Celeste Bradley - [Royal Four 04]
Page 17
Oh, bugger all. “I am here with a lady, yes.”
The marchioness threw her arms about him. “Thank heavens!” She planted several kisses in the air next to his ear. “That’s wonderful, darling! Are you madly in love? Or simply crazed with passion? Is she fabulous? Who is she?” She leaned back to gaze at him. “An actress, I’ll bet. Some divine goddess of the stage? You always did have exquisite taste, my love.”
She pinched his cheek. Stanton maintained his composure by a thread, reminding himself that there was no one in sight—not that the marchioness would have cared a whit. His effusive, melodramatic, outrageous mother had ever been a mystery to him.
“She’s not an actress,” he said when the sensation had returned to his face. “Her name is Lady Alicia Lawrence.”
The marchioness went very still. “Sutherland’s daughter? Not the one who—of course, there are three of them, I believe—yet you wouldn’t be here with anyone but—”
“I believe you are trying to ask if she is the notorious Lady All-three-cia.”
She straightened, dropping the arms that had been laced round his neck, and raised a brow. “I would never use that awful name. That poor girl! Nasty, common gossip!”
As opposed to excellent, uncommon gossip, he supposed, which the marchioness was known to devour. Still, her defense of Alicia warmed him. “I was simply saying what you were thinking.”
“Well, thinking it isn’t the same as saying it! I should think you would know that better than anyone.”
Stanton blinked. That was the first time that his mother had made even an oblique reference to his ability. He’d assumed her to be blithely unaware of it, for she lied to him freely and frequently. She always had.
She stepped back and tidied her perfect hair again. “Now, I simply must go repair myself. Goodness, if anyone should see me like this!”
Stanton took her hand and bowed over it. “You are a treasure to anyone’s eyes, Mother.”
When he straightened, she almost seemed misty-eyed in response. Then she slapped at his shoulder with her gloves. “Heavens, darling, don’t call me ‘Mother’ in public! People will think me positively ancient!”
Stanton smiled at her. She truly was a masterwork of her very own. “I shall break convention and walk you both into the ball.”
Her eyes widened in scandalized pleasure. “Oh, do! It will be perfectly shocking! Everyone will feed on it for simply hours.”
With another kiss in the vicinity of his cheek, she waved gaily as she tripped lightly off toward the stairs.
Alicia ducked aside as Lady Wyndham passed her, pretending to examine a Chinese vase as if her life depended on it. She glanced up after the lady passed, only to have her gaze caught as the marchioness cast a curious look back at her.
Would it be too much to fling herself upon the woman in fervent thanks that she was Wyndham’s unbelievably young and beautiful mother and not his unbelievably beautiful wife?
Lady Wyndham’s eyes narrowed slightly and a tiny dimple appeared at the corner of her mouth. Then she turned and continued on her way, leaving Alicia alone in the hall with Wyndham, who was gazing at her curiously.
“Where did you come from?”
This from the man who constantly imitated a windup jack-in-the-box. Nonetheless, his visible affection for his outrageous—even by Alicia’s lenient standards—mother was thoroughly charming.
Still, there was no point in letting him get the better of her just because of her new and exhilarating infatuation with him. Alicia blinked innocently. “I had tea with Lady Dryden.” Entirely true, and likely to throw him off the scent.
It did. His expression became stormy. “You have no permission to socialize with Lady Dryden! What possessed you to visit her?”
“No permission?” It was a good thing she was in the throes of recently finding him adorable. Alicia folded her arms. “Well, let me see. Perhaps it was her firm and rather frightening summons. Or perhaps it was the fact that I was outclassed and outnumbered by the Sirens of Society. Or perhaps it was because spending one more moment in the ladies’ parlor would have driven me to the justifiable murder of Lady Davenport.”
“Lady Davenport’s much deserved end notwithstanding,” he said, his lips thinned, “in the future, I would appreciate it if you would avoid any further contact with—what did you call them? The Sirens?”
“Yes, the Sirens—as in ‘divinely beautiful’? As in ‘so socially prominent that one must come when they call’?”
He frowned slightly at her aggrieved tone. “You certainly needn’t envy their beauty.”
Alicia smiled widely and dropped a curtsy. “I wasn’t fishing, but thank you anyway, kind sir.”
He continued to gaze at her. “You truly weren’t fishing, were you?”
“Why would I? Any compliment thus gained would be without value, would it not?” Too late she remembered the marchioness’s flagrant maneuverings for praise. Oops.
Well, she couldn’t very well take back what she just said without him realizing she’d been eavesdropping, and besides, she truly had no patience for such coy pretensions.
Wyndham continued to gaze at her intently. “Hmm.”
Alicia couldn’t force herself to look away. His dark eyes were performing their usual cookery action upon the base of her belly and she wasn’t currently inclined to break the connection.
Abruptly, she felt the wild excitement of last night’s hallway escapade, the one they’d both called a mistake.
It was a mistake that Alicia would very much like to make again.
His hand rose slowly, moving toward her face. Alicia waited, although such patience cost her when she’d rather have climbed him like an apple tree. His fingertips paused just before touching her cheek.
“You’re flushed.” His voice was a husky whisper. “Did you take too much sun this morning?”
Oh, no you don’t. She wasn’t going to let him label her good, honest lust as some sort of overexertion from hours ago. “There was no sun this morning, Stanton,” she replied softly. Then the devil within awoke. “Perhaps there is some remaining chafe from your beard last evening.”
His eyes went entirely black then and his jaw hardened. Unseemly demands, the prince had said. A thrill of fear went through Alicia. This was no ordinary man. This was a powerful, mysterious lord known for—oh, heavens, she loved to think it—“unseemly demands”!
She was toying with forces beyond anything she’d ever known. What dark impulses might she have unleashed?
She absolutely couldn’t wait to find out!
As if he’d read her mind, he stepped back and let the dark fire in his eyes cool to an ember. “I must go,” he said roughly. Then he turned on his heel and strode from the hall, slapping his riding crop against his leg as he stalked away.
Left standing alone and suddenly chilled in the front hall, Alicia put both hands to her hot cheeks. He hadn’t even touched her and she was vibrating like a drum.
Good heavens, what a man!
“I want that one,” she whispered to no one but herself.
She smiled and went in search of Garrett. If she was going to launch a full offensive tonight, she was going to need all the firepower she could muster.
Once outside, Stanton paused for a moment in the center of the gravel drive, oblivious to the stares of the Cross staff.
Walking away was getting harder. She was simply so . . .
Warm. Lovely. Real.
Inexplicable.
Wasn’t that really the reason for his obsession? Wasn’t her resistance to his ability the source of his fascination? She was a novelty and a danger, two things guaranteed to get one’s attention.
It wasn’t the glow of her bright hair, or the shine in her eyes when she looked at him, or the curve of her cheek or the way she melted at his merest touch. His arousal could be excused due to his long abstinence. His absorption could be explained by the unique challenge of reading her.
How do you explain away y
our longing?
Stanton shut that door before it could open completely. He was alone by choice. Solitude was necessary for his sanity, being much preferable to the constant decoding of lies told by the people around him. If his house could be managed without staff, he would do so. As it was, he encouraged them to speak to him as little as possible.
So there was no point in thinking along the lines of keeping company with Lady Alicia Lawrence. Besides, all her wide-eyed passion could well be false, along with her story of treason. He had no way to be sure.
Yes you do.
No.
He saw the other three gentlemen awaiting him as he neared the stables. The cool air should have done its work by now, but his blood still ran hot and his groin still throbbed. A bracing ride over the grounds was precisely what he needed.
He only hoped that by the time he took the reins he could mount the horse!
18
Alicia flung herself across the bed and let her slippers dangle from her toes. “I like the green gown.”
Garrett rolled his eyes. “How did you manage to live so long without the least clue how to dress? The green gown is to shock and surprise.” He pulled shimmering gold from the wardrobe. “This one is to stun.”
Alicia popped a chocolate into her mouth as she gazed uncertainly at the gown. “It’s beautiful, but it’s too grand for me. I ought not to have let you persuade me to spend so much. Perhaps if I were ever to go to Court . . .”
Garrett tapped her on the top of her head with an impatient fingertip. “Great house. Prince Regent. Lord Wyndham’s attention.” He glared at her. “This is as ‘Court’ as you will ever see, lover.” He shook the gown at her. “Remember the Sirens? You must outshine Lady Dryden.”
Alicia dropped her head to hide her face in the bed. “Oh, blast,” she muttered into the coverlet. “Better try to outshine the sun.”
“Precisely. Which is why you will wear the gold.”
“Yes, Mummy,” Alicia said resentfully. Then another thought struck her. “Won’t Lady Dryden be dressing to stun?”
Garrett shook his head. “Not here. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she appears almost sedate tonight. She won’t want to stand out, as if she could help it. I don’t know why those three came, but they aren’t here for the orgy.”
“Well, neither am I,” Alicia said stoutly. “I’m here to save England from traitors . . . or at least, I was.” She rolled over onto her back and stared up at the draped cornice above her head. “Wyndham won’t so much as touch my hand.”
Garrett fluffed the shimmering gown. “That means he doesn’t dare get too close. An excellent sign.” He cast her a sideways glance. “You never did tell me precisely what happened between you two last night.”
Alicia moaned and covered her face with her hands. Never. Not even to Garrett. “Let us simply say that he dared get too close.”
“Well, if you’re going to be stingy with details, I’ll simply have to let my very extensive imagination take over.”
“Oh, spare me your extensive imagination. I’ve a quite elaborate one of my own, thank you.” She let her hands fall but kept her eyes closed. “For five minutes this afternoon, I thought he was married. It was the longest five minutes of my life.”
She felt Garrett’s weight settle onto the bed beside her. “Sweeting . . .” His voice was gentle, all sharp parading set aside. “My pretty one, you know he will never . . .”
Alicia opened her eyes and smiled up at Garrett. “He would never wed me. I know. I’m not the sort of woman a man like him would wed. I’m not the sort of woman that any man would wed, I think.”
Garrett smoothed her hair. “I’ll marry you, pet. We’ll take Wyndham’s money and live a scandalous bohemian Montmartre sort of life, only in London instead of Paris. I’ll have a hundred beaus and you’ll have more. You’ll go down in history as the scandal of the century.”
Alicia reached for his hand. “And you’ll be remembered as the best dressed.”
He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Absolutely. Beau Brummell who?” He stood. “In the meantime, there is no reason in the world why you cannot have a wild, passionate affair with the mighty Lord Wyndham.” He picked up the gold gown again. “Wearing this.”
An affair. It was a lovely, terrifying, delicious thought.
The truth of the matter was that she might as well. The world thought her a most wicked individual already. In their eyes she was little better than a trollop—or perhaps worse than one, for she’d been born with what most considered to be great advantage.
An affair . . .
Better still, an affair with Wyndham.
If she were going to go to the devil, she might as well enjoy the ride. She might as well partake of the well of heady passion that bubbled deeply within that beautiful man. How could she have been so blind to the passion lurking under Wyndham’s cool control? How could such volcanic heat go undetected when it burned so close to the surface? No one else seemed to be aware of it, which made it her very own wicked, wonderful secret.
Wyndham’s naked skin beneath her hands. Wyndham’s big hard body against hers. Wyndham moving above her, inside her.
What would it be like, when his hasty, rough caresses in the hall had been enough to shatter everything she thought she knew about lovemaking?
An affair with Wyndham.
What a delightful idea.
Alicia reached out to stroke the liquid light and shadow of the silk. “The scandal of the century . . .” She raised her gaze to Garrett’s and pursed her lips wryly. “So . . . how are we doing my hair?”
“That’s the spirit, lover.”
A knock came at the door. Garrett answered while Alicia held the gold gown up to herself and examined her reflection in the mirror. The exquisite shimmer of the fabric made her hair all the brighter and her skin turn to smooth ivory with a blush of rose.
She would look like a princess, but for the outrageously low décolletage. “The princess trollop,” she whispered to herself. “Well, it certainly beats the spinster whore.”
Garrett returned, an opened note in his hand. “It’s an invitation for you to take tea with the Marchioness of Wyndham.”
The paper was thick and heavy, dyed a pretty lavender. Alicia tipped it toward her nose to catch the heady scent of jasmine.
“Lady Alicia, I beg of you to do me the great honor of joining me for tea in my room in a quarter of an hour. We have much to discuss.”
It was signed “Lady W.”
Even Garrett seemed impressed, and that wasn’t easy to do. “You’re moving in high circles today.”
“Wyndham’s circles,” Alicia corrected. “Everyone wants to make sure I’m not going to do him some obscure harm. Seeing as my disgrace is thoroughly contagious, you understand.”
Still, she was panting to meet Lady Wyndham. How could such an impulsive, lively woman have produced such a controlled, dark man as Stanton?
Oh, heavens. Wyndham would not be happy about her visiting with the marchioness. If he knew about the invitation he’d issue some ridiculous mandate—like the Lord of Misrule!—and declare that she was not to speak to his mother.
Alicia suddenly remembered rule number three.
Contrition is easier than persuasion.
Precisely a quarter of an hour later, Alicia sat across from Stanton’s mother in a grand bedchamber that looked out over the elaborate gardens to the east of the great house.
Lady Wyndham took a sip of tea then set her cup and saucer down with delicate deliberation.
“You claim to be in love with my son.”
“Ah.” Alicia gazed intently at her hands. “I like him. He’s handsome and honorable.”
“And rich.”
“And rich, of course.” Alicia thought about it for a moment. “But those aren’t my reasons for liking him.”
“And your reasons are?”
“He doesn’t lie.” Now where had that come from? Still, it was true, wasn’t it?
“Of course.” Alicia shrugged. “But I am not as good as Wyndham. I am merely human.”
Lady Wyndham sighed. “Aren’t we all?” She picked up her tea again. “Wyndham isn’t very forgiving of mere humanity.”
Alicia leaned forward. “Why? Why is he the way he is? If anyone knows, it must be you.”
Lady Wyndham blinked. “Goodness, you are forward, aren’t you? You wish the subject changed, so you change it.”
Alicia dismissed the accusation with a wave of her hand. “I have no wish to discuss my flaws. It would take far too long, anyway. Besides, I came here to find out about Wyndham.”
Lady Wyndham raised a perfect brow. “You came here because I summoned you.”
Alicia leaned back in her seat and folded her arms. “Do you truly think I come at anyone’s summons? I am far too bloodyminded for that. Ask Wyndham.”
Lady Wyndham gazed at her for a long moment, apparently speechless. Then she bestowed a brilliant smile upon Alicia. “My dear, I think you’ll do nicely.”
Alicia smiled wryly. “Thank you. I feel so much better being your son’s mistress now that I have your approval.”
Lady Wyndham smiled behind her cup. “Is that your only goal? Mistress?” She took a small sip and murmured something as if to herself. Something that sounded very much like “we’ll have to see about that, won’t we?”
Alicia had other priorities. “Now that you’ve established my complete lack of character, tell me about Wyndham or I’ll go play somewhere else.”
Lady Wyndham gazed at her thoughtfully, then nodded shortly, almost as if she’d come to some agreement with herself. “Wyndham wasn’t always so cold. He was a sensitive boy. Beautiful and brilliant, and much too observant. He did not have the oblivious self-absorption which many children have. It might have gone better for him if he had. It was as if he could see inside people, as if he had a special sense for liars.”