You, and Only You

by Jennifer McNare

  Glancing upward, he took another bite of his toast, watching as the Duke of Rutherford sat down upon the empty seat next to Tiffany.

  “Good morning, Lady Tiffany. May I say that you are looking as fetching as ever this morning,” he greeted warmly.

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Tiffany replied, smiling sweetly. “You’re very kind to say so.”

  Alex’s eyes traveled from the top of Tiffany’s upswept curls to the cream-colored, rose-sprigged bodice of her fashionably-cut day gown. He had to agree with Rutherford’s assessment. She most definitely made a fetching sight.

  “I assure you, my lady, that kindness has nothing at all to do with it.”

  “Silver-tongued as ever, Rutherford, even at this ungodly hour of the day,” Alex commented with a derisive snort, his tone bordering on acerbic. Both Tiffany and the duke glanced up at him in surprise.

  Giving him a quick once over with his sweeping gaze, Rutherford grinned knowingly. “Late night?”

  Alex dropped the toast back onto his plate, pointedly ignoring the question.

  “You are looking a bit worse for wear this morning, Chesterfield,” he continued, clearly taking no offense to Alex’s boorish greeting. “Did you perchance partake in a few too many glasses of port after dinner last night, or did you find something else to your liking in His Grace’s liquor cabinet?”

  Alex merely grimaced.

  “Ah, so it was you who drained that entire bottle of brandy,” Nicholas Leighton said good-naturedly, overhearing the last bit of their conversation. Joining them at the table, he eyed Alex with obvious interest as he took his seat.

  “As you might surmise, I am paying dearly for the transgression,” Alex replied dolefully.

  “Yes, I can see that you are,” the duke chuckled.

  Hell, did he really look that bad? Reaching for the steaming cup of coffee that had mercifully been placed alongside his breakfast plate, he took a long swallow of the dark, aromatic liquid. Glancing at Tiffany over the rim of his cup, he wasn’t surprised to find her watching him. Their eyes locked, and for a second it seemed as if it was just the two of them in the room.

  “So, Lady Tiffany, what did you think of last night’s entertainment?” Nicholas asked, unwittingly shattering the moment.

  Turning to the duke, Tiffany smiled brightly. “It was a brilliant surprise, Your Grace,” she replied truthfully. “And the performers were simply magnificent.”

  The duke returned her smile. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  “Indeed I did. It was an evening I shall never forget.” Turning from the duke, she glanced briefly at Alex before lowering her gaze.

  Alex noted the fleeting, telltale glance and struggled to keep his own features impassive. Despite having drunk nearly an entire bottle of brandy, he’d laid awake half the night, combatting the contemptible urge to seek out Tiffany’s chamber and finish what they’d started. It was maddening!

  “You and your lovely duchess certainly know how to entertain a crowd,” Rutherford proclaimed appreciatively.

  Alex struggled to refocus his attention on the conversation at hand.

  “I’ve no doubt that the evening’s events will be the talk of the town for weeks to come,” the duke continued.

  “I have to agree.” Nodding, Alex seconded Rutherford’s assertion. “It was quite an extraordinary spectacle.”

  “I’m sure my wife will be delighted to hear it.”

  Though Tiffany knew that Ashleigh didn’t give a fig about being the talk of the town, she was delighted with her friend’s success all the same. She had taken on the role of duchess effortlessly and she couldn’t have been prouder of her. Directing her gaze to the opposite end of the table, she watched for a moment as Ashleigh chatted animatedly with Mr. and Mrs. Rigsby and their daughter Helen. Thinking of her own life, she couldn’t help but wonder what lay ahead for her own future. Would it involve the man sitting across from her? Peeking from beneath her lashes she turned her gaze once again upon the man who’d stolen her heart; and with every fiber of her being she hoped that it did.

  As the men’s conversation eventually moved on to the topic of fox-hunting, Tiffany’s interest waned and she was soon listening with only half an ear as she ate her sausage and eggs. She was almost finished when her father arrived at the table and took the vacant seat next to her.

  “Good morning, Melborne,” Nicholas said in a polite, welcoming tone.

  “Good morning, father,” Tiffany echoed with a hesitant smile, wondering what his mood would be that morning.

  “Good morning, Your Grace. Gentlemen,” he greeted, acknowledging both Alex and Rutherford with the tipping of his head. “And to you as well, my dear,” he continued, turning his attention to Tiffany. “How are you this morning?”

  Tiffany did her best to hide her surprise at her father’s unusually chipper disposition. “I’m fine, father, thank you.”

  “Excellent. I shall be ready to depart for Melborne Hall as soon as we’ve finished our meal,” he said as he settled his napkin upon his lap. “Have you readied your things?”

  “Yes, father.”

  “Very good.” Picking up his fork, he eyed the plate the footman had just set before him, and then promptly scooped up a mound of eggs.

  While Tiffany finished the remainder of her breakfast in silence, the conversation continued around her. Knowing that she would soon be leaving Sethe Manor, and therefore Alex as well, her heart seemed to tighten in her chest. When would she see him again? It was the very same question that had kept her lying awake in her bed for most of the night, for it was still months before the Season was set to begin.

  “You’re brother mentioned that he would be setting sail for Boston next week,” Alex said a short while later, directing the comment to Nicholas. For years, Brendon Leighton had captained his own merchant vessel, and had amassed a small fortune in the process.

  “He is indeed,” Nicholas affirmed. “Though we’ve tried, I am afraid that we haven’t yet managed to curtail Brendon’s unquenchable lust for adventure. In truth, it has only been with my wife’s cajoling and the fact that he is delighting in his new status as uncle, that we have kept him home these past months.”

  “Well, as I too will be traveling to London next week, I shall personally see to it that he receives a proper send off before he sets sail.”

  “Proper?” Nicholas quirked his brow, his expression dubious.

  “Don’t worry,” he chuckled. “I will see to it that he can walk a straight line, before allowing him up the gangplank.”

  “See that you do,” Nicholas admonished. “For after an evening spent in your company, he might very well pitch straight into the Thames if you don’t.”

  “Are you suggesting that I am a poor influence?” Alex asked with mock affront.

  “I believe you’re present condition speaks for itself,’ Nick replied with a teasing grin.

  “Point taken.” His head was still throbbing.

  Alex would be in London next week. Hearing that, Tiffany’s spirits lifted at once. Although there was certainly no guarantee that their paths would cross, the mere possibility provided her with a measure of hope nonetheless.

  Chapter 9

  Aside from the continuous clomping of the horses’ hooves and the incessant rattling of the coach, the hour long journey to London passed in relative silence as Tiffany spent the majority of her time gazing out the open window, while her father occupied himself with the latest edition of The Times. Though she still hadn’t the faintest notion as to why her father had wished her to accompany him to the city, she was looking forward to it all the same, for she rarely got the opportunity to travel more than a few miles from home. However, in truth, it was the possibility of seeing Alex again that had her in a near fevered state of nervous anticipation. Regrettably, in her father’s haste to return home, she had been unable to seek a private moment with Alex before leaving Sethe Manor. In turn, all of her questions and uncertainties had lamentably been left una
nswered.

  As they neared the city, Tiffany’s restless excitement continued to grow. Craning her head to the side, she could just make out the glinting spires of St Paul’s Cathedral as they rounded a bend in the road, its dome barely visible through the ever-present haze that hung over the city like a dark, heavy shroud.

  A short while later, as their coach traversed the busy London streets en route to the West End residential neighborhood of Mayfair; her father finally lowered the paper to his lap and glanced out the window. “Damnable stench,” he muttered after a moment, and then promptly went back to reading his paper.

  Though she could hardly disagree, for between the constant flow of foul-smelling sewage being dumped into the Thames and the unremitting stench of horse manure that coated the city streets, the odor certainly wasn’t pleasant. However, for her the thrill of being in the city with all of its many enjoyments, far outweighed the trifling affront to her sense of smell.

  When they finally pulled to a stop in front of their elegant, three-story townhouse, Tiffany breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. Being enclosed within the confines of the coach for the past hour with her father had begun to set her already frayed nerves on edge. Once the steps had been lowered and the footman had opened the door, her father hastily disembarked from the vehicle, leaving it to the uniformed servant to assist her from the coach. Taking his gloved hand, she grasped her skirt so as not to trip as she stepped down onto the paved walk. Thanking the young man politely, she then followed her father up the walk and into the house, leaving the attending footmen to see to their bags.

  “Good afternoon, my lord, my lady,” the silver-haired butler greeted in a practiced monotone as they entered the expansive foyer.

  “Hello, Penrose,” Tiffany replied.

  Turning his back, the marquess stood so that Penrose could assist him with the removal of his coat. “Have a brandy and one of my cigars prepared and sent to my study,” he instructed, shrugging free of the outer garment.

  “Of course, my lord.”

  “I’ll see you at dinner,” the marquess said, nodding summarily to Tiffany as he turned toward the long hall that led to his study.

  And with that parting comment, she was abruptly left to her own devices. Fortunately, she was quite accustomed to such circumstances. Quickly divesting herself of her own outer garments, she handed her coat and hat to the tall, stony-faced servant. “Penrose, would you please inform Mrs. Wright that I will meet with her shortly to go over the upcoming week’s menu.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “And if you could have my trunks delivered to my room as soon as possible, I would be most obliged.”

  “I’ll have them sent up at once,” he replied decorously.

  “Thank you, Penrose.” With that, she moved to the staircase and ascended to the second floor, making her way to the room she’d occupied on her two previous trips to London.

  Later that evening and little more than a block away from the Marquess of Melborne’s London home, Alex was seated in the library of his own Mayfair residence.

  “Excuse me, my lord, but this just arrived for you.”

  Setting aside the book he’d been reading, Alex reached for the envelope, eyeing the imprint in the wax seal. It was from Melborne. “Thank you, Timothy,” he said, dismissing the young footman. Well, that certainly hadn’t taken long he noted as he slipped his finger beneath the flap of the envelope, breaking the seal. Extracting the single sheet of paper, he scanned the brief missive. It was as he’d expected. Melborne wanted to meet with him to discuss the terms of their arrangement at his earliest possible convenience.

  Drawing in a long, deep breath, he rose from his seat and moved to the exquisitely-crafted Chippendale writing desk that sat against the opposite wall. There was no sense in delaying the inevitable, he fathomed as he pulled out the small desk chair. Reaching for pen and paper, he quickly drafted his reply.

  For Tiffany, the morning that followed her and her father’s arrival in London proved to be an uneventful one. After finishing their breakfast her father had immediately closeted himself away in his study, leaving her to her own devices, just as he had the night before. As he’d made no mention of any upcoming engagements or planned outings, she was left to wonder yet again why he’d brought her to the city.

  Alone in the quiet of her bedchamber, she tried to focus upon the book she’d brought up from the library the night before, but in spite of her best efforts her attention seemed determined to wander. Glancing up at the small mantle clock resting above the hearth, she was surprised to see that nearly two hours had passed since she’d first settled herself upon the cream-colored chaise that sat before the tall bank of windows overlooking the rear of the house. And in that time she’d only managed to read the first three chapters of Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey. Setting it aside, she rose to her feet and moved to stand at one of the windows. Looking out at the neatly-tended garden, she decided that a walk might help to clear her thoughts and alleviate the tedium of the morning.

  Downstairs, Alex and his London solicitor, Mr. Albert Hatton, had been seated in the Marquess of Melborne’s study for the past thirty minutes, going over the contracts that had been laid out before them.

  “Everything appears to be in order, my lord,” Mr. Hatton stated, nodding his approval in regard to the specified terms. “You need only to affix your signature to finalize the agreement,” he continued, holding out a silver pen for Alex to take.

  Looking to where William sat behind his desk, Alex fixed him with his pointed gaze for one long, drawn-out moment. Then, dropping it to the two sets of documents that would seal his fate; he took the pen and signed his name upon each one, directly beneath William Marlowe’s.

  “Well then,” Mr. Hatton said a bit uncertainly, glancing between Alex and William.

  “Thank you, Mr. Hatton,” Alex said, rising from his seat. “That will be all for now.”

  William and Mr. Hatton immediately followed suit, rising from their chairs.

  “Of course, my lord,” Mr. Hatton replied, collecting his things.

  Coming around the side of his desk, William rang for the butler. Within seconds there was a soft knock, and a moment later the door swung open. “Penrose will see you out,” William said to the solicitor.

  With a polite nod, Mr. Hatton followed the butler from the room.

  Closing the door firmly behind them, William then turned to face Alex, his expression pleased. “Well, I’d say this calls for a drink, wouldn’t you?” Without waiting for a reply, he spun around, moving to the side table.

  Alex was hardly in the mood to celebrate, but there were things that still needed to be discussed. Resuming his seat, he waited silently as William poured them each a drink.

  “Here you are,” William said, handing him a snifter of brandy.

  Taking a small sip, he waited for William to regain his own seat.

  “What do you intend to tell her?” he asked, once William was seated.

  Lowering his glass to the desk, William eyed him blankly.

  Alex felt his contempt for Melborne rising yet again. “Your daughter,” he clarified. “What exactly do you intend to tell her?”

  William shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  Alex’s jaw tightened, his teeth clenching in frustration. He took several deep, calming breaths before answering. “Yes, it matters,” he said simply. There was absolutely no reason for Tiffany to have any knowledge of the wager, or all that it entailed. It would only cause her undue pain, and he had no intention of allowing that to happen.

  “So, what do you propose?”

  Regarding William with an expression that countenanced no argument, he began to outline their course of action. Within minutes, they were agreed.

  Getting up from his seat, William went to reach for the bell pull that would summon the butler.

  “Don’t bother,” Alex said, rising to his feet. “I’ll see myself out.” He had no desire to remain in Melborne’s company for
a single second longer.

  Walking toward the rear of the house, Tiffany trod softly upon the marble floor as she neared her father’s study, hoping to pass by unnoticed. It proved unnecessary though, for as she drew near she could see that the door was closed. Relieved, she quickened her step, eager to be outside. Unfortunately however, her relief was short lived. Watching in consternation as the door to her father’s study suddenly opened, she mentally cursed her rotten luck. Expecting to see her father, she couldn’t have been more surprised when she saw that it was Alex who exited the room.

  Stepping into the hall, Alex stopped dead in his tracks as he unexpectedly came face to face with Tiffany. Aware that William was but a few steps behind him, he offered her a polite greeting. “Good morning, Lady Tiffany. It’s nice to see you again.”

  “Tiffany,” William said, noting her presence as he emerged from his study behind Alex. “Was there something you needed?” he asked, eyeing her in apparent irritation.

  “No father. I was merely making my way to the rear garden,” she explained, gesturing to the far end of the hall. “I was feeling a bit restless and thought to take a walk.

  “I see.” William nodded, seeming to accept her explanation.

  “I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I didn’t realize that you had a visitor.”

  “You’re acquainted with the Earl of Chesterfield,” he said, motioning to Alex.

  “Yes, of course. It’s a pleasure to see you again, my lord.