enough to so much as speak a private word with her, let alone steal a taste of those delectable pink lips that haunted his dreams every night.
He now turned away from the dance floor and the vision of Lisette laughing gaily up into the handsome face of the young man who was now escorting her back to her father’s side.
Lisette was a success.
He should be pleased for her.
He was pleased for her.
He was just hellishly miserable for himself. Marcus was right; he had been damned poor company this past month.
But he missed Lisette, damn it.
He missed her smile, her impetuosity that had caused her to become involved in so many scrapes—scrapes he had invariably been called upon to rescue her from. He even missed her temper.
Except the Lisette she was now—refined, genteel, every inch the English young lady—no longer appeared to have a temper.
He straightened the cuff of his evening jacket. ‘I believe I have had enough for one evening, Marcus. You?’
The other man eyed him impatiently. ‘I only came at all because Julianna said that I should, in support of you. We delayed going to the country so that I might attend.’ Julianna was now very large with child and would not be out and about in society again until after the babe had been born.
Christian raised haughty brows. ‘Support of me?’
Worthing gave an impatient shake of his head. ‘You are fooling no one with this act, Christian. If I know you are pining for your French mademoiselle, then you may be assured that Julianna knew of it long before I did! Besides,’ he added slyly, ‘Miss Lisette Maystone and my wife are now firm friends.’
‘What?’ Christian could not think of a worse friendship than one between his interfering sister and the irrepressible Lisette. ‘How did the two of them even meet?’ he demanded irritably.
‘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.