by Brianna York
Thirteen
A
lex stared out the window at the rain-dampened street. She smoothed her skirts restlessly and fiddled with the curls that framed her face.
“You look just the thing tonight,” Rob’s voice said from behind her and she swung around to give him a smile.
“As do you, Robert dear,” she answered him fondly.
“Come along you two!” Matthew called from the hallway. “I believe that we are all ready.”
Rob offered Alex his arm and she crossed the room to take it and be escorted into the foyer where Matthew was gathering his hat and gloves from Milton. Emmeline was preening before the mirror and Julian was standing beside her cracking his knuckles absently.
“Do stop that Julian,” the Dowager Duchess snapped. “You are oversetting my nerves with your fidgeting.”
Matthew rolled his eyes, thankful that he would not be expected to ride in the same coach with his mother and brother. He glanced at Alex who bit her lip to restrain her laughter.
“Sorry I’m late,” Forrest apologized as he joined them. “Marcus bade me tell you that he will not be attending tonight. Business or some such.”
Alex hesitated, drew in a deep breath and turned around to see Forrest bounding down the stairs, his attention on the pocket watch that he was attempting to insert in his pocket. She felt a thrill of gladness at the sight of him overlaying her apprehension at their first meeting face to face since the night Emmeline had played the pianoforte for the party.
“Well, shall we be off then,” he said, finally looking up from what he was doing. He drew to a halt as his eyes met Alex’s and read the slight apprehension mixed with genuine pleasure that he read in their depths. “You are looking very well tonight, Alex,” he said softly.
She glanced down at her toes momentarily. “Thank you,” was all she could manage.
Matthew cleared his throat. “Well, then let’s be off.” He began guiding his mother and brother toward the door before glancing back to see that Rob, Forrest and Alex were following. He supposed that he should be pleased to see that his sister and Forrest were on speaking terms, but he sensed that the evening would prove very difficult for the two of them in spite of that.
He bounded down the front steps in the faint, yet penetrating drizzle characteristic of London, a contented half-smile on his face. Usually he felt nothing more than a sense of duty when he was on his way to some social outing, but tonight he had the prospect of again encountering Miss Dartmoor to lighten his heart and make him almost eager to be at the Rotherford house.
“You seem in an expansive mood,” Alex observed, glancing up at her brother’s face. Matthew nodded, his eyes on his mother and brother climbing into their carriage. He saw his brother cast a longing look at Matthew, Alex and Forrest who he knew were to travel together to the ball. Matthew knew that Julian would rather have ridden to the ball with his older brother, but Emmeline was not about to go anywhere unescorted.
“Would you be willing to explain why you are in a grand mood despite the fact that your mother is to accompany us?” Alex went on, her voice betraying her own annoyance at the prospect of an evening spent at least partially in Emmeline’s presence. Matthew handed his sister into his carriage, then allowed Forrest and Rob to climb in and sit across from Alex. He called the direction of their destination up to William then squeezed onto the squabs beside his sister.
“It’s really quite simple, I should think,” Rob contributed blithely. “I believe that Matthew is in fine spirits because he assumes that Miss Dartmoor will be in attendance at the Rotherford gala.” He smiled, confident that he was correct.
Matthew inclined his head in reply and forbore to say anything in addition.
"I am beginning to question the wisdom of taking one carriage for all of us," Alex said then, a wry note in her voice as she attempted to move away from her brother’s broad shoulders a bit. Matthew shifted and accidentally jabbed her with his elbow. He had no sooner mumbled an apology when Forrest managed to hit her in the face with his gloves. She dissolved into helpless giggles while the men stammered out their apologies through their own chuckles.
"It's only four of us," Matthew said when they had ceased laughing uncontrollably. “It would have been worse had Marcus decided to join us.” Marcus had decided to stay at home, pleading a headache. Matthew had his doubts about this, but he had only nodded and wished Marcus a pleasant night.
Forrest’s lips twisted wryly. "I do believe that it is a carriage intended for two people, perhaps three.”
"I believe that three ladies would fit in here," Alex interjected, “But I doubt if three men would be comfortable.” She looked around at the three men with her and chuckled.
“It’s not very far now,” Matthew assured them, then laughed when they all looked at him ruefully. He spread his hands apologetically, accidentally elbowing his sister yet again. “Just looking for a silver lining,” he told his friends after apologizing to Alex again.
When the carriage drew to a halt before the Rotherford house, Matthew attempted to extricate himself first and could not, so Rob slipped out first, followed by Forrest. Alex slipped past her brother and took the hand Forrest offered her as she stepped down from the carriage. “I don’t suppose,” he whispered to her, his long fingers rather tight on her gloved ones, “That I might have a word with you?”
Alex looked into his light blue eyes and thought that she read some kind of resolve there, but also a species of contentment. She realized that Forrest had come to some sort of monumental decision, and that he wished to share it with her, so she nodded in reply, not sure what she might say aloud to the look on his face. Matthew had by now emerged from the coach and was offering her his arm. She reluctantly extricated her fingers from Forrest’s and slipped her hand onto Matthew’s arm as they started up the front steps.
The foyer was oppressively warm and smelled too strongly of perfume for comfort. Alex wrinkled her pretty nose and sneezed once. Matthew was quick about handing off their things. However, if he had hoped that the ballroom would be an improvement over the foyer, he had been wrong. The ballroom did not reek of perfume in the same manner, but it was even warmer than the foyer had been and filled from wall to wall with humanity.
Rob groaned aloud. “It looks as if the Rotherford’s have achieved a crush.” A crush was the society woman’s fondest desire. A crush defined one as truly socially prominent. Matthew however, had always thought that a crush just indicated that the woman putting on the ball had sent out far too many invitations.
“That she most assuredly has,” Matthew agreed, hearing his sister and himself announced and making his way carefully into the pressing throng of people. The orchestra could barely be heard over the babble of voices and Matthew was not certain that there was room enough to dance. He feared that it would be quite unlikely that he should locate Miss Dartmoor in this infernal mess. Sighing in deep resignation, he attempted to navigate his sister to someplace that was not so crowded.
“Ouch!” the voice was Rob’s, and Matthew glanced over his shoulder in time to see Rob glaring down at the scuff on the toe of one of his shining boots, created by a passerby’s wayward foot. Thusly distracted, Matthew did not notice the couple approaching them until it was too late.
“Matthew, look o...” Alex began, tugging at her brother’s arm in an attempt to avert disaster moments before she and her brother collided with the two Dartmoors.
“I am so terribly sorry,” Matthew said, automatically reaching out with both hands to steady the young woman that he had crashed into. He realized a moment later and with a terrible shock of delight that the woman he was holding onto was Theresa Dartmoor. “Miss Dartmoor! Hello again!” he said brightly, his hands softening a bit on her shoulders in unconscious pleasure at the feel of her.
Alex attempted to step back a bit from Dartmoor, who looked positively murderous. She was about to remove her hand from her brother’s arm since it appeared that he intended to continu
e clutching Miss Dartmoor’s shoulders in such an inappropriate way, when Rob, who was still staring moodily at his ruined footwear, walked straight into Matthew, throwing Matthew and Alex into the Dartmoors once again.
Matthew attempted to halt his momentum, but it was not until he had stumbled forward a step that he was able to do so. That small step was enough, however, to bring the full length of his body into contact with Miss Dartmoor, who gasped. Her eyes were glowing up at him, very bright and a bit too wide and Matthew realized that he could feel every curve of her slender body. Despite the rather desperate and completely foolhardy urge to remain entangled with her in such a fashion, he drew back a step and asked, “I did not hurt you, Miss Dartmoor?”
She stared at him for a second, then swallowed hard. He watched her eyes clear a bit, fascinated by the play of color in them before she replied rather breathlessly. “No, Your Grace. I am quite unhurt.”
Dartmoor had known ever since he first saw Alex that nothing would suit him better than to marry her and have her at his beck and call. Nothing could have confirmed it better, however, than Rob’s intervention. The helpless victim of her brother’s inertia, she had still managed to put her slender hands out in an attempt to catch her balance. Unfortunately, her outstretched hands had come to rest on Dartmoor’s lapels, bringing her face very close to his and the rest of her not so much farther away.
Looking down into her upturned face, he smiled with a feral glint. “Good evening, Lady Alexandra.” His voice was warm and intimate, and made her shudder. She pushed herself firmly away from him and fell to smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her gown. She felt the grip of strong fingers on her elbow and glanced over her shoulder to see Forrest, his eyes chilled to a uniform gray.
“Are you quite all right, Alex?” he inquired of her, his gaze a swift brush over her features before his eyes returned to Dartmoor’s.
In an abstracted fashion, Alex noticed his use of her nickname before she nodded. She felt the chill of Dartmoor’s unpleasantness diminishing at the secure strength of Forrest’s fingers on her arm. “Yes, Lord Tyndale. I am fine.”
“An apology would not go amiss, Dartmoor.” There was no mistaking the tone of Forrest’s voice; his words were an order.
Dartmoor’s greenish eyes flashed brighter for a moment and his mouth tightened into a thin line. However, he bowed slightly to Alex and said, “I am terribly sorry, Lady Alexandra. I hope that you were not injured.”
Alex’s voice was clipped as she replied, “I assure you that I am quite alright, Sir. Thank you for your concern.”
Matthew heard the last of the tense conversation being conducted to his right, but his mind was still fogged by Miss Dartmoor’s nearness. “You are certain that you are not hurt?” Matthew asked of her, his hands still on her slender shoulders, his legs pressed lightly against hers.
Her eyes were darker than their usual bright greenish-gold color as she nodded gently and swallowed hard. “I have no complaints, Your Grace.” She appeared to hear her own words just after they were spoken, and she flushed a bit.
“Now that I have apologized to your sister, Your Grace, perhaps you might apologize to us for nearly knocking us down.” Dartmoor’s voice was an abrupt intrusion, and Matthew’s gaze left Tess’s face with distinct effort. He felt Tess stiffen and realized that he must be glaring murderously at her brother. Forcing himself to relax, he stepped away from Miss Dartmoor and removed his hands from her shoulders.
“I assure you that I did not run into you intentionally,” Matthew informed Dartmoor in a stiff voice, while his mind acknowledged that he did not regret running into Dartmoor and his sister in the least.
The orchestra shattered the ensuing deadly silence that fell on the group by striking up a waltz. Forrest was the first to act, asking Alex for the dance and leading her away. Rob muttered something about getting himself a drink and vanished. As the first couples began to twirl in the cramped space that remained open for dancing, Matthew and Dartmoor glared at each other with Tess in between them. Tess glanced first at her brother, knowing well the look of intent fury on his face meant nothing pleasant, then looked up at Matthew’s cool and very still face. She decided that she was going to have to remedy the situation quickly. Closing her eyes, she gave a soft little moan and swayed as if faint. Matthew, who was closest to her, reached out and caught her neatly.
“Miss Dartmoor!” he exclaimed, guiding her to a nearby chair and gently pushing her into it. He knelt at her side, his hand entwined with hers protectively. She was distracted by the pressure of his fingers on hers for a moment, but she pushed away thoughts of Matthew in time to enact the rest of her little plan.
“Brother,” she murmured in a breathy voice, her slightly dazed eyes on her brother’s face. “Could you bring me something to drink?”
“Of course, Tess,” he answered, his face troubled. Matthew glanced over his shoulder to watch Dartmoor shoulder his way through the crowd and disappear. The man seemed genuinely concerned about his sister for once. Matthew turned back to regard Tess, who was slumped a bit in her chair, her eyes half-closed.
“Is he gone?” she said suddenly, her voice sure and strong, not thin and wavering the way it had been moments before.
Matthew cocked one brow in confusion and said, “Yes.”
“Capital!” Tess exclaimed, sitting up brightly and smiling perkily at Matthew. She regarded his dumbfounded look for a moment, then laughed, a bright tinkling little burst of sound. “Don’t look so shocked,” she scolded him, her smile mischievous. “You two needed to be separated, so I separated you. Come now, let’s be off before he comes back.” Matthew had not released her hand, and she rose, tugging impatiently at his fingers.
“Where are we off to?” Matthew inquired as she pulled him haltingly through the crowd that ringed the room.
She glanced back at him, a bright impish smile on her lovely face. “I need some air. I am faint.” He laughed aloud at that and she winked at him.
Across the room, Forrest and Alex danced in a surprisingly companionable silence. Alex’s eyes were on Forrest’s profile as he guided them effortlessly through the other couples. He looked distant and perfect, like the image of some Greek god on the head of a coin. Perhaps he was a roman emperor instead, she mused, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully. At that moment, Forrest met her eyes. He smiled gently at the look on her face.
“What are you thinking?” he asked of her, his voice distinctly fond.
She smiled. “That you might be Julius Caesar or Apollo on the head of a coin,” she said matter-of-factly.
He chuckled gently. “Bosh,” was all he said, his eyes leaving her face as he was forced to slip them between two couples.
“‘Tis the truth,” she argued. “I think that you are more likely to be Julius Caesar, however.”
Forrest, who had been born a second son and had never been expected to inherit the title that he currently held, had been a soldier and he often felt ambivalent regret about his years in Her Majesty’s army. However, he felt a distinct curl of pleasure at Alex’s words. “Be careful,” he warned her, “not to do it too brown.”
She laughed at that and her fingers tightened on his hand. “I do not expend effort on compliments that I do not mean, Forrest. Besides, I find myself always unable to be anything but completely candid with you.”
She saw the color of his eyes change a bit at that, and his hand tightened on her waist. “Then perhaps I should start being candid with you, Alex.”
She was not sure how to reply to that, but he saved her from making the effort by halting suddenly, and guiding her off the floor. She was about to ask him where he was taking her when she saw the door that opened onto the balcony ahead of them. It was only open halfway, but Forrest slipped through it lithely and Alex followed him. The cool air was a welcome relief after the stifling heat of the ballroom, but it was also a bit of a shock, and Alex shivered as the breeze swept across her naked arms and shoulders. Forrest noted her discomfo
rt and led her to a bench that was slightly sheltered from the wind.
“Sit,” he told her. After she had obeyed him, he joined her on the narrow stone bench. He noticed that she was still huddled together in search of warmth, so he draped an arm over her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. “Better?” he asked after she had nestled against him.
She nodded and smiled at him. “Much.”
“Good. I wanted privacy, not to freeze you to death.” He fell silent for a moment, his gaze on the toes of his shiny boots as he contemplated what to say next. Alex was about to ask him what he wished to say to her when he said, “Alex, what are the most important things in your life?”
She frowned slightly and straightened away from him a bit. “I am not certain what you mean.”
He sighed. “What do you value most in your life?”
Her brow furrowed a bit in consternation as she tried to answer his question. “Many things, Forrest. I am lucky to have many things in my life that are invaluable to me.”
The right side of his mouth quirked in a slight smile and she knew that she had not answered him in the way that he desired, but that he recognized the truth in her words. He brought up his right hand to cup the side of her face. “The most invaluable thing in my life is you,” he said to her, his voice a bit too deep and too rough. His thumb slid along the ridge of her cheekbone as he slid his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and tilted her head back. His kiss had the nature of a man dying of thirst, and she knew what an effort it had cost him to admit how much she meant to him. She slipped her hands into his hair, opening her mouth wider and closing the minute space between them. It was in her very nature to always be in control of her person, of her life, of the people around her, but she found herself surrendering to Forrest’s dominance gladly and willingly and with no regret. Some distant corner of her mind registered a moment’s panic in being at the mercy of another human being in such an intimate manner before falling silent. His hand slid across the hard ridge of her collar bone then skimmed lower and she gasped into his mouth. His hand traveled to her waist and she rotated toward him, feeling her skirts tangling in his legs as the drugging kiss became deeper still.
