A Collector's Item: Rowena's After Dark Regency Romance (The Arlingbys Book 1)

by Alicia Quigley

  Brayleigh strode rapidly through the streets of London, no set destination in mind. He was aware that if he was seen it would cause comment; Society was already titillated enough by the news that he and his bride were not going on a honeymoon but would instead remain in London. Alaric had wondered why Rowena had insisted so fiercely that they not go away, and now he thought he knew the answer; there was no need for them to be alone together, and indeed she wished to surround herself with as many people as possible so as to avoid any intimacy with him.

  Tomorrow would surely consist of a whirl of visits from well-wishers and the merely curious, anxious to get a glimpse of the couple. It would be hell, he thought fiercely, to stand at Rowena’s side and take congratulations, knowing that he had not spent the previous night enjoying the marriage bed with her. Alaric gritted his teeth. He knew that she wanted him as much as he wanted her; if she could stand it, so could he.

  He reached the steps of his club and stood looking up at it. It would cause comment if he was seen there, but he had never been one to follow the conventions or skirt scandal. It would serve Rowena right, he reflected, if Society did talk of her a little. She would learn that being a good wife to him was the best way to avoid such things. With a determined air he mounted the stairs and entered the main rooms, standing defiantly in the door.

  A gentleman looked around casually and then turned back to the group he was talking to, surprise on his face. A low buzz went about the room and heads turned. Alaric scowled as he stalked to a large leather chair and sank down into it. The scandalous Earl of Brayleigh had given the ton yet another topic of conversation, showing up in his club only hours after his wedding. Speculation was sure to be rife as to what his reasons for it might be.

  No one seemed to have the courage to approach him, but he picked up a broadsheet and held it in front of him as a shield nonetheless. His thoughts turned back to Rowena and what her reaction might be to his absence. Did she miss him? Did she wonder where he was? Or was she merely annoyed that she was not unable to use him to continue her foolish search for Ingram’s murderer? Alaric’s hands tightened on the paper. Malcolm Arlingby seemed to be his nemesis. He had come between Alaric and the Pearl of Sirsi, and now he seemed to be a chief obstacle between Alaric and Rowena. Would the man never cease to torment him? His lips twitched slightly. It was a pity that whoever had dispatched Ingram all those years ago had not done the same to Arlingby.

  "Alaric?"

  Alaric lowered the paper slowly, wondering who was brave enough to approach him. It must be someone with nerves of steel, he reflected as he looked up, a forbidding glare on his face. His cousin Charles stood before him, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

  "I was told you were here, but I could scarcely believe it. Whatever are you doing, Alaric?"

  "Reading, I thought," answered Alaric smoothly. "Did I appear to be doing something else?"

  Charles shook his head and sat down in the chair opposite his cousin. "No, of course not. But it looks very odd."

  Alaric looked down at himself. "Am I dressed improperly?"

  Charles made an impatient sound. "Don’t be annoying, Alaric. Everyone is talking about you. Why aren’t you with your wife?"

  Alaric frowned. "That, dear Charles, is none of your business."

  Charles laughed easily, his handsome face lighting up. "Is married life a bit more complicated than you thought it would be, Cousin?"

  Alaric’s eyelids dropped, shuttering his feelings. "What makes you think that?"

  "I can’t imagine why else you’d be here. And it’s not as though Lady Rowena is a biddable young female," answered Charles with a smile. "Confess, Alaric. You were too autocratic with the girl and you’ve had a quarrel."

  "Why would a quarrel have to be my fault?" complained Alaric. "Isn’t it possible that Rowena might have precipitated it?"

  "Impossible," said Charles. "No one would have the courage to begin a quarrel with you, Alaric. Everyone is terrified of you. Your reputation is fearsome."

  "Apparently not everyone is cowed by it," observed Alaric in an ironic tone. He folded the newspaper neatly.

  Charles gaped at him. "Do you mean to tell me Lady Rowena picked a fight with you? Why, I admire her more than ever now. I thought it took great courage to marry you, but to actually stand up to you? I don’t believe it."

  Alaric smiled slightly despite himself at Charles’ exaggerated air. "You are ridiculous. And I don’t believe I admitted that an argument is the reason for my presence. You’re imagining things, Charles."

  Charles lounged back in his chair and fixed his cousin with a hard stare. "You’re determined to teach the girl a lesson, aren’t you? Did you actually leave her all alone? Alaric, that’s cruel."

  "The subject is closed, Charles." Alaric brushed a speck of dust from his sleeve. "I don’t discuss my marriage with anyone, even you."

  Charles shook his head. "You’re a deep one, Alaric. And I wouldn’t presume to interfere in your affairs. I’m sure you know what you’re doing."

  "Thank you, Charles. You reassure me."

  A slow smile spread across Charles’ face. "So what will you do today then? I take it you aren’t returning to your house?"

  "Not immediately, no. I thought I might read the paper, if I could find some solitude." He gave Charles a pointed look.

  Charles ignored it. "No, you can’t sit in this chair all day, Alaric. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you for more than a few seconds. You’ve been pursuing Lady Rowena for so long I’ve almost forgotten what you look like. Your old haunts miss you. You’ll have to come with me and we’ll have some fun."

  Alaric grimaced. He was well aware of what Charles considered fun to be. "I believe I’ll stay here, Charles."

  Charles stood up. "I’ll not take no for an answer. A new gaming house opened up just last week. The wine is fair, the food tolerable, and the stakes high."

  "It doesn’t sound remotely interesting," said Alaric coldly.

  "But I didn’t tell you the best part." Charles leaned forward with a conspiratorial air. "The proprietress, Mrs. Blackmore, is lovely. She presides over the tables herself. I think you will be fascinated by her."

  Alaric shook his head. "Women who run gaming houses are not my style, Charles."

  "No, your new wife is. But you seem to not wish to spend time with her. What harm can it do to accompany me, Alaric? It’s better than sitting in this stuffy club. If you’re going to cause people to gossip, you might as well do something truly scandalous."

  Alaric shrugged. His cousin had a point. He had no intention of soothing Rowena’s vanity by returning home, so he might as well amuse himself. And if word should get to Rowena that he had been sighted in Mrs. Blackmore’s gaming house, that would be all the better. It would show her that he had ways to entertain himself.

  "Very well," he said, standing up. "I will go with you. I suppose it can do no harm."

  "That’s the spirit," said Charles jovially. "You’ll see, Alaric. We will have a very entertaining evening. Mrs. Blackmore will be delighted to meet you."

  "Either my money, or me," muttered Alaric, following Charles from the room.

  Chapter 15

  Rowena lay in her bed, staring up blankly at the delicate lace canopy that floated far over her head. The rooms Alaric had prepared for her were exquisite, decorated in shades of blue and violet that perfectly complemented her coloring, strewn with Chinese porcelain vases so fine that light could be seen through them, the finest silver accessories ornamenting her dressing table. But she took little pleasure in them. She had not seen Alaric since he had dismissed her from the library earlier in the day, and now it was well past midnight.

  After she had inspected her rooms she had felt a twinge of guilt over her treatment of Alaric. He had obviously lavished much thought on her suite’s decor, and she had asked the butler to tell her where she might find him so as to thank him. Ferguson had responded, with an embarrassed air, that his lordship had left the house and
not mentioned when he might return. Rowena, reluctant to appear surprised in front of a servant, had retired to the library to await him. Surely when he returned they could have a sensible conversation. Perhaps she could convince him that her plan was the best way to go about their marriage.

  But Alaric did not return for dinner, and Rowena ate in humiliating solitude. Although the servants were far too well trained to betray their feelings, she knew that they were surprised and curious at her husband’s absence. And her maid, usually so talkative, had prepared her for bed without a single word or comment, solicitously turning back the billowing lacy coverlet before fleeing with unseemly haste.

  Rowena’s initial regret of her hasty actions earlier in the evening was slowly replaced by fury. How dare he, she thought. How dare he leave her alone on her wedding night without even an excuse as to why he had disappeared? The servants all knew that he had not been home for hours, and word was sure to spread. She would be a laughingstock in her own house, and quite possibly among the members of London Society as well. Everyone knew servants talked, and this tale of her humiliation on her wedding night would be sure to delight the ton.

  Alaric was probably with Lily, she thought bitterly. Like any man, he was utterly unable to suppress his animal needs. She turned restlessly onto her side. If he could not wait even a month in order to get to know her before he made love to her again, then it was best that he be serviced by his mistress. Rowena had no intention of being merely a vessel for his lustful needs.

  But even as she made this fierce declaration to herself her treacherous thoughts turned to Alaric’s sensuous kisses, and much more, the mind-drugging feeling of his hands trailing down her back, gently slipping the shoulder of her gown down so he could brush his lips along her gentle curves, and farther down, too. She felt a sudden flash of heat shoot through her and her heart began to pound harder. It was her wedding night and she was alone in a strange bedroom. Tears began to well up in her eyes.

  Rowena caught her breath when she heard heavy footsteps in the hallway followed by the sound of the door to the adjoining room opening. Then there was the husky rumble of Alaric’s voice as he dismissed his valet. The door shut again behind the servant, and she could hear Alaric’s footsteps as he moved about his room. He was surely undressing now, she thought, wondering despite herself what Alaric would look like beneath his immaculately tailored clothes. He was very tall, his shoulders broad, and when he had clasped her to him she had felt the tremendous power of the muscles in his thighs and arms.

  She felt a tiny tremor of anticipation. Surely he would come to her, she thought. The idea sent her into a sudden panic. What would she do? She had demanded of him only hours before that he not touch her for a month. If she gave into him now he would think that she would yield to him in everything. And she was still angry with him, she insisted to herself. He had lied to her that he believed Malcolm was innocent, and then he had abandoned her for an entire day, making her look a fool.

  When he came in, she decided, she would be very dignified. She would speak to him calmly and coolly, not letting him see how he had upset her. It was necessary that Alaric understand that she was an equal part of this marriage, that he did not have the whip hand. After their discussion she would perhaps allow him to make love to her. She thought she had made her point earlier in the day. Alaric would surely understand that he needed to treat her with consideration and respect in the future.

  Having come to this decision, Rowena sat up hastily in the bed, arranging her pillows behind her so as to frame her face and shoulders more attractively. She smoothed the lace on her sheer linen nightgown, and ran her fingers through her fair hair. It would not do for Alaric to think that she had been restless. She waited quietly, her eyes fixed on the door that connected her bedroom to Alaric’s.

  Alaric continued to move around his room. Rowena could hear the sound of his footsteps and she watched the flickering light from his candle shining under the door with bated breath. Once the steps approached the door and she drew in her breath, but they continued past, eventually trailing off. For a few minutes she heard no more sounds and then the light went out abruptly. She concentrated on the door, waiting for it to open. Minutes passed. Finally she realized that Alaric must have gone to bed. He had no intention of visiting his wife tonight.

  A great mass of contradictory emotions rose in Rowena’s breast. She felt a tiny quivering of relief that she would not have to face Alaric tonight. His lovemaking was enticing, but she was not entirely sure of how she would handle him. He made her feel so very strange and wanton. She also felt a touch of remorse for the way she had spoken to him earlier. This was all her own fault for forbidding her own husband to touch her.

  But then she remembered his statement, that not only would he wait a month, he would make her beg for his favors at the end of it, and she suddenly felt a white-hot fury. How dare he simply go to bed as though she did not exist? She was his wife. Did their kisses and caresses mean so little to him? Did he find her unattractive? Had his words and acts of desire been a ruse intended to lure her into marriage so that he might add her to his collection? Was there the possibility that he did not want her at all, but was merely using her?

  Rowena surged up out of her bed, her concerns forgotten in the fire of her anger. She would have an answer from him tonight in regard to what he meant by his actions. She was an Arlingby, from a family as old and noble as his own, and he had no right to behave disrespectfully toward her. She snatched up her dressing gown from a chair, throwing it over her nightgown and marched to the adjoining door. She seized the handle and flung the door open.

  She hesitated a moment in the doorway, trying to get her bearings. Alaric’s rooms, in contrast to her own, were decorated in deep jewel-like colors, and in the dark they resembled nothing so much as a lion’s den. She could dimly see the dark wood furniture, beautifully carved and covered with thick cushions of velvet. The curtains were made of the same dark material and shut out all light, so she could just barely see the bed on the far side of the room. Cowed, but unwilling to turn back, she began to walk gingerly across the room, feeling her way with one arm extended out in front of her.

  Her bare foot came into sharp contact with something heavy, and she gave a small exclamation of pain. Groping with her hands she could feel that it was a footstool and she sidestepped it, her anger growing. Surely Alaric could hear her approaching. Why did he not light a candle or at least say something?

  She reached the bed and walked up to it silently, her heart in her mouth. Alaric must be aware of her by now. But when she looked down at him she saw that he was sprawled negligently across the bed, his limbs spread out boyishly, his dark hair contrasting with the white sheets, his eyes closed and his breathing steady. He was asleep.

  Rowena gazed down at him with mingled vexation and desire. She could not believe that he had fallen asleep so quickly and had not wondered for even a second what she was doing. But this annoyance was swamped by a sudden wave of passion. The sheets of the bed were pushed down to reveal his bare chest. She stared at it greedily, watching the gentle rise and fall as he breathed, his muscles rippling gently under his skin. A curious feeling built in her stomach as she surveyed him, her eyes dipping lower to where a few curls of dark hair were slipping out from under the sheet as it lay just covering his hips.

  Unable to resist, she reached out tentatively with one hand and touched him gently. His skin was warm and firm to her touch and the feeling of excitement increased. Her knees felt strangely weak and her breathing became faster. Surely the noise her pounding heart made would wake him up, she thought.

  Suddenly, with one quick motion, Alaric sat up, his hand moving like lightning and seizing her wrist. The sheet slipped a little lower, revealing more curls of hair. Rowena gasped and she pulled her attention away from his body to meet his glittering green eyes.

  "What are you doing here?" Alaric asked. His voice was husky.

  "I wondered where you were, and why
you didn’t tell me you’d be gone," whispered Rowena. Now that she had been discovered, she didn’t know quite how to deal with the situation.

  Alaric released her wrist. "I was out." His eyes raked over her, but it seemed almost as though he didn’t see her. "Go away."

  "What?" Rowena was taken completely unaware by his response.

  "I need to sleep," said Alaric briefly. "You shouldn’t have woken me up."

  "How dare you?" demanded Rowena, her nervousness forgotten. "How dare you order me out of the room? I am your wife."

  Alaric smiled sleepily. "That may be. But I need my rest now. I’ll take care of you tomorrow."

  "You’ll take care of me tomorrow?" sputtered Rowena. He was speaking to her as though she were a servant. "I want to talk to you now, Alaric."

  He shook his head. "Not now. Tomorrow."

  In front of Rowena’s amazed eyes he slid back down into the bed and pulled the covers up over his chest. With a sigh he rolled over on his side, his back turned to her. In a moment his breathing became even again and she knew he was asleep.

  Rowena stood irresolutely by the side of his bed for a moment. Alaric’s arrogance was breathtaking. She had thought he would at least register surprise and perhaps pleasure or annoyance at seeing her, but he had seemed absolutely unconcerned. And uninterested. Her cheeks burned when she thought of how she had spoken to him and how casually he had turned her away. Furious with herself and her husband, she groped her way back towards her own bedroom. She gave a little cry of pain and annoyance when she tripped over the footstool again, and then she was in her own room, trembling slightly with anger and surprise. If Alaric was determined to be indifferent, then she could be too. He would see that he was not the only one who could play this game.

  Chapter 16

  Rowena rolled over and groaned when her maid entered her room the next morning bearing a cup of chocolate. She had not slept until nearly dawn, and then she had tossed and turned, finding little rest. She opened her eyes and peered about her. It was clearly late morning, and she sat up hastily, nearly upsetting the chocolate Lawson was holding out to her.