Aside from the occasional friendship, or the kind of love he felt for his mother and sisters, he had never felt more than a passing interest in any woman. So why now, why her? Dropping his forehead against the horse’s saddle, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, struggling to understand what it was about Tiffany Marlowe that affected him like no one ever had before? Love? In virtually the same instant that the outrageous notion skittered along the edge of his thoughts, he dismissed it. He wasn’t in love with her. The notion was ridiculous. Aside from a handful of encounters, they scarcely even knew one another, he rationalized. But if not love, what was it then? his vexing inner voice challenged.
Fortunately, the sound of the cottage door being opened and closed pulled Alex abruptly from his disconcerting reverie. Lifting his head, he quickly grabbed the reins of both horses and led them through the stable doors. Tiffany was walking towards him, her head down, her features hidden from his view. She looked up as she drew nearer though, and when she did he felt his stomach drop. Her eyes were red, as if she might have been crying. He felt sick inside. What the hell had he done? He’d never meant to hurt her and he hated himself at that moment, knowing that she was in pain, knowing that he was the cause of it. “Tiffany-”
He looked as if he was about to apologize again. She stopped him. “Please. You don’t need to say anything, Alex,” she said in a quiet, but steady voice. “I’m fine, truly.”
He studied her face for a moment. “Are you?” he asked softly.
She didn’t answer, reaching for her horse’s reins instead. Stepping into the stirrup, she hoisted herself up and onto the saddle. “We should be going,” she said as she adjusted the heavy fabric of her riding skirt.
He hesitated for a moment, watching her, and then finally mounted his stallion.
They spoke very little during the ride back to Sethe Manor, Tiffany deliberately dropping back to follow a short distance behind Alex so that their lack of conversation would seem less awkward. It was only as they neared the house that she finally drew alongside him. After a brief discussion on how best to get her into the house whilst attracting the least possible notice, Tiffany spurred her mount ahead, leaving Alex alone in the cover of the trees to follow behind a short while later.
Thankfully, the stable was located to the rear of the house and Tiffany managed to attract very little notice as she quickly dismounted just outside the entrance. Handing over the horse’s reins to the first groom she saw, she then made a hasty retreat, heading directly to the servant’s entrance as Ashleigh had instructed.
Likely due to the vast number of guests they were currently attending to, there were no maids or footmen lingering about as she entered the empty passageway.
Chapter 7
Alone in her chamber, Tiffany hurriedly shed her damp clothes and then hung them in the armoire to dry. Although she’d managed to slip into the house unnoticed, until she spoke with Ashleigh she wouldn’t know for certain if her presence had been missed. Imagining her father’s reaction, she could only pray that it hadn’t. Selecting from the gowns that had already been pressed and hung, she chose a pale green day dress of silk charmeuse that buttoned up the front. Hastily donning the dry garment, she then made her way to the vanity table and quickly ran a brush through her tousled hair, freeing the numerous tangles and then tying it back with a green ribbon that matched the color of her gown.
Once satisfied with her appearance, she left her chamber and went in search of Ashleigh. She found her in the drawing room, taking tea with several other ladies.
Noting her arrival, Ashleigh rose from her seat and immediately made her way to Tiffany’s side. “How are you feeling, dear? Has the headache passed?” she asked, loud enough for the others to hear.
Taking her cue, Tiffany nodded. “Yes, it has. Now that I’ve rested I’m feeling much better, thank you.”
“Excellent, now you can join us for tea,” she exclaimed cheerfully, leading Tiffany toward a vacant seat. “Lady Wilington was just sharing the most interesting story with us all,” she said then, turning her smile in the direction of a stern-faced, middle-aged woman with coal-black hair piled high into a sturdy-looking bun atop her head.
As it turned out, Lady Wilington’s story wasn’t the least bit interesting at all, but like the other women in the room, Tiffany made a good show of appearing as though she was completely engrossed in the drawn-out tale of the woman’s latest trip to visit her sister in Yorkshire. However, as it seemed that Ashleigh had effectively kept the other guests from noting her earlier absence, her relief far outweighed her disinterest, and if need be, she was more than willing to listen to a dozen more of the mind-numbing tales.
Later on, after the ladies had finished their tea, Tiffany was finally able to speak with Ashleigh alone.
Leading Tiffany into her private sitting room, Ashleigh closed the door and immediately spun around to face her. “Good heavens, I was worried sick about you,” she said, grabbing Tiffany’s hand and pulling her in the direction of a velvet-covered settee. “When the storm rolled in and you were nowhere to be seen, I was near frantic.”
“I’m so sorry. I never should have left the group,” Tiffany acknowledged, as she settled onto the settee next to Ashleigh. “My father?” she asked anxiously.
“He and several of the other gentlemen have been holed up in the game room all afternoon playing cards. I think it is safe to say that he has no knowledge of your temporary absence.”
“Oh thank goodness!” The relief she felt was immense. “And thank you for covering for me, Ashleigh.”
“Did you think I would have done anything else?” Ashleigh replied, squeezing Tiffany’s hand. “I know how your father can be.” Her tone was compassionate. “But where have you been? Were you caught in that wretched downpour or were you able to find shelter?” she asked, her expression full of concern.
“I made it to the old overseer’s cottage shortly after the storm began,” Tiffany explained. “But not before I got a good soaking, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, how dreadful,” Ashleigh said sympathetically. “But you were so clever to think of the cottage. I was dreadfully afraid you might have been forced to huddle under a tree somewhere.”
“You would have been proud of me,” Tiffany replied with a grin. “I managed to start a fire all on my own.”
Ashleigh’s brow rose in surprise. “You did?”
“You needn’t appear so shocked,” Tiffany chuckled. “I am not completely incompetent, you know.”
“Of course you’re not,” Ashleigh agreed, shaking her head at Tiffany’s teasing. But then her expression turned questioning. “So Alex didn’t find you then?” she asked. “When the two of us realized that you hadn’t returned, he immediately set off to go and look for you.”
“He did… find me that is, at the cottage.”
“He did?” Ashleigh’s eyes widened, her eyebrows shooting upward.
When Tiffany merely nodded and remained silent, Ashleigh’s expression quickly turned to one of exasperation.
“And?” she prompted. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened.” Ashleigh was her closest friend, but even so, she couldn’t bring herself to tell her what had really happened at the cottage.
“Nothing?”
Tiffany shrugged. “We warmed ourselves by the fire and waited for the storm to let up?”
“That’s all that transpired?” Ashleigh’s tone held a note of skepticism.
“That’s all.” She could only hope that she sounded convincing.
“But after last night…well, I just thought…”
“You thought what?” Tiffany asked, injecting a forced lightness into her tone. “That after one kiss Alexander Warrene would suddenly profess his undying love for me?”
Ashleigh studied Tiffany’s face. “Well no, not exactly. But-”
Fortunately a soft knock sounded at the door just then, drawing Ashleigh’s attention. “Come in,” she called, turning to the door.
&
nbsp; A young maid peeked her head around the door. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Your Grace, but you wanted to know when his lordship awoke from his nap.”
“Oh, yes, thank you Polly. I shall be along in a moment.”
The maid bobbed her head and pulled the door closed.
Without giving Ashleigh a chance to continue their conversation, Tiffany rose quickly to her feet. “Go see to your son, Ashleigh. We can talk later.”
“Are you certain?” she asked hesitantly, rising to stand next to Tiffany.
“Of course,” Tiffany assured her. “Now run along and give Justin a kiss for me.” Grasping Ashleigh’s elbow, she steered her friend toward the door. “I’ll stop by the nursery to visit my darling godson later.”
“Alright then, we shall finish our conversation later,” Ashleigh said, reaching for the door handle. “Oh wait, I almost forgot to tell you,” she said spinning around, her expression suddenly animated.
“Tell me what?”
“The Langdons, they’ve taken their leave.”
Tiffany eyed Ashleigh curiously. “I assumed they wouldn’t be leaving until tomorrow, like everyone else.”
“As did I. But after returning from the picnic, the baroness informed me that she and her husband would be departing earlier than they had originally anticipated.”
“Did she give a reason?”
“Well,” she began, her voice lowering furtively, “she implied that it was due to the baron’s health, but I think it had far more to do with the conversation she had with Alex, more than anything else.”
“Conversation?”
Ashleigh nodded. “Shortly after you left, I saw the two of them walking by the lake, and though I couldn’t hear what they were saying, it didn’t look like an altogether pleasant exchange.”
Tiffany’s eyebrows shot upward.
“And then, after just a few moments, Alex turned and abruptly walked away, leaving her standing there with a decidedly bad-tempered expression upon her face.”
“How…interesting,” Tiffany murmured.
“Isn’t it though,” Ashleigh agreed with an evocative smile.
Downstairs, in the privacy of the duke’s study, Alex had been conversing with Nicholas for the past quarter hour regarding the upcoming sale at Tattersalls, the premier bloodstock auction house in Europe, and the upcoming races at Newmarket.
“With the previous three winners coming out of Hastings’ stables, his entry is sure to be the odds on favorite.”
“Indeed,” Nick agreed. “If Lord Foxwell’s Star Dancer can take the Town Plate this year, it will be considered quite a coup.
“In any event, I shall be there to cheer him on,” Alex said, raising his glass. “For Hastings’ head has grown nearly as big as his considerable paunch, and I for one would be delighted to see Foxwell knock him down a peg or two.”
“Here, here,” Nick replied, raising his own glass to his lips. Draining the remaining liquid, he then reached for the decanter that sat on the small table between their two chairs.
Alex eyed him with a knowing grin as Nick poured another splash into his glass. “You can hardly wait for all of this to be over, can you?”
“How can you tell?” Nick replied drolly, holding up his glass so that the sun streaming in through the window glinted upon the finely-cut crystal snifter.
“Chin up, old man, you’ve only one more night before they all return to their own homes,” Alex said, his tone consoling.
Nicholas snorted, tipping his glass to his lips once again.
Alex fought the urge to chuckle.
“That reminds me,” Nick said, setting his empty glass onto the table. “The Langdon’s made a rather abrupt departure earlier this afternoon.” He looked to Alex questioningly. “Any chance their sudden exodus had something to do with you?”
Alex took a sip from the snifter of brandy he held before answering. “It’s quite possible.” His expression was deliberately blasé.
Nicholas quirked his brow, eyeing Alex expectantly.
“I found the baroness’ imprudent nature decidedly unattractive,” he admitted drolly.
“You cut ties with her?”
“She didn’t take it well, I’m afraid.”
Nicholas snorted. “She’ll recover soon enough, I’d wager.”
“I do not doubt it.” If he knew Lucinda, she would have another man warming her bed within a fortnight.
“So, is that the only reason you rebuffed her advances?
Alex didn’t like the assessing look on his friend’s face. “Are you suggesting that I may have had another reason?”
Nick shrugged his shoulders, though his calculating expression remained the same.
“I can assure you that it had absolutely nothing to do with Tiffany Marlowe, if that is what you’re thinking.” Alex’s tone had a defensive edge to it.
Nicholas took a long, slow swallow of brandy before speaking. Setting the heavy crystal glass atop his desk, he leaned back in his chair and looked Alex straight in the eye. “Who is it that you are trying to convince Alex, me or yourself?”
Tossing back the last of the dark, amber-colored liquid in his glass, Alex schooled his features into a mask of composure and rose casually from his chair. The question was unsettling, and far too close to the mark than he cared to admit. Walking over to where Nicholas sat, he placed his empty glass alongside Nick’s atop the desk. “Thank you for the drink.”
“Alex-”
Turning around before Nick could say anything more, he headed for the door. “I’ll see you later this evening,” he called over his shoulder, pulling the door closed behind him with a resounding thud.
Walking down the long hallway, he was almost to the stairs when he came upon a group of gentlemen exiting the game room. Melborne was amongst them.
“Hello there, Chesterfield,” several of them called out.
“Good day, gentlemen,” he replied with a polite nod.
“Where the devil have you been hiding yourself all afternoon?” Henry Exeter queried.
Henry was a pleasant enough chap and Alex had long-counted him amongst his friends. They had attended Eton at the same time, and had enjoyed the occasional misadventure together during their younger years. “I’ve hardly been hiding,” Alex answered with a wry smile. “Clearly you just haven’t been looking in the right places.”
Henry chuckled, as did the others.
“Melborne, I wonder if I might have a word,” Alex said nonchalantly, directing his gaze to the marquess. Although he hadn’t intended to seek Melborne out just yet, there was really no sense in prolonging the inevitable.
“Of course.”
Alex had just passed the library and knew that it was unoccupied. “Perhaps we could speak privately in the library.”
William nodded his assent.
“Will you excuse us, gentlemen?” Alex said to the others.
After entering the library, he and Melborne seated themselves upon the leather wingback chairs that had been placed in front of the huge, ornately-carved marble fireplace.
Alex spoke first, getting straight to the point. “I am prepared to offer you triple what the land is worth.”
William adjusted his position in the chair. Crossing his arms across his chest, his expression was unyielding. “You know my terms, Chesterfield. They are not negotiable.”
Alex fought the overwhelming urge to reach out and throttle the older man. “Your terms are outrageous,” he bit out indignantly.
“Nonetheless, they are the only terms that I will accept.” The marquess’ expression remained unchanged, his tone uncompromising.
Alex eyed him in disbelief. “You know why I want the land, Melborne. Does that mean nothing to you?”
William ignored the question. “Honestly Chesterfield, are my terms really so unappealing?” he continued before Alex had a chance to respond. “You’ll need to marry at some point, and not only is my daughter born of impeccable lineage, but she is quite attractive as well. Th
e way I see it, you win either way.” His greying eyebrows rose ever so slightly. “In the grand scheme of things, what have you got to lose?”
My freedom, my independence, my carefree, unfettered lifestyle, Alex thought to himself. Aloud he said, “And what would your daughter think of all this, her future determined by the turn of a card?”
“What my daughter thinks or doesn’t think, need not concern you,” William said, his features tightening ever so slightly. “Tiffany will do exactly as she is told to do, just as she always has.”
Or suffer the consequences, Alex imagined. He ground his teeth together to keep from saying something he might later regret, but even though he held his tongue, his impression of William Marlowe grew even more distasteful by the second. Clearly he cared nothing for the countless children who could benefit from the sale of the land that he was so callously using as a bargaining chip. But did the man care nothing for his own daughter, his only child? The thought of Tiffany, so delightfully innocent and ingenuous, treated in such an uncaring, cold-hearted manner by her own father made him feel both sickened and infuriated.
“So, what is it going to be, Chesterfield? Do you agree to my terms or not,” William asked, clearly growing impatient.
Hell no! I do not accept your terms, you miserable bastard, he wanted to shout in Melborne’s ruddy face. Clenching his hands into fists at his sides, his thoughts seemed to be waging an internal battle within his head. He rose to his feet. Turning his back on the marquess, he shoved his hands into his pockets and walked over to the nearest window. Looking outside, he focused his gaze upon the branches of a nearby maple tree, watching as its leaves blew gently in the wind.
You, and Only You Page 10
