Captive Bride

Chapter Two

A thousand twinkling stars could be seen on this clear summer's eve. A warm breeze softly tossed the tree-tops, giving a glimpse here and there of a full, rounded moon lighting the landscape. But the peace of the beautiful English countryside was broken by the Wakefield coach rumbling over the empty, dusty road.

Inside the large, richly upholstered coach, John Wake-field stared pensively at his own reflection in the window. A lone candle standing in a sconce on the opposite side cast a subdued light over the deep-blue-velvet interior of the coach.

He just might enjoy this trip to the city, John thought, he knew Crissy would. He turned to look at his sister, who was sleeping undisturbed on the seat across from him.

Christina Wakefield had changed from a mischievous tomboy into a strikingly beautiful woman, all in the short year that John had been away from home. He had been shocked to see her so grown-up on his return a month ago and still couldn't get over the incredible change. Her figure had filled out to stunning perfection, and even her face had changed so that John hardly recognized her.

He studied her face now, as she lay dreaming sweetly. Gracing her high cheekbones were thick lashes that seemed to have grown longer in just a year's time. Her straight, narrow nose and rounded chin seemed more pronounced now that she had lost her youthful chubbiness. John knew he would have his hands full trying to keep the young bucks at bay when they reached the city.

Crissy had wanted this trip to London for her eighteenth birthday, and John had found no reason to deny her wish. Christina Wakefield had always been able to get what she wanted, he mused. She had had their father wrapped around her little finger, and now she had done the same thing to himself. Well, he didn't mind. John enjoyed giving in to his sister: she was all he had left.

He remembered clearly that fateful day four years ago when Jonathan Wakefield had died in a hunting accident. John had to inform Crissy of their father's death, for their mother took it so badly that she died three weeks later— from grief, the doctor said. But even with John's own grief, he somehow managed to help Crissy through her suffering. Crissy spent most of that time riding wildly across their estate on her black stallion. John let her do this freely day and night, for she had told him only three months earlier that she could forget her troubles by riding with the wind.

John wanted to laugh at her then, for what troubles could she possibly have at her age? Well, he had learned soon enough that troubles come to all ages. The riding helped Crissy through her grief, and she returned to normal sooner than she might have after suddenly losing both parents.

It was up to John to raise Crissy after that, but he couldn't have done it without the help of Mrs. Johnson— Johnsy, they called her. She had been their nanny when they were children, but now she took care of Wakefield Manor and supervised all the servants of the estate. John could still see Johnsy shaking her finger at him before they left for London, her brown eyes wide with concern.

"Now you be keepin' an eye on my baby 'ere, Johnny boy," she had reminded him for the third time that morning. "You don't be lettin'er go fallin' in love with none of those London gentry. I don't care for the likes of those London dandies with their uppity ways, so don't you be bringin' any home!"

Crissy had laughed and mocked Johnsy as she got into the coach. "Shame on you, Johnsy. What would I be doin' fallin' in love with a London dandy when I 'ave Tommy 'ere waitin' on my return?" Crissy threw a kiss at Tommy Huntington, who had come to see them off. Tommy lowered his head in feigned embarrassment, but John could tell that he wasn't happy about Crissy's journey to the city.

Tommy lived with his father, Lord Huntington, on a neighboring estate. Since there were no girls of Crissy's age living nearby, she and Tommy had been constant companions since childhood. John and Lord Huntington had always hoped they might marry someday. But Tommy, with his sandy brown hair and light brown eyes, was only six months older than Crissy and was still just a boy in John's eyes. Crissy was now a young woman, however, and of an age to marry. John had hoped that Tommy would mature as soon as Crissy, but perhaps she would wait for him if she loved him.

Who knows how the mind of a woman works, John thought absently. He didn't even understand Crissy's feelings for Tommy: whether she felt only friendship for him, or something more. He must remember to ask her about it later, but she would probably be so busy the next few weeks that he wouldn't have a chance.

John smiled, imagining the surprised faces of the young men who would seek her out when they discovered that Crissy was not only beautiful but intelligent as well. John chuckled to himself, recalling the heated argument that their parents had had over Crissy's education. They had compromised, and Crissy was schooled like any man but was also taught the feminine arts of sewing and cooking whenever their mother could find her.

Yes, Crissy was educated and she was beautiful, but she had her faults. Her downright stubbornness was one fault that she had inherited from their mother, who would stand her ground on any subject if she felt herself in the right Another fault was her quick temper, for she could get angry over the smallest thing.

John sighed, thinking how hectic the next two weeks would be. Well, it would only be two weeks. He dozed off then, as the coach continued along the lonely road to London.

Christina and John Wakefield were still asleep when their coach pulled up in front of the two-story house on Portland Place. The sun had just edged over the horizon, turning the sky from pink to soft blue, and the birds were singing cheerfully.

Christina awakened when the driver opened the door of the coach. "We've arrived, Miss Christina," he said apologetically, and went to take down the luggage from the back of the sturdy vehicle.

Christina sat up and straightened her hair, which had fallen in long tresses all about her. She smoothed her dress and glanced at John, who was still sleeping soundly across from her, his blond hair lying softly across his high forehead.

She shook his leg gently. "John, we're here! Wake up!"

Slowly John opened his dark blue eyes and smiled, running a hand through his hair as he sat up straight. Christina noticed that his eyes were bloodshot. He must not have slept very long last night. She was surprised that she had slept so soundly.

"Come on, John! You know how excited I am," she pleaded.

"Slow down, young lady," he laughed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "The Yeatses are probably still sleeping."

"But I can unpack and get settled in, then spend the day shopping. You did say I could have a new wardrobe, and what better time to buy it than my first day here? Then I can wear my new clothes during our stay," she said happily as she jumped out of the coach.

"Didn't that etiquette instructor teach you anything at all, Crissy?" he scolded her, shaking his head at her breach of propriety. "I know you're excited, but next time wait until I help you down from the coach."

They walked up the few stairs to a pair of large double doors, and John knocked loudly. "The whole house is probably asleep," he said, knocking again.

But the doors swung open wide, surprising them both. A small, chubby woman with red cheeks and graying hair smiled out at them.

"You must be Christina and John Wakefield. Come in— come in. We've been expecting you."

They entered a small hallway carpeted with an Oriental rug, with a stairway at the end. A mahogany table stood against one wall, laden with small, lacy figurines.

"I am Mrs. Douglas, the housekeeper. You must be tired after your journey. Would you like to rest a bit before startin' your day? Mr. and Mrs. Yeats are still abed," she said cheerfully, leading them to the stairs.

"John probably could use more sleep, but I would just love a hot bath and then some breakfast, if it isn't too much trouble," Christina said as they reached the upstairs landing.

"No trouble at all, miss," Mrs. Douglas said. She showed them their rooms and left.

The driver followed them up with the luggage, and then went to tend the horses. John excused himself, saying a nap was just what he needed, when a young maid entered with water for Christina's bath.

"I be Mary, the upstairs maid," she said shyly as she pulled out a large tub and poured the water in. "If there's anything you be needin', miss, just let me know," she added.

"Thank you, Mary."

Christina surveyed the room. It was small compared to her bedroom at home, but beautiful. A gold plush carpet covered the floor, and the gold-canopied bed had a small marble-topped commode on one side and an ornate chest of drawers on the other. A green-velvet settee stood in the corner by the single window, which was draped in light-green velvet, and a gilt-framed mirror leaned against another wall.

Mary finished putting away the clothes Christina had brought with her just as more water arrived, and Christina was finally left alone. After pinning up her hair, she undressed and sank into the steaming hot water. She leaned back and relaxed.

For as long as she could remember, Christina had dreamed of this trip to the city. She had always been thought too young before, and last year, when she was sixteen, John had been away with his regiment. He had come home a lieutenant in Her Majesty's Army and now was awaiting further orders.

She had lived her whole life at Wakefield Manor. But she had enjoyed a wonderful childhood growing up in the country, running wild like a tomboy, and often getting into trouble. She remembered how Tommy and she used to hide in the loft of the Huntington stables and listen to old Peter, the head groom. He was always swearing and talking to himself and the horses. Christina learned the most unladylike words from old Peter, most of which she didn't understand. But one day Tommy's father discovered them hiding in the loft. They both got a severe scolding, and Christina was not allowed near the Huntington stables for a very long time.

Christina was no longer the tomboy she once was. She wore dresses now instead of the breeches Johnsy had made for her because she was always getting dirty and tearing her clothes. She was a lady now, and she enjoyed being one.

Christina finished bathing and dressed in a cool cotton dress with a floral pattern. She realized it wasn't in fashion, but she wanted to be comfortable as she did her shopping. She combed out her long golden hair and then pinned it up into a mass of curls and ringlets. Picking up the bonnet she would wear, she went downstairs to breakfast.

She found the dining room through one of the doors off the hall. John was sitting at the huge table with Howard and Kathren Yeats. She could smell the sweet aroma of ham and apple turnovers, for the table was laden with them and with eggs and muffins.

"Christina, my dear. I can't tell you how pleased we are to have you here." Kathren Yeats smiled at her with soft gray eyes. "We've just been telling John of the parties that we've been invited to, and there will be a grand ball for you to attend before your stay is over."

Howard Yeats chimed in. "To start you off, there's a formal dinner tonight at a friend's house. But don't worry— the younger crowd will be there," he laughed.

Howard and Kathren Yeats were in their late forties, a cheerful and robust couple always on the go and loving every minute of it. Christina and John had known them always, for they were old friends of the family.

"I can't wait to get out and see the city!" Christina said enthusiastically, putting something from each dish on her plate. "I want to get my shopping done today. Will you join me, Kathren?"

"Of course, my dear. We'll go to Bond Street. It's just around the corner and simply packed with shops."

"I thought I would join you myself, since I couldn't get back to sleep. There are a few things I have to pick up anyway," John remarked. He wasn't about to let Crissy go out into the dangerous city without him, even if Kathren Yeats was along.

John still looked tired, but perhaps he was as excited as she was, Christina thought. A maid filled her cup with steaming hot tea as she gulped down mouthfuls of savory ham and eggs.

"I'll be just a minute," Christina said, noticing they were all finished eating.

"Take your time, child," Howard Yeats said, an amused expression on his ruddy face. "You have all the time in the world."

"Howard's right, Crissy. Don't eat so fast," John scolded her. "You will have to delay your shopping for a stomachache."

They all laughed, but Christina didn't slow down. She wanted to be on her way. She hadn't expected to have to dress formally their first night here. She had only one evening gown, which she had made for Lord Huntington's last ball.

They spent the whole morning and part of the afternoon going from one shop to another. There were a couple of shops that featured ready-made clothes, but Christina could find only three street dresses that suited her fancy, with slippers and bonnets to match. She could find no evening gowns, however, so they spent the rest of the time having her measurements taken and choosing materials and trims. She ordered three gowns and two more street dresses, all with matching accessories.

The seamstress said it would take at least four days to complete the outfits, but that she would start on the gowns first so Christina might have them earlier. They finally returned home and had a light lunch, then napped.

That evening all tongues were set to wagging when Christina and John Wakefield made their entrance at the dinner party. They were a striking pair with their blond hair and extreme good looks. Christina felt out of place with her deep-violet evening gown, because all the other young women were wearing light pastels. But she was reassured when John whispered, "You outshine them all, Crissy."

Their hosts took them around to meet the other guests, and Christina enjoyed every minute of it. The women flirted boldly with John, and this shocked her a bit. But she was even more shocked by the way the men looked at her, as if undressing her with their eyes. She supposed she had a lot to learn about city people.

The dinner was served in a large dining room, with two huge chandeliers hanging above the table. Christina was seated between two young gentlemen who lavished far too many compliments on her. The man on her left, Mr. Peter Browne, had an annoying habit of taking hold of her hand while talking to her. Sir Charles Buttler, on her right, had limpid blue eyes that wouldn't leave her for a minute. Both men vied for her attentions, each boasting and trying to outdo the other.

After the meal was finished, the women retired to the drawing room and left the men to their brandy and cigars. Christina would have preferred to remain with the men and discuss politics or world affairs. Instead, she was forced to listen to all the latest gossip about people she didn't know. "You know, my dear, that man has insulted every pretty young girl that his brother, Paul Caxton, has introduced to him. It's not human the way he shuns them," Christina overheard a dowager say to her friend.

"It's true that he doesn't seem interested in women. He will not even dance. You don't think he is ah—odd, do you? You know—the kind of man who doesn't care for women?" the other replied.

"How can you say that when he looks so virile? Every eligible young woman in town would love to land him—no matter how badly he treats them."

Christina wondered slightly who the dowagers were talking about, but she didn't really care. She was immensely relieved when she and John were finally able to leave. In the coach on the way home, John smiled mischievously.

"You know, Crissy, three young admirers of yours cornered me separately in the den to ask if they could call on you."

"Really, John?" she replied, yawning. "What did you tell them?"

"I said that you were very discriminating in your tastes, and that you wouldn't give tuppence for the lot of them."

Christina's eyes flew open, "John, you didn't!" she gasped. "I'll never be able to show my face again!"

Howard Yeats burst out laughing. "You're very gullible tonight, Christina. Where has your sense of humor gone?"

"I actually told them that I didn't dictate to you whom you could or could not see—that the choice was entirely up to you whether you wished to receive callers or not," John said sedately as they pulled up in front of the Yeats home.

"You know—I didn't even think of that. I wouldn't know what to do or say if I had a gentleman caller. I've never entertained anybody except Tommy, and he's like a brother to me," Christina said seriously.

"It will come naturally to you, my dear," Kathren said knowingly. "So don't you worry yourself about it."

The days flew by quickly for Christina, with parties, social gatherings, and dinners to attend. Peter Browne, her dinner partner of her first evening in London, declared himself instantly smitten, and exasperated her with constant declarations of his love. He even asked her brother for her hand in marriage.

"Peter Browne asked you for my hand yesterday, and Sir Charles Buttler asked me today while riding in the park. These London men are quite impulsive, aren't they? Well, I won't see any more of them! It's ridiculous how they think every girl who comes to London is looking for a husband. And to declare they're in love, when they hardly know me—it's absurd!" Christina stormed at her brother, who was more than amused at her outburst.

Tonight was Christina's first ball. She had been looking forward to dancing ever since last month, when she had coaxed Johnsy's husband to teach her how. She had saved her prettiest new gown for this night and was as excited as a small child with a new toy. So far, her London season had not been what she had dreamed it would be. But tonight would be different! And she hoped Peter and Sir Charles would be at the ball, for she was determined to ignore them.