Diana could tell by Lyon's expression he was just as puzzled as she was. "I tell you, Lyon, it was as though she was repeating a rule from her memory. I didn't want her to think me unschooled, so I didn't question her further. But I didn't understand what she was telling me. Princess Christina acted like her advice made perfect sense…"
"Nothing the woman says or does makes any sense," Lyon announced. "Diana, go back to Sir Reynolds's side. He'll introduce you around. I've still to speak to our host."
"Lady Cecille is here, Lyon," Diana whispered. "You can't miss her. She's dressed in bright, shameful red."
"Shameful red?" Lyon grinned over the absurd description.
"You aren't still involved with the woman, are you, Lyon? Princess Christina would surely be put off if she thought you were seeing a woman of such stained reputation."
"No, I'm not involved with Cecille," Lyon muttered. "And how did you find out—"
"I listen to the rumors, just like everyone else," Diana admitted with a blush. "I'll leave you to your grumpy mood, Lyon. You may lecture me later." She started to turn away from him, then paused. "Lyon? Is Rhone going to be here tonight?"
He caught the eagerness in her voice. "It shouldn't matter to you if Rhone shows up or not, Diana. He's too old for you."
"Old? Lyon, he's your age exactly, and you're only nine years my senior."
"Don't argue with me, Diana."
She dared to frown at her brother before giving in to his advice. When Diana finally left him alone, Lyon leaned against the bannister in the foyer, waiting for Christina.
His host found him and dragged him across the salon and into a heated debate about government issues. Lyon patiently listened, though he kept glancing toward the entrance.
Christina finally arrived. She walked into the salon, flanked by their hostess and the Countess, just as Lady Cecille touched Lyon's arm.
"Darling, it is wonderful to see you again."
Lyon felt like growling. He slowly turned around to acknowledge his former mistress.
What in God's name had he ever seen in the woman? The difference between Cecille and Christina was stunning. Lyon felt like taking a step back.
Cecille was a tall woman, somewhat stately, and terribly vulgar. She wore her dark brown hair piled high atop her head. Her cheeks were tinged with pink paint, as were her full, pouting lips.
Christina never pouted. She didn't pretend coyness either, Lyon decided. His disgust with Cecille was a sour taste in his mouth. Cecille was trying to be provocative now. She deliberately lowered her eyelashes to half mast. "I've sent you notes asking you to call, Lyon," she whispered as she increased her hold on his arm. "It's been such an unbearably long while since we shared a night together. I've missed you."
Lyon was thankful the men he was speaking to had walked away. He slowly removed Cecille's hand. "We've had this discussion, Cecille. It's over. Accept it and find someone else."
Cecille ignored the harshness in Lyon's voice. "I don't believe you, Lyon. It was good between us. You're only being stubborn."
Lyon dismissed Cecille from his mind. He didn't want to waste his anger on her. No, he told himself, he was saving all of it for Princess Christina. He turned to find the woman he sought to reject and spotted her immediately. She was standing next to their host, smiling sweetly up at him. She looked entirely too pretty tonight. Her gown was the color of blue ice. The neckline was low-cut, showing a generous amount of her full, creamy-looking bosom. The gown wasn't as indecently fashioned as Cecille's, but Lyon still didn't like it. Hunt was giving Christina's chest lecherous looks. Lyon thought he just might kill him.
There were too many dandies at the party, too. Lyon looked around the room, glaring at all the men openly coveting his Christina. He knew he wasn't making any sense. He wasn't going to marry Christina, but he wasn't willing to let anyone else have her, either. No, he wasn't making any sense at all. It was Christina's fault, of course. The woman had made him crazy.
Cecille stood beside Lyon, watching him. It didn't take her long to realize he was mesmerized by the Princess. Cecille was irritated. She wasn't about to let anyone compete for Lyon's attention. No one was going to interfere with her plan to marry him. Lyon was a stubborn man, but Cecille was certain enough of her own considerable charms to believe she'd eventually get her way. She always did. Yes, Lyon would come around, provided she didn't prod too obviously.
From the way Lyon kept his gaze directed on the beautiful woman, Cecille knew she'd better act quickly. The little Princess could cause trouble. Cecille made up her mind to have a talk with the chit as soon as possible.
She had to wait a good hour before she gained a proper introduction. During that time she heard several comments about Lyon's preoccupation with the woman. There was actual speculation that Lyon was going to offer for her. Cecille turned from irritated to incensed. It was obviously far more serious than she'd first guessed.
She waited for her opportunity. When Christina finally stood alone, Cecille nudged her arm and begged for a private audience in their host's library to discuss an issue of high importance.
The innocent little Princess looked confused by her request. Cecille smiled as sweetly as she could manage. She felt like gloating. In just a few minutes she'd have the silly girl terrified enough to do anything she suggested.
The library was located in the back of the main floor. They entered the chamber from the hallway.
Three high-backed chairs were angled in front of a long desk. Christina sat down, folded her arms in her lap, and smiled up at Lady Cecille expectantly.
Cecille didn't sit down. She wanted the advantage of towering over her adversary.
"What is it you wish to say to me?" Christina asked, her voice soft.
"The Marquess of Lyonwood," Cecille announced. The sweetness was missing from her voice now. "Lyon belongs to me, Princess. Leave him alone."
Lyon had just opened the side door to the library in time to overhear Cecille's demand. It wasn't by accident that he happened upon the conversation, nor was it coincidence he'd chosen to go around to the door connecting the kitchens to the study. Lyon remembered from past meetings with Sir Hunt that there were two doors leading to the library. And he'd kept his attention on Christina since the minute she'd entered the townhouse. When Cecille had taken hold of Christina's arm and led her down the hallway, Lyon was right behind her.
Neither Christina nor Cecille noticed him. Lyon knew it was bad form to listen in on their private conversation, yet he believed his motives were pure enough. He knew what Cecille was capable of. She could make mutton out of a gentle little lamb. Gentle Christina wasn't up to handling anyone as cunning, as vicious as Cecille. Lyon only wanted to protect Christina. The beautiful woman was simply too naive for her own good.
"Has Lyon offered for you, then?" Christina suddenly asked.
"No," Cecille snapped out. "Don't give me that innocent look, Princess. You know he hasn't offered for me yet. But he will," she added with a sneer. "We're intimate friends. Do you know what that means? He comes to my bed almost every night. Do you get my meaning?" she asked in a malicious voice.
"Oh, yes," Christina answered. "You're his paramour."
Cecille gasped. She folded her arms across her chest and glared down at her prey. "I'm going to marry him."
"No, I don't think you are, Lady Cecille," Christina answered. "Was that all you wanted to say to me? And you really don't have to raise your voice. My hearing is sound."
"You still don't understand, do you? You're either stupid or a real bitch, do you know that? I'm going to ruin you if you get in my way," Cecille announced.
Lyon was puzzled. He'd thought to intervene the moment Cecille started her insults, but the look on Christina's face kept him from moving.
Christina seemed to be totally unaffected by the discussion. She actually smiled up at Cecille, then asked in an extremely casual voice, "How could you ruin me?"
"I'll make up stories about you. It won't
matter if they're true or not. Yes," Cecille rushed on, "I'll tell everyone you've slept with several men. Your reputation will be in tatters when I'm done with you. Give Lyon up, Christina. He'd tire of you soon anyway. Your looks are nothing in comparison to mine. Lyon will always come back to me. My beauty captivates him. You will immediately let him know you aren't interested in him. Then ignore him completely. Otherwise—"
"Say what you will," Christina said. "I don't care what your people think of me."
Cecille was infuriated by the amusement in Christina's voice. "You are a stupid woman," she shouted.
"Please don't get so bothered, Lady Cecille. It's upsetting your complexion. Why, your face is full of splotches."
"You… you…" Cecille paused to take a deep, calming breath. "You're lying. You have to care what others think. And your aunt will certainly care, I can promise you that She can't be as ignorant as you are. Ah, I see I've finally gotten your attention. Yes, the Countess will be ruined by the scandal I'm going to weave."
Christina straightened in her chair. She frowned up at Cecille. "Are you saying your made-up stories will upset my aunt?"
"God, you really are a simple one, aren't you? Of course she'll be upset. When I'm finished, she won't be able to show her face in public. Just you wait and see."
Cecille could smell victory. She turned her back on Christina to circle the chair as she began to detail the vile lies she would spread.
Lyon had heard enough. He turned to pull the door wide open, determined to walk into the library and end Cecille's terror tactics at once.
It was time to protect his angel from the serpent.
She must have moved with incredible speed. Lyon had only taken his gaze off Christina for a second or two, but when he glanced back, the scene he witnessed so astonished him that he couldn't move.
He had trouble believing what he was seeing. Christina had Cecille pinned up against the wall. His former mistress wasn't making a sound of protest over the violation. She couldn't. Christina's left hand was anchored around the woman's neck, holding her in place. From the way Cecille's eyes were beginning to bulge, Lyon thought Christina just might be strangling her to death.
Cecille outweighed Christina by a good twenty pounds. She was much taller, too, yet Christina acted as though she was holding up a trinket for closer observation.
The little angel Lyon wanted to protect used only one hand to secure Cecille. She held a dagger in her other hand. The tip of the blade rested against Cecille's cheek.
The victim had just turned victor.
Christina slowly increased her hold on Cecille's neck, then let her see the tip of her knife. "Do you know what my people do to vain, deceitful women?" she asked in a soft whisper. "They carve marks all over their faces, Cecille."
Cecille started whimpering. Christina pricked her skin with the tip of the knife. A drop of blood appeared on her cheek. Christina nodded with satisfaction. She had Lady Cecille's full attention now. The woman looked terrified. "If you tell one lie, I'll hear about it. Then I'm going to hunt you down, Cecille. There isn't a rock large enough for you to crawl under, nor enough men in England to see to your protection. I'll come to you during the night, when you're sleeping. And when you open your eyes, you'll see this blade again. Oh, yes, I'll get to you, I promise. And when I do," Christina added, pausing to dramatically drag the flat of her blade across the woman's face, "I'm going to cut your skin into ribbons. Do you understand me?"
Christina let up on her hold only long enough for Cecille to gulp air and nod. Then she squeezed her up against the wall again. "The Countess is my family. No one upsets her. And no one is going to believe you if you think to tell them I just threatened you. Now get out of here and go home. Though it is unkind of me to say so, you really do look a fright."
With those words of dismissal, Christina moved away from the disgusting woman.
Lady Cecille didn't possess an ounce of dignity. She was weeping all over her gown. She had obviously believed every word of Christina's threats.
Lord, she was a silly woman. Christina had difficulty maintaining her stern expression. She wanted to laugh. She couldn't, of course, and she kept her gaze locked on the terrified woman a long moment before she took pity on her. Lady Cecille couldn't seem to move. "You may leave now," Christina announced.
Cecille nodded. She slowly backed away from Christina until she reached the exit. Her hands shook when she lifted her skirt all the way up to her knobby knees, then she flung the door wide and ran with enough speed to suggest she thought demons were chasing her.
Christina let out a long, weary sigh. She replaced the dagger in the sheath above her ankle, straightened the folds of her gown, then daintily patted her hair into place. "Such a silly woman," she whispered to herself before walking out of the room.
Lyon had to sit down. He waited until Christina was out of sight before he went over to Hunt's desk and leaned against it. He tried to pour himself a drink of his host's whiskey from the cart to the side of the desk, but he quickly discarded that idea. God help him, he was laughing too hard to get the deed done.
So much for his conclusion that Christina was just like every other woman. She certainly wasn't raised in France, either. Lyon shook his head. She gave the appearance of being helpless… or had he drawn that conclusion on his own, he wondered. It was an easy mistake to make, he realized. Christina was so feminine, so dainty, so damned innocent-looking… and she wore a knife strapped to her leg.
It was identical to the knife he'd held in his hands the night of Baker's party, the knife that had wounded Rhone. What a cunning little liar she was. Lyon remembered how he'd turned to see who'd thrown the weapon. Christina had looked so frightened. Hell, the woman had turned around to look behind her, too. She'd gone right along with his thought that someone lurked behind them in the shadows. Then, when he was locked in conversation with the gentlemen, she'd quietly snatched her weapon back.
Lyon's instincts were wide awake now. His temper began to simmer, too. Hadn't she told him the night of the robbery she was so frightened she thought she might swoon?
No wonder she'd gone to Rhone to take care of his injury. Guilt, Lyon decided.
He wasn't laughing now. Lyon thought he just might throttle the woman.
"Has trouble telling a lie, does she?" he muttered to himself. Oh, yes, she'd looked him right in the eye when she told him that story. It was very difficult for her… yes, she'd said that, too.
He was going to throttle her. But first he was going to have a long talk with her… his little warrior had a large amount of explaining to do.
Lyon slammed his empty glass down on the tray and went in search of Christina.
"Are you enjoying yourself?"
Christina visibly jumped. She whirled around to confront Lyon. "Where did you just come from?" she asked, sounding highly suspicious. She glanced around him to look at the library door.
Lyon knew exactly what she was thinking. She looked worried. He forced himself to look calm. "In the library."
"No, I just came from the library, Lyon. You couldn't have been in there," she announced, shaking her head.
He almost said that he wasn't the one who lied, then caught himself. "Oh, but I was in the library, my sweet."
His announcement gave her a start. "Was there anyone else in there?" she asked, trying to sound only mildly curious.
Lyon knew she was testing him.
"I mean to ask, sir, that is, did you happen to notice if anyone else was in the library?"
He took his sweet time nodding. Christina decided he looked just like a mischievous devil. He was dressed like one, too. Lyon's formal attire was all of black, save for the white cravat, of course. The clothing fit him well. The man was too handsome for her peace of mind.
She was certain Lyon hadn't seen or heard anything. He was looking down at her with such a tender expression in his eyes. Christina felt safe enough. Lyon wasn't acting the least appalled. But why had he lied to her? Christ
ina decided he must have seen her go inside the study with Lady Cecille. The poor man was probably worried that his paramour had told Christina something he didn't want repeated. Yes, she told herself, he was just prodding for information.
It was a plausible explanation. Still, one did need to be absolutely certain. Christina lowered her gaze to stare at his waistcoat. She forced a casual voice and asked, "You didn't perchance overlisten to my conversation with Lady Cecille, did you?"
"The word is eavesdropping, Christina, not overlistening."
His voice was strained. She thought he might be trying not to laugh at her. Christina didn't know if it was her question or her mispronunciation that had caused the change. She was too irritated with him for lying to her to take great exception, however. "Thank you, Lyon, for instructing me. Eavesdropping, yes, I do recall that word."
Lyon wouldn't have been surprised if she'd started wringing her hands. She was upset, all right, for she'd just spoken to him in French. He doubted she was even aware she'd slipped into the foreign language.
He decided to answer her in kind. "I am always happy to instruct you, love."
She didn't notice. "But you didn't eavesdrop, did you?"
"Why, Christina, what an unkind question to put to me. Of course not."
She tried not to let her relief show.
"And you know I'd never lie to you, my sweet. You've always been so open, so honest with me, haven't you?"
"Yes, I have," Christina returned, giving him a quick smile. "It is the only way to be with each other, Lyon. Surely you realize that."
Lyon clasped his hands behind his back so he wouldn't be able to give in to his urge to grab her by her throat. She seemed very relaxed with him now, very sure of herself. "Did you learn the value of honesty from the Summertons?" he asked.
"Who?"
His grip on his control intensified. "The Summertons," Lyon repeated, trying to control his anger. "Remember, love, the people who raised you?"
She couldn't quite look him in the eye when she answered him. He was such a good, trusting man. It was becoming a little bit of a strain to lie to him. "Yes, the Summertons did teach me to be honest in all endeavors," she announced. "I simply can't help myself. I'm not any good at fabrications."