“I need you, too. I’m empty, miserable and have no one to talk to.”
She caught her breath. “Christian, I—”
The dance came to an abrupt end, and they parted. With no option but to escort Rose back to her brother, he waited for Lord Stanton to berate him for being far too familiar.
“Lord Farleigh, I trust it’s been a while since you danced and consequently have forgotten what is deemed an appropriate distance.” Lord Stanton straightened to his full height. “How is Rose able to settle back into society when you’re determined to make a spectacle of her?”
Christian inclined his head. “As you say, after such a long stint in the country, I find my skill is somewhat lacking when it comes to dancing.”
Stanton stepped closer and bent his head. “My sister does not need any more upset.”
“Oliver, please,” Rose whispered.
“No, Rose, he needs to know. He needs to know that you cry yourself to sleep at night. Don’t think I don’t know. Don’t think I can’t hear you.”
Christian’s tongue grew thick as a pang of self-loathing hit him hard in the chest. He turned to look at Rose though he directed his reply to her brother. “I shall make it my life’s mission to ensure she has no need to shed a tear again.”
A foppish gentleman approached and cleared his throat to gain their attention. “Lord Stanton, I wonder if I might have the pleasure of asking Rose—”
“Bugger off, Cunningham.” Stanton didn’t bother to make eye contact with the dandy.
So, this was Lord Cunningham. What the hell was Rose thinking when she imagined herself in love with him? Heaven help the man when it came to undressing. It would take him a week to untie the ridiculous knot in his cravat. Christian breathed a sigh of relief when he considered the competition, but that didn’t stop him wanting to throttle Cunningham until the fellow’s cheeks turned blue.
“But I wanted to ask Rose—”
“Leave, Cunningham, else you’ll feel my shoe up your behind.”
“There is nothing to say,” Rose interjected when Cunningham lingered like a bad smell. “During my absence, I’ve come to realise we’re not suited.”
As Christian had no right to comment, he glared at Cunningham until the lord scuttled away.
“Now,” Stanton began. “I suppose it’s too much to hope you’re only here for that little blue book, Farleigh.”
Rose stiffened. “Does it matter why he’s here?”
“Blue book?” Was Stanton referring to Rose’s diary, the one she used to hide the letters? “I am not in the habit of reading a lady’s personal reflections.”
“I’m referring to the one she found at Everleigh.” Stanton glanced at Rose with some disapproval. “The one she should have left there. The one she had no right to take.”
Rose turned to Christian and placed a hand on his sleeve, much to her brother’s chagrin. “Perhaps we should take a stroll around the garden.”
Panic flared. If she’d lied to him about another matter, he wasn’t sure how he’d react.
“We’ll accompany you outside.” Lady Stanton took hold of her husband’s arm. “It’s clear you have things to discuss that requires time away from the ballroom.”
Stanton gestured for Christian to lead the way. “You may walk a few feet in front, but no more. I’ll not have people gossiping about Rose.”
Christian offered Rose his arm and led her out onto the terrace. They descended the stone steps leading into the well-lit garden. Christian waited until they’d settled into a relaxed pace before asking the question plaguing his thoughts.
“Why didn’t you mention the book before? You had every opportunity to do so. And what is so important you would bring it with you to London?”
“I did mention it. If you recall, I brought the book down to the study along with the letters, but you distracted me.”
An image of her lying naked beneath him flashed into his mind. “Granted, I had more pressing matters to attend to at the time.”
“The following day, I asked you to read it after you’d studied the letters.”
After that night in his study, he’d struggled to think of anything other than Rose. While he’d tried to read the letters, he wanted nothing to rid him of the warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest.