“Ah!” He tucked her hand into his. “You are a romantic, after all!”
“Hardly!” She smiled. “And you wouldn’t want me to be, would you?”
“Oh, dear. You’ve become so serious.” He squeezed her fingers gently. “What I want for you…is agood match.”
She nodded, her own eyes dropping to study her hand in his. “And for you?”
“I am not making any desperate choices, I promise. If I marry again, it will be for all the best reasons. All right?”
“All right, Father.” She kissed him on the cheek, and left him to his port.
Seven
The conversation with her father had left Alyssa even more confused and restless than she felt earlier. He’d teased her about not being a romantic and said that love was solely the territory of the young, but then stated again that he wanted her to achieve a good match.
She could hear echoes of Mrs. Harris even now.“A woman of sense and fortune can ignore those who would poach on her future.” Was Mr. Yates one of the men that Mrs. Harris had warned them about?
She repositioned her pillow for the countless time, and wondered which was doing her more harm: thinking about Mr. Yates or tryingnot to think about Mr. Yates.
She decided on the latter and kicked off her covers to sit up with a frustrated groan.Very well, since not thinking about him is robbing me of my peace, let’s have at it!
She took a deep breath and allowed herself to draw him completely to mind. How firm and serious he’d been that night compared to everyone else; how playful and relaxed he’d been when he’d found her alone in her muddy splendor. They were almost like two different men, but instead of bothering her, she felt an odd bit of pride in her ability to make him laugh and draw him out of his taciturn ways.
I have that talent, if none other. And he didn’t seem to mind a lack of embroidering skills…or the chaos that coalesced in my wake.
She stood, and began the search for her robe and slippers.What is it about this man that unwinds me?
She placed cold fingers to her forehead and waited for the inevitable answer.He laughs at all the right moments and never at my expense. He defends me, even when I’m up to my muddy skirts in foolishness. And when he touches me…I only want him to touch more of me.
There! Am I sleepy yet?
She smiled at her own failed experiment.
Hardly. Now all I can think about is returning Lady Peabody to her spot on the shelf and hoping he’ll be there in the library again.
But at last, reason reasserted itself. She left the room, most decidedly without the lackluster Lady Peabody’s advice on flower arrangement; instead, she had a few Christmas gifts tucked under her arm. The hour was late and she didn’t even bother with a candle.
The music room that adjoined the green salon had been decorated for the party, and even in the moonlight, it conveyed an inviting warmth. Evergreen garlands were strung over the mantel and the heavier furniture, and it was easy to imagine how the room would appear within hours with all the candles lit and the crystal sparkling. There was nothing like the festive elegance of a Christmas gathering.
There were already a few gifts on a side table, so she added hers to the pile. She’d gotten Violet some imported lace and a hair comb, but now wasn’t sure her gift would suit. She could only hope that her cousin would accept them as a sign of her admiration—and not as another ill-intended point about vanity.
Light entered the room as Mr. Yates came through the far door. “You’re following me, aren’t you?”
She was instantly thrilled that he’d found her again. “I…I could accuse you of the same thing, sir!”
He shook his head, holding his ground just inside the doorway. “Not this time.”
She crossed her arms. “I was here first, so that would make you appear more suspicious, I’d say.”
“I was having trouble sleeping and thought I heard a noise down here. If I suspected or hoped it might be you, well, that is information I shall keep to myself.” He was smiling as he set his candleholder on the table, and Alyssa’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him in the glow.
At Mrs. Harris’s weekly teas, she’d been lectured repeatedly on the dangers of looking only at a handsome face—Mrs. Harris had assured them all that a monster often lurked beneath the surface. Staring now at Leland, she wondered what lay beneath his own hypnotic façade. If one peeled it away, like a great overcoat, what sort of monster would he be? It was hard to picture him with scales. She tilted her head to consider the puzzle, but realized that the thought of Leland shrugging off his coat had unexpectedly taken over.
Alyssa straightened instantly, amazed that her mind could be so wayward after a night of self-lecturing on discipline. Instead of an innocent philosophical internal debate on the nature of men, the image of Leland undoing the buttons of his shirt quickened her pulse and made her completely forget what they’d been talking about.
“Miss Martin?” he prompted gently, drawing a bit closer.
“I, umm, yes?” Her cheeks heated with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, my mind wandered for a moment.”
“I think I would give anything to know where it went just then.”
“I-I shouldn’t say.”
“If you wish…we’ll let you keep your secrets then.” He sounded so formal, and she smiled. Only Mr. Yates could address her in the middle of the night as if they were in a solicitor’s meeting—an aspect to his character she found very charming.
“And what were you thinking?” she asked before she could stop herself, curiosity overtaking her.
“I was thinking that I am extremely talented at catching you in your dressing gown in the unlikeliest of places.” His hand reached out to capture the trail of the sash at her waist, gently holding her captive.
“Oh!” She blushed, unable to argue the point.
“But I was also thinking that I might be one of the most selfish men I know.” His fingers tugged on the green satin, drawing her a few inches closer.
“Really?” She scrambled to follow his words, her heart skipping a beat as she wondered if resistance were really possible. It was as if they’d stepped into a dream.
“I should have ushered you inside long before Violet arrived. Instead I kept you there in wet, muddy clothes…for my own indulgence.” His fingers held the tether between them but stopped their tugging to allow her to keep a “safe” distance from him—for now.
“For your indulgence?”
“I was enjoying your company too much to end it. It never seems to matter what you’re wearing…I have a selfish desire to keep you all to myself.”
“Oh.” Alyssa bit her lower lip. “Well, that is…selfish, I suppose.”
“Will you forgive me?” Leland began to smile.
“The rules are far too muddled for me.” She shrugged, unable to stop from returning his smile. “I’m the one who was chasing that fat little bandit and slipped in the mud. I warned you that I seem to attract mayhem.”
“I’ll never doubt you again.”
A comfortable silence settled between them. Alyssa found herself openly studying his visage and trying to decipher the man behind those dark eyes. It came to her that Mrs. Harris might just be right. Any man handsome enough to make a lady forget modesty might be dangerous after all. But if she were in danger, why didn’t she sense it? Why did she feel more alive when he was near—her body thrumming with an unchanneled energy she couldn’t name or master?
“Mr. Yates?”
“Yes.”
“Do you mind if I ask you something?”
He nodded gracefully. “Not at all.”
“You see, it’s just that I don’t know very much about you.”
“And what would you like to know?”
She hesitated a moment before she spoke. “Are you a fortune hunter?”
He choked and coughed for a moment, but to his credit, the poor man managed to regain his composure fairly quickly without relinquishing his hold on
her sash. “What a thing to ask!”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have—”
“And what exactly do you know of fortune hunters, Miss Martin?”
All the wisdom of her schooling suddenly seemed so hollow and fragile. “It’s late and I’m tired…so I’m sure I meant to ask you why you’re so…kind to me.”
Instead of being insulted, Leland appeared bemused. “Are you insinuating that any gentleman who shows you regard must be a fortune hunter?”
“I suppose that would be foolish,” she conceded. “But I’ve learned that a young lady of fortune can never be too careful.”
“Your logic doesn’t hold, Miss Martin.” He came a step closer, tracing a single finger along the line of her jaw. “You have beauty and charm enough to draw any man you desire to your side. You should have more confidence in your own womanly powers. Otherwise, when all of London is at your feet, what will you say? Or will you blame only your fortune to explain all the offers you receive?”
“You flatter—”
“No,” he cut her off gently. “I never exaggerate and until I met you, I could have sworn I never would have been the kind of man to discuss the merits of fortune hunters.”
“I was rude just then. I shouldn’t have questioned you.”
“Miss Martin. You have every right to your questions and I owe you a few answers.” He drew her closer, gently allowing his fingers to move across her bare skin and trail along her throat. “At the moment, I hardly feel like a gentleman as I keep you here in a state of undress and can think only of kissing every inch of you.”
“Oh, dear,” she whispered, wishing he would proclaim himself a rogue and give in to his desires—and to hers. “Every…inch?”
He nodded, his expression enigmatic as he stepped closer, his breath fanning her forehead; the hair at the nape of her neck stood up in anticipation of his touch. He hovered, just an inch or two from her, the torture almost unbearable.
“Y-you have a talent for distracting me, sir.” She swayed slightly, struggling not to give in to the impulse to tear the sash from his hand, untie the dress and let the lace fall to the floor.
His expression grew more solemn as he stepped back, releasing his tenuous hold on her and deliberately breaking the spell he’d cast on her. “My brother holds title, Miss Martin. As a second son, I am expected to seek a wife with a good dowry. But I have been unwilling to play the part. So you see, I disgraced my family by choosing commerce over matrimony. I have made my own way by sullying my hands in ‘trade’ and turning my back on what other men would consider an easier path.”
“Oh,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest to cover her dressing gown.
“I amnot interested in promoting myself to your father through you,” Leland continued, frustration creeping into his voice. “I amnot interested in increasing my wealth through the acquisition of a wife.”
“I see.”
He shook his head, his eyes dark and unreadable in the candlelight. “I don’t think you do. For you see, according to your schooling, I suppose I am exactly the man you ought to avoid. While I am no fortune hunter, I am hardly the gentleman you deserve.”
Before she could gather her wits to protest, he took another step back into the shadows.
“I’m looking forward to hearing you sing at the party tomorrow night, Miss Martin.”
He bowed gracefully before striding from the room.
Leland gritted his teeth as he made his way through the dark house back to his rooms. He’d told her the truth, but not all of it. For her own good, he told himself, but there was no comfort in the thought.
For days, he’d blatantly ignored the rules of conduct and lost himself in her sapphire blue eyes, seizing every opportunity to touch her. Tonight would have been no different, and visions of laying her out beneath him on the silk rug at their feet made his body tighten with need. But instead, she’d asked a simple question, and lust had given way to something else.
He had money enough, but from any vantage point, he was hardly the best candidate for her hand; no one would believe he hadn’t pursued her with an eye on her father’s deep pockets. Hell, his own family would be the first to applaud the maneuver.
And the greatest hidden truth of all?
“Are you a fortune hunter?” she asked.
Yes. Perhaps in a way I am. Yes, I want to ruin you and taste you and make you mine by any means necessary. Everything else be damned!
Eight
Christmas Eve arrived without regard to Alyssa’s sleepless night or her misery after her last meeting with Mr. Yates. As her maid finished fixing her hair, she tried not to keep replaying his words in her mind.
Was there no consolation in being so completely assured that he was not a fortune hunter?
Evidently not.Not when, God help her, his denial only made her want him more. As he’d spoken, she’d realized that she’d insulted him beyond repair while confirming that he was no villain. It was the worst kind of tangle. Whatever passing fascination he had with her was in ashes.
She swallowed briskly to keep her eyes from tearing again.Well, at least I’ve learned a valuable lesson about asking direct questions, and that is that I’d better not venture them unless I’m prepared to accept the answers.
A knock on the door provided a welcome distraction, and Alyssa called out, “Come in!”
Violet entered, a vision in a pale green dress with dark green ribbon work along the bodice and tiny matching bows at the sleeves. She looked very alluring in the gown’s simple lines. “Oh, it’s so exciting, Alyssa! The musicians have arrived and the other guests won’t be far behind.”
“You look so beautiful!” Alyssa rose to take her hands, astonished at the mercurial change in her cousin. “I’m…I’m so glad that you’re here with us, Violet. I hope you can forgive—”
“Say nothing of it! I’ve forgotten what we said and after all, it’s Christmastime. Who quarrels at Christmas?” Violet embraced her and Alyssa sighed in deep relief. At least she hadn’t sacrificed their friendship over Mr. Yates.
“Here, let me help you finish.” Violet waved away the maid, and cheerfully took charge. “Your curls are so pretty. Let’s see if we can tame them into order.”
Alyssa laughed. “You’ll have no luck.” She stood, preventing Violet from making the attempt. She was already sure that she’d achieved as much order as the fates would allow her for one evening. Her own dress was ivory with an organza overlay. Delicate seed pearls scattered on the bodice and sleeves made her feel like a mermaid decorated with sea foam. But next to Violet’s presence in the mirror, it was hard not to feel less than beautiful. “Besides, no one will be looking at me when you are in the room.”
Violet shrugged gracefully, “You are kind, but come! Everything’s arranged and we should go downstairs to be in place to greet your guests.”
“Absolutely!”
Arm in arm, they descended and Alyssa felt a surge of nervous energy. It would be a lovely party and surviving it “without incident” was sure to prove the ultimate test.
Her strategy was simple. She would play the perfect lady, limit herself to one glass of punch and do her best to avoid Mr. Yates.
As the evening unfolded, her strategy seemed to be working. The guests all arrived safely, bringing their number to a fashionable eighteen. The rooms looked perfect, and she was delighted with the lively flow of laughter and the display of holiday finery against the candlelight. As she mingled and caught up with old acquaintances and neighbors, she noted that everyone seemed to be appropriately merry for the occasion.
Cider and wine flowed, and Alyssa made a point of tending to Mrs. Wolfe to ensure that she felt welcome and content. After all, if the woman made her father happy, who was she to pout? “Have you sampled the cake, Mrs. Wolfe? Can I fetch you something?”
Mrs. Wolfe smiled and patted her ample midsection. “I am not one to omit life’s pleasures. I have already had two pieces, thank you, sweet girl! What a love
ly party!”
Alyssa surveyed the scene again, and nodded.At least Mr. Yates hadn’t put in an appearance to spoil her show of confidence. “Thank you for saying so.”
Before long, Violet found her and tugged gently on her arm. “It’s time for you to change.”
“Already?”
Her cousin increased the pressure on her arm to prevent her escape. “Don’t be a ninny! Come on.” Violet began to guide her to the door to the green salon. “I put your costume in here so you wouldn’t have to go all the way upstairs to change.”
“I can’t change my clothes in the salon!”Another woman might manage it, but with my luck? I know better than to risk losing a single article of clothing within a mile of a public gathering!
Violet giggled as she closed the door behind them. “You’ll be fine, you goose! I’ll be changing as well and here, I’ll even lock the door so there’s no chance we’ll be disturbed.”
“Oh, of course!” Alyssa gave in, unable to fault Violet’s logic or obstruct her enthusiasm.
Violet drew her across the room, to an ornate oriental folding screen. “I’ll change first.”
Within moments, Violet emerged from behind the paneling, an exchange of overdress transforming her green gown into an angelic concoction. She turned to Alyssa. “Can you finish lacing me up?”
“Yes, of course.” Alyssa tugged on the ivory ribbons, marveling at the work. “I can’t believe you made this yourself. It’s lovely, Violet.”
It truly was. Delicate wings graced her back and the ivory organza made her a pastel green confection with lovely sweeping lines. The long sleeves were sheer, but puffed and tied with matching ribbons and little bells.
“Yours is the same and should go right over your gown. The ivory will be sublime!” Violet ushered her behind the screen and pointed out Alyssa’s matching ivory confection. Just like Violet’s, it was complete with wings and ribbons. “Here, I’ll help you into it. I confess, I worked on them all night. See? This just slips over your head and then the sash will tie just under your bust. Here,” Violet went on happily, “let me help you adjust your wings. Now, for the final chorus, be sure and lift your arms. It will be much more dramatic that way.”
The School for Heiresses Page 33
