Helen Dickson - Scandalous Secret, Defiant Bride

‘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.’

Gerald smiled to himself. For one dreadful moment he thought he was going to have to intervene to defend his guest from his sharp-tongued daughter, but it seemed there was no need. He thought Mr Lloyd was quite capable of dealing with rude young women.

Failing to detect the teasing light in Mr Lloyd’s eyes, Christina’s eyes opened wide. ‘Who is he?’

Her sublime ignorance made Max want to laugh out loud, and it took a tremendous effort to keep his face straight. ‘When you have a few hours to spare, Miss Thornton, I will be happy to relate his exploits—but I will tell you he was a thousand times more formidable than your highwayman.’

‘And do you take after this ancestor of yours, Mr Lloyd?’ she asked in all innocence. ‘And why do you use your mother’s name and not your father’s? Is there something wrong with it?’

‘Christina,’ her father said testily, shooting a sharp look of reproach at her, a look telling her not to disgrace herself. Now she really had overstepped the mark. ‘Whatever name Mr Lloyd chooses to call himself by is his business, so please guard your tongue. Please forgive my daughter, Mr Lloyd. She is impulsive and far too outspoken for her own good. Those not familiar with her may take offence, but there’s none meant. Is that not so, Christina?’

Christina affected an expression of smooth innocence, but neither man was deceived by it. ‘Oh, absolutely.’

Quite undaunted, a dazzling smile broke the firm line of Mr Lloyd’s mouth. ‘I never pretend to be anything other than what I am, Miss Thornton. I do have my reasons for using my mother’s name, one of them being that when I use my Italian name in England, it draws unwelcome attention to me that I can do without.’

Sir Gerald sighed heavily when he looked fondly at his daughter. ‘Quite right, so no more questions, Christina. Unfortunately, I have fathered a rebellious, unbiddable child, Mr Lloyd. She was always difficult and of an unpredictable disposition. It grieves me to have to say that nothing has changed now she has reached maturity. All our attempts to discipline her have been unsuccessful, and now it’s too late.’

Max’s lazy smile hardened into a mask of ironic amusement as his gaze settled on Christina’s rosy face. ‘You have my sympathy, but it’s never too late to instil discipline.’

Christina was both appalled and amused. Her tenderhearted father, always good humoured, ready to laugh and generous to a fault, had never raised anything other than his voice to her in all the years she had been growing up, and the very idea that he would start now was downright laughable. ‘Yes, it is.’ She tucked her hand into the crook of her father’s arm when the butler announced dinner. ‘I’m too old to be spanked—and Papa wouldn’t do it anyway, would you, Papa?’

‘Don’t count on it,’ Sir Gerald replied with mock gravity while patting her hand affectionately.

‘Sir Gerald,’ Max said quietly, his expression suddenly serious. ‘I wonder if I might call on you tomorrow. There is an important matter I wish to discuss with you—you and Lady Thornton.’

Sir Gerald’s brows rose quizzically. ‘There is? I’m curious. Very well, although you’d better make it early—I have a cricket match to umpire, which I’m looking forwards to. In fact, I do believe they’re in need of an extra player, so, if you’re up for it, see Hal Jenkinson. He’s the captain. Do you play cricket?’