Well, Philip might be surprised at the ball tonight, Paul thought, smiling to himself. He jumped out of his chair and ran up the stairs three at a time. He was in a jubilant mood as he knocked loudly on his brother's door and stuck his head inside. Philip was just sitting up on the bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"It's time to get dressed, old man," Paul said mischievously. "And wear your best regalia. You want to charm all the ladies, don't you?" Paul closed the door swiftly as a pillow slammed against it. He laughed boisterously as he went down the hall to his room.

"What's so amusing, Paul?" Mary asked as he came into their room still laughing.

"I think Philip will meet his downfall this night, and he won't even know it," Paul answered.

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"Nothing, my sweet—nothing at all!" he exclaimed. He picked her up and swung her round and round.

* * *

Philip Caxton was annoyed. He had had an argument with his brother only yesterday about women and marriage, and now Paul was at it again.

"Look at all the beauties you can choose from in this ballroom," his brother was saying with a twinkle in his green eyes. "It's about time you settled down and gave the Caxtons an heir."

Paul was going too far. Philip wondered at the game he was playing. "Do you expect me to pick a wife from one of these simpleminded young ladies of society?" he said sarcastically. "There's not one here I would care to invite into my bedroom."

"Why aren't you dancing, Philip?" Mary said, coming up to them. "Shame on you, Paul, for keeping your brother from all these pretty young things." She put her arm on Paul's.

It always amused Philip when Mary referred to girls her own age as young things. Mary was only eighteen years old herself, and very lovely, with big cat-like eyes and light brown hair. Paul had married her only last year.

Philip replied teasingly, "When I find a maiden as beautiful as you are, my dear, I will be more than happy to waltz the night away."

Just then Philip saw Christina standing only three feet away. She was a vision! He didn't know a woman could be that beautiful!

She glanced at him before turning away, but in that moment her image was etched in his mind forever. Her eyes fascinated him—dark rings of sea-blue surrounding light-blue-green centers. Her hair was a shimmering golden mass of curls, with a few loose curls dangling softly against her neck and temples. Her nose was straight and narrow—her lips, soft and alluring and made to be kissed.

She wore a dark-sapphire-blue-satin ball-gown. Her soft rounded breasts swelled above the de'colletage, and light-blue ribbons emphasized her slim waist. She was perfection.

Philip's gaze was interrupted by Paul's hand waving back and forth before bis eyes. He finally looked at his grinning brother.

"Have you gone daft?" Paul laughed. "Or is it Miss Wakefield who has caught your eye? Why do you think I insisted you come tonight? She lives with her brother in Halstead and is here for the season. Would you like to meet her?"

Philip smiled. "Do you have to ask?"

* * *

Christina noticed a man staring rudely at her. She had overheard him earlier insulting all the ladies in the room. Perhaps he was the same man whose bad manners were the talk of London.

She turned away when she saw him coming toward her. She had to admit he was the handsomest man she had ever seen, but reminded herself that she had lived a secluded life and had met very few.

"Excuse me, John," she said to her brother, "but it is extremely warm in here. Could we take a turn in the garden?" She took a step, but was stopped by a voice behind her.

"Miss Wakefield."

Christina had no choice but to turn around. She looked into a pair of forest-green eyes with hundreds of yellow flecks in them. They held her spellbound. It seemed an eternity before she heard voices again.

"Miss Wakefield, we met in the park yesterday—you mentioned you would be attending this ball. You do remember, don't you?"

Christina finally turned to the tall young man and his wife. "Yes, I remember. It was Paul and Mary Caxton, was it not?"

"That's right," Paul said. "I would like to introduce you to my brother, who is also visiting the city. Miss Christina and Mr. John Wakefield—my brother, Philip Caxton."

Philip Caxton shook John's hand, then kissed hers lightly, sending shivers up her arm.

"Miss Wakefield, I would be more than honored if you would consent to have the next dance with me," Philip Caxton said, without letting go of her hand.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Caxton, but I was just leaving for a stroll with my brother. It's so stifling hot in here." Why was she explaining herself to this man?

"Then you must let me escort you, with your brother's permission, of course." He looked at John.

"Certainly, Mr. Caxton. I have just seen an acquaintance I would like to speak with, so you will be doing me a service."

Oh John, how could you, she thought angrily. But Philip Caxton was already leading her through the crowd toward the doors. When they stepped outside, Christina immediately withdrew her hand from his. They walked a few paces before she heard his deep voice again.

"Christina, your name is enchanting. Was your excuse of the heat a feminine way of getting me outside alone?"

She turned to face him very slowly, with her hands on her hips and sparks flying from her eyes. "Why, you insufferable cad! Your conceit overwhelms me. Are you quite sure this simpleminded young lady of society is worthy enough to invite into your bedroom?"

Christina missed the shocked look on Philip's face when she turned and stalked back into the ballroom. She also missed the slow grin that replaced the shocked look.

Ill be damned, he thought, shaking his head. She's no simpleminded young lady. She's a little spitfire. Damned if she didn't tell me off. He closed his eyes and saw her before him, and he knew he must have her. But he certainly was off to a bad start, for she had taken an immediate dislike to him. Well, he wouldn't give up. One way or another, he would have her.

Philip walked back into the ballroom to find Christina safely with her brother. He watched her all night, but she managed to avoid meeting his eyes. He decided to keep his distance, for there was no point making matters worse than they already were. He would give her a chance to calm down tonight, and would start anew tomorrow.

Chapter Four

THE sun was high over the trees when Christina finally crawled from her bed. She put on her slippers and robe and walked over to the window, wondering what time it was. She remembered how she had tossed and turned all night after coming home from the ball.

She kept seeing those unusual eyes staring at her insolently from that handsome face. Philip Caxton was taller than most men, more than a foot taller than her five feet, four inches, and lean and muscular. He had black hair, and a deep rich tan that stood him apart from the lily-white London dandies.

What's the matter with you, Christina, she scolded herself. Why can't you get that man out of your thoughts? He insulted you, but you continue to think about him. Well, you won't be seeing Philip Caxton again if you can help it.

She threw off her robe and slippers and took out one of the new street dresses from her wardrobe. After she was attired to her taste, she descended the stairs to look for her brother.

Christina walked into the dining room to find Mrs. Douglas and one of the downstairs maids clearing away what looked like the remains of lunch.

"Why, Miss Christina, we were beginning to wonder if you had taken ill. Would you be caring for some breakfast? Or perhaps some lunch would be more to your liking?" Mrs. Douglas said.

Christina smiled as she sat down. "No, thank you, Mrs. Douglas. Some toast and tea will be fine. Where is everyone?"

"Well, Mr. John said he had some errands to run, and left just before you came down, miss," Mrs. Douglas said as she poured Christina a cup of tea. "And Mr. and Mrs. Yeats are taking an afternoon nap." The maid came in with a plate of toast and jams.

"I almost forgot, Miss Christina," said Mrs. Douglas, "there's been a gentleman come round to see you this morning. He's a persistent one—come three times already. A Mr. Caxton, I believe." She was interrupted by a knock at the door. "That must be him again."

Christina was annoyed. "Well, if it is the same gentleman, or any other, tell him I am feeling poorly and won't be receiving callers today."

"Very well, miss. But this Mr. Caxton's an awfully handsome gent," Mrs. Douglas replied before she left to answer the door.

She came back shortly, shaking her head. "It was Mr. Caxton again. He said to tell you, miss, that he's sorry you're feeling ill, and he hopes you'll be better tomorrow."

John and she were returning home tomorrow, so she wouldn't have to see Mr. Caxton again. She missed the country, and she missed her daily rides on her stallion, Dax. She would be glad to be home.

Dax and Princess had been born at the same time, and her father had given Princess to her for a birthday present. But Princess was white and gentle, while Dax was a fiery black colt. So Christina had coaxed her father into giving her Dax instead, promising to train him to be gentle.

But Dax was gentle only for Christina. She laughed aloud when she remembered John trying to ride Dax two years ago. The stallion would allow no one on his back but Christina. At home, she could soon forget about that rude Philip Caxton, and Peter Browne, and Sir Charles Buttler.

Christina heard the front door open and close, and John appeared in the doorway.

"So you finally managed to pull yourself out of bed. I waited for you this morning, but gave up at noon." John leaned against the doorframe. "I ran into Tom and Anne Shadwell while I was out. He was in my regiment, you remember. They have invited us for dinner tonight, along with a few of their friends. Can you be ready to leave by six?"

"I suppose so, John."

"I also met Mr. Caxton outside. He said he had called for you, but you weren't feeling well. Is anything the matter?"

"No. I just didn't want to see anyone today," she replied.

"Well, we'll be leaving tomorrow, so today is your last chance to find a worthy husband," John teased.

"Really, John! You know that's not why I came to town. The last thing I want is to be tied down and enslaved by wifely duties. When I find a man who will treat me as an equal, then perhaps I shall consider marriage."

John laughed, "I warned father that giving you an education would be your downfall. What man will want a wife who's as smart as he?"

"If all men are so weak and timid, I will never marry— and be content!"

"I can't say I would pity the man who wins your heart,

Crissy," said John. "It will make a most interesting marriage." Then he left.

Christina sat thinking over what John had said. She doubted she would ever find the kind of love that would make her happy: the kind of love her father and mother had had for each other. Theirs had been the perfect marriage until they died four years ago. John and she had grown even closer since their deaths.

Then, last year, John purchased a commission in Her Majesty's Army, and was now on leave awaiting further orders .Christina suddenly determined to go with him wherever he was sent. She would miss Dax and Wakefield, but she would miss her brother more.

She hoped John wouldn't be sent too far away. He didn't plan to make the army his career, but he wanted to do his part for his country before settling down. They would be at Wakefield tomorrow, and soon they would be leaving again. She hoped it wouldn't be too soon.

Chistina went upstairs to order a bath. She loved leisurely baths. They relaxed her and improved her frame of mind, just as riding did.

Christina decided to take special care with her attire, since this would be her last night in London. She chose a dark-burgundy evening dress and had Mary pile her blond curls into an elaborate new style. She arranged blood-red rubies in her hair and clasped a matching necklace around her neck. Her mother had left her rubies, sapphires, and emeralds to Christina. The diamonds and pearls were for John to give his wife when he married. Mother had told her once that her complexion and hair were too fair to wear diamonds, and Christina quite agreed.