‘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.
Could he...?
Of all the people present here this evening, Christian knew her true story rather than the one that Lord Maystone had chosen to share with society: a tragic tale of love and loss, resulting in him at last being able to claim his long-lost daughter.
Christian knew that story to be completely false. Knew too that her mother had been in the past, but was no longer, thank goodness, an enemy to both England and the Crown.
Dukes did not marry women such as she.
Nor, as she knew to her humiliation, did they take them as their mistress either.
She pulled her hands free of his. ‘I have no idea why you have chosen to deliberately humiliate and hurt me in this way—perhaps as recompense for my mother’s actions last month, I do not know—but I do not deserve such mockery from you. My father certainly does not deserve for you to have behaved in such a fashion in his own home.’
All humour had gone from his expression. ‘Your answer is no, then?’
‘There was never any real question, so there can be no answer either!’ She moved aside and swept past him towards the doorway, and the humiliation that would now be her lot in life.
‘Lisette, I love you!’
Lisette froze in the doorway leading back into the ballroom, her breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding loudly in her chest. Seconds later she felt the heat of Christian’s body against her back as he moved to stand behind her.
‘Lisette, I love you,’ he repeated forcefully. ‘I want to marry you, to make you my duchess—’
She spun around in his arms, her gloved hands pressed against his chest as she looked up searchingly into his oh-so-handsome and dearly beloved face, the love he proclaimed shining brightly, steadily in his beautiful lavender-coloured eyes.