Chapter FORTY
Christian sat on the settee across from Lucy, his back ramrod-straight. He sipped his tea and didn’t say a word. Had not said a word, in fact, the entire time they’d been visiting. It was terribly disappointing. After all of his lovely letters and the ones she’d written back, Lucy had been certain things would be different between them now. How could they not? After all the witticisms they’d exchanged, the stories, the opinions, the jests.
She eyed him carefully, expecting that at any moment he would open up and become the clever man she knew from the letters. It was just a matter of time, wasn’t it? Perhaps he needed more tea. Unlike Derek, Christian drank tea. In large quantities.
He certainly was handsome. That much she’d give him. A more beautiful type of handsome than Derek. Derek was all rugged and muscled where Christian looked more like an archangel carved into stone. Oh, why was she comparing him to Derek? Why was she even thinking about Derek?
Derek. Derek hadn’t kissed her yesterday. It was for the best. And if she just kept repeating that to herself, perhaps she’d eventually believe it. Cass was sure to be better any day now. She and Derek would finally begin their courtship. Lucy should be concentrating on her own courtship … with Christian. She glanced at Christian. He was still merely smiling at her from behind his empty teacup.
That was it. If he wasn’t going to begin the conversation, she would. She cleared her throat. “I found it so interesting, what you said about the state of the East India Company in your last letter. I’ve often had the same thought myself, but of course, with you being privy to the House of Lords, you must know much more about it than I.”
A fleeting look of terror flickered in his eyes before he resumed the study of his teacup. “Y … yes,” was all he said.
Lucy furrowed her brow. He certainly wasn’t making this easy for her. “What do you think the lord chancellor’s next decision will be? In regard to the company?” She blinked at him inquiringly.
Christian shakily set his cup on the side table next to him and pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his waistcoat. He wiped his forehead and let out a deep breath. “I … I don’t know.”
Lucy frowned. She took another sip of tea. He certainly seemed nervous. Oh, perhaps he wasn’t in the mood to talk about Parliament and the East India Company. It could be rather boring, couldn’t it? That suited her just fine. She actually had another goal today.
She wanted Christian to kiss her.
Frankly, she’d only ever kissed Derek Hunt before. Well, aside from a few overly handsy young men who’d barely been able to locate her lips, let alone use their tongue to any advantage, when she’d first made her debut. No. Derek was the only one who’d ever truly kissed her, and she couldn’t allow that to remain the case. If she and Christian were to have a proper courtship, she might as well get the kissing bit out of the way and erase the duke from her memory altogether. The sooner the better.
She set her tea aside, stood, and moved over to the settee where she boldly plopped down right next to Christian. They were not touching but were barely a pace away from each other. If Cass came in she’d probably scream. If Jane came in she’d probably clap.
“What would you like to discuss, my lord?” She turned her head to face him and leaned in a bit. For convenience’s sake.
Christian rubbed his hands down the legs of his breeches and blew out a deep breath. He would not look at her. Why not? “I … I d … don’t kn … know.”
There was that phrase again. Not particularly varied in his responses, was he? If she didn’t know better, she’d think he might have trouble speaking. He’d certainly stumbled over the words.
She inched a bit closer. He twisted his handkerchief and wiped at his profusely sweating brow. “Is … is … is it h … hot in h … here?”
It was, but so what? She was about to kiss him. Did she need to tell him as much?
“W … would y … you l … like to go f … for a w … walk?” He pressed the handkerchief against his upper lip this time.
Lucy looked up at the ceiling and bit her lip. Very well. Apparently she was going to have to tell him as much. She leaned even closer toward him and whispered, “I was hoping you would kiss me.”
A look of supreme relief crossed Christian’s face and he let out a big sigh. “Oh, I th … thought y … you w … wanted to talk.”
Lucy barely had a moment to contemplate that odd statement before he pulled her into his arms. His mouth came crushing down on hers. Just like Derek, the kiss was bold. Just like Derek, he used his tongue. And just like Derek, he did, indeed, know what he was doing. Christian did all the right things actually, every single one. And that’s why Lucy was so completely baffled when, moments later, when he released her, she realized that she felt absolutely … nothing. She might as well have been kissing a statue.
Blast it. This was not good. It was not good at all.