“Ah, yes. Erika has an early appointment in the morning. We did agree that she might possibly have to leave before me. Thank you for the reminder,” he replied.
Christian quickly headed toward one of the supper tables, picked up a plate and began to pile food on it. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but the pantomime had to play out. If the British thought for one minute that there was any sort of discord between the Swedes, they would pounce and capitalize on it.
As he took a bite of a cold pork pie, he made a silent promise. Come the morning, he and Erika would be having words. And while his fake fiancée may not like what she was going to hear, he was damn well going to make her listen.
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Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Why did you abandon me last night?”
Erika wheeled round at those words and glared at Christian. How dare he? How bloody dare he?
“I abandoned . . . Oh! You were the one who went off crawling into dark corners, leaving me to smile and make pretty all evening,” she replied.
The middle of Manchester Square gardens was hardly the place for an argument, but if Christian wanted a fight, she was more than willing to give him one. She let Freya from her leash and the dog bounded off in the direction of a nearby shrub.
Christian hurried his steps toward her, stopping only a matter of a yard away. Erika straightened her back. She was not going to be intimidated. Six foot three and strongly built, Christian had a presence about him. As far as she was concerned this morning, he could take his handsome, heart-stopping self elsewhere.
“Go away. I am trying to have a peaceful morning stroll in the gardens with Freya. If you wish to discuss last night, you can wait until I am home.”
“No. We talk now. I wanted to speak to you at home, but you had already fled. And what do you mean by accusing me of crawling into dark corners?” he replied.
She huffed and moved closer. “Don’t try to tell me your lies. You and Lady Lynch were gone for several hours last night. And her son did his best to stop me from going looking for you.”
He shook his head. “You have it all wrong, Erika. I wasn’t with her.”
“Really? Are you going to stand there and lie to my face?”
When he scowled at her, Erika threw up her hands in disgust. She wasn’t stupid. It was obvious he was trying to come up with a plausible story to tell. To placate her. To keep her silent. “Don’t bother explaining anything of last night to me. I am honestly not that interested. All I would ask is that in future if you intend to abandon me at a social function, that you at least have the manners to tell me beforehand.”
“The British sprung the trade agreement negotiations on me last night. That’s where I was,” he replied.
She caught sight of a well-dressed couple as they entered the gardens by a nearby gate. They waved to her and Erika smiled at them as they approached. “Oh please, you don’t really expect me to believe that you negotiated a major trade agreement on your own, do you? You would need my father and Baron von Rehausen to hold your hand through the whole thing. Don’t feel that you have to lie to me, Christian. As I said, it doesn’t matter. Do what you will. I’m just sorry that I thought that you might be that one person who could rise above the fleshpot of London society.”
“What?”
Erika took one more step closer to Christian.
“I might be an innocent when it comes to some matters of the world, but even I know the three Fs of diplomacy. Fawning, farthings . . . and you know the last one.”
If the other couple hadn’t been in Manchester Square gardens, Christian would have stopped Erika and tried to settle things with her. But he dared not risk anyone witnessing their argument. He was left with no other option than to plaster a smile on his visage and fall into step alongside her as she called Freya to heel.
After some introductions and the requisite amount of small talk, Erika’s friends made their farewells. Apart from the occasional remark, Christian said little. He was still stunned by her words. He bent and patted Freya, but even she shied away from him. It was clear where the dog’s loyalties now lay.
Erika is really angry with me. No. She is furious.
He could only be grateful that she hadn’t finished the last word in the sentence—he was surprised that she even knew such language.
“Are you on your way to see the baron this morning? I mean, that’s why you are passing through the gardens is it not? Or were you just looking for a fight,” she asked.
Christian stirred from his private thoughts. “Yes, I need to speak to him about last night. The British are already trying to dictate unfavorable terms—we need to nip that in the bud.”
The chin tip he got in reply to his words was enough to tell him that Erika still didn’t believe that was all he had been up to at the ball. But now was not the time to continue their row. Hopefully given time and a little space, she might be ready listen to what he had to say. “Where are you headed, Erika?”
“Not that you care, but I am also headed to the same place this morning. Baroness von Rehausen and I have to decide on what I need to wear this week for the remaining parties and balls.”
Not that you care. Oh, Erika.
