CHAPTER
FIVE
Garbed in an old dress and wrapped in a long wool shawl, Alexia retreated to the library. She built up the fire, laid on the nearby sofa, and propped an open book on her stomach.
Silence. Freedom. A toasty fire and hours of privacy. She closed her eyes and savored the sensation of returning to a world she knew well. The rain gently pattering on the windows only made it better.
It had been brilliant to ask Lord Hayden for the free day every week. Bold too. She never expected to get it and was amazed when he capitulated. Perhaps he did feel a little guilty about the Longworths. There was no other explanation.
That was a mark in his favor, but she did not waste time examining his character. She planned to thoroughly enjoy these hours without Lady Wallingford and Caroline and especially Lord Hayden himself. He always seemed underfoot, visiting by day or dining by night. The man was young, unmarried, and rich. Surely he had better things to do than attend on his aunt.
She smiled to herself. Undoubtedly he did. However, his aunt possessed an uncanny ability to require his attendance, and he lacked the skill to escape her machinations. Alexia suspected the fish analogy had been inappropriate. Rothwell was not being lured. Henrietta had fixed a ring through his nose and was slowly, inexorably, leading him to the slaughter.
She giggled at the image. As a Minotaur plodded at the end of Henrietta’s tether, however, the fantasy transformed. She suddenly saw him standing beside young Caroline in a church.
Her mirth died away and she examined the picture in her head. It would not be a love match. She doubted he had any romance in him. Caroline would think it one, however, because she was young and awed. By the time that illusion faded, they would have accommodated each other enough. Caroline would have what most women sought—security and support and hopefully kindness.
The picture changed again, and Rothwell no longer stood in that church. Benjamin did. She no longer watched from above but stood at his side. For an instant, joy filled her as if it were real.
She pushed the image from her head with wistful regret. Life did not always work out as one wanted. Sometimes one had to make do with less than one’s dreams.
The book beckoned. Normally she would read Scott in her room, where no one could see. It was not the sort of serious literature that a governess would enjoy. It had not been included in the list she had given Caroline as part of her lessons.
Wrapped and cozy, she allowed herself the temporary liberation of living in a world of dashing men and exquisite women, of passions too strong for reality and of romance too dramatic to be real.
“Ewwww.”
Caroline’s face screwed up in disgust, but she shouldered her way closer to the vulture’s head preserved in spirits. For all of the erudite artifacts crammed into the museum’s collection at Montagu House, this grotesque specimen was surpassed in popularity only by the pickled cyclops pig and the Egyptian mummy.
Hayden smiled at her childish fascination and repulsion. That she would probably be married in a year was criminal. He did not approve of these young girls being matched off, and not only because his own mother’s early marriage had been so tragic.
“Now we really must see the marbles,” Henrietta cooed, pulling her daughter out of the crowd of vulture-gawkers.
Hayden had distracted their party from visiting the Elgin marbles twice already. He did not forget how Hen had dressed Caroline up for that diversion. He suspected he knew why his aunt was so adamant about seeing the marbles, and it had little to do with their reputation as superior examples of Greek art.
“I do not think Miss Welbourne would approve of Caroline viewing the marbles,” he said.
“I am the mother, and the decision is mine. However, Miss Welbourne instructed that they be viewed. She spoke so highly of them that I am compelled to see them again myself.”
“If she was so adamant, she should have accompanied us and seen to the matter herself.”
He had arrived to fetch all the ladies, only to discover that Miss Welbourne had chosen this as her free day. She had left him to Hen’s mercy while she enjoyed herself going about the town doing heaven knew what. He had come very close to sending word that Miss Welbourne was to come down forthwith and get into his carriage and choose another damned free day.
His aunt herded him in the direction she wanted him to go. “Miss Welbourne said they were in a separate little building. They are this way, are they not?”
They left Montagu House, dodged the rain, and entered the annex that held the sculptures Lord Elgin had removed from the great Parthenon in Athens.
“Now, you must not be shocked, Caroline,” Henrietta instructed. “Great artists take liberties that may appear scandalous, but since it is art it exists on a higher plane of experience. Also, these are very old, from before the Christians even existed.”
Hayden suspected it was the shock that his aunt actually wanted Caroline to experience, and higher plane be damned. The male figures in this chamber were mostly unclothed. His aunt was conducting a sly form of initiation today, and his presence with them was inappropriate.
Aunt Hen wanted that too. She wanted her daughter to see these statues and begin wondering what existed beneath the garments of the future husband by her side.
If Miss Welbourne had come, she could have given an art lesson to Caroline while he made himself scarce. He wondered if Hen had decreed the governess stay home so he would not have that option. More likely, Miss Welbourne had surmised the plan and helped out on her own.
He intended to have some conversation with her about that. Very soon.
They stood in front of the metopes showing the battle of the Lapiths and the Centaurs. Hayden told the story being shown. Hen exclaimed over the artistry.
Caroline gazed at those naked male bodies curiously. An awkward little silence ensued. Hayden tried to look very garbed.
Caroline’s brow furrowed. “They are all broken. It is as if swords have hacked off heads and arms. I cannot imagine why these are even on display, let alone famous.”
He almost blurted that bodies never look like this when limbs have been hacked off. The image of what they did look like invaded his head, and his soul sickened. He fought the reaction into submission by giving the ladies his concentrated attention.
“It is the sculpting of the forms, darling—that is why they are esteemed,” Hen said. “The torsos and thighs and hips—”
“I do not like them at all.”
“Others share your criticism, Caroline,” Hayden said. “Greek art is an acquired taste for many. I am told that women appreciate these marbles more as they mature.” He did the herding this time, out of the annex. “It is a pity Miss Welbourne did not accompany us instead of going to visit friends. I am sure she could explain the artistry in ways that fail my level of sensitivity.”
“Oh, she did not leave to call on friends,” Caroline said. “She intended to remain in the house, to take care of personal things. Letters and such.”
That did not improve his mood. He faced another few hours of this outing while Miss Welbourne evaded her duties and wrote letters. Love letters, most likely, to the dead Benjamin Longworth.
She brightened only when Ben’s name was mentioned. She became a different woman. The memory of that old love rejuvenated her for a spell. That was unhealthy. It was also a love built on lies. Once again Ben had acted impulsively, without calculating the costs, this time to the lady in question.
Ben never intended to marry Alexia Welbourne, no matter what she was led to believe. His sight had been set on a young lady of good fortune and aristocratic family long before that trip to Greece. Fighting in Greece itself had been intended as a path to the kind of heroics that would impress the wealthy, unattainable young woman being pursued.
Henrietta interrupted his thoughts by suggesting they visit the museum’s library. Hayden braced himself for another hour of playing the teacher.
When he opened the door to the librar
y, he spied a familiar face. His brother Elliot sat at a table, poring over a large manuscript. Elliot had returned to town from the Cambridge libraries only last night, but here he was, at it again.
“Wait here, Aunt Hen.”
Hayden left the ladies at the door and walked over to his brother. He had to touch Elliot’s shoulder to get his attention.
The mane of thick dark hair tipped back. Elliot gazed up through his spectacles. The mind groped its way back to the present from wherever that manuscript had sent it.
“Hayden. This is a surprise.”
“It will be. Come with me. If you object I will thrash you.”
Befuddled but accepting, Elliot got up and followed him.
“Look whom I found ruining his eyes over a dense Latin tome,” Hayden announced.
Reunion greetings flowed. Elliot could get lost in history, but he could also be very charming. Caroline brightened under his flattery at how grown up and pretty she was and how she would be besieged by suitors this season.
“The ladies wish to see the library and learn of its holdings, Elliot.”
“I would be happy to show you the collection. There are many rarities that are both beautiful and instructive. There are also Smirke’s drawings of the new museum building being constructed.”
“What a splendid idea,” Hayden said. “I leave them in your capable hands.”
Henrietta’s face fell. “But, Hayden, I thought that you—”
“I have appointments this afternoon and would have had to curtail this outing soon anyway. Now you can enjoy the library at your leisure. Elliot is far more qualified to give the lesson than I am. Show them everything, Elliot. They have all day.”
He made good his escape. It was unlikely his aunt and cousin would emerge until close to dinner. He left the carriage to wait for them and went to find a hansom cab.
He had not lied. There really were appointments waiting this afternoon. Not for a few hours, however. He had somewhere else to go before he went to the City for his business affairs.
She emerged out of a dream, aware even as she floated toward consciousness that she had dozed off unexpectedly. Something pulled her to the surface. Not a sound. A sensation of intuitive caution stirred her awake.
She opened her eyes. The first thing she saw were other eyes, so darkly blue they startled. The sight of them caused an echo in her soul, of having just seen those eyes in the dream now fading into the mists of deepest memory.
The sights and scents of the real world burned away sleep’s remnants, leaving her gazing up at the face of Lord Hayden Rothwell.
He appeared very tall standing there. Very serious too, with a little frown creasing his brow. Probably he disapproved of servants sleeping on the library sofa.
She pushed herself up so she sat. “Your aunt has returned?”
“I left her with my brother Elliot at the library.” He hovered over her. His proximity unnerved her.
She resented that. Even on the occasions when they spoke casually, even when she allowed him to lure her into forgetting why she should hate him, that discomforting disturbance remained.
She should not have to tolerate it today. “I gave Falkner instructions that no one was to intrude in this chamber.”
“The servants would never think that you included me. To their minds I am the master of this house and all in it.” He still did not move, as if to emphasize with his dominance that “all in it” meant he was master of her too. “Is this how you intend to use the free days that you cajoled me to give you? Reading by the fire?”
“It is my day to do as I choose. If you expected an accounting, you should have said so.” She wished he would leave. He was ruining everything.
“So for a few hours you will live here as you once did and treat this house as your home again. I did not appreciate the symbolic meaning of the word free when you used it.”
His words traveled to her heart, where they resonated with their truth. He understood her better than she did herself. He comprehended why these hours had been so delicious.
She had another reason to hate this man now.
She glared up at him. “Why are you here?”
“To see you.”
His gaze shifted, taking in her plain cap and old green dress and thick, simple woolen shawl. She should be embarrassed by her poor appearance, but right now it seemed convenient and…safe.
“I also came to speak with you and make certain you understand what I require of you.”
“I know my duties.”
“It appears you do not. I expected you to be with my cousin today.”
“Since she would be accompanied by you and her mother, there was no need for me. Your aunt agreed.”
“We both know why my aunt did not want you with us. She could throw the girl at me more easily this way.”
“Your aunt’s designs on you are not my concern. I chose this free day carefully, so it would not interfere with Caroline’s lessons.”
“I think you chose this day so you could avoid me.”
Again his words resonated. “Perhaps I did. You have been more present in this house than I expected. It is a strain for me to muster the grace that requires.”
His expression hardened in a way she knew well. She was being too bold again. She did not care. This was her free day, and that meant first and foremost that she should be free of him.
“In the future, when I escort my cousin and aunt, you will join us.”
“I do not need instructions in my duties from you. It is your aunt’s decision, anyway, not yours.”
“You will be there,” he said firmly.
She gritted her teeth and looked to the fire, ignoring him as best she could. She trusted he would leave now. Having decreed the new law, there was no reason for the lord to remain.
He did not leave, but at least he strolled away. Unfortunately, he moved over to the fireplace, taking a position that demanded she see him. Tall, strong, and dark, he intruded in every way possible, visually and viscerally.
“You were smiling in your sleep,” he said. “Were you dreaming about him? Ben?”
“I do not know.” Eyes gazed out of her memory’s deepest shadows. “I do not think so, but perhaps I was.”
“He was my friend and I owe him a debt, but—”
“I hope you never owe me one, having seen how you repay them.”
She hit her mark with that. His reaction made her nape prickle. The caution carried too many overtones of the other stimulations that he always evoked, however.
“He has been dead three years,” he said. “Perhaps you should stop pining.”
Anger surged in her head. It pushed her beyond prudence in a blink. She rose to her feet. “I treasure my memories, but I am not pining.”
“You spoke of your love in the present tense the night of Caroline’s recitation.”
“I am sure I did not.”
“You did, and you are wasting yourself in it.”
“You are being too familiar. This conversation would be extraordinary even if you were a dear friend, which you most certainly are not. I would not tolerate such intrusive speculations from a relative, let alone you.”
He walked up to her. She almost stepped back, but her anger knew no sense.
“You will have no future unless you let go of him.”
She had to bend her neck to look up at him. He was doing it again, trying to command with his presence and will. He liked doing that, and she wanted to hit him for what it did to her. Her pulse sped even as her temper seethed.
“How dare you speak of my future? You of all men? It was poor enough a month ago. I had neither fortune nor beauty, but I at least had a home and a family. It is outrageous for you to broach that topic with me.”
He accepted her accusations without comment. She saw heat in his eyes to match her own. The caution rose to a high pitch, but she threw it to the winds.
“There are men who look beyond a fortune, and you have beauty enough.” Co
nsidering his intense, hard expression, his voice sounded very calm.
“Now you are being cruel.”
“Your eyes are wonders. Mesmerizing. And they reflect your indomitable spirit.”
The flattery stunned her speechless. Her anger scurried around her mind, trying to collect thoughts that scattered from the shock, desperate to regroup itself.
He stood closer now. She had not noticed him move, but he was very close. Too close. He looked into her eyes, and she was the one mesmerized.
A velvet warmth, on her cheek. He was touching her. A tremor pulsed beneath his fingertips and slid down to her chest. She should—
“Your complexion is lovely too,” he said, subtly caressing. The soft touch, so startling and intimate, took her breath away. His gaze lowered. “And your mouth, Miss Welbourne. Well, your mouth is beautiful in ways I doubt you will ever understand.”
He looked into her eyes again and stunned her anew. His gaze burned hot and fiery, full of the danger she had sensed in him from the start.
Wide-eyed with astonishment, she saw the decision flash through him. It was so preposterous that she did not believe her instincts.
His mouth pressed hers. Warm, firm, commanding, the kiss produced shock after wondrous shock. Confusion reigned in her head. Somewhere within her chaotic reactions, the practical Alexia issued sensible orders on what to do, but she was too amazed to obey.
She reacted shamelessly. Flushing warmth cascaded through her whole body, pooling and tingling in her breasts and belly and lower. The excitement turned physical, threatening to rule her completely. Streams of pleasure seduced her toward abandon.
The sensations enchanted her. He embraced her, and she lost herself. She capitulated to an intimacy so delicious that she silently moaned with gratitude. The strength holding her, the firm body pressing her, the unbearable heat of the mouth kissing her lips, her neck, her chest—an Alexia who was not at all practical reveled in the sensual stimulation and welcomed the rain of passion.
The Rules of Seduction Page 7
