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.But that puzzled him and a crease formed between his brows.Who was in his bed? Then it came back to him.The ghost….No…Contessa.He must have rolled into her transparent form.His eyes popped open.Frowning again, he pushed up onto one elbow.He was not on top of her as he’d feared, just close enough to feel her heat.And she looked different to him.He peered closer and then cursed.He couldn’t see through her! Moving to brace a hand on either side of her, Christian studied her sleeping outline, unbelieving.Was she corporeal? His fingers lifted to her face, slid along her pale skin, and then any hope in his heart sank with the weight of reality.It must have been a trick of the light, because she felt just as transparent as before.Warm, yes, but still a ghost.He ran another gaze over her latent body.Her tresses of gold spilled out around her head like a halo.Again, his hand lifted and his fingers slid through the gilded hair.Drawing in a measured breath, and then slowly releasing it, Christian yearned to let those strands sift through his fingers, feeling the texture of silk.Groaning, he dropped onto his back next to her.The mattress bounced under his weight.With fingers raking through his hair, he remembered his plans for the day.Fisting his hands, he tugged.Unwanted plans.Today was the ball he’d promised to go to.Mentally, he cursed again and moved from the bed carefully trying not to wake her.Once upright, his gaze shifted to her another time.And then guilt slammed into him like a sucker punch to the gut.Leaving her like this, attending a ball without taking her felt like betrayal, and she’d already been betrayed.And he feared how upset she was going to be after having such a dream, and then finding him not here.But he’d given his word.And he needed the money.Another angry oath blew past his lips as he dressed and left the room.He’d arrived early enough to visit a number of secondhand bookstores and libraries before the soirée began.Again searching for anything that might tell him who Contessa was and where this prince was from.And as before, he’d found nothing in his hunt, and this time he’d even had names to look for.Surely there should have been record of this prince somewhere, Christian thought angrily, as he moped about the edges of the dance floor at the Wimple’s.Irritation simmered to a roiling heat inside his stomach—Muriel Spencer had her sights set on him.He could practically see the cogs of her brain twisting as she followed his movement with those pretty yet cold blue eyes of hers.Her lashes fluttered, and she offered that practiced smile which many men had fallen for.But not him.Never! Christian could see right through her lovely but false mask.In attendance, he felt he’d done his duty as a gentleman.He’d danced with a variety of ladies, including a couple of the known wallflowers.Yes, he had avoided Lady Spencer specifically, and it was obvious she was expecting a turn with him.He avoided her gaze, considering the other women available, and hoped to continue dodging her, but it seemed he’d dallied a moment too long….A growl rumbled inside him, and he was grateful for the music that covered the sound.How dare she use his mother! He mused angrily as Muriel approached Lady Sparks now seated with Mrs.Wimple.Mother smiled at the little snot, completely taken in by her acting, and then her eyes shifted in his direction as she rose from her seat.With a sharp curse, he moved to escape the room, but it was too late, they’d managed to block his only exit.He wanted to bite out another profanity, but choked it down.Christian didn’t really want his mother to notice what a foulmouthed boy he was becoming as of late.He knew he should stop, but was unable to find enough motivation to do so when Muriel smiled like the cat that swallowed the canary.Her thin fingers smoothed the ruffles of the yellow, chiffon dress she wore, feigning innocence with her cheeky grin.How could his mother not see it?“Christian,” Mother said.“I’ve added your name to Lady Spencer’s dance card.”He gaped at the both of them.It was his place to do that, not theirs.Mother? he said with his glare.Glancing toward his father first, his mother then twisted back around and answered with a glare of her own, which he fully understood.Do it, Christian, or I will not speak with your father.The threat hung heavily between them, and it forced Christian to swallow.One more foul word slid through his thoughts.He felt like a caged beast, but didn’t want his peers to see the monster which paced within him so he bowed.“Shall we then?” He presented his arm and angled a crooked grin the debutante’s way.Yes, he could concede he’d lost the first round of this game of cat and mouse.It wasn’t something he could escape without causing a scene, so he decided to play along, careful not to let her trap him as that blasted prince had trapped Tessa.He was here to gain his allowance, not find a bride.Silently they—correction, he was silent as he led the babbling Lady Spencer onto the dance floor.After she went on and on about her dress, and her jewelry, and her last tea party, Christian decided it would probably be best if he muttered some acknowledgement when she said, “Lord Sparks?”“Mmm,” was all he offered in reply.Reflexively he leaned away.She was trying to dance too closely, and he knew that wouldn’t look good.The last thing he wanted was to be captured in wedlock with this girl.His ears would fall off.“Your dear mother said I should visit you to see your new castle,” Muriel purred into his ear as he turned her in the waltz.A smile stretched his lips, but not for the reason she would think.He was imagining Tessa scaring the snob senseless with her telekinetic tricks.Then he scowled—No, he didn’t want Muriel Spencer anywhere near his sweet-spirited ghost.“I’m not ready for visitors.It is in sore need of repair, I’m afraid,” he said, hoping to dissuade her.“Oh, Christian, you downplay its beauty, I am certain.I’ll bet it is lovely in the spring, is it not?”He hadn’t been there long enough to know, and how dare she call him by his first name! He much preferred the Lord address from her.Searching his mind for anything that might distress her enough to keep her away, he recalled what he knew about her.This girl was pampered and spoiled and selfish.Then it came to him.Smirking at his own brilliance, Christian said, “It’s haunted, I’m distressed to report.Daily I’ve been visited by a ghost.”Then cursed mentally when she smirked right back at him.“How intriguing,” she cooed seductively, leaning close to him again.Spinning her away in a turn he fought for distance another time
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