Page 2 of A Duke to Restore her Memory
Christina leapt to her feet, her heart pounding. "No!" she cried, her voice ringing through the parlour. "I cannot marry Lord Powell, Papa. I will not!"
The viscount's face darkened, his jaw clenching. "You have no choice, Christina. The arrangements have already been made." He paused. “Lord Powell will be arriving at Draycott Manor next week, and the betrothal will be officially announced then.”
"No choice?" Christina's eyes flashed with defiance. "I am not a piece of property to be bartered away! I am your daughter – your flesh and blood!"
She paced the room, her riding habit swishing wildly around her ankles. The afternoon light, now golden and fading, cast long shadows across the floor through the curtains, mirroring the darkness creeping into her heart.
"Lord Powell is a brute, Papa! A cruel, heartless man who cares nothing for anyone but himself. How can you even consider such a match for me?"
Her father snorted with derision. “You exaggerate, Christina! Lord Powell is a fine man, an earl, an exemplary figure in our community.” He shook his head angrily. “Would you see us cast out onto the streets? Our ancestral home sold to pay our debts?"
Christina whirled to face him, her green eyes flashing. "And what of my happiness? I did not create any of this! Would you see your only daughter consigned to misery forever?”
Her father’s face tightened. “You will do your duty by your family, daughter. You will be a countess, one of the finest figures in this district. What more do you want?”
“I want love!” cried Christina, her hands balling into fists at her side, her eyes fiery. “I want respect! And I want to respect my life partner. I cannot respect nor ever admire such a man …”
“You will do it,” growled her father. “You have no choice. It is my final word, Christina.”
Christina glared at him amid a tense impasse, where they stared at each other, neither willing to back down. Christina felt a wave of pure anger but also intense sorrow.
She and her father were so rarely at loggerheads that this dreadful scene – to witness his transformation from a loving, doting father to this cold, implacable stranger ordering her to marry the Earl of Cheltenham – was truly shocking.
She knew, with sudden, crystal clarity, that he would not capitulate. She would be wasting breath entirely if she kept trying to convince him.
“I feel unwell,” she said in a choked voice. “I am going to my chambers.”
“Christina …”
But she was already sweeping out of the room, running as fast as she could.
The thought briefly crossed her mind to appeal to her mother, who would be resting in her chambers with her embroidery patch as was her usual habit at this hour, but she knew that was useless.
Mama would always side with her husband, and besides, Mama would not see anything wrong with her marrying the earl. The viscountess wanted her daughter to find a good match, and in Mama’s eyes, an earl was one of the finest matches there was – even if this particular earl was an utter brute.
She ran up the staircase to her chambers, bursting into the room and falling across the bed. She could no longer contain the tears – they burst like a torrent.
She grabbed a pillow, sobbing hard. She was so distraught she didn’t even hear the door opening and someone entering the room until she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She stopped, mid sob, staring up at the kind, warm face of Harriet, her lady’s maid, who was also her friend and confidante.
“My Lady,” soothed Harriet, her brows knitting together in concern. “Whatever is the matter? Why are you so distressed?”
“Oh, Harriet,” cried Christina, her voice thick with tears. “My life is over! It is over!”
“But why? What has happened?”
“My father is forcing me to marry Lord Powell,” she replied, her face contorting with grief and anger again. “He is a brute, Harriet.” She shuddered. “You know, more than anyone, how much I longed for a love match. And now, that hope is lying in ashes around me.”
“I am so very sorry, milady,” said Harriet solemnly, shaking her head. “It surprises me that Lord Draycott would do such a thing. He dotes upon you. He has only ever wanted your happiness.”
“Yes, well, things have changed,” said Christina, unable to keep the thread of bitterness out of her voice. “He invested heavily in a shipping scheme that went wrong, and our fortune is greatly diminished … and now, he wants me to marry the earl to save our family.”
“That is a heavy burden to carry,” said Harriet, shaking her head ruefully. “But I suppose you have no choice now, milady. You are compelled to do your duty by your family–”
“No!” cried Christina, pushing her hair from her face as she jumped to her feet and started pacing the floor. “There must be a way …”
She stopped suddenly, staring at her reflection in the mirror. A pale face gazed back at her, streaked with tears. Through the shimmering mist they created, her green eyes looked brighter, almost catlike.
Her hair had dislodged from its neat chignon and had fallen, soft golden curls framing her face, tumbling down her back.
