You, and Only You

by Jennifer McNare

  The butler’s expression tightened slightly in response. “Lady Tiffany and her father departed for Melborne Hall early this morning,” he explained.

  “I was under the impression that the marquess was quite ill,” Alex replied, skepticism evident in his tone. “How is it that he is suddenly able to travel?”

  For a moment it appeared the man might not answer, but visibly weakening under Alex’s intense regard, he wisely reconsidered. “After consulting with the marquess’ physician, Lady Tiffany was assured the journey would not adversely affect his lordship’s present condition.”

  “Christ!” Alex muttered, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

  Pursing his lips, the butler eyed Alex reprovingly. “Will there be anything else, my lord?”

  Without a word, Alex turned on his heel and strode down the walk toward his waiting carriage, his thoughts spinning in turmoil.

  Arriving back at his townhouse a short time later, Alex reentered his study feeling utterly dejected. Unfortunately, the sight of his mother sitting behind his desk, her expression revealing both sadness and a touch of recrimination, only served to intensify his miserable mood.

  Dropping into one of the two chairs that sat before his desk, he reluctantly faced his mother, his own expression solemn.

  “I didn’t mean to pry, dear” Cecelia began quietly, “but I was coming to speak with you and… well… I saw Tiffany’s ring lying atop your desk,” she explained.

  Alex nodded in understanding. He wasn’t angry with his mother for being curious. He was angry with himself. “I can only imagine what you must think of me,” he said somberly.

  Cecelia smiled tenderly. “While it’s certainly not your finest hour, I know the kind of man you are Alexander, and I could never think too poorly of you. Besides, no one is perfect; we all make mistakes.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I folded the winning hand,” he admitted.

  “Purposefully?” she asked in surprise.

  He nodded.

  She studied him for one long moment. “Why?” she asked softly.

  Shaking his head, he then leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

  “Don’t you?” she gently prodded.

  He sighed. “It hardly matters, Mother, not now anyhow.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s gone.”

  “Gone?”

  He returned his gaze to his mother. “I just returned from the Marlowe residence. She left town with her father early this morning,” he said somberly.

  “Oh, Alex, I’m so sorry.”

  “No more so than I,” he acknowledged.

  “Oh my darling, you are in love with her, aren’t you?”

  Was he? Was he in love with Tiffany Marlow? Yes, of course you are. Just admit it you dammed fool, his inner voice sounded in his head. “What difference does it make?” he said aloud. “Even if I do love her, it’s too late to do anything about it now.”

  “But you can go after her and tell her what you did. Tell her that you lost the wager on purpose. Surely that will make a difference,” Cecelia replied.

  Alex wasn’t so sure about that. “Do you honestly think that she would believe anything I have to say now, after all this time, after all that’s happened?”

  His mother hesitated, seeming to ponder what he’d said. “Maybe not now, not right away,” she began. “But perhaps with time, once her hurt and her anger have had a chance to lessen, maybe then she’ll be ready to listen, willing to hear the truth.”

  Time? Would it truly make a difference, he wondered? Regrettably, he simply had no way of knowing.

  Chapter 19

  Over the course of the next several weeks, Tiffany spent the majority of her time overseeing her father’s care, managing the staff at Melborne Hall, and slowly but surely setting their financial affairs to rights. Thankfully, the final sales agreement between her father and Alex had been signed prior to the marquess’ infirmity, so once Mr. Stone had seen to the completion of the transaction, she’d had more than enough funds to settle all of her father’s outstanding debts. And, with the subsequent sale of a small estate located on the outskirts of Paris, an inheritance she’d received from her late mother’s family, they were once again in the black. In addition, her father’s dreadful cousin, Mr. Collingswood, had yet to pose any sort of difficulty.

  However, as much as she hated to admit it, a large portion of her time was also spent thinking about Alex. Although she was doing her best to move on, it was proving far more difficult than she’d ever imagined it would be. Fortunately, her weekly afternoon teas with Ashleigh, like the one they were having now, provided a welcome diversion, albeit a temporary one. “I’m sure Justin will be thrilled to have his Uncle Brendon home for Christmas,” Tiffany said, watching as Ashleigh folded the letter she’d just been reading aloud, and then set it onto the sofa next to her.

  “I’m sure that he will be,” Ashleigh replied with a smile. “Although, he has grown so much over the past months that I fear Brendon will hardly recognize him.”

  Although the baby hadn’t changed quite that much, little Justin was growing rapidly and beginning to look more and more like his father every day. “Perhaps it will convince him to spend more time at home and less time at sea.”

  “One can always hope, I suppose,” Ashleigh stated in an optimistic tone. “But enough talk about my wayward brother-in-law. I want to know how you’re faring,” she continued, her expression growing serious as she studied Tiffany’s face.

  “Honestly, Ashleigh, you worry about me far too much,” Tiffany contended, interjecting an artificial lightness to her tone. “I’m fine, truly.”

  “Are you?” Ashleigh looked dubious.

  Sighing softly, Tiffany met her concerned gaze. They knew each other too well, and as such, her friend wasn’t easy to deceive.

  “I’m trying.” Though she hadn’t told Ashleigh about the wager between Alex and her father, she had told her a portion of the truth; that once she’d discovered the real motivation behind Alex’s proposal, to acquire the land her father had owned, she’d chosen to end their engagement. Even though Ashleigh was like a sister to her, to have told her the complete truth would have been far too humiliating. Somewhat surprisingly though, Ashleigh’s husband hadn’t enlightened her about the wager either. Though Tiffany didn’t know why, she could only assume that the duke had kept quiet because of his long-standing friendship with Alex. Whatever the reason, she supposed that it hardly mattered.

  “Oh Tiffany,” Ashleigh began, her eyes full of compassion, “are you sure this is really what you want?”

  Ashleigh had asked her that same question before, but her answer hadn’t changed. “I cannot marry him Ashleigh, not when I know that it was never really me that he wanted.”

  Ashleigh shook her head. “But I know Alex, and I simply cannot believe that he would have proposed if he didn’t have feelings for you, regardless of whatever business dealings he had with your father.”

  They’d discussed this before too, but without telling Ashleigh about the wager, there wasn’t much she could say that would make her truly understand her decision. “Please, Ashleigh, let’s not go over it again. Not when we have so many other pleasant things to talk about.” Though it appeared for a moment that she was about to disagree, after a short hesitation, Ashleigh’s expression gradually began to relax.

  “Fine,” she said with a barely discernible huff. “New topic.” She smiled brightly then. “How about fashion?”

  “Perfect,” Tiffany replied. Fashion was a safe topic.

  “Madame Oliver has just completed the final fitting on my gown for the Devonshire’s affair, and it is absolutely gorgeous. I swear the woman is nothing short of a genius.”

  “I can’t wait to see it,” Tiffany replied honestly, for Madame Oliver truly was gifted when it came to dress design.

  “Even so, gorgeous as it may be, with you wearing that st
unning lavender silk creation, I am sure to pale in comparison,” Ashleigh asserted, referring to another of the spectacular Parisian gowns Tiffany had tucked away in her armoire. “But nevertheless, as long as my husband thinks that I am the most beautiful woman in the room, I shall be perfectly content to watch all of the other men fall at your feet,” she said with a warm, heartfelt smile.

  For Ashleigh’s sake, Tiffany did her best to appear excited as they discussed the upcoming event. After much cajoling, she had finally agreed to accompany Nicholas and Ashleigh to Lord and Lady Devonshire’s annual winter gala at their nearby country estate the following week. However, the thought of attending her first social engagement since the news of her and Alex’s broken engagement had made the rounds, was extremely daunting.

  While Ashleigh had informed her that the ton’s overriding consensus seemed to be that their impending nuptials had been set aside due to her father’s sudden illness, she secretly feared that a great number of people would suspect the truth, that Alex had never really wanted to marry her to begin with. But regardless of their assumptions, she knew that hiding wasn’t going to change things, so all the better to get it over with, she reasoned.

  One week later, as Tiffany stood atop the steps leading down to the Devonshire’s immense ballroom alongside Nicholas and Ashleigh, she drew several, deep calming breaths into her lungs as she waited for the butler to announce their names. Glancing about, it was clear to see that along with the latest crop of debutantes making their first forays into Society’s midst, the bulk of the aristocracy had braved the snow-covered roads to put in an appearance at the highly anticipated event. Was Alex among them, she wondered, unable to arrest the errant thought as she cast an eye over the assemblage. Oh stop it; she commanded in the next instant, mentally chastising herself for allowing her thoughts to wander in that direction.

  “Relax,” Ashleigh whispered, as their names were heralded. “And stop frowning,” she added in the very next instant.

  Tiffany complied at once, hoping that her sudden smile didn’t appear forced as dozens of heads immediately rotated in their direction. Holding her head high, she struggled to appear confident as the three of them began their descent.

  “Goodness,” Ashleigh murmured as they reached the bottom of the steps, “what a crush. It looks as if the Devonshires have invited the entire peerage.”

  “Yes, and apparently every single one of them accepted,” Nicholas remarked with a weary sigh, as he eyed the milling crowd.

  Looking up at her husband, Ashleigh gave him an amused behave yourself look, and then rose up onto her toes to whisper something in his ear.

  Though Tiffany couldn’t hear what Ashleigh said, the sudden brightening of the duke’s expression and the sensual smile that curved his lips, gave her a pretty good idea.

  “Good evening, Your Graces, Lady Tiffany,” Lady Devonshire welcomed, as she and her husband stepped forward to greet them.

  From his vantage point midway across the room, Alex watched in rapt attention as Tiffany entered the ballroom with Nicholas and Ashleigh. Though he’d hoped that she would be in attendance, he hadn’t known for certain if Tiffany would come, and he’d been watching for her arrival with increasing trepidation for the past twenty minutes. And now that she had made her entrance, he couldn’t tear his eyes from the entrancing vision she presented. Pushing himself away from the wall that he’d been leaning against since shortly after his arrival, his eyes riveted upon her every move, he immediately headed in her direction.

  After briefly chatting with their host and hostess, Ashleigh and Tiffany moved forward into the room, while Nicholas promptly went off in search of refreshments for the three of them.

  “I can all but guarantee you that my darling husband is actually searching out the nearest card room,” Ashleigh said with a knowing grin, as she followed Nicholas with her eyes, “and pondering just how soon it will be before he can safely make his escape.”

  As Alex continued to move swiftly through the crowd, drawing ever closer to Tiffany’s side, he noted another gentlemen heading purposefully in her direction as well. As their paths intersected just a short distance from their mutual target, Alex turned to the young viscount and said only one word. “Don’t”

  Turning his startled gaze to Alex, the young man froze in his tracks. Noting the harsh, uncompromising expression on Alex’s face, he glanced briefly towards Tiffany, and then once again returned his gaze to Alex. A split second later, he tipped his head in acquiescence and wisely took a step back.

  Grinning, Tiffany was about to respond to Ashleigh’s last comment, but the words she’d been about to speak never left her mouth, for it was at that exact moment that she caught sight of Alex from the corner of her eye, and he was looking straight at her. To her dismay, she could feel that old, familiar pull once again tugging at her heartstrings, and the fact that he was still just as devastatingly handsome as ever, did little to help matters. As her gaze swept his tall frame, she absently noted that his superbly-fitted jacket outlined his broad shoulders to perfection and that his long, muscled legs were encased in a pair of impeccably tailored breeches. Though the stark whiteness of his cravat and the finely embroidered gold accents threaded through his waistcoat were the only contrasts to his otherwise jet black attire, the stylish, yet austere cut of his dark evening clothes gave him an aura of understated elegance.

  “What is it?” Ashleigh asked, as she turned to follow the line of Tiffany’s gaze. “Oh,” she said, as her own gaze fell upon Alex.

  Oh good lord, he was heading straight for them, Tiffany realized. Taking an automatic step back, her first instinct was to flee. But then, as if she’d somehow read her thoughts, Ashleigh grabbed onto her arm, holding her in place.

  “Wait,” she ordered. “If it appears that you are avoiding him, it is sure to draw everyone’s notice.”

  Ashleigh was right of course, for Tiffany could already feel the weight of the stares from those who’d taken notice of Alex’s course. But even so, it was nearly all she could do to keep from pulling her arm free from Ashleigh’s hold and running as fast as she could in the opposite direction.

  “And for goodness sake, smile,” Ashleigh whispered, as Alex drew near.

  “Good evening, ladies,” Alex said when he reached them.

  “Hello, Alex,” Ashleigh replied with a friendly smile.

  “Good evening, my lord.” Through sheer strength of will, Tiffany managed an amiable smile.

  “Lady Tiffany, I was hoping that you might honor me with the first dance of the evening,” Alex said, meeting her wide-eyed gaze as he held out his hand.

  “I…” She began, but the words suddenly lodged in her throat. Glancing helplessly toward the orchestra platform, she could see that they were preparing to begin the first set. Oh no! She wanted desperately to decline his invitation, but how could she? With everyone in the immediate vicinity looking their way, her refusal would have tongues wagging within an instant.

  Releasing her grip on Tiffany’s arm, Ashleigh nudged her slightly with her elbow.

  “Yes, of course,” she uttered. Dropping her gaze to his gloved hand, she extended her own, placing her fingers within his.

  As Alex led her from Ashleigh’s side, he could easily discern that, despite her genial smile, Tiffany would have much preferred to have refused his invitation. It was the reason he’d deliberately requested the first dance, knowing that it would be nearly impossible for her to turn him down with the excuse that her dance card was already full.

  Seconds later, as they made their way onto the dance floor, Tiffany nearly groaned aloud, for as the couples surrounding them stood patiently waiting for the music to begin, it became readily apparent that the first dance was to be a waltz. Oh lord, how was she to bear it, she wondered? But mercifully she had little time to ponder the notion, for as the first notes abruptly filled the air, Alex gently pulled her forward and suddenly she was in his arms.

  Keeping her eyes downcast, she tried to fo
cus her attention on the music as they moved about the floor, rather than the man who held her, but of course it was impossible. Being so close to Alex again, feeling the familiar strength of his arms and inhaling his unforgettable, masculine scent, all played havoc with her rioting emotions. Why ever had she agreed to come here tonight, she wondered, cursing herself for her folly.

  As they danced, Tiffany deliberately kept her eyes averted, but knowing that this might be his only opportunity to speak with her, he needed her to see him, to hear him. But how to begin? “You left without saying goodbye,” he said finally, breaking the taut silence between them at last.

  Tiffany looked up in surprise, meeting his eyes. “I…sent you a note.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  It was true. She’d taken the cowardly way out. “I thought it best, for both of us,” she replied, her tone subdued as she once again dropped her gaze.

  “I never meant to hurt you, Tiffany,” he uttered, his tone utterly sincere. “That is the last thing I wanted to do. I hope you can believe that.”

  She nodded ever so slightly as her gaze remained fixed upon his shirtfront.

  “I realize that I made a terrible mistake, that I made several, terrible mistakes,” he amended. “But I swear to you, the moment I put that ring upon your finger wasn’t one of them,” he continued, his voice husky with emotion.

  Tiffany missed a step, nearly treading upon Alex’s toe before she managed to recover herself. Damn him, why would he say such a thing when they both knew that it wasn’t true? “Please don’t,” she uttered hoarsely.

  He ignored her plea. “Tiffany, I’m in-”

  Tiffany shook her head. “Don’t say it,” she said, cutting him off. She couldn’t bear it, knowing that it was only his guilty conscience that prompted him to say those words. Oh God, please let the music come to an end, she pled silently, knowing she was close to tears. But then, reminding herself of the promise she’d made, never to shed another tear over Alexander Warrene, she valiantly fought them back.