Chapter Eleven
The search for a relative to take care of Terry didn't take long. Lady Wilhelmina
remembered a genteelly impoverished distant cousin named Isabel, and,
evidently, Cousin Isabel was thrilled to learn of her good fortune.
As the Dowager explained to Alaina, leaving the remote northeastern village of
Bamburgh in Northumberland to take up residence in the metropolis of London
was a stroke of luck granted only to a precious few. And a lonely spinster's dream
of adventure fulfilled.
When Isabel arrived at the Hanover Square townhouse, her position was
somewhat ambiguous since Terry already had a governess and a mother, albeit a
surrogate one. With Isabel and Alaina assembled in Lady Wilhelmina's bedroom,
the Dowager welcomed the country cousin and pronounced her Terry's new
companion.
Alaina smiled at the newcomer. Terry would like her open face and twinkling green
eyes.
As the sparse woman, probably about thirty eight or nine, bobbed her head
happily, she prattled, "Yes, oh my yes! Just so. The very thing."
She sounded as if she would have agreed to just about anything to escape her
dreary country existence.
"I'm so glad you could come here, Isabel," Alaina offered. And, it was going to be
really good to have another woman's company in Richard's house.
"Thank you, Lady Alicia. I am thrilled, just thrilled. Oh, thank you."
"You must call me Alicia, please."
"Oh, but I could not. Truly." The woman's green eyes clouded with worry.
"I insist, Isabel. All right?" Alaina held out her hand for a shake. Isabel must have
never heard of Alicia's "sins," so now a friendship could be built without the taint of
the past.
The woman ducked her head. "I am honored,...Alicia. Just so. You are too good."
The only obstacle to friendship was the poor woman's extreme subservience. But
that would change. Alaina rubbed her hands together, planning the makeover. If
she could work wonders with Lucy, then there was hope for Isabel.
"Come, Isabel." Alaina stood. "Lady Wilhelmina needs to rest. I'll show you to your
room."
The country cousin rose with alacrity and followed Alaina like a shadow.
Things were really coming together now that evil Eton was off her shoulders. After
dropping Isabel off at her room, Alaina walked downstairs to the first floor. Not
unexpectedly, Richard had thrown a few roadblocks in her way as she started her
new life. In addition to timing her visits with Lady Wilhelmina, contact with Terry
was also to be limited. And she was forbidden to attend any social event, embark
on any social outing, or pay any social visits.
In effect, he restricted Alaina's contact with society. But, hey, that was all right with
her. There was a number of things she could do that weren't "social" in nature. In a
way, she was relieved not to go to any of these functions. After all, how was she to
know which people were friends and which ones were strangers?
No, she had better ideas on how to spend her time. Slipping into the library, she
walked over to Richard's desk and picked up a pile of illegibly written papers. On
top of it was a memo to his secretary, Mr. Ellis, informing him to transcribe the
work. The note explained that the Earl was scheduled to present a paper on his
Roman archaeology fieldwork to the Dilettani Society on Tuesday, the sixth of
April.
She scanned some of the papers. Yeah, she could handle this--easily. She'd
probably live to regret it but she forged a note from the secretary stating the
presentation paper would be ready for His Lordship by the date requested.
Talk about being invigorated! She returned to her bedroom and started to read.
For a tiny moment, her conscience niggled her at the deception. But why should
it? She had a wealth of experience behind her in Greek and Roman matters; why
not put it to good use?
Knee-deep in Richard's research, time flew by. Some of his conclusions were
really thought-provoking. One such theory was that after the Romans constructed
Hadrian's Wall in northern England around 120 A.D. to 123 A.D., the Roman
legions took refuge behind the Wall's strength and became soldiers in name only,
which weakened the Empire's hold in Britain. Prosperity often led to a country's
downfall. Fat and happy versus lean and mean. In wartime, lean and mean most
often had the edge.
Alaina took some editing liberties with the papers. Authors always assumed their
audience had as perfect a grasp on the facts as they had. But how would Richard
react to having his work tampered with? Maybe if she did it skillfully enough, he
wouldn't realize it.
Of course, the corollary to that was how would he react when he found out the
tamperer was "his wife" and not his secretary, Mr. Ellis?
Alaina smiled mischievously. Anticipating another confrontation kept a devilish
twinkle in her eyes.
When Dana entered, Alaina looked up with a start.
"M'lady, 'tis past time to dress for supper," the maid scolded.
Drat. Who cares about eating when this is something I can really sink my teeth
into?
But duty was duty. Walking over to the wardrobe, Alaina reached inside and
selected the first gown her hand touched. With knit eyebrows, she ignored the
dress and concentrated on a transitional paragraph between the Fishbourne
excavation portion of the paper and the Roman ruins in London.
* * *
At the large dining table, Richard covertly studied his beautiful wife. She seemed
so distant and remote; her distracted air haunted him--and also made him jealous.
"Isn't that so, dear Alicia?" Charles pointedly asked for her opinion on a trivial
matter. He too noticed her inattention, and now he seized the chance to bait her.
Richard coolly regarded his brother. Evidently Charles felt he had a score to settle
with Alicia. It was obvious that she had a hand in Lucinda's internal transformation
as well as external. The young woman's appearance was now more than pleasing,
and her show of independence visibly nettled her husband. Which was, perhaps a
good thing for Charles. The more he tried to bring his wife back to the fold, the
more she flirted with her ever-growing number of admirers. Rumor had it that even
Monique's charms were beginning to pale for him.
"Doesn't seem as if your wife is attending, Richard," Charles said snidely, probably
in the hopes of igniting his ire.
"Hmm? Pardon me, Charlie, I was thinking of something else." A pink blush rose
on Alicia's cheeks.
She presented a charming picture--one that Richard had no hope of
understanding. When he had set the ground rules down for her London visit, he
almost wished for some opposition. Her easy acceptance of her exile caused him
not the sensation of relief but one of distrust. What the devil was she up to?
Although a week had passed since her arrival, he could find no cause to complain
about her exemplary behavior and she had uncomplainingly remained confined to
the house, excepting a few innocuous shopping excursions.
Devil take it, if she kept this up, he would have to resort to taking his meals at his
club. Finishing the remaining Madeira in his glass, he refilled it. Being in close
proximity to her intoxicating presence was indeed taking a toll, wearing down the
carefully built defenses he had created over the years--especially at night knowing
she was only an adjoining door away...
He glanced over at her, and took in her drawn brows of preoccupation. "Most likely
she is dreaming of Augustus Caesar. Alicia shows uncommon interest in his
statue." Unfortunately he could not prevent a tone of bitterness from escaping.
"Very close, but not quite," she said laughing. She turned toward Charles. "Now,
what were you saying, Charlie? You were right to goad me on for not participating
in the conversation. With Lucy dining out, and Nigel having other plans, I haven't
held up my end of the chitchat."
Cousin Isabel hurried to his wife's defense. "Oh, no, Alicia. You have done just
fine. Truly. The very thing."
But Charles flushed at the mention of his wife; her absence tonight must have
been a sore point with him. "You would not have been interested in any event,
Alicia," he condescendingly stated.
Then, for some reason, his blue-green eyes glittered dangerously. What the devil
was Charles thinking?
Signaling a footman, he waved an empty glass. "Richard, I believe it is time for
some port, is it not?"
Richard winced. Bad form on his brother's part. It was customary for the ladies to
leave of their own accord, not be dismissed by the men. Obviously Charles was
out of sort, most likely because his wife was off pursuing her own pleasures.
Probably also felt impotent in his current situation, a condition Richard could
sympathize with--in feeling rather than the actual event.
The ladies graciously took the hint and adjourned to the Blue Salon. Seeing how
he and Charles downed their wine, it was a sure bet that neither of them would be
joining the women.
* * *
After a respectable interval, Alaina pleaded fatigue, as did Isabel, and they both
left the Blue Salon. Alaina looked forward to continuing her work on Richard's
manuscript. The sixth of April was coming up quickly and there was so much she
had to do before finishing it.
She entered her dimly lit sitting room and found Dana waiting to undress her. As
usual, Alaina had the maid undo the tiny pearl buttons down the back and then
leave. Privacy, in whatever shape or form, was important. She picked out a
nightgown and walked into the bedchamber proper.
Ready to slip out of her gown, she saw movement behind her. Whirling around,
she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure before she was enveloped in an embrace.
She had time for a shocked protest of "Rich--" before attack come to her
Never having been kissed by Richard, she certainly envisioned this action...and
much more--many times. But for some reason, the reality of the event didn't live up
to her imagination. Dear God, this was almost as nasty as wet lips on a fish! A fish
doused in alcohol.
Disappointed to the very marrow of her soul, she wriggled out of his arms, which
caused her gown to slip down off her shoulders.
"Richard, what in the world are you doing?" Then she broke free and backed
away. Holding her gown up over her breasts, she wildly searched for a dressing
gown.
"You don't have to keep up the maidenly pretense with me, Alicia." His voice was
harsh with passion. "I know you for what you are."
Finding temporary refuge behind a chaise-lounge, Alaina quickly pulled on a silk
robe and belted it. Good God, she needed time to think! The man with the fish lips
wasn't Richard but Charles Cransworth!
"Charlie, what do you think you're doing? You'd better leave immediately." Alaina
tried to keep her voice calm. "Richard will be furious if he finds you here."
"He might be, my dear Alicia, but the fury will not be directed at me. He knows how
you are. One word from me about your seducing ways and your lovely throat will
feel the wrath of his hands."
Alaina raised her hand to her throat. She'd already felt the strength of Richard's
hands around her neck, and had no intention of experiencing that again.
Charlie advanced further, like a stalking predator. His turquoise eyes darkened to
indigo and he ran his tongue over his lips.
Cripes. She was in deep trouble. "Charlie, for goodness sake, listen to me. This
isn't like you. For whatever it's worth, I'm Richard's wife and Lucy's friend. You
don't want me. Don't ruin what small chance we all might have for happiness."
He stopped in his tracks and his eyes returned to normal. "What does Lucinda
have to do with this?"
Here was a point worth pursuing. Alaina smoothed back her messy hair and
bravely sat on the side of the chaise-lounge. "Do you love your wife?"
Charlie rubbed a weary hand up and down his cheek as if he had a toothache.
When he joined her on the couch, his shoulders slumped. "Yes," he admitted.
"Yes, I suppose I do."
"If Lucy found out about tonight, think about how she would feel. You could never
hope to ever reconcile."
No longer afraid of what he might do, Alaina moved closer. She really did think of
him as a brother. "Lucy doesn't know you love her. None of your actions tell her
so. She's been very unhappy."
With his head in his hands, Charlie looked like he'd been sentenced to hell. "What
a muck I have made of it, Alicia. It has been torture for me these past few months.
Do you think she will ever forgive me?"
Alaina smiled. "Why don't you ask her? A nice romantic dinner for two might be
just the thing. All women love special attention."
He nodded. "You are right. Perhaps it is not too late to see if Lucinda will still have
me."
Standing, he took Alaina's hand. "And you? Will you, can you forgive me?" His
eyes burned red, probably with alcoholic excess and with shame.
"Forgive what?" she asked with playful innocence.
Charles grinned and kissed her palm. "I have much to thank you for." Making his
way to the door, he opened it and said, "I am a changed man, thanks to you,
sweet Alicia. I should have come to you sooner. Good-night."
Alaina stood in the doorway, watching him quietly walk down the corridor. She
leaned against the wall, relief washing through her. The night's outcome had a
happy ending. Charlie had given her a bad fright, but now she felt confident Lucy
and he would work out their problems.
As she reentered her room, her relief turned into panic. The unmistakable sound of
a nearby door clicking shut echoed loudly throughout the Hall.
Chapter Twelve
The night after Charlie's surprise "visit", Lucy burst into Alaina's bedroom. "Alicia,
Alicia, I cannot believe this is happening. Oh, pinch me to see if I am awake!"
Then she held up her hands as if to stop. "No, don't! I do not want to wake up!"
Alaina slid the papers she was working on under a book, then said, "Sit, calm
down, and tell me what the fuss is about." She had a pretty good idea.
Her face flushing pink with joy, Lucy confirmed it. "It is Charles, he says he loves
me and wants a second chance. He wants to go to Paris--just the two of us." She
sat down with a thud. "I must be in heaven."
"I thought you said you were dreaming! No, no, I'm teasing. So what did you tell
him?"
Lucy looked coy. "I said I would think about it! Of course I ran right over to ask you
what you think. What caused this about-face, I wonder?"
Alaina reached over for her hairbrush and brushed her hair trying to appear
nonchalant. "That isn't important. What is important is that he finally came to his
senses." She gave Lucy a hug. "As for what I think, I say do what you think best."
"Then I shall go!" Lucy said breathlessly. Blowing a hurried kiss, she flew out of
the room, calling back, "We leave tomorrow."
Richard wasn't present when his brother and wife departed the next day. In fact,
Alaina hadn't seen him since the night of the would-be-violation. Deep inside, she
feared that he had overheard his brother leave her room--meaning, of course, he
believed her guilty of seduction.
No one else saw anything unusual in Richard's absence, though. I'm making
mountains out of molehills, she scolded herself. He probably knows nothing of the
other night.
But in her heart, she knew she was deluding herself.
Terry started demanding more and more of her attention. After Lucy and Charlie
left, he pulled her and Isabel into the drawing room and insisted someone read
him a story. With Isabel's help, Alaina acted out selections from Aesop's Fables
and also from some Greek myths.
While Terry looked at pictures concerning the tortoise and the hare, Isabel
remarked, "You are so talented, Alicia. Yes, indeed. Just see how Terrence is
progressing with his reading. Imagine, his favorite word to spell is 'hare'!"
"He is a darling, isn't he? But you have the patience of a saint with children, Isabel.
Let me tell you, that is a gift! And it's something I sorely lack. One day you'll read
to your own children at your knee."
The older woman blushed. "Truly, I am passed the age of childbearing. Besides,
have you forgotten I am not even betrothed?"
"Give yourself time." Alaina waved Isabel's concerns away. "Once Lady
Wilhelmina is up and about, there'll be dozens of parties to attend. I predict it won't
be long before the 'right man' claims your hand."
Alaina wasn't indulging in empty praise. Since Isabel now had a new sophisticated
look--minus the fat sausage curls--plus some up-to-date gowns, the country cousin
was all the crack. One of these days, pretty darn soon, an eligible widower or
bachelor would snatch the timid lady from the antidote ********************************f.
Alaina, suddenly thinking she should start planning now, said, "You know, I think
I'll run upstairs and tell the Dowager that Lucy and Charlie got off all right. Be right
back."
Terry murmured his dissent, but Alaina silenced him with a motherly kiss.
Lady Wilhelmina was eager for company and very receptive to Alaina's scheme.
"My dear, that is an excellent idea. I quite agree. I am positively itching to resume
my rounds in society. If I remain contained within these four walls much longer I
will become dicked in the nob--pardon my street cant!"
She leaned back against her pillows. "I shall go about my 'recovery' slowly.
Perhaps next week we can attend a musicale or a rout."
Then from under her lashes, the Dowager asked, "By the bye, how do things stand
between you and Richard?"
"The truth is..." Alaina paused to sigh, "I haven't seen him. He's told Cook that he'll
be having dinner elsewhere now that Charlie and Lucy have left. And where he
spends his days...and nights, is a mystery to me."
"I refuse to admit defeat--you and Richard are bound to get back together...bound
to! Look at the miracle of Charles and Lucinda. You would have thought those two
were off on their honeymoon."
Alaina grinned. "Yes, that describes it to a tee! Well, I'll see you later. Terry is
impatient to continue his lessons."
Back in the drawing room, Alaina, along with Isabel, sang the Alphabet Song to
teach Terry his letters. He loved its sing-song rhythm and made her sing it over
and over.
In the middle of yet another rendition, Richard walked into the room. After a flicker
of surprise, he displayed no emotion except boredom. When they finished the
song, Terry chirped, "Papa, good morning! We were saying our alphabet."
Terry was so proud of his accomplishment. "Didn't we do a good job?" He was the
only one not affected by Richard's unexpected entrance.
Richard's sardonic gaze took in a subdued Cousin Isabel as well as a fidgety
Alaina. "Indeed," he pronounced, in somewhat gloomy tones. "Cousin Isabel,
kindly restore my son to his governess. I wish to speak with my wife alone."
Oh, joy. What did I do now?
"But Papa," Terry protested, "I was having fun."
"Terrence." Richard would brook no opposition from his son.
Isabel glanced at Alaina as if to seek her permission, so she made an
imperceptible nod. Isabel and Terry then left the room; the boy had a frown on his
usually happy face.
"Higgins informed me I would find you in the drawing doom. I do not recall giving
permission for it to be turned into a schoolroom." Richard leaned against the wall
and placed one foot up on a low stool.
His informal pose didn't fool Alaina. She smoothed back a stray lock of hair. "Terry
likes to be read to. There's no harm in that. And, as you recall, you haven't been
home lately, so I couldn't ask you."
He ignored the dig. "I do not consider you an appropriate example for my son to
learn from. I want you to desist teaching him."
Maybe it was her time of month, or something, but Alaina felt unaccountably down
in the dumps. In his eyes she couldn't do anything right. Even reading to a little
boy who so badly needed a mother. And what about the presentation paper? What
would Richard do when he found out about that? It was too late to return it; she
was committed and had to finish the work.
How many slams could she handle without giving up the ghost? How could she
find the energy to fight back? Everything was toppling in on her. Everything was
going wrong--and nothing would ever change. He would never view her as
anything other than an adulterous bimbo.
A trickle of a tear coursed down her cheek. Too tired to wipe it away, Alaina turned
her head to hide it. "You win," she said, striving to keep her voice even. "I'll stop
the lessons. Is there anything else?"
His wife's unhappiness hit Richard hard. Clenching his fists, he watched her
hunched-over form with despair. He longed to take her in her arms and take away
the salty tears. However, didn't he see his brother depart her bedchamber with a
smile on his face? Didn't he hear Charles thank her and call her "Sweet Alicia" and
wish that he had come to her sooner? What kind of woman seduces her own
brother-in-law?
Richard had been tempted to call Charles out but he resisted--Alicia was not worth
it. And now here she was, crying over...over what, the loss of reading to her son?
The son that she had previously despised?
Since his mother showed signs of being on the mend, as soon as she was
completely out of danger he would send Alicia packing. Who knew, perhaps the
next target for her unbridled passion would be Nigel. Richard would contrive to get
Nigel readmitted to Cambridge--out of harm's way.
"Is there anything else?" she repeated, dully.
The fog of despair cleared in his mind. "Yes, I thought you would be glad of the
news. Your Madame Reena was right."
Alicia jerked her head up. "Madame Reena was right...right about what?" The
mention of the dead mystic's name seemed to make her shiver.
"The Duke of Clarence's child has died." Seeing Alicia's incomprehension, Richard
added, "The Duke, once again, has no issue. You should be pleased to know you
received your money's worth--Madame Reena predicted correctly. Knowing the
future rulers of England was the reason you went to the mystic, isn't that what you
said?"
Mocking her with his words, Richard closed the door to the drawing room. For
some inexplicable reason, he felt like a cad.
* * *
As the sixth of April approached, Alaina finished the presentation paper. Fortifying
herself with brandy to give herself courage, she slipped into the library and placed
the neatly printed work on Richard's desk. The room had an unused air about it as
if it suffered neglect from its master. The magnificent bust of Augustus brought
back memories on how Richard had become inflamed over her interest in it. Then
that thought led to remembering how he brushed away her tears. What a tender
moment; if only there could be more moments like that one.
"You're a fool, Alaina Sawyer," she whispered bitterly. "A damn stupid fool. I have
to get it through my thick head that it's useless to hope, no matter what the
Dowager says."
Alaina could count on her fingers all the times Richard touched her. Although the
contact was usually made in anger, she couldn't deny the electricity that passed
between them. She now had an intimate understanding of the term "sexually
frustrated." To put it mildly, it was the pits!
"As soon as Richard has his archaeology meeting, I'll leave London. At least at
Saybrooke Hall I can be reasonably certain of not running into him."
Alaina admitted defeat and was ready to retreat and lick her wounds. There was
one other thing she wanted to do though; she wanted to attend the Dilettani
Society when Richard presented his paper. Going was risky, but although it was
unlikely there would be many women present, she hoped to escape notice--
especially one person in particular's notice.
She had it all figured out but she sat on pins and needles anticipating Richard's
reaction to her meddling. Every day prior to the big one, she peeped into the
library. The presentation paper remained exactly where she had placed it. He must
have felt confident of his secretary's abilities and didn't think it necessary to review
his work. It appeared she would be spared a blow-out until after the meeting.
The big day finally arrived. Looking out of her bedroom window, Alaina saw
Richard enter his carriage; his destination had to be the Dilettani Society.
"All right. It's show time." Taking a last look at her appearance in the cheval mirror,
she nervously caught her leather shoe in the flounce at the base of her dark grey
bombazine dress. "Damn!"
"M'lady!" her maid admonished. She straightened the back of Alaina's high
standing collar, then adjusted the white frill surrounding the neck. "If I may say so,
M'lady, this walkin' dress is very flatterin'. 'Tis a bit somber in tone, though."
"It's just what I want--can't be too conspicuous." Alaina grabbed her bonnet and
gloves. "Wish me luck."
Dana complied with the request, but as Alaina left the bedroom, asked, "But what
do you need the luck for, M'lady?"
***
At the Dilettani Society, Alaina quietly observed the members. They were crowded
together in a medium-sized room, eating tea and crumpets while waiting for the
meeting to begin. She took care to remain on the fringes of the group. If she
needed to make a quick exit, she was right by the door.
There was no doubt that the majority of the Society's membership was of the
aristocracy; there could be no mistaking the manners and dress of the British
upper crust. Other ladies were also present, so her presence wasn't extremely
glaring. Overhearing a remark, she gathered that these ladies were considered
"bluestockings."
As Alaina turned to her left, a man bumped into her elbow. "Pardon me, sir."
"Demmed clumsy of me. Pardon me, miss," he offered. An older gentleman with
his hands full of ********************************************************ment and biscuit, he had trouble maneuvering in the crowd.
With a once-over, he took stock of Alaina from head to toe. "I say, delighted to see
some new blood at these stodgy meetings. M'name's Boggs, Ian Boggs."
He seemed harmless so she introduced herself. "And I'm Alaina."
The man had a comical appearance, with graying hair parted in the middle and a
bristly mustache hanging over the sides of his lips. At the moment, the stiff hairs
held several crumbs from the biscuit.
"Oh dear, I'm afraid you have...." She gestured toward his face.
"'Tis a demmed nuisance." Ian Boggs flicked his finger through the mustache. "If
you would be so kind...."
Alaina pulled out a handkerchief from her reticule and quickly brushed away the
crumbs.
"Indebted to you forever, m'dear." He finished the last of his food, then
concentrated on her. "You must forgive an old man, but why is a lovely gel like
yourself here with these dull old dogs? You should be out kicking up a lark! If I
were thirty years younger," he ended wistfully.
She laughed. Bumping into Mr. Boggs was a piece of good luck. "Oh, I have a
small interest in the ancient Romans. I thought I'd come hear the paper scheduled
for today."
"The Fishbourne excavation? Bah! Nothing there but an old palace and scores
upon scores of mosaic floor bits. Stuff and nonsense!" he expostulated. Leaning
closer to her ear, he whispered, "If you really want to hear about an exciting find,
come back next month. I shall be giving my talk about Pompeii."
He said the city's name with reverence. "Pompeii. Aye, there's an archaeological
find. I just returned from there not three months ago," he continued.
"Really?" Alaina's ears instantly perked up. Since the site was only discovered in
1763, Ian Boggs had seen the city in its pristine state--give or take some damage
by a few treasure hunters.
"Aye, and I'll be showing my beauty, an altar I uncovered at the House of
Menander. 'Tis a bas-relief of the she-wolf and the twins."
She instantly understood the legend he referred to. "Romulus and Remus, the
founders of Rome and the wolf that found and nurtured them! This is fantastic!
Yes, of course I'd love to hear your talk."
This would delay her departure but it would only mean a month longer in London.
"By Zeus, so you are interested in old bones, aren't you? Romulus and Remus
indeed! I suspected you were roasting me. Come, I must introduce you to some of
my colleagues."
"Um, no. I'd prefer not to. I'd like to, um, remain in the background."
"Uncomfortable among these tabbies, eh? Can't say as I blame you. Some of
these old goats get my bile up too! Tell you what, the meeting's about to begin.
Let's grab us a seat." Ian Boggs offered her his arm.
She gladly accepted his escort; Mr. Boggs was ideal company. Seated in back of
the large Hall, she had an excellent view of the proceedings. The Society
conducted several business items before the main event. She watched Richard
sitting up on the dais, waiting to be introduced--he seemed perfectly at ease. His
light grey tail coat, lined in black, was a striking contrast for his curly black hair.
Even at this distance, the cream-colored trousers showed the contours of his
muscular legs.
She couldn't help sighing.
Mr. Boggs caught her staring. "Young Saybrooke's a handsome chap, eh?" He
correctly interpreted her gaze. "No dull old dog about him! Ho, he's about to start."
Her stomach twisted in nervous knots. It was torture being there, wondering what
Richard was thinking. It also would have been torture waiting at home, wondering
the same thing.
He began his talk extemporaneously, relating how he found conditions at the site
in Fishbourne and the troubles he experienced with the locals. It was when he
referred to his papers that Alaina could notice a slight hesitancy and a frown.
But the speech went well. Several in the audience murmured agreement on some
of his theories and, in general, the Dilettani Society members digested his every
word. At the conclusion, a resounding applause rewarded Richard, and smiling, he
resumed his seat.
Ian Boggs gave his vote of approval. "Demmed good fieldwork on Saybrooke's
part. Never thought mosaic tile could be so gripping! Thorough research too."
At the adjournment, he rose. "Must give my compliments to the Earl. Be happy to
introduce you to him."
"No, thank you, I must leave. But you can count on me to be here next month for
your lecture, Mr. Boggs."
They exchanged farewells and she left the area. She planned to escape as fast as
she could but the Hall and the entrance room rapidly filled with Dilettanis. Excusing
herself as she inched through the crowd, she realized that having a full gown
hampered progress. Many tried to chat with her, but she just shook her head and
refused to stop.
Finally spotting the exit, she was about to walk into the fresh air when an arm
halted her. "Alaina! I'm demmed glad I caught you. You forgot your hat and
gloves."
Mr. Boggs, of course. Alaina turned to thank him but the words stuck in her throat.
Standing by Mr. Bogg's side was the most recent speaker of the Society: the Earl
of Saybrooke.
"This is the young lady I was telling you about, Saybrooke--a nonesuch in the field
of Roman archaeology." Mr. Boggs blithely continued, unaware of the tension in
the air.
"Richard Cransworth, this is Alaina--sorry m'dear, I didn't catch your last name."
Her stomach threatened to revolt. What in blue blazes was she going to do? What
could she do? And why on earth was she so unlucky? Tongue-tied, she stood
before Richard.
"Alaina, is it?" He stressed the pronunciation of the middle "a." Then he turned to
Mr. Boggs. "Don't trouble yourself, Ian. This lady and I are already acquainted."
Mr. Boggs shook his head with obvious admiration. "Leave it to you to ferret out
the most attractive, and I might add, intelligent lady in London. I should have
known! No hope for me in that quarter--she turned me down flat! Maybe if I shave
my mustache..." he mused.
"Now you're the one teasing me, Mr. Boggs," Alaina laughed. The man had a
knack for letting her forget her problems. "Um, thank you for my bonnet and
gloves. I'd best be heading home."
If Richard wasn't going to acknowledge the connection, then neither was she.
But he wasn't ready for her to leave because he took a firm hold of her arm above
the elbow, pinching the skin. "Stay awhile...Alaina. I am sure you will find the
members' impromptu talks enlightening, especially in view of your life-long passion
for ancient Rome."
He guided her to an alcove away from the noisy gathering. If his intention was to
be alone with her, it failed miserably since not only did Mr. Boggs follow them, but
so did half a dozen other scholars. The others engaged Richard in a lively debate
while Alaina looked on as an unwanted third party. It was clear none of the men
tolerated a woman's views on any of the subjects.
Ian Boggs managed to maneuver back to her side. "Can it be that the lovely lady
feels her presence to be de trop?" he asked sympathetically.
Gratefully for his support, she admitted that was the case. "It's hard on one's ego
to be so pointedly ignored."
The older man patted her hand gently. "Why is it that I have the feeling any opinion
of yours is worth two of these gents? I fear you must have cast a spell on my poor
self. Now, now, don't go blushing on me, m'dear. Save those maiden eyes for
Saybrooke--that's the way the wind blows, eh?" He tucked his finger under her
chin.
Gosh, what a predicament she was in. Biting her lip, she tried to explain. "Richard
is...well, he is my--"
Richard unexpectedly stood before them. "The lady is up to her old tricks, I see."
He pulled her to the right, causing Mr. Boggs' hand to fall away from her face. "We
must be leaving...Alaina."
Richard propelled her through the crowd, toward the exit. Ian Boggs' bushy
eyebrows drew together, most likely in disbelief as he followed them. "Ho, laddie.
You've no cause to order the lady around. If you treat her like that, I've a mind to
escort her home myself."
Now would be a wonderful time for the floor to open up and swallow her. "Um, Mr.
Boggs, it's all right. Richard is my--"
Richard, scooping up her hat and gloves, nudged her through the doorway. "Don't
mistake this for a damsel in distress, Ian," he called back over the room's din.
"This lady is my wife."
The revelation left Mr. Boggs scratching his mustache.
Alaina waited until they were inside Richard's carriage before letting loose. "I can't
believe how rude you were. Your behavior is contemptible. I don't see how I can
ever face Mr. Boggs again."
"Developed a tendre for the man, have you?" Richard settled in opposite her. "You
surprise me--Boggs is not your usual style, Alaina. He is old enough to be your
father."
"Hardly," she replied. Mr. Boggs was probably in his late forties. "And, for your
information, I used the name 'Alaina' as an alias. I thought you would be
embarrassed if you knew I had attended."
By Richard's body ************************************************************ ****, he was ready to explode. Jaw clenched tightly,
thinned lips, stony glare. Ouch.
"By the way," she added to apply some honey, "that was an awfully good
presentation. Everyone was impressed."
"I will not tolerate your flattery or your changing the subject. When were you
planning to take up with Boggs? Charles will be disappointed you could not wait
for him."
Her mouth dropped. "Charlie? What do you mean?" she asked cautiously.
Richard gazed back at her with his heavy-lidded eyes. "I never took you for a
slowtop, sweet Alicia."
Alaina groaned; she couldn't help it. So Richard had seen his brother leave her
room that night. "Listen, Richard, the last thing I want to do is cause trouble
between you and your brother. I know how it must've looked but nothing happened
that night."
He stared out the window, enabling her to study his handsome but grim profile. "I
know you don't believe me...maybe I wouldn't either, if I were in your place. You
must ask Charlie, he has to be the one to explain it to you."
She wasn't getting through to him. "Don't you see, everything is fine with Charlie
now? Lucy and he have patched up their differences. Before you condemn me,
ask Charlie."
He gave no visible sign of having heard her. Sighing loudly, she sat back in her
seat. "I give up. Think what you want to."
Right then, another coach swerved into their path causing the carriage to teeter-
totter rock. Without warning Alaina was flung across the cushions and landed face
down on top of Richard's knees. Her grey skirt wrapped around her legs, exposing
her lower limbs. Cripes! Caught in such an inelegant position did in no way
improve her foul mood.
He gently raised her up so that she was eye-level to his broad shoulders. "Are you
hurt?"
She shook her head, but then flinched. The movement unexpectedly did hurt.
Brushing back her skirt to cover the white frills of her chemise, he lifted her onto
the seat and sat beside her. "Are you certain you are all right?" Concern was
heavy in his voice.
"Yes, just a little sore." Her pride hurt more than her body.
"Wait here. I shall return shortly." After he left the carriage, Alaina rested against
the cushions. What a mish-mash of a day.
* * *
Richard took stock of the resulting traffic tangle. He barked out orders to the
coachmen to report the irresponsible driver to the constable, but the other coach
had quickly departed from the scene. Evidently, upon learning the owner of the
tottering carriage was a lord of the realm, the coward took the easy way out.
After ascertaining that no harm had come to any pedestrians, or the barouche,
horses, or servants, Richard reentered the carriage to continue the trip home.
Finding his wife quietly rubbing her neck, he commanded, "Let me."
He bypassed the high collar and the crêpe frill of her gown to seek the softness of
her bare skin. Expertly he massaged away the pain.
This time his wife must not have feared his hands on her neck for she leaned
against him.
Thus pleasurably employed, the Earl inhaled her sweet fragrance and savored the
feel of her velvety skin. He could not help but be glad the accident had occurred
for it enabled a truce to be called. A temporary truce, to be sure, but now all he
wanted was to continue stroking and caressing her. He also desired to take these
actions to their logical conclusion but he would have to be satisfied with this. Too
soon the barouche would arrive at Hanover Square. Alicia and he would be at
odds again, the accident forgotten.
Alicia...or Alaina. Alaina...it was a pretty name. Why did he think it suited her better
than Alicia?
Suddenly she stiffened and pulled away. Following her gaze, he saw the
townhouse ahead. Before he had a chance to speak, she politely thanked him for
his ministrations, and hurried into the house.
Richard stared at his hands, reliving the pleasure that they had so recently felt. An
emotion, so foreign, so strange, filtered down into the very core of his being. May
the Lord help him, but he loved the woman, more than he ever had in the past.
With every blasted breath in his body, he loved her.
Chapter Thirteen
At dinnertime, Richard anticipated an interesting tête-à-tête with his wife for her
protests of innocence concerning her and Charles had the ring of truth. Indeed,
her flawless behavior coupled with Richard's desire to end this breech separating
them urged him to believe her every word.
But he also was a confessed cynic. Straightening his cravat in the looking glass
outside the dining room, he noted the deep lines around his mouth and eyes.
Suspicious lines. If only the past could be erased. If only he knew if she was
playing him false...once again. Had she evinced interest in archaeology just to
please him? How the devil could he discover what was actually going on?
Nodding to the footman, Richard clenched his fists and walked into the dining
room.
"Richard!" the Dowager called out from her position at the table. "Gracious! We
had no idea you would be joining us for dinner, did we, Isabel? I heard tell you
have been absent from the nightly meal for many a day."
Cousin Isabel wobbled her head. "No idea, ma'am. No idea at all. Just so."
One diner was conspicuously absent--the one he was most curious about.
Frowning, he took his place at the head of the table. "Cousin Isabel, Mother, it is
good to see you both." He lifted his spoon to partake of dinner's first course.
"Mother, I must say your improved health is a relief to me."
"Yes, I am so thankful that I have had Isabel and Alicia to keep me company." The
Dowager daintily dabbed at her lips with her napkin.
He waited, but neither woman explained Alicia's absence. He'd have to bring it up.
But first, a subterfuge. "So, where is Nigel this night?"
"Visiting some friends. He said he might go to Vauxhall Gardens," his mother
replied.
Still nothing about Alicia. Richard drank a measure of wine. "And my wife?"
Isabel's voice shook with sympathy. "The dear countess has a crushing megrim.
Terrible, simply terrible! She does not wish to be disturbed, of course."
Blast. Finishing his glass, he poured another. Alicia eluded him again.
During the course of the meal, the Dowager's idle chatter failed to cheer him. He
remained preoccupied with thoughts of his wife. Indeed, his black mood must have
been obvious to his companions; the only sustenance he took at the table was in
liquid form.
When it was time for the Dowager and Isabel to leave, they exchanged mysterious
glances as they walked by him. Probably thought he would be drinking himself into
a stupor.
To his shame, he did. How could he not with the tumultuous whirl of emotions
plaguing him? Each drink fed the flames of jealousy, desire...and lust.
He staggered to his bedchamber in the dead of night and, for the first time in
years, tried the connecting door to his wife's room. It was locked.
Blast. In a raucous voice, he ordered, "Open the door, Alicia. Open it now!"
Total silence was his reply.
May the Lord help him, his reason vanished as if it had never been. Pounding on
the door, he yelled out every lurid name in the book--all directed at her.
Still nothing.
Some time in the wee hours of the morning, his memory ended. At last he
succumbed to the arms of sleep.
* * *
"The devil!" Richard sat up from the floor and grimaced in pain. His head throbbed
with the force of Wellington's army stomping their path through Europe.
Leaning his elbow on his knees, he groaned once again--not only because of his
headache, which rivaled the roar created on Waterloo's battlefield, but because of
his inexcusable conduct toward his wife.
He gingerly got to his feet and stumbled over to the bellpull. After requesting a pail
of icy water, he sank down on a chair. Had he truly behaved like Attila the Hun last
night?
Yes. The sad truth of the matter was that he had.
When the water arrived, he dunked his head into it. The shock of a thousand
stinging needles cleared his befuddled mind.
If he was to have any peace in this life, he had to confront his wife as soon as
possible. He could think of a myriad of questions and only she could supply the
answers.
And if she refused to see him again, a locked door would be no protection against
his determination.
He smiled grimly. "The day of reckoning is at hand, Alicia."
Finishing certain business matters later in the morning, Richard sent word for his
wife to join him in the Blue Salon. He deliberately chose that room over his library
for he would brook no competition from Augustus Caesar.
Alicia did not keep him waiting long. Good. He was in no mood to enact a scene
so she would dance attendance on him. Entering the room, she glided as
Aphrodite might, poised and confident in her beauty. She wore a simple gown with
ivory ruffles high on the neck. Matching ruffles encased her slim wrists. As always,
she looked exceedingly lovely and feminine. Indeed, she appeared as if she
passed a restful night. Would that she had passed it with him.
For some reason, a knot developed in his throat. Clearing it, he indicated a seat
next to him on the settee. "Have a seat, Alicia."
To be contrary, she chose a straight-backed chair.
Words seemed to escape him. Realizing he was in the wrong made matters even
more difficult. "Alicia, I must beg your pardon for my behavior last night. I was a
trifle disguised."
"Disguised? What does that mean?" She fussed with the folds of cloth at her
wrists, refusing to look at him.
Devil take it, he longed to shake the indifference from her. She was not making it
easy for him to apologize. "Foxed, one sheet into the wind, bosky, feeling the
tipsy...does that explain it?"
"Oh, drunk," she said with understanding.
Unable to contain himself, he jumped up and forcibly pulled the ivory frills from her
fingers. "Keep your hands still, damn it and pay attention."
She lifted her gaze to meet the cold of his eyes. "You wanted to apologize, I
believe," she said calmly.
"I just did," he answered through gritted teeth. "Now with that matter behind us, I
demand to know what you were doing at the Dilettani meeting yesterday."
He turned his back to her and walked over to the fireplace. Picking up a useless
bric-a-brac from the mantle, he continued, "The rules you were to obey forbid
attending any such event."
"Any social event...there's a difference."
Perhaps she was right, however he could not admit that to her. Indeed, he could
not admit any of his true feelings to her. He set the ornament back on the mantle,
then faced her. "You twist my words."
In one fluid motion, Alicia stood. "This has gone far enough. I've followed your
rules. You stressed events of a social nature and, guess what? I've complied."
She folded her arms against her enticing breasts. "As to why I was there
yesterday, it's no secret--I do have an interest in archaeology. I was curious to
hear your speech."
Now she whipped her hands through the air, punctuating her sentences. "That's it-
-no hidden rendezvous, no ulterior motives. Quite frankly, Richard, I'm fed up with
the way you've been treating me. I can't go anywhere, I can't do anything I want to
do. For heaven's sake, I can't even talk with people without a time limit!" Silencing
her hands, she also dropped her voice. "I've...I've had enough."
"What do you mean?" He did not like the sound of those words.
Her agitation was visible by the rise and fall of her bosom. She avoided his gaze.
"I've decided to return to Saybrooke Hall. I would like to stay here one more month
to hear Mr. Boggs' presentation. However, if you have a problem with that, I'll
leave immediately."
His wife's counterattack caught Richard off guard. She was right, so right in
everything she said. Blast, he truly was the biggest ass in the world. He sat down
at the very edge of a chair. Lord help him but he did not want her to leave. After all
his invectives against Alicia and her behavior, he did not want her to go.
Running his hand through his hair, he exhaled slowly. "This is a surprise, Alicia.
What about Mother? She still is not herself yet."
"Oh, please, I can't believe she will fall into a decline, missing my daily ten minute
visits." The irony in Alicia's voice was unmistakable.
He glanced around the room for inspiration. "And what about Terrence? He adores
his mother."
Alicia skewed her lips. "Richard, get real. What happened to my not being an
'appropriate example' for him? Next, you'll be telling me to stay for the good of our
marriage. Now, that's a laugh." She choked on her last word.
She fiddled with the material around her wrists again--most likely in defiance.
Suddenly Richard understood. "I see. You are anxious to resume your wanton
ways at the Hall. You will be freer there from my censure."
His wife laughed but it had a bitter quality to it. "God, yes! The pickings are too
slim in London. How astute of you to realize. I find country men so much
more...virile."
Rage built up inside him, bubbling over like a witch's cauldron.
Alicia quickly made her way to the door. "I never thought you could be so blind...or
so stupid."
But he was faster and barred her exit. "More virile?" he thundered. "How do you
find this?"
He pressed her against the door, imprisoning her in a fevered embrace. With his
lips burning hot,. He was mad with
jealousy, mad with wanting his wife, mad with years of submerged longing for.
She did not resist him. Indeed, he would not have allowed it. This was better, so much
better than he remembered. In fact, it was somehow different....
By the good Lord above, she loved him !
But still, the feeling that something was different persisted. Breaking contact with
her, Richard stared into her eyes. Her eyes were moist with the
promise of fulfillment. But it was not Alicia gazing back at him; it was a stranger. A
complete and utter stranger.
This woman was not his wife!
A full second, or perhaps a moment in eternity passed. Although the woman's lips
were bruised and swollen, she smiled seductively at him. "Don't stop now," she
almost purred.
He closed his eyes, reeling from her ardent desire and from the realization she
was not Alicia. By all that was holy, he needed time to think. Self-preservation
overtook his other emotions. To lose his heart to a stranger! Who the devil was
she?
Stepping away from her was like closing the door to paradise. Every inch of his
body physically hurt. He gazed one last time into her liquid eyes, then bowed.
"Madam."
To her surprise, as well as his own, he retreated from the Blue Salon as if the
hounds of hell were nipping at his heels.
Chapter Fourteen
Of course, staying another month in London now was blatantly impossible. Alaina
flounced around the bedroom only half dressed. After what had happened in the
Blue Salon yesterday, how could she remain in Richard's house one minute more?
How could she hold a polite conversation with him and not reveal the love in her
eyes?
Sinking down on the bed, she wallowed in self-despair. Why had he pushed her
away like that? Did her love disgust him? Had she shown too much passion?
Oh, she died a thousand deaths when he actually walked away from her.
But, well, that was not to be. He'd made his revulsion of her perfectly clear. And
besides, she had made up her mind. Before lunch, she would inform Lady
Wilhelmina of her decision. And Richard. But she had to practice what she would
say to him because right now she was a tongue-tied mess. How could she not be
with those memories of loving him haunting her very soul?
Too bad she'd have to miss Ian Boggs' lecture, but she really had no choice. She'd
pack today and be gone tomorrow.
Dana sailed into the room oblivious to Alaina's unhappiness. "Such goings on, this
mornin', M'lady!" She reached up to button the tiny fastenings on Alaina's gown.
"What's happened, Dana?" Hard to fake interest when one's heart was breaking.
"'Tis about young Mr. Ellis." Dana smoothed the wrinkles from Alaina's dress.
"Such a pity. We all do hope he will be able to find employment on such short
notice."
Alaina swirled around to face her maid. "Lord Saybrooke's secretary has been let
go?"
"Yes, M'lady. And Mr. Ellis said himself he did not know why. He has been servin'
the master come nigh on six years."
Oh, good God. Alaina knew why. And she couldn't let an innocent man pay the
price for her folly. She'd have to 'fess up to her crime: the presentation paper
caper.
Two steadying breaths later, she said, "Pull my hair straight back into a bun, Dana.
I don't want any curls around my face today."
"But M'lady, that will look too severe."
Alaina grimly agreed. "That's the idea."
But when she went downstairs, Higgins the butler, informed her that His Lordship
had gone out for a ride after breakfast.
Drat. She'd psyched herself up for the confrontation but now had to wait.
"All right, Higgins, would you please then steer the Earl into the library when he
returns? I have important business to discuss."
Being impassive must have been part of a butler's job description. And Higgins
had that part of his job down pat. Bowing, he said, "I will convey Her Ladyship's
wishes to His Lordship as soon as he returns."
"Thank you, Higgins." Entering the library, Alaina prepared herself to wait.
* * *
On hearing the news that Her Ladyship required a word with him, Richard lifted an
eyebrow. Here was a ticklish situation. The woman was pretending to be his wife,
which meant he, of course, was her husband. And husbands had certain rights.
He smiled. One day, in the not too distant future, he would insist on exercising
those rights.
Opening the library door, he found her huddled in a comfortable arm chair, her
back facing the bust of Augustus Caesar. "Forgive my riding clothes. I decided to
forgo changing since I understand you wish to speak to me on a matter of some
importance?"
Sitting in her direct line of vision, he crossed his legs and took in her plain
appearance. Hair pulled back, prim and proper gown, she also had a grim line to
her luscious, soft mouth.
She did not return his look. Evidently she did not intend to allude to last night's
misadventure. Neither would he. It was deuced awkward.
Tightly clasping her hands together, she began, "There's something I need to clear
up with you. I was informed Mr. Ellis has been let go. May I ask why?"
Richard was taken by surprise, not expecting the "important matter" to be about
his secretary. Vividly recalling yesterday's events, he studied the woman carefully
and marveled at how her cool exterior hid a passionate spitfire. A yearning for her
stirred deep within him.
Since the revelation came to him yesterday that this woman was a stranger, he
spent most of the night taking stock of the similarities and differences. The
similarities were all in appearance. But now, looking at her with a critical eye, he
could note discrepancies as well. He was uncertain what this meant. More study
and observation were required. He licked his lips. Much more study.
"Why the interest in Ellis? I was not aware that you knew his name. Even after his
six years with me." Richard leaned forward, placing his elbow on his knee and
stroked his chin. "If I may make a suggestion, Alicia. You should not wear your hair
pulled back so tightly. It makes you look older than your seven and twenty years."
Blushing, she still evaded his gaze. "I'll try to remember that. Will you answer my
question?"
That she could blush at his words was very gratifying indeed. However why was
the Ellis matter so important to her? "The impudent coxcomb revised my
presentation paper without my knowledge. And he had the audacity to include
information that I did not write."
"Wasn't your lecture very well received?"
"Yes, but--"
"Has he ever acted impudently or audaciously in the past?"
"No, but--"
"Then how do you know that Mr. Ellis was the one who altered your work? And
what difference does it make since the reading was a success?"
Truly, this woman was outside of enough. Rather miffed, Richard left his chair and
gestured with his hands. "The point at issue here is that he does not have the right
to change my work--not to this degree, at any rate. He did deny knowledge of the
affair but who else could have done it?"
He leaned against the massive desk. Why the devil were they arguing over such a
trivial subject?
"Mr. Ellis isn't responsible." She looked down at her clenched hands. Did she think
they would give her inspiration? "I am." Her voice was barely audible.
Richard inadvertently let out a startled, "What?"
"I am responsible," she repeated. She explained about seeing his note and getting
the idea to edit the manuscript. "It gave me something to do. It's been boring here,
with lots of time on my hands. And, well, your research was very interesting but it
needed polish."
Richard took a deep breath, preparing to go into a tirade. Alicia, with no thoughts
deeper than which man to flirt with next? Alicia revising his fieldwork? The idea
was laughable. Alicia never could have turned out that excellent piece of work.
Alicia never could have....
A sudden thought occurred to him. Alicia never could have. But what about the
stranger? Could a woman have edited his research so professionally? Surely not,
unless this stranger was an exceptional bluestocking.
There was a more probable possibility. She could be covering up for someone
else.
Holding his pride in check, he responded with calm. "So, you read my work and
decided to improve upon it. Why is it you neglected to inform me?"
She looked up at him, obviously thinking that he believed her. Her eyes were clear
and shiny, reminding him so much of yesterday's foray into forbidden pleasures.
"Well, I guess it's because you're so fierce about things, and I knew you would've
said no, anyway. I was wrong. I'm sorry. I suppose boredom overruled my better
judgment." She sighed. "So you see, I can't permit Mr. Ellis to take the blame for
what I did. I'm asking you to reinstate him at his job."
She contemplated her fingers again. "You can think of another punishment for me
or you can...let me go."
Her words brought a chill to his frame. "Let you go?" he repeated for clarification.
Of a certainty, he did not like the way her mind was working.
Who was this exceptional woman? And why did she look almost exactly like
Alicia? Was it possible that a by-blow of Alicia's father, the Duke of Blakesdale,
had changed places with his wife? Knowing the Duke's devotion to his duchess, it
seemed unlikely.
Improbable, but a solution to consider. Let me go. Those words had an awful ring.
He did not want to let the woman go. By all that was holy, he would get to the
bottom of this mystery. And, he had to admit, he was eagerly looking forward to
fulfilling his duties as husband.
She must have seen his air of distraction. "You know, let me go as in terminate me
from my job. You're obviously not pleased with my performance as your wife. We
should go our separate ways. Maybe we should divorce."
Richard drummed his fingers to an internal beat. Was divorce something the
impostor wanted? Was she acting on Alicia's behalf?
"Do you want this, madam?"
"Want?" A catch in her throat told him all he needed to know. "Let's be realistic,
Richard. Divorce might be the best course for both of us. God knows we've been
at each other's throats since...since forever."
Her distress galvanized him into action. If there was one item he learned about this
stranger, it was that she would not hesitate to follow through with her words. He
could not let her escape until he solved this mystery. Perhaps he would decide to
never let her escape.
He strolled over to her chair and gently lifted her up to her feet. "No divorce, no
separation." As he spoke, he slowly removed her hairpins. "I think it best for you to
remain in London, with the family. From now on, you will be allowed to do
whatever you want. Within the limits of discretion, of course."
The last hairpin removed, he freed her bouncing hair from the restricting bun. He
took great pleasure in arranging her hair on her shoulders. "There, that is better.
That is more like the Alicia I am familiar with."
Wide-eyed, she stared at him--warily, of course.
Withholding a smile, he murmured, "I had no idea my wife was such an
intellectual."
Again, she stood mutely.
He enjoyed her confusion immensely. "As that is settled, I must change for a
luncheon engagement. Your servant, madam."
Richard could not resist patting the top of her head before leaving. He had
certainly given her something to think about!
* * *
Whatever caused Richard's abrupt turnaround, Alaina didn't know, but she
decided to take advantage of it. Nigel had pressed her again to attend a concert at
Vauxhall Gardens and this time she accepted. But on their way to the famous
pleasure-gardens, she felt a twinge of alarm. Maybe it was because he kept
inching closer to her in the enclosed carriage. Or maybe it was his puppy-dog
expression.
In any event, she asked him who would be joining them.
"It's just us," he replied. "The others cried off. You don't mind, do you, Alicia?"
"Oh, of course not," she lied. All she needed was another episode similar to the
one with Charlie. Especially now that Richard...well, Richard was proving to be
quite charming.
She sighed. While Vauxhall Gardens were a popular entertainment spot, the
Gardens also had the reputation of providing spacious grounds and numerous
paths where lovers could conduct their trysts. A modern-day Lovers' Lane.
"I'll show you the sights, Alicia. The orchestras are smashing. Later, we can take a
stroll down by the Thames. Tonight we'll see fireworks too. You will have a good
time," Nigel said confidently. "You have been kept a recluse for too long." He ran
his fingers through his thick hair, a gesture so like Richard.
"And this Saturday, there will be a balloon putting up at either Vauxhall or Green
Park," he continued. "We can attend together. Have you ever seen an ascent?"
"No, that sounds like fun. I bet Terry would also enjoy it." It was obvious Nigel
hadn't planned to make the outing a threesome.
But he gamely agreed. "If that makes you happy, Alicia, it makes me happy."
Not long after they crossed over Westminster Bridge, they arrived at Vauxhall
Gardens. Nigel paid the admission, and soon they walked alongside the tall trees
and bright globe lights. And what a sight it was. All classes of society mixed
equally at this place of amusement. Along with members of the high society were
shop boys and scullery maids. Even prostitutes soliciting business!
"You must stay close to me," Nigel cautioned her. "Pickpockets are always on the
lookout for victims."
They sat at a vacant booth and listened to the strains of music wafting soothingly
through the air. A warm April night, the star-filled sky held none of the coolness
she would have expected for this time of year in London.
Alaina sipped on her Vauxhall punch, taking in the pleasure-seekers around them.
A romantic atmosphere, to be sure. So why was she here with Nigel?
Her companion fumbled at the knot in his cravat, trying to straighten it. He had told
her earlier that its intricate design was entitled "Trone d'Amour." Nigel had spent
days learning to master the many folds. When he said he wore it tonight in honor
of her, she had flushed.
Clearing his throat, Nigel began, "I am glad you decided to accompany me, Alicia.
You have been kept a virtual prisoner at the house. I don't know what is wrong
with Richard. He does not appreciate you the way he should." Nigel's appreciative
gaze swept her figure.
He drew closer. "I am honored to escort such a graceful lady. And proud too, to be
seen in your company. My brother must be mad!"
Alaina had to set him straight. "Things have changed a bit. Richard and I have..."
Have what? "...have come to an understanding."
But still, there could be no doubt that Nigel was inching closer to her.
Really, these Cransworth brothers are too much. Imagine hitting on your own
sister-in-law. How much longer could she wait until she asked to return home?
Squirming in her chair, she spotted two boisterous couples making their way to the
booth. The men had their arms around their companions and thought nothing of
touching the women intimately on the bosom.
Whoa. Here's where I get off. About to suggest they leave, she was interrupted by
one of the men.
"Pretty little wench you have there, Cransworth. How 'bout if we swap and you
take Mabel here?"
Nigel glowered at the man. "Slader, you're foxed. Don't make me have to call you
out."
"George Slader?" Alaina asked.
Nigel nodded.
Oh, great. Her first night out and there was talk of a duel. No, thank you. Lucy had
told her about George Slader's reputation. He was a living legend with a gun.
Standing, she said loudly, "We were just leaving." Under her breath, she
whispered, "Let's go, Nigel. We don't want any trouble."
He also stood, uncertain of what to do next.
"You are a just a cub, Cransworth," the older man barked. He lurched forward and
pulled on Alaina's arm. "Come with me, sweetie. I'll show you what a man can do!"
Yanking her arm away, she spoke in a deliberate tone. "Leave me alone. I'm not
interested." She made a motion to Nigel to keep his distance.
George Slader laughed harshly. "Begad, a doxy with spirit! You will be mine
tonight, darlin'" He grabbed her about the waist and leaned over to place his
intoxicated lips on hers.
Heart pounding, she waited until he was in optimum range, then flung her hand out
as far as it would go, giving him a karate chop against the neck. When he reeled
back in surprise and pain, she gave a finishing kick to his knees. The man would
now think twice about bothering women.
Hurrying over to Nigel, she pulled him with her, setting a pace as fast as their legs
would carry them. George Slader's companions were left to pick up his slumped
figure.
In the safety of the carriage, Nigel exclaimed on how she trounced the beggar.
"That was a move as smooth as any at Gentleman Jackson's on Bond Street.
Where the devil did you learn it?"
Alaina sank back in the cushions. "Just something I picked up from television," she
uttered wearily. From under half closed lids, she saw his puzzled expression.
Chapter Fifteen
Surprisingly enough, Richard didn't comment on Alaina's trip to Vauxhall Gardens.
In fact, she hardly saw him at all, which made her wonder all the more about his
unusual behavior in the library. So when Charlie and Lucy returned from Paris,
Alaina welcomed their return with open arms.
The couple's arrival threw the household in an uproar. Running down the marble
staircase, Alaina eagerly looked for her friend, but instead saw box upon box
containing the latest in French designer fashions filling the Cransworth
entranceway.
"Higgins!" she called out over the din of footmen and messenger boys. "Where's
Mrs. Cransworth?"
Higgins made his stately bow. Quite a feat, actually, with the circus around him.
"M'lady, Mrs. Cransworth was fatigued from her travel and has retired to her room
for a rest."
"Thank you, Higgins." Alaina turned to go. Darn. Now she'd have to wait until
dinnertime to see Lucy.
"Indeed, M'lady," the butler called up to her, "if you are wondering, the Honorable
Mr. Cransworth is conferring with His Lordship in the library."
Alaina nodded, then returned to her bedroom. She tapped her chin, thinking
furiously. Now just what were those brothers conferring about?
* * *
As Alaina and all the Cransworths entered the dining room, everyone seemed in
good spirits for the big reunion. The Dowager looked fit and healthy, and she
positively beamed at her middle son and his wife. Charlie and Lucy were happy to
receive the attention. But every so often they'd gaze at each other and smile as if
they shared a special secret.
The family members found their places at the table, and as Charlie and Lucy
regaled them with tales of their Parisian adventures, everyone sat, spellbound.
"To top it off," Charlie continued, looking as if he could no longer contain himself,
"Lucinda haunted every mantua-maker she could find. She now has a wardrobe
that will be the envy of every woman in Polite Society!"
Lucy actually giggled.
"But the devil of it is," he added, "she won't be able to wear those gowns for long."
"Charles!" Lucy warned, turning red with embarrassment.
That could only mean one thing. Alaina glanced at Richard and saw he was
smiling. He caught her gaze and the smile intensified.
Wow. She gulped down hard. Looking away in confusion, she turned to Lucy.
"This is so great. Congratulations! When's the baby due?"
Lucy, Nigel, and Isabel fought for who could claim the deepest blush. Oh, big faux
pas. How could Alaina have forgotten that talking about such a delicate matter was
simply not done.
"Charles." Lucy scolded her husband again.
"It's all right to talk about the baby, Lucy. Honest. Tell us!" Alaina tried to coax the
mother-to-be.
"I am so thrilled," trilled Lady Wilhelmina. She fanned herself with a napkin. "This
is wonderful news, Lucinda. I cannot wait to become a grandmother again."
"But the men," protested Lucy.
"Richard knows all about this kind of thing, Lucy. And Nigel, why he's a man of the
world now," Charlie assured his wife.
Nigel gulped nervously and agreed. For a second, Alaina was reminded of Roger
Farnsley's bobbing Adam's apple.
The restraints for this topic of conversation set aside, Lucy launched into the
details. "Our 'interesting event' should arrive by the end of the year. We are so
excited!" She looked to Charlie for confirmation and he smiled indulgently at his
wife.
Then she suddenly grew alarmed. "Oh no! I forgot, I am not supposed to eat." She
stared at her recently emptied plate.
"What do you mean, you're not supposed to eat?" Alaina questioned.
"The doctor I saw in Paris said I am only to eat bread and water."
"Why, that's ridiculous! Nothing could be worse for you. Or the baby. You have to
find a good doctor here in town. Everyone knows proper nutrition is important."
Richard watched his would-be wife with interest. It was evident she felt strongly on
the subject. He hoped to learn more about the stranger at his table. But in the
meantime, Lucinda's eyes filled up with tears.
Charles could not remain quiet. "But the French doctor came very highly
recommended. He is one of the best. He even said he would journey to London at
the time of Lucy's confinement."
The enchanting stranger knitted her brow, as if a small fact were teasing her mind.
"Wait a minute, there's something I have to remember." For a moment she
seemed lost in thought. "I have it! Don't you recall Princess Charlotte's physician,
Sir Richard Croft, prescribed the same diet? And also prescribed bleeding. Look
what happened there."
Since both the baby and the princess mother died after a torturously long labor,
Lucinda started to sniff audibly.
The stranger winced. She must have realized she had frightened Lucinda. "Don't
worry, Lucy. We'll find you the right doctor. And you'll be able to eat your meals
along with us."
These words seemed to calm her. "I must admit, you do make sense, Alicia. Living
on bread the entire time! Why I'd be down to nothing!" Lucinda smiled. "And
besides, you had a healthy boy. Who was your physician?"
Biting her lip, the stranger looked down the table at Richard. How would she
answer that question? Memory loss again? "Such a long time ago. I forget. Do you
remember his name, Richard?"
He hid his chuckle. How could she remember the name of the royal physician, yet
forget the name of their own country doctor? Especially after the difficult delivery?
This was another fact confirming her as an impostor.
"I believe it was Doctor Yates," he replied.
"Would you recommend him then? Do you feel he is competent, Alicia?" Lucinda
asked.
Richard choked on Lucinda's question. Charles and his mother also coughed into
their napkins. The three of them vividly remembered the agony of Alicia's screams
and her subsequent charge that Doctor Yates caused her unnecessary scarring.
Who could have forgotten?
Richard waited expectantly for the woman's response. She paused, unaware of
his attention.
"Doctor Yates," she said quietly, obviously stalling for time. "Doctor Yates, yes! He
saw me when I was, um, ill last December." For some reason, she blushed. "I
mean, no, Lucy. I think you should see a London physician. Doctor Yates isn't a
specialist."
The woman's reply was noncommittal. She showed that she knew the doctor, but
did not commit any further blunders. The only solid piece of evidence he had
against the woman was that she had forgotten the doctor's name.
Interesting, very interesting.
Charles agreed that they should seek another man in the medical profession. The
tension in the air lifted, and the ladies adjourned to the drawing room,
* * *
Counting the days until Ian Bogg's talk on the altar of Romulus and Remus, Alaina
kept a low profile. Finally, the morning of the May Dilettani Society meeting
arrived, but Alaina quickly put it out of her mind when Dana came rushing into the
bedroom.
"Oh, M'lady, somethin' terrible has happened." The maid stood in front of Alaina,
wringing her hands and nervously bobbing to and fro.
"Tell me about it, Dana."
"'Tis Master Terrence, Your Ladyship. Miss Kerns, his governess, says he feels as
hot as blazes. He's a-layin' there...unconsh...well, he won't wake up."
Alaina threw on her dressing gown and ran over to Terry's room. As she entered,
Miss Kerns hurriedly stood and curtsied.
Dear Terry lay motionless on the bed. A touch to his forehead confirmed the
presence of a raging fever.
Alaina took a steadying breath. "All right, Dana. Tell Higgins to send for a doctor."
She wet a cloth and wiped Terry's heated face. It was the only treatment she could
think of to ease the child's discomfort.
Soon Isabel, Lady Wilhelmina, and Lucy came in to see what they could do. What
little reassurance Alaina could give, she dispensed freely, but then escorted the
Dowager and Lucy out of the sickroom.
Alaina was firm about it. After all, what if Terry's condition was contagious? Lucy
needed to be especially careful. And after Lady Wilhelmina's close call, she also
needed to exercise care.
"Isabel and I will wait for the doctor. We'll take turns bathing Terry to keep the
fever down. Try not to worry."
Not worrying was, of course, impossible. But seeing wisdom in Alaina's words, the
Dowager and her daughter-in-law left to hold their vigil downstairs in the Blue
Salon.
Alaina tried to inform Richard of his son's illness but the usually impassive Higgins
apologetically related to her that His Lordship was still gone from the previous
night.
The previous night? Alaina was taken aback for a second. Where had he spent the
night? And with whom?
Get a grip, kiddo. That wasn't important now. She shrugged aside her feelings and
sent messengers to every place she could think of to try to run the man down.
Richard was certain to be present at the Dilettani Society meeting, but that was
later in the day.
A high fever could be extremely serious, even fatal. Especially since antibiotics
and such hadn't been invented yet.
Alaina put another cool cloth on Terry's forehead and tried to be brave. Richard
needed to know his son was in critical condition. He needed to pray.
She blinked back a tear. Richard. Rick, where are you?
* * *
"You are sure my coming to dinner won't throw your household in disorder,
Saybrooke? 'Tis nigh on eight now. Devilish little time to change the place settings.
Bound to set everyone in an uproar." Ian Boggs pulled on his mustache, and
smoothed down his hair.
Inside the phaeton, Richard reassured his guest. "Cook is a gem and Higgins can
handle any disaster I throw his way."
In a low chuckle, he added, "Stole him away from Lord Kincaid, you know. I took
great pleasure in doing so." Richard grimaced, remembering how the Viscount had
followed Alicia around like a dog after a bone, before her exile to Saybrooke Hall.
"Not pleased at being likened to a disaster, old chap. But I'll let it pass. Demmed
odd, though, about your wife not appearing for my talk. I say, I counted on seeing
Alaina's lovely face in the audience."
"Doubtless something else came up. Do not fret over it." Richard also thought it
peculiar that she did not attend. It seemed she had talked about nothing else since
the last Dilettani gathering. Perhaps her interest was an act, after all.
He did not correct his friend concerning his wife's true name. He himself was
beginning to think of the stranger as "Alaina."
The carriage pulled up in front of the Hanover Square townhouse. They both
alighted and were admitted in. Before they could shrug off their outer raiment, an
angry female accosted them in the entranceway.
"You took your own sweet time returning. Here, we are, sick with worry about him
and you do not even bother to put in an appearance. We sent messengers all over
London to track you down. I thought you cared about him! I used to be in awe of
you but no longer. Earl, indeed! Hah!" The woman flounced away and headed
back up the stairs.
Richard exchanged a puzzled look with his guest. "What the devil is going on
here?"
Before Higgins could reply, Mr. Boggs asked, "Who was that avenging fury? What
fire! What spark!"
"Cousin Isabel. Meek, mild-mannered Cousin Isabel," Richard replied distractedly.
"Begging Your Lordship's pardon." The butler cleared his throat. "'Tis the young
master. He is gravely ill."
Without another word, Richard flew up the marble staircase, taking two steps at a
time. He entered Terrence's bedchamber to find an exhausted-looking Alaina
bending over his son. A hands-on-the-hips Isabel watched him approach the bed.
"How is he?" Richard gingerly touched his son's hair, afraid any movement would
upset the boy.
"Mama," Terrence murmured in the throes of sleep.
"Shhh, it's all right, Terry," the stranger, Alaina, soothed. She turned to Richard.
"He's much cooler. We think the fever's broken."
"No thanks to you," Isabel accused Richard.
"Did you send for a doctor. What did he say?" Terrence's pale color struck terror at
Richard's heart.
Alaina dipped a cloth in water and dabbed at his son's forehead. "He was no help.
He wanted to put...leeches...on the boy. To bleed him." She shivered with obvious
disgust.
"We had to physically remove the doctor from the room," Isabel snorted. "Alicia
has had her hands full." Her eyes sent dagger-darts through Richard.
Alaina gave her defender a weak smile. "That's enough, Isabel. The worst is over
with, I think. Why don't you grab a bite to eat? Richard and I need to talk."
The "timid" Isabel said a loud "Harumph!" and stalked out of the room. Alaina
motioned Richard to a corner of the room where she sat to rest her feet. "He's
asleep now. He awakened a short while ago and recognized Isabel and me. That's
a good sign. He asked for you, too."
He took her cold hands in his. They were shriveled from being in water all day. "My
dear, I did not get the message. I would have returned the moment I had the news.
To think he could have...."
Closing his eyes, he thanked the Lord for His mercy. Thank the Lord she knew
enough to bathe Terrence in cold water to reduce his fever. And thank the Lord his
son had been in danger less than a day. But what a day it must have been. The
burden of worry sat as heavily on her slim shoulders as a two-ton iron collar.
She stood up, slightly swaying. "I think I'll get something to eat too."
Alaina made it halfway to the door. As she passed out, he caught her. He carried
her to her bedchamber and laid her gently on the bed, smoothing the hair out of
her eyes. Signaling for her maid, he gave his new wife and his new love a tender
kiss before he left to watch over his son.
Taking tea in the Blue Salon, Lady Wilhelmina insisted Alaina attend the
Marchioness of Ravenwood's upcoming ball. "Poor Denise somehow feels
responsible for my becoming ill at her rout this past March." The Dowager fluttered
her handkerchief in the air. "Nonsense, of course. But all the same she and the
Marquess are holding a grand ball for me--to celebrate my return to health. So,
you see, you must be there!"
While she took a sip from her fragile tea cup, Lady Wilhelmina fingered a pearl
pendant and surveyed the newest addition to the Blue Salon: a carved mahogany
teapoy, resting on cabriole splay legs.
"Such a handsome piece, don't you think, my dear?" she queried.
Alaina also eyed the teapoy: a piece of furniture that contained equipment for
making tea. She retrieved the enamel teapot and refilled the Dowager's cup. Since
the style of this small table was very ornate, and a trifle on the Gothic side, she
kept her thoughts to herself. Lady Rococo and Grandma Gothic she certainly
wasn't!
"But, back to the point," the older woman continued. "I can think of numerous
reasons why you must break your fast from bon ton encounters. Lucinda, dear girl,
is a shade hesitant to appear in public. In her condition. Not that anyone can tell,
goodness knows! Having you attend with us would give her the extra self-
confidence she requires. Since you took a hand in her improvement last
December, I cannot tell you how that child has blossomed."
The Dowager patted Alaina's arm. "And you must know you have worn yourself to
the bone in nursing Terrence back to health. You need some activity to bring the
color back to your cheeks. Say you will come, Alicia. You would make an old
woman very happy."
Ouch. Just the thought of meeting and mingling with polite society sent shivers of
dread zigzagging throughout her body.
"Old?" Alaina countered. "Why, that's ridiculous! You're not old, ma'am. My own
mother would have been seventy if she was still--"
She came to an abrupt halt. Of course, she was talking about her own mother, not
Alicia's mother. What would the Dowager think?
"Is that so?" the Dowager commented. "I had no idea your dear mother was of
such an advanced age when she passed away ten years ago. Imagine, the Duke
not only brought home a French bride from his Grand Tour, but a woman older
than him. I cannot wait to tell Denise!"
Saying silent apologies to the deceased duchess, Alaina wiped moisture from her
forehead. That had been a close call.
Lady Wilhelmina harped back to her previous theme, saying in a firm voice, "I must
insist on this, Alicia. I won't take no for an answer. You will attend Lady
Ravenwood's ball on the twenty-third of May."
She straightened her white daytime cap. "La! I had better dress for dinner. I almost
feel like I am in dishabille! You will excuse me, won't you?" Standing, she shook
the wrinkles from her gown. "Also, Isabel has invited her young man to dine with
us. Not that Mr. Boggs is young, but he is amusing, is he not?"
As the liveried footman opened the door for the Dowager she clapped her hands
together. "I shall inform Denise you have changed your mind. She will be ecstatic
to have managed such a coup. The Countess of Saybrooke's reemergence into
society at the Ravenwood ball! What a trump for Denise!"
The solitary sound of Alaina's enamel cup hitting its matching saucer echoed the
way she felt. "Drat. I suppose I have to make an appearance at one of these
events sooner or later. Oh well, might as well start preparing for it."
She shrugged. "Look on the bright side. Since Richard's leaving today to go up
north, close to the Scottish border, it's a sure bet he won't return to London in time
to attend. At least this way, if I make a fool of myself, he won't be around to see it."
That was supposed to be a bright side? She missed him already.
"And he won't be around to tempt me into betraying my feelings. I've no control
over myself anymore. Damn!"
Dragging her feet, Alaina returned to her bedroom to change for dinner.
* * *
Determined to get to the bottom of this mystery concerning his wife, Richard
requested a private conference with the one person who knew Alicia and Alaina
the best: their personal maid, Dana. He had to proceed very carefully, for it would
not do to alert the woman that her mistress was an impostor.
Behind the closed doors of the library, he tried to put the maid at ease. "Dana,
please sit and get comfortable. I have a few questions concerning my wife, and
thought you might be able to help me."
The young maid visibly shook. She sat rigidly on the edge of the shield-back chair
and held her arms stiffly at her sides. Gulping several times, she seemed unable
to execute an answer.
He gave her a reassuring smile. "You have probably noticed that Lady Alicia
seems to be suffering from melancholy. I am trying to discover the cause of it
before she falls into a dangerous decline."
Dana nodded, but remained silent.
Richard leaned back in his red leather chair so as not to frighten her. "Come now,
Dana. We both have Lady Alicia's welfare at heart. Please do not feel you are
disloyal by discussing her with me. I must find out what is troubling her. Anything
you say might help me to determine the cause."
The maid nervously played with a pinch of black fabric from her uniform. "Yes,
M'lady does seem distressed as of late. But I don't know how I can help you,
milord," she whispered.
"You have been with your mistress some...seven years, am I right?" At her slow
nod, he continued, "Then who else better to notice Her Ladyship's moods and
whims? Has she mentioned anything in particular? Or behaved differently
recently?"
Lord, that was an understatement if ever there was one. "Take your time, Dana,"
he said.
Frowning slightly, the maid thought for a moment, and then began cautiously,
"Well, Your Lordship, I can tell you M'lady has been very unhappy. I have come
upon her at times, and she has been a-cryin'." She stopped, seemingly fearful of
betraying a confidence.
"Go on, Dana. You are doing fine," he encouraged.
"M'lady has been so wonderful these past few months--beggin' Your Lordship's
pardon--that it has been a pleasure to serve her. So naturally, we all have
remarked on M'lady's feelin' low."
Dana's face shone with pride. "M'lady no longer has her explosive temper. And
she is so considerate of us servants now. She is always doin' good deeds. When
she told me about sewin' stuffed animals as presents for the children, I was fair
bowled over!"
The maid obviously was warming up to her subject. "Then, when I found out every
one of M'lady's gowns had mysteriously decreased in length, I expected an
explosion the size of a...a volcano! But not one word of reproach did she speak to
me. She even made a joke of it, she did. Said they must have shrunk in the wash.
Or that she had grown!"
Richard listened attentively to this last statement. It confirmed his observation that
Alaina was taller than his wife.
The maid spoke again, remembering another item. "M'lady was also in a dither
before Christmas. Searchin' for a woman by the name of 'Madame Reena,' if I
recall correctly. Seemed fair put out that she couldn't find this person. But after
January, M'lady snapped out of her depression, so I don't think she is still upset
about that."
The maid fell silent, her wealth of gregariousness at an end.
Richard probed further. "And when would you say Lady Alicia first started being
a...happier person?" He tried to ask that question casually but while he faked
indifference, he sat on the edge of his seat.
After a few moments of contemplation, the maid piped up, "Of course, I remember!
It was when M'lady had given us a scare by bein' un...con...scious, unconscious!
There, I said it right! Back in December. Why, she woke up and it was like she was
a different person."
Richard drummed his fingers. Most likely she was.
"And she had the prettiest ear-bobs danglin' from her ears, Your Lordship. Golden
leaves, they were. I don't know where M'lady got those ear-bobs. She was even
wearin' the oddest garment. A wonderfully silky pink robe. I never saw it before in
her wardrobe. And I certainly didn't put her to bed in it the night before."
He rubbed his chin. This was interesting news.
"D'you know," Dana added, "the robe had a fastenin' on it that worked like magic?
Pull the tab down, and it opened. Pull the tab up, and it closed. I asked M'lady
about it but she never did give me an answer."
"Is the robe here at Hanover Square?" he questioned.
"No, Your Lordship. I've not seen it since the day M'lady woke up from her illness."
Dana brightened. "But the ear-bobs are here. I've seen 'em."
Standing, Richard walked over to the maid. "Thank you, Dana. You have been
very cooperative."
When she got to her feet, he placed his arm around her shoulder and escorted her
to the door. "Have no fear," he assured her. "This conversation will remain
between the two of us. Indeed, I am off to do some traveling, and when I return, I
hope to clear up this mystery so Lady Alicia regains her cheerful spirits."
"Thank you, Your Lordship." Dana bobbed a curtsey. "'Twill be good to see M'lady
smile again."
After the maid left, Richard smiled his own smile. When he returned from
Saybrooke Hall, he would make certain his lady would wear smiles much more
often.
He gathered a few of his belongings, then headed for the stables. Instead of going
to Northumberland on estate matters, as he had told Alaina, he traveled to
Saybrooke Hall. The reason for this deception was that he did not want to take the
chance of Alaina suggesting that she accompany him. He needed a free hand in
interviewing the servants about her. And after finishing his business at the Hall, he
and Alaina would have their final confrontation.
* * *
At Saybrooke Hall, Richard searched his wife's dressing room, feeling a bit like an
intruder. The gowns in the wardrobe confirmed Dana's statement about the
difference in length. A majority of the dresses all bore the mark of alteration at the
hem--skillfully disguised by an additional flounce or extra embroidery. The
untouched ones were noticeably shorter. Evidently Alaina did not plan to wear
them again.
He finished his survey of the wardrobe without finding the object he was looking
for: the mysterious pink robe.
Entering her bedchamber, he scanned the room with an eye for possible hiding
places. If he could but challenge her with this robe, she would surely then reveal
the truth. Dana's description of the robe intrigued him. And he was completely at
sea as to what the magical fastening of the robe might mean.
After a thorough examination of the bedchamber without results, he sat dejectedly
on the bed. Where might she have hidden it? The cupid statues surrounding the
bed seemed to leer suggestively at him, mocking his current failure. Where the
devil could she have cached a blasted robe?
He ran his hand through his hair. A robe was a bulky object but perhaps...just
perhaps this one was skimpy. Dana had mentioned it was silky. Perhaps it could
be folded upon itself and occupy the smallest compartment.
In a flash, his gaze rested on the Sheraton writing table in the middle of the room.
Yes, of course. A piece of furniture designed for secrets! Moving his large hands
deftly over its surface, he discovered its false facade and the lock behind it.
Regardless of the damage, he used a knife to break the mechanism.
With a quick inhalation of breath, he pulled the drawer open. Inside the small
space, a rose-pink fabric reflected back at him. It had been ruthlessly stuffed within
the container.
For several minutes following the discovery, the large ornamental clock on the
fireplace mantle ticked away. Richard sat, inanely opening and closing Alaina's
wonder robe. As he pushed the tab upward, tiny teeth interlocked together. Just as
unbelievably, when he pulled the tab down, they were pulled away.
Nowhere in England, or indeed anyplace in the world that he was aware of, could
boast of such a fastener, so finely and meticulously made.
The mystery grew deeper and deeper.
A piece of paper that had fallen on the floor attracted his attention. He picked it up
and read it. Mostly scribble, it was a list of materials needed for some sort of
sewing project. But the handwriting teased his memory.
He read the list again. It was Alaina's Christmas project for the estate's children.
Her handwriting.
Thunderstruck, he sank down on a spindle-legged chair. Her handwriting was the
same as on his presentation papers. Was Alaina telling the truth then? Did she
actually edit his research?
"Good Lord!" he exclaimed. "Who the devil is she?"
Crumpling the robe into a ball, Richard crammed it into his pocket. He strode out
of her bedchamber as if the Hall were on fire. There was no time to lose. He would
return to London immediately.
Chapter Seventeen
The Marquess and Marchioness of Ravenwood's estate was located in Kew
Green, well inside the Greater London area. In spite of the heavy Sunday traffic,
the trip there didn't take long. Despite the relatively close proximity, the Dowager
had accepted the invitation to spend the night. Which was a good thing. Evidently,
desperate gangs loved to attack rich carriages and severely beat its occupants. So
rampant street crime was also a problem in the year 1819.
The Ravenwoods' estate, Groughton Castle, was absolutely immense. An entire
village could have been set within its walls!
Upon arriving, Lady Wilhelmina, Lucinda, and Isabel all headed to the powder
room to primp, so Alaina followed close behind. One wrong turn in this mansion
and a person could get lost for days!
Nigel Cransworth escorted her tonight and seemed to consider her his "date." She
appreciated his attention, especially tonight. She needed all the self-confidence
she could muster. Stepping into the corridor, she glanced down at her ball gown. It
was a vision in shimmering sea-green satin, held under the breasts by a gold
beaded belt. Rather daring too, with off-the-shoulders, short, skirted sleeves that
moved unfettered in the breeze. White satin slippers and white kid gloves
completed her accessories, but instead of heavy jewelry, Alaina wore a simple
gold necklace and her very own gold leaf earrings.
She looked wonderful. Now if she could only get past this nervousness.
The Cransworths, along with Cousin Isabel and Ian Boggs joined her in the line of
guests to be announced and received. Since most of the wait occurred in the
corridor, when it was her party's turn to enter, the grandeur and size of the Grand
Ballroom took Alaina's breath away. The room spanned two stories high. The
receiving line congregated on a small balcony, and a staircase descended to the
main floor. Four huge crystal chandeliers lighted the fabulous room, and if she had
puzzled over replacing the candles in the bedroom at Saybrooke Hall, her
speculation was lost as to how to perform the same task at Groughton Castle.
Standing from her vantage point on the balcony, she observed the resplendently
dressed assemblage, appearing as colorful miniatures in the dazzling Grand
Ballroom.
"I've never seen the like of this before," Alaina uttered with reverence.
"Indeed," Lady Wilhelmina whispered, "the Prince-Regent himself has tried to get
possession of Groughton Castle--by offering the Marquess Carlton House as a
trade. The Marquess, naturally, declined the honor!"
Soon the Dowager's entourage was announced and Alaina found herself politely
chatting with the Marquess and Marchioness of Ravenwood.
"My dear, I cannot tell you how positively thrilled I am that you could attend our
little party. Lady Wilhelmina has told me about your reluctance to appear in
society. I assure you, Lady Alicia, it will be just the thing for you to get out and
mingle." Lady Ravenwood patted Alaina's gloved hand.
"I congratulate myself on securing the elusive countess!" the Marchioness
declared.
Alaina withheld a chuckle. Whatever floats your boat.
While the Dowager and her friend exchanged a promise to meet later for a tête-à-
tête, Nigel offered Alaina his arm to escort her down the staircase. For a moment,
it seemed that the multitude below quieted a fraction of a decibel.
No, must be her imagination. She was too sensitive. Surely there must be plenty of
people here with a worse reputation than Alicia's. But maybe not. Talk about
having everyone's "eyes" on you!
Too bad she had to have the stigma of Alicia's reputation. She would've been
******* to wander throughout the room, marveling at the numerous wall murals
and the exotic palm trees decorating the interior, but Lucinda would have none of
that.
"Oh, I see John and Clarice Penterbury, let's do join them. Though why she is
wearing that pink gown, with her red hair...." Lucinda gave a delicate shudder. "I
count myself fortunate that you are my friend, Alicia. You would never steer me
wrong to wear a disastrous color!"
Alaina smiled at Lucy, looking so enchanting in her silver and blue gown. As Lucy
led the way to her friends, a pale blush of pink brought on by excitement enhanced
her pretty face. Nigel took on the duty of procuring lemonade for the ladies but he
called back to Alaina, "Don't forget. The first waltz is mine!"
Maneuvering through the crowded floor, Lucinda pouted, "I don't understand why
you refuse to dance naught but the waltz, Alicia. I want you to have a good time.
You are limiting your fun. Why, I feel so light on my feet, I could dance all night!"
"You promised you would not overdo it, Lucinda," Charlie warned. But to Alaina he
agreed, "Lucinda's right. How can I hope to secure a dance with you? The waltz is
played so infrequently, and all these young bucks are already beating a path to
your side."
Alaina gave a carefree laugh. How exhilarating it was, being part of a gala event.
The only thing missing, of course, was Richard. Her Rick.
"All this nonsense," she demurred. "Of course I'll save you a waltz, if you want."
At a wink from Mr. Boggs, she added, "And you, too!"
The Penterburys seemed glad to see their friends, and introductions were
performed for Isabel and Mr. Boggs. When Clarice's green eyes took in the
elegance of the Cransworth women, she glanced down at her own pink round
gown, the bottom of which hung heavy with large flowers, pearls, and rose satin
gatherings. The woman sighed. Probably vowed to change dressmakers
immediately!
The musicians struck up the strains for the first dance--a minuet. Mr. Boggs and
Mr. Penterbury led their ladies to the dance floor, but Charlie and Lucy hesitated,
hating to leave her alone.
"It's all right. Go ahead, you two." Alaina shooed them away. "I'll be fine. In fact, I
see Lady Wilhelmina sitting over by the wall. I'll join her."
Alaina stood for a moment, watching the three couples gracefully dance the
minuet, then went on her way lest passersby conclude she was available for the
set. She murmured inconsequential greetings to those guests she encountered,
and with a feeling of relief, eased into a chair at Lady Wilhelmina's table. An
elderly man with thinning white hair and a dignified manner was talking to the
Dowager.
"Lord Grumsbee, I do not believe you have met my daughter-in-law. Lady Alicia is
Richard's wife, you know." As she spoke, Lady Wilhelmina fluttered her
handkerchief in the air.
The gentleman rose, gave Alaina a stiff bow and said he was charmed. As he
reseated himself, he confided, "Old bones don't move so well, I fear. Otherwise, be
honored to escort you to the dance floor."
Alaina sipped at some lemonade. "Not to worry, sir. I'm happy to sit this one out."
"Hiding her light under a bu********************************," the Dowager commented. "Lord Grumsbee and I
were just discussing Nigel's future in politics."
During the course of the evening, Alaina eventually danced with both brothers and
the inimitable Mr. Boggs. The evening passed by in an agreeable haze. Even the
gossip she overheard was favorable to her. The Countess of Saybrooke was
behaving very circumspectly indeed!
However, as she walked by a small group of men clustered near airy green palm
trees by the staircase, she overheard, "Saybrooke has finally brought his wife to
heel!"
The men laughed ribaldly, save one. "Kincaid, why are you standing with a frown
on your face? Is it because your former ladylove does not acknowledge your
presence?"
Cripes! Alaina hurried away from the group. The name of Kincaid meant nothing to
her, but if Alicia was his former ladylove, she certainly didn't want to meet him.
Instead, she took Lady Ravenwood's advice and mingled. In the midst of a
conversation with one of Lucy's friends, a tap on her bare shoulder caused her to
turn around.
"Enjoying yourself...Alicia?" Richard questioned in his deep, rich timbre.
"Oh! Um, Richard! Ah, hi." She almost bit her tongue. Good grief, she sounded so
stupid, but all the same, what a shock.
The musicians' next selection was a waltz, and Richard exercised his rights by
preempting any prior claims for her hand. She docilely followed him to the dance
floor, hoping this would preclude a conversation. She dared not look at his face,
instead staring at his black double-breasted dress coat and striped satin waistcoat.
"Has my tie-pin become loose in my cravat? Is that what is so affixing your
interest?"
"Um, no," she replied quickly. "It's just that...I didn't expect you here.
Northumberland's quite a distance away."
Being in his arms was the best kind of torture she could ever imagine.
"Not that I'm not glad to see you," she managed to blurt out guiltily. In God's name,
she had to get a grip on herself. Had to get her emotions under control.
Wrenching her gaze away from his pearl and diamond tie-pin, she looked into his
piercing blue eyes. A head to toe tingling caused her whole body to vibrate.
"I am pleased to hear it, my dear. I decided to forgo the trip to the wilds and
traveled instead to Saybrooke Hall. Some matters there to clear up. I did not want
to miss your first society event. How many months has it been?"
As Richard pivoted her suddenly, she made her answer against the column of his
neck. A masculine scent of fresh sandalwood wafted through her senses.
Oh gosh. She swallowed down hard. "Who keeps track?" With a little finagling, she
managed to move back from him.
But then he tightened his grip on her waist. "I must compliment you on your
appearance tonight," he said, fingering her gold leaf earrings.
She almost died from the pleasure of his touch.
"That is a captivating gown you are wearing." He ran his left index finger down the
length of her neck to the bottom of her bare shoulder.
Oh dear God! She couldn't suppress a tremble. What in the world was he doing?
When her nipples had the audacity to peak, she took matters into her own hands.
Holding her body more stiffly, she commented, "Isn't this a beautiful ballroom?"
She looked everywhere but at him. How on earth was she ever going to make it
through the rest of the evening?
Richard was not fooled by Alaina's show of nonchalance. He now prided himself
on being attuned to her every mood change. The soft, supple mounds of her
breasts showing provocatively from the frill of white crêpe, moved more rapidly
than the exercise of the dance merited. He looked forward to an...interesting night.
Before the last chords of the waltz were played, she pulled away from him, opened
her silk fan, and professed an overwhelming thirst.
So she hoped he would take the hint and bring her some lemonade, eh? But, no.
He would not leave her side. Gesturing to Nigel, he assigned the task to his
brother.
Looking down at Alaina's agitated...and desirable figure, Richard called after his
brother, "Better make it champagne."
"Let's tell your mother that you're here," Alaina insisted. "I know she'll be happy to
see you."
"As you wish, my dear." Alaina's nervousness at his presence was very gratifying.
Very gratifying indeed.
As they headed for the Dowager countess's table, Richard bumped into a
distinguished gentleman in his early fifties. The man turned around.
"Ah, Your Grace, what a pleasant surprise. Didn't recognize you. Beg your pardon
for my clumsiness." Richard inclined his head in greeting.
He could hardly suppress a smirk of laughter at Alaina's polite smile and nod to the
noble peer. It was obvious that she did not know the man in front of her.
"Saybrooke, been meaning to pay you a visit. Have heard nothing but excellent
reviews on your Fishbourne excavation. You must give me the highlights one of
these days." The Duke of Blakesdale clasped him on the shoulder and remarked
that Richard was looking exceedingly well. The Duke then quizzically lifted an
eyebrow at Alaina.
Alaina, reddening at the man's gaze, made a move to turn, but Richard placed a
restraining arm around her waist.
The Duke's other eyebrow raised to its twin's height but all he said was a gruff,
"Well, I won't keep you...and your wife. Do stop by Berkeley Square, Saybrooke. I
see we have some matters to discuss."
"I look forward to it, Your Grace." After taking their leave, Richard guided Alaina
through the crowd. She must have found his arm around her middle comforting, for
she allowed him the liberty of leaving it there.
With some hesitation and studied casualness, she said, "I'm glad your
presentation was so well received. His Grace was definitely impressed."
No doubt she wanted him to reply, but he kept his own counsel.
Another pause. "Um, I seem to have forgotten his name."
Richard helped her up the two steps to his mother's table, but could not keep the
grin from his face. This was further proof of her charade. The nail in the coffin--so
to speak.
He leaned over and whispered into her ear. "Indeed? I would not admit that to
anyone else,...Alicia. His Grace is a very powerful man. He is the Duke of
Blakesdale." And silently he added, And, he is also Alicia's father.
* * *
Alaina sat in front of the mirrored vanity in the bedroom assigned her by the
Marchioness of Ravenwood, methodically brushing her dark hair. Since she was
only to be gone for one night, she hadn't brought Dana with her. She now waited
for one of her hostess's maids to help her with the ********************************l hooks at the back of her
gown.
Smiling, she set her brush down. All in all, the evening went very well. No, actually,
it went great. There'd been a few minor mistakes, but none of the guests seemed
to expect more than the polite generic greetings she gave them. There'd been no
reason to fear appearing in society. She was glad Lady Wilhelmina had forced her
into finally getting out.
Even Richard behaved cordially. More than cordially. Her smile deepened. He
didn't question any of her statements and somehow understood that she was
nervous. Why, he went out of his way to make things easier for her. Look at his
advice about forgetting the Duke of Blakesdale!
How charming he was when he wanted to be. And he was oh, so charming
tonight.
Indulging her fantasies, she closed her eyes to block out reality and relived the
scene from a short while ago. She had been about to retire for the night. As
Richard looked into her eyes, he had given her gloved hand a lingering kiss, and
said, "Sweet dreams."
Sweet dreams. She gave into temptation and imagined more than a lingering kiss
on her hand. In the middle of this daydream, she made a murmuring sound. If
only--
A touch on the nape of her neck brought her crashing back to earth. Must be the
maid removing her necklace. Feeling foolish to have been caught in a reverie,
Alaina opened her eyes and saw Richard's reflection in the mirror!
"Richard!" she exclaimed, jumping off the chair. "I didn't hear you come in."
"Carpeted floor," he gestured downward in explanation. "When I entered, you
seemed to be...preoccupied."
It was useless to hide her fierce flush. She was about to ask why he was in her
room, but a gentle knock on the door interrupted her.
A young servant girl entered and inquired, "You have need of my services, My
Lady?"
Richard spoke faster. "No, Her ladyship no longer requires your services."
While Alaina stood with her hands on her hips, a surprised maid was shown the
door.
"Now what did you do that for? And, by the way, why are you in my room?" she
questioned accusingly.
As he removed his tie-pin and untied the knot in his cravat, he took his time in
answering. Removing the neckcloth, he stated matter-of-fact, "Lady Ravenwood
was in a dither about a shortage of rooms, so I volunteered to share one with my
wife. You do not mind, I hope?"
Oh my gosh! Alaina backed away from him and watched a muscularly virile
Richard Cransworth remove his waistcoat and place it on the seat next to the bed.
He looked more appealing, more seductive, and more dangerous in his open shirt
and tight white breeches.
She quickly scanned the room and spotted a chaise-lounge by the ************************************************************ **** "Um,
not if you don't mind," she lied, biting her lip. Her mind working furiously, she
added, "I'll sleep there."
Chapter Eighteen
Lying back against the headboard, Richard surveyed the goddess by his side. As
he caressed the soft curve of her perfect belly, he stated reverently, "You are so
beautiful."
He also felt a twinge of conscience. Before Terrence, Alicia's stomach had been
just as flat. A difficult pregnancy, responsible for silvery stretch marks marring her
abdomen, coupled with a painful delivery, had changed headstrong Alicia into a
veritable termagant.
These imperfections mattered not in the slightest to Richard. But she had never
forgiven him nor Terrence for her disfigurement.
Alaina's voice broke through his fog. "What are you thinking, Rick? You look so
sad."
"What a pair we are," Richard laughed, to chase away the dismals, "with you
crying and me thinking maudlin thoughts! What did bring on those tears, my dear?"
"I guess I was wishing that this time together would never end. I want it to go on
forever."
touching her nose, he said, "I do not see why it cannot."
"Men!" Now Alaina laughed. She slipped out from under him, put on a robe and
stood to face the new day. "Of course it has to end. We can't stay in bed forever."
He tried to grab the corner of the dressing gown to pull her back onto the bed, but
failed. Sighing, he countered, "And why not?"
"Well, in the first place, this is not your house," she said, brushing her sleep-
tangled locks.
With his elbow resting on the mattress and his head in his palm, he watched
Alaina's movements. How beautiful she was. He could not believe even the
simplest of actions could be so gracefully performed. And she was his--all his.
"The Marquess owes me a few favors, Ally. He would not cavil at our staying
here."
"In the second place, I'm hungry." She stopped him as he was about to speak.
"Yes, I know we could have room service...I mean, have our meals brought up
here. But I'd rather not give everyone more to talk about."
That remark engendered a smile on his face. He jumped out of bed and put on his
own robe. "What? My little wife becoming a prude?"
She retaliated by throwing her hairbrush at him.
He ducked. "I call a truce," he said, giving Alaina a fond huge. If only they could
stay within these four walls! "My garments are in Nigel's room. Let us change and
meet in the dining salon for breakfast."
Alaina agreed. "All right. How about fifteen minutes?"
"You can ready yourself that quickly?"
"I'm hungry! Remember, I worked up an appetite." By the Lord above, her wanton
smile caused his heart to constrict.
"You vixen!" Slipping into the corridor, he turned back for one last look at her. In
his heart, he felt certain she was reluctant to see him go, even as he was. This
truly was the dawn of a new day.
* * *
As with everything else, Groughton Castle's dining salon was on a grand scale.
The white and blue interior boasted of valuable paintings ranging from old masters
such as Titian, to "contemporaries" like Sir Joshua Reynolds. Over the course of
her stay with the Cransworths, a streak of loyalty must have developed. The State
Dining Room at Saybrooke Hall, while not as large, was more magnificent in her
eyes.
Instead of having the food displayed on the sideboards, as she was used to,
breakfast was a more formal affair. Several liveried footmen, dressed in white and
blue, constantly hovered over the guests, each holding different dishes with which
to tempt morning palates. The only casual aspect of the meal was open dining.
The guests wandered in and out as they wanted.
When Alaina entered the dining salon, well after eleven o'clock, Rick was already
seated, with his mother and Clarice Penterbury on either side of him. Alaina gave
him a special smile and sat opposite the man who had so recently shared her bed,
and she hoped, her life. His gaze lingered over her and sent a private message for
her alone.
At his look, she melted again. Goodness! A warm flush tingled on her cheeks.
Reverting to your love-sick adolescent days, aren't you, Alaina?
Selecting a portion of eggs, she concerned herself with eating and making small
talk with Nigel, who had also just joined the group.
The Dowager animatedly chatted with Lady Ravenwood. Then she turned to
address the new arrivals. "My dears, such wonderful news! Just this morning it
happened, shortly after four--four fifteen to be exact. Denise and I won the wager.
We said it would be a girl!"
The two ladies virtually bubbled over with their good fortune, whatever it was that
they were talking about.
"Slow down, Mother. What wager are you referring to?" Nigel inquired.
"Why, of course. I forgot to mention all the details. We got the news a scant while
ago. This morning, Her Royal Highness, the Princess Alexandrina Victoria was
born. The Duke of Kent is so thrilled, he sent the word to be proclaimed throughout
the realm. Edward's infant daughter holds the fifth place in the succession to the
throne, after the Regent, Frederick, William, and himself."
Taking a sip of tea to ******************************************************** her tongue, Lady Wilhelmina continued, "And little
Victoria, as she is to be called, is the only child in the line. Since poor Charlotte
and her baby are gone."
Lady Ravenwood reached for a delicate hanky after the Dowager's statement, and
dabbed at her eyes. Princess Charlotte had been well loved by everyone.
Clarice Penterbury had been steadily looking at Alaina through the whole of Lady
Wilhelmina's discourse. She set her biscuit down and said cattily, "But Lady Alicia
deserves a prize as well. Not only did she predict the child would be a girl, but she
gave us the name, and today's date."
The woman sat back, watching the reactions her stunning tidbit created.
Alaina immediately choked on some of her food. Good God! She remembered the
incident clearly. It had been at the Christmas ball. Having drunk too much, she had
spoken indiscreetly about the next rulers of England. How was she going to get
herself out of this mess? She couldn't think because the Dowager, Lady
Ravenwood and two other ladies kept clamoring for more information.
Rick, bless him, came to Alaina's rescue by drawling, "Some demmed mystic told
you. Isn't that so, my dear? I believe 'Madame Reena' was the name. She travels
with the gypsies, who seasonally pass through our land."
Alaina saw him give a speaking look to Nigel. Maybe gypsies didn't follow that
route, and Nigel knew it. She could tell Nigel swallowed his protest. He merely
agreed, "Just so."
The explanation, however, satisfied the parties present including Lady Wilhelmina.
She probably never concerned herself with gypsies. Only Clarice seemed
dissatisfied. She glanced from Rick to Alaina, but wisely kept silent.
Alaina gratefully accepted his fabrications on her behalf. She smiled another
"lover-ly" smile at him, promising a future reward.
He raised his glass to her and shot her an understanding wink.
Lady Wilhelmina still waxed enthusiasm about the royal birth however, and didn't
notice the by-play. Instead, she informed Alaina, "It is too bad you did not come
down to breakfast earlier, child. And why Charles and Lucinda are still upstairs is a
mystery to me! The Duke of Blakesdale would have been happy to relate your
news about the mystic's predictions to the new father."
The Dowager took a much needed breath. "Edward wanted to name the infant,
'Elizabeth,' after himself. But the Regent's voice held sway. Perhaps knowing that
the princess' birth and names were preordained might lessen Edward's animosity
toward his eldest brother."
"Yes, the Duke of Blakesdale loves to be the bearer of tidings," Lady Ravenwood
confirmed. "He apologized to all of us for taking his leave so early. After we
received the news, he was eager to go to his royal friend to offer congratulations.
Your father also said that he especially wanted to have another word with you,
Lady Alicia."
How Alaina managed to swallow the liquid in her mouth and not have it come
spewing forth, was a minor miracle. She sat, in a daze, and poured all her
concentration into guiding the Sèvres teacup back to its saucer without breaking it.
Giving an automatic response to the Marchioness, she felt a paralyzing freeze
descend over her body. Her father. Her father. The words sang through her stupor.
The Duke of Blakesdale was Alicia's father.
And Rick knew. He knew that she was a fake. How could he not be aware of it?
What person forgets her own father? Even with her lame excuse for memory loss.
Her words came back to haunt her. She had said, "I seem to have forgotten his
name." And then Rick's response, "I would not admit that to anyone else, Alicia."
From the cold of her body's freeze, arose a blazing heat burning her face. She
was sure her skin glowed vividly red. When he had danced with her last night, he
had known she wasn't Alicia. When he had volunteered to share the bed with his
"wife," he had known she wasn't Alicia.
When they made love....
Control, Alaina. Control. She fought to keep the tears back. What was going on
here? Was last night some type of revenge because she pretended to be Alicia?
Why didn't he say something? Why had he humored her?
What should she do? How could she face him?
Wait a minute. How could he face her? At least she loved him. He just "wanted"
her.
Avoiding his gaze, she rose from the table and made her excuses to the remaining
diners. Now in the corridor, her tears refused to be held back any longer. With a
quickness she hadn't known she possessed, she ran up the staircase.
Oh no. Voices. She hid in an alcove and watched Lucy and Charlie on their way to
the dining salon. Good. This was perfect. She slipped into Lucy's bedroom and
closed the door.
Rick would be looking for "his wife" in her bedroom. And she couldn't see him right
now. Not with her emotions going full tilt. Until she figured out what her next move
was, she had to avoid him.
Leaning against the door, she sank down to the floor. "Impostor." She could hear
that very word from his lips. How could she explain what happened? How could he
believe her?
And what if he wanted his true wife back?
Never, in Alaina's entire life, had she ever been as miserable as this very moment.
Chapter Nineteen
Richard had seen the distress in Alaina's eyes but had been powerless to soothe
or reassure her. She obviously realized he was aware of her deception. But what
other thoughts passed through her mind he could not begin to guess.
As soon as he could, he excused himself from the dining table, and went in search
of her. She was not in her bedchamber. His hopes for a conference with her on the
journey back to Hanover Square were also dashed. Evidently the ladies--the
Dowager, Alaina, Lucinda, and Isabel, decided to travel in a separate carriage
from the men.
Briefly seeing Alaina in the entrance Hall awaiting embarkation, she seemed a
remote figure and purposely did not look his way. While all the other ladies oozed
enthusiasm after last night's ball, Alaina was uncharacteristically silent.
Richard did not meet with success in cornering her later that day, either. Upon her
return to the townhouse, Alaina sequestered herself in her bedchamber, pleading
a headache. Even worse, she did not appear for dinner.
It came as no surprise that when he tried the communicating door between their
rooms, he found it locked.
He would allow her this night to her privacy, but tomorrow, the estrangement
would come to an end.
The next morning, he sent a formal request for Alaina to join him in the study. But
Higgins had unwelcome news for him.
The butler bowed. "M'lady has already left the premises, Your Lordship."
"I see." Richard drummed his fingers against the solid wood of his desk. "Did she
give her destination?"
"No, Your Lordship. M'lady asked for a carriage to be brought 'round and stated
she was going for a drive."
The devil. That meant she could be anywhere. Better to wait here than go traipsing
after her.
To his butler, he said curtly, "Tell Her Ladyship that I desire her presence as soon
as she arrives."
Higgins nodded his acceptance of the command and left to take up his vigil by the
front door. If the butler thought his master was in a snit this morning, the man
would be right. He was.
Richard ruthlessly paced the length of his study, heedless of the damage to its
plush carpet. He tried to rehearse what he would say to Alaina. There were so
many questions. Such as who was she? Where was his real wife?
Hell and damn. The entire dilemma was irrelevant, and boiled down to one basic
fact: he wanted Alaina to continue as his wife. He wanted to spend the rest of their
days together. By all that was holy, she also wanted the same thing, he just knew
it.
A faint chime from the mantle clock interrupted Richard's sleep. No shock there
that he had taken an unexpected nap, not with the nerve-wracking night he had
spent.
He noted the time--two o'clock. Shaking his head to dispel the heaviness of
slumber, he strode forth, jaw tightly clenched. Where the hell was Alaina?
"Higgins!" Richard barked out his butler's name.
The man immediately appeared, fingering the collar around his neck.
Obviously Higgins was the bearer of bad news. "Has Her Ladyship returned?"
"Yes, Your Lordship. I relayed the message to M'lady, however she went up to her
bedchamber."
"And how long ago was that?"
Higgins' facial muscles tightened. "About two hours ago, Your Lordship."
Instead of an outburst, Richard inquired on his lady's whereabouts.
His butler flinched. That must mean even worse news. Higgins stated in a low
voice that Her Ladyship was to be found in the drawing room. "She is entertaining
a caller," he reluctantly added.
Richard impatiently walked to the drawing room and, without bothering to be
announced, opened the door....
* * *
Alaina took one look at her unexpected caller and dropped down on the couch.
Good God! The next to the last person she ever expected to see was Sir Derek
Donnehey!
But here he was. There could be no mistaking the color-clashing clothes of a
certified dandy.
She had a few seconds to think before the footman closed the door, leaving her
and Alicia's co-conspirator alone. And she frantically made use of the time. There
were three possibilities for Sir Derek to actually be here, in the year 1819. The first
was that he never left the nineteenth century. The second, that he did travel to
Alaina's own time period, but somehow found a way back. And the last, that his
identity had been replaced just as hers was.
She sat back, trying to appear calm. The young man obviously forgot that languor
was more fashionable than eagerness, for after the footman left, he exclaimed,
"Oh, my darling! I c--cannot believe that you are here. You have been here all the
time!"
He knelt by her and grabbed her hands. Then he actually tried to bury his head on
her knees.
Alaina quickly moved down the couch. As he gingerly raised himself up from his
knees, she took stock of the man. His brightly colored red coat clashed with his
purple striped vest. And both articles of clothing screamed against the yellow of his
pants.
Though Sir Derek was slight in build, his shoulders seemed immensely broad. The
sight of him reminded her of a gangly boy in his older brother's football padding!
How in the world could Alicia have preferred this preposterous man to Rick?
"Why didn't you contact me, my angel? Why didn't you let me know you did not go
through with the Plan?" The man's sad eyes scolded her.
Now seated on the same couch, Sir Derek continued, "You must be angry with
me, I realize that. But let me explain. That December night we were to meet
Madame Reena in the woods, well, I cannot mince words, dear Alicia. I drank to
excess in order to summon up the courage to accompany you on that journey into
the unknown. I got quite...b...bosky."
He lowered his voice. "Alicia, I am ashamed to admit it but I fell into a stupor. I did
not awaken until the next afternoon."
The man sought her hand again, but she pulled away. "You must believe me,
Alicia. I rode over to the Hall to discover whether you had gone through with it.
Saw the servants running around in an uproar. Stopped a messenger galloping
away from the gate. On an urgent mission, he told me. To inform Lord Saybrooke
about you. I ask you, Alicia, what else was I to think except that you had gone
ahead with the escape?"
Sir Derek bowed his head. "These past months have been hell without you. I left
my estate and spent my time in Brighton, Bath, and London. Grieving for you!"
Alaina took advantage of his distraction to stand by the fireplace. If he started
pawing her, she could make a mad dash to the door.
He poured a glass of sherry and offered it to her. As she shook her head, he
pleaded, "Alicia, you m...must believe me! You must forgive me, darling! What I
have suffered! I would have never known you were here except that I ran into
Kincaid this morning. He gloated that you had been present at Ravenwood's ball.
That scoundrel!"
Sir Derek almost worked himself into a lather. "To think Kincaid considers himself
worthy to even kiss your shoes is outside of enough! I, of course, had received an
invitation, but how could I attend any event without my beloved present? So I
declined. Oh, if I had only gone."
He paused in his overly dramatic speech and joined her by the fireplace, waiting
for her to finally speak.
Thank heavens for small favors because if Sir Derek had been present at the
Ravenwood ball, the night would have definitely had a different outcome.
"Derek, I don't know what to say--"
"Don't say anything at all, my darling. Just let me hold you. huge you. And make
you mine."
As Alaina took refuge behind the sofa, the door opened.
Oh good heavens. It was Rick!
"A thousand pardons, I seem to be interrupting." He casually produced his
quizzing glass and slowly studied Sir Derek from head to toe.
After he finished his inspection, he looked over at her. His dark gaze betrayed not
one sign of affection nor understanding. "Rick, I can explain..."
He held up his hand to silence her. "Explain why my wife's beautiful face is flushed
from some type of exertion, and her over-stylishly dressed caller appears to be
chasing her around the settee? I believe Sir Derek should perform the
explanations. As a 'gentleman,' it is expected."
Sir Derek gulped nervously. "Yes, I should have s...spoken with you long before
now concerning my intentions, Lord Saybrooke. But Alicia would not allow...."
The man seemed to lose his nerve beneath Rick's quelling gaze.
"I see." Rick sat down on the couch and gestured for Sir Derek to also sit.
But Rick wasn't through with her, ordering, "Go to the study, Alicia, and wait for me
there. I will join you after Sir Derek and I have our talk."
She turned to go, but Rick called after her. "Needless to say, I will brook no
headaches or other delaying tactics."
Leaving the room without a backward glance, Alaina entered the study, glad to
leave that awkward mess in Rick's capable hands. Hopefully, he would scare Sir
Derek off forever. That guy was too intense for his own good.
The time had finally come to tell Rick the truth. The only remaining question was,
how much of it to reveal? The story, of course, would be incredible, even fantastic.
But then, as the old saying went, truth was stranger than fiction. And nothing could
be stranger than her story.
* * *
Richard's present problem was two-fold. First, he had to extract information from
this lapdog of Alicia's. Whatever his wife had been involved in, also concerned
Donnehey and that blasted Madame Reena. Second, Richard had to convince the
man that his wife had switched her allegiance back to her husband.
Perhaps it was gratifying to know that Sir Derek believed Alaina was Alicia. Surely
that meant his wife was no longer around. Richard crossed his fingers.
"Now, Donnehey, tell me what this is all about."
As the man talked, Richard shook his head. The man was not making much
sense. Through the services of the mystic Madame Reena, a transference had
been planned between Alicia and a "substitute." Alicia was to take the place of the
other woman, but Donnehey was vague on where that ************************************************************ **** was to be. In fact,
some passage of time was supposed to occur!
Donnehey also confided his failure to live up to his part of the plan, having slept
through the assignation. However, now that he knew Alicia was still here, he urged
Richard to do the "manly" thing. Release his wife from the marriage. Donnehey
and Alicia loved each other deeply, so the man said.
Fingertip to fingertip, Richard digested this incredible tale and pondered his next
move. The scheme was so farfetched, so extreme that he did not doubt it was
true. Knowing Alicia, it had to be true.
"My dear Donnehey," Richard said tentatively, "I am afraid I have some bad news
for you. Frankly, your desertion of Lady Alicia, when she counted on you, has
given her a disgust of you. She confessed the whole to me some time ago. In the
meantime, she and I have effected a reconciliation."
Donnehey's raised eyebrows indicated his disbelief.
"You will, I am sure, want to confirm this with Lady Alicia. You are welcome to do
so. But I will not tolerate you plaguing my wife. She is in a delicate condition."
This unsuspected statement caused Donnehey to move so suddenly that the
shoulder seam of his snug crimson coat made an alarming sound akin to that of a
rip in the cloth.
To the man's credit, he paid no heed to it and stammered, "Lady Alicia is...is with
child?"
"Yes," Richard affirmed. Doing some mental computations, he added, "Our child is
expected at the end of the year."
Hastily wiping his sweaty brow with an overlarge handkerchief, Donnehey
recognized his own defeat. Extending his hand, he offered his congratulations and
apologized for misreading matters.
As the two men parted amicably, Richard realized, in amazement, that Donnehey
wasn't a bad sort. He was too good for the fickle Alicia. He hoped Donnehey would
be able to forget Alicia Cransworth--wherever she was.
Richard closed the door to the drawing room and headed for the study. He would
finally get answers to his questions. And he would get them now.
* * *
When the study door opened, Alaina looked up. Rick's face was unreadable--
which could've meant just about anything. Oh good grief! Her stomach twirled in a
zillion knots.
Instead of sitting at his massive desk, though, he chose a chair close to hers. For
a long second, they were both silent. She observed him, and he observed the
fireplace.
The quiet got on her nerves, so she broke it. "What did you say to him?"
The "him" of course being Sir Derek.
With a shrug, Rick replied, "I told him you no longer held him in high regard. I did
not think you would mind."
"Oh no, That's great! I'm so relieved." So relieved in fact that she couldn't sit any
longer. She stood and walked over to the fireplace. "Anyway, I didn't invite him
here. He just showed up." She tried to lighten the mood. "Have you ever seen
clothes in such wild colors? His coat, vest--"
"Waistcoat," Rick corrected. "Truthfully, I found I was in sympathy with him. He
must have been led a devil of a dance."
Now was the time. The time to wipe the slate clean. She rested her shoulders and
head against the marble fireplace, stalling to find the words. Inhaling, she plunged
into it. "Rick, I've never seen Derek Donnehey before today. In person, I mean."
"Perhaps you will be good enough to explain this mad scheme to me. It has to do
with Madame Reena, I believe." Rick's voice held a heavy amount of disapproval.
Maybe he thought she willingly had taken part in the deception.
"Well, all right. Um, you see, it's like this. I'm, well, I'm not your wife. I think you
know that already. But my name really is Alaina. Sawyer is my last name."
She paused. "My story's so unbelievable that, to be honest, I wouldn't believe it
myself. Except, of course, here I am. Living proof."
Taking a quick look at him, she sighed and dropped her gaze. He should have
been a lawyer; his face was so noncommittal.
"Right. Well, anyway, where I lived, which isn't important, I began to have visions.
You know, dreams that occurred during the day as well as night. Talk about
frightening. In these visions, there were two people. A woman whose resemblance
to me was uncanny, and a man, Sir Derek. They plotted an escape. Madame
Reena was hired to help them. In December, on the night the exchange took
place, I felt very odd, and had a compelling desire to drink."
She turned around to face him. "I even had a vision of you that night, Rick. You
were sitting at a desk and seemed very angry. In your hand was a letter. You
threw it into a fireplace."
He frowned. Hopefully, he recalled that letter.
"Then I heard voices chanting, and the next thing I remember is waking up in the
bed I had seen in my visions. And Dana calling me 'M'lady.'"
Rick stared at Alaina. He still didn't show any sign of belief or disbelief.
She held out her hands with her palms up. "I know it sounds crazy. But it's the
truth."
He slowly stroked his chin. "So you did not volunteer for this...switch?"
"Good heavens, no!" was her quick reply. "I mean, I was abducted. You're
probably wondering why I went along with the masquerade."
She walked over to him and sat on the floor beside his chair. "If you could put
yourself in my place for a moment. There I was, waking up in a strange house. A
totally different environment."
Alaina grinned. "Totally different. And I had only the haziest idea of what
happened. I was afraid that if I denied being Alicia, if I said who I really was, I'd
either get arrested or be thrown in a mental institution."
The jaconet muslin of her gown bore the abuse of her agitation. Over and over
again, she bunched the material, pinched, and folded it. "I did the only thing I could
think of; pretend to be Alicia and search for Madame Reena. I hoped to convince
her to undo her magic. As you know, I found her too late."
Rick held Alaina's hands to stop her mutilation of the gown's fragile fabric. With his
fingertips, he lifted her chin.
"Has Alicia taken your place then? And why do you feel it is impossible to return to
your home? For that is what you said over Reena's grave."
Alaina bit her lip. Gosh, what could she tell him? Meeting his gaze, she whispered,
"I honestly don't know if Alicia took my place. Since Reena was successful with
one transference and Alicia disappeared, I assume she woke up in my bed." She
sighed. "I can only imagine what a mess she's making of my life."
He caressed the side of Alaina's cheek. "You have not answered why you feel it is
impossible to return to your home. Are you saying then that Alicia cannot come
back as well?"
Alaina leaned into his hand. "I can't get back. You'll have to take my word for it.
Reena was my only chance to return. And since I can't get back, Alicia can't
either."
Easing her into the chair opposite his, he asked, almost grimly, "Does it grieve
you, then, not being able to go to your home?"
"Oh, Rick!" She threw her arms around him, hugging him, loving him. "I don't want
to go now. I want to stay here with you."
, she was left breathless. "Tell me, Ally, where are
you from? I need to know."
She pulled away from the heaven of his arms. He was right; he did need to know.
"Well--"
"Wait." He reached behind his desk and grabbed something pink. "I believe this is
yours."
She nodded. "Yep, that's my robe, all right."
"And the fastener?"
"A zipper." Alaina made a sheepish grin. "It hasn't been invented yet."
Rick raised his eyebrow. "Care to explain?"
"All right," she sighed. "Here comes the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the
truth. You see, Reena found your wife a perfect double to change places with, but
the only problem was, I come from your future."
"Indeed?"
She raised her own eyebrow. "Indeed. Almost two hundred years into the future.
That's why I seem a tad bit different than everybody else. And how I knew about
Victoria's birth and all that. I'd just read a book on it."
Leaning on the edge of his desk, he shook his head. "Ally, that is--"
"Unbelievable? Bizarre? Crazy?" She wagged her finger at him. "Don't blame me.
You asked me and...I told you."
She laughed. Now that the truth was out, she felt like a million dollars. "All right. I'll
have pity on you, Rick. How about another prediction? George III will die in 1820.
That's not too far away. Want to bet on it?"
"The devil!" Rick rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I do not know what to believe.
Why do I have the sinking feeling that I am in over my head on this?"
"Because you are!" She twirled around the room. "Oh, I'm so happy this is out. So,
don't you see, this is exactly why I can't go back home."
He reached over and stopped her dance by clasping her in a fevered embrace.
"Mmm, heavenly," Alaina lifted her head for air. "Goodness, does this mean we're
engaged?"
"Ally, my girl, I have grown rather partial to you being my wife." His dazzling smile
turned up her very toes.
She tilted up her face. "And I suppose I'm used to having you as my husband."
Nibbling his ear, she murmured, "There are certain benefits."
"Tomorrow I shall arrange
for a 'renewal' of our wedding vows. This way you will be mine in the eyes of the
law and the church, now and for always."
"You're so romantic.".
"Good Lord! Why are we wasting time?" He swept her off her feet and headed out
the door. "We have a deadline to meet."
"Whoa!" She couldn't help laughing as he carried her up the stairs. "What's your
hurry? And what deadline?"
Kicking open her bedroom door, he gently lay her on the bed. "I told Donnehey
you were increasing. We have to hurry so that the little bundle can be born on
time!"
~The End
14-02-07, 08:30 PM
جديد مواضيع قسم الارشيف
العرض العادي
