“She most certainly can,” the Countess cried out, and then promptly collapsed into a conveniently located frayed chair. She waved a hand in front of her face as though she desperately fought to hold onto consciousness.
Michael stroked the backs of his fingers alongside Aldora’s satin cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed. “So beautiful,” he murmured. “I do not want to share you. “
“You don’t have to.”
“I…”
It took a moment for Aldora’s response to penetrate his single-minded focus. He’d arrived here in a rage, convinced that he would have to battle for her hand, and now he was totally at sea.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I don’t want to marry your brother. Or anyone else.” She shot a quick glance over her shoulder. “My apologies, my lord.”
St. James waved his hand, a bemused look on his face. “No apologies necessary.”
Aldora returned her gaze to Michael. “I realized as you left me in the park…”
“You were in the park with him?” Mother screeched.
Aldora went on as though there’d been no interruption. “I realized that I want you, Michael. For two years, I’ve thought only of my brother and sisters. And perhaps it is selfishness on my part, but I believe with you by my side I can do anything. Even save my siblings from societal ruin.”
“You can’t,” the countess barked. “You can’t stop the gossips. No one will wed your sisters. No one!”
Michael glared the countess into silence.
Aldora’s throat seemed to work reflexively, and Michael knew what this decision was costing her. What manner of young woman would deal so courageously with all that she’d borne on her small shoulders?
“You’ll no longer have to worry about your father’s debts,” his brother intoned from across the room.
Three pairs of eyes flew in his direction.
St. James dusted his hands across his already immaculate coat. “I’ve seen to his debt. There is nothing standing between you and Michael’s happiness.”
The countess gasped, and for what Michael would venture was the first time in the garrulous woman’s life, she was left speechless.
Aldora shook her head. “You…I…you can’t.”
“I can and I did. Consider it a gift for your upcoming nuptials.”
Michael looked away, besieged by the same panic that had driven him to the Countess of Adamson’s doorstep. His brother could make the financial difficulties disappear. Michael himself could have done that, but neither of them could erase the scandal of Michael’s past.
Aldora slipped her fingers into his hands and gave a firm squeeze. “I love you,” she whispered, when he finally returned his stare to her. “With you at my side, I feel like I can do anything.”
Emotion filled Michael’s throat, making speech difficult. He knew what she spoke of. When Aldora was near, he was filled with a lightness that had been extinguished the day he’d dueled and been banished to Wales. He’d never imagined he’d feel alive and hopeful after those days. He’d never imagined he would smile again or laugh…or find love.
“I love you,” he said, his voice rough to his own ears. He tipped her chin up. “Lady Aldora, if you wed me you’ll make me the most—”
“If you don’t say yes, you are a daft ninny of a girl!”
This time the interruption came from the three interlopers at the entrance of the doorway. Michael imagined the young lady with honey blonde locks and familiar brown eyes was in fact a sister.
“She’ll marry you,” the other young lady, with equally honey blonde locks called out.
Aldora choked back a laugh and touched her fingers to Michael’s chin in a like motion. “I do not need anyone to tell me that I want to wed you. You and only you. I thought I needed a powerful peer, Michael, but what I needed was more than a duke.” She leaned up and whispered close to his ear. Her breath fanned his cheek. “I needed you.”
Epilogue
Aldora pushed her spectacles higher up on her nose and with a frown, scanned the area.
“Perhaps she is not coming.” Michael’s supposition interrupted her search.
She glanced up at this tall, commanding man who was now her husband. They had been married in a quiet ceremony two months ago, and surprisingly, there’d been less censure from Society and more curiosity at the sudden match. “She’ll be here,” Aldora said with not just a small bit of confidence.
Michael looked like he wanted to disagree but instead gave a nod. He tightened his grip on her hand. The pad of his thumb brushed the sensitive skin at the inset of her wrist, causing her pulse to flutter. Her eyes slid closed. Just his faintest touch could drive away all coherent thoughts, all common sense. And at any other time, she would have embraced the seclusion of the empty riding path, and turn herself over to that hot, hungering gleam in his eyes. This day was different, however.
Aldora was a woman with a mission.
Her free hand tightened around the heart pendant that she’d taken off the day of her wedding ceremony. It was time to pass it on to another who needed the talisman and the magic it brought with it. Alison had been quite clear over the years on her beliefs in anything magic.
The soft tread of slippers kicking up gravel brought Aldora’s attention forward.
She leaned up and pressed a kiss on Michael’s cheek. “Wait here. I’ll be just a moment.”
Michael caressed her cheek with the palm of his hand, his expression indicating that he wanted to keep her forever at his side. Her heart warmed with the peace of his steadfast love as she went on to greet Alison.
Aldora waved as she drew closer. “I thought you might not come.”
Alison’s lips tipped up in a half-smile. “And risk the wrath of Valera when you told her I passed on the pendant?”
Aldora studied her friend’s serious countenance. She pressed the pendant into Alison’s palm. “I know you don’t believe in magic. You believe in a world based on science and reason but I know you, Alison. Deep down you believe. Deep down you’ve seen the rest of us find love, and you must trust that this will bring you to your love. Do not point your eyes to the heavens like that, Ali. It’s true.”
Her friend examined the pendant in her fingers with something akin to a scientific study of the metal. She turned it over hesitantly in her hands, as if she were weighing the heart and chain.
“I know you believe, Ali,” Aldora said.
Alison paused, and then slipped the heart inside the front pocket of her cloak. “I’ll take it because as you said, Valera would have my head if I didn’t carry on this foolish nonsense, but I don’t believe, Aldora.”
Aldora hesitated. Who was she to debate Alison on her reservations for the delicate trinket given to them by a gypsy those years ago? Hadn’t she herself been possessed of the same jaded doubt when Valera had passed the necklace onto her? Leaning over, she kissed Alison on the cheek.
Her friend would find out. All in due time…
About Christi Caldwell
Christi Caldwell blames Judith McNaught's "Whitney, My Love!" for luring her into the world of historical romance. While sitting in her graduate school apartment at the University of Connecticut, Christi decided to set aside her notes and pick up her laptop to try her hand at romance. She believes the most perfect heroes and heroines have imperfections, and she rather enjoys torturing them before crafting them a well deserved happily ever after!
Christi makes her home in southern Connecticut where she spends her time writing her own enchanting historical romances, teaching history, and being a full-time wife and mother!
She is the author of "Winning a Lady's Heart", "A Season of Hope" and "Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride". You can connect with her at www.christicaldwellauthor.com or on Facebook (Christi Caldwell Author).
Robin Delany
Chapter One
September 1810
The female body was a curious thing. It reacted to an attractive man in the most unusual way: the pulse qui
ckened and the breathing as well, things swelled and reddened with the increase of the blood’s flow. Newton’s apple! It was almost as if one had run a footrace—though far more tingly in certain places. Lady Alison Griffith’s cheeks went warm and she glanced around the library as if one of the servants, who rushed around ensuring the comfort of the newly arriving guests, might possibly have heard the thought.
When no one stood in the doorway gaping, she turned and continued taking note of her reaction to the arrival of the handsome scientist her father often invited to parties as entertainment for the guests, and himself. The scientist in question, Jonathan Foster, had just emerged from Papa’s coach, the muscles of his broad shoulders bulging during his descent and causing her ardent physical reaction. He shielded his face from the rain as he strode toward the house. She tried hard not to notice the things a proper miss shouldn’t be aware of—his strong jaw, his wide chest, those warm eyes that shimmered when he spoke about who knew what. There were times she couldn’t hear a word he was saying for the pounding of her heart, but he had such a handsome way of putting it. It really wasn’t ladylike, but in trying not to pay attention to his finer attributes, she only noticed them all the more.
With the wondrous reaction of her body, and her heart, it tore her apart each time he had proved indifferent during the three years he had been attending her father’s biannual parties. The last time he’d been unable to say more than two words to her.
“Alison.”
She jumped, a coarse “yeep” flying from her throat before she could stop it, and she whirled about to see Papa striding across the blue and gold patterns of the thick carpet.
“Come here.” Papa’s voice held that tone he reserved for when she resisted his will, which she rarely intended to do. “I would speak with you. Now.”
She walked toward him, but her eyes didn’t want to leave the object of her study and returned to the interesting specimen outside the window. She fought her frown when Mr. Foster moved out of view, but then she saw Papa, who had a habit of rubbing his temples when vexed, had actually twirled his dark hair out of shape above one ear. She allowed the corners of her mouth to slide down. Those untidy locks did not bode well.
Then her chest seized up on a gasp, and it became a harsh rasping sound as it forced past. Oh heavens, had Papa seen her staring in such an improper way?
“Yes, Papa?” She fisted her hands behind her back to keep them from the inadvertent mischief of her thumbnail making its way between her teeth. “Have I forgotten something? I thought I returned all your scientific journals to their proper places, but—”
“No, no. Your younger sister is out in Society now,” he said as if he need say no more.
“Erm, yes, she looked lovely.”
He sighed, a rare thing for her proper father. “Alison, I have been as patient with you as I could, but now the time has come for me to put my foot down. I want happily matched daughters, not spinsters. Of course, I realize you are still young, but you seem to have no interest in the men of the ton, despite your mother’s efforts at matchmaking. Why, I’ve hardly seen you even attempt to speak to any of the lords your mother has invited into our home, and your sister is following you along. I’ll see to her soon enough, but neither of you will ever marry if you will not spend time in the company of a proper gentleman.”
“I…I have tried.” Alison glanced off toward the rows upon rows of scientific journals and thick tomes she’d spent most of her life studying. After all, it wasn’t the sign of a refined lady to show interest in such masculine knowledge. At least, not according to Mama, who had blamed Alison’s failed seasons on her open discussion of the sciences. Even during those few times she’d defied her mother’s wishes and had spoken of science, she quickly realized that such conversation didn’t interest most men. Though in truth, those conversations were limited to the old gardener, her pompous cousin, and a handful of footmen who had seemed more alarmed that she’d spoken to them than interested in the conversation. As for Mr. Foster, she had often wanted to share her opinions on science when he spoke his, but half the time his handsome features had mesmerized her into incomprehensible babbling, and the other half she’d kept quiet for fear of sounding foolish.
“Well, the time for trying has passed. I have received word from a duke, and several other lords who are interested in making an alliance with the daughter of an earl, and our family in particular. I made certain you have a dowry to be envied and I await the offers. Your mother has invited the best men, all of whom are from well-bred families, and I expect you to do your best to engage them and show them your value. By your birthday, you will have offers and you will accept one. That allows you four days to speak with—and encourage—each of the men your mother has invited.”
Alison bit her lip as her chest tightened. Her father had never said her awkward and less than graceful manner made her less than her sister, and she’d always loved that about him, but he’d increased her dowry days from her twentieth birthday. The action spoke volumes. “I am sorry I’m not as graceful as Mama. I try to model my behavior from hers. I watch her for hours, but I am so terrible at mimicry that she often believes I’m teasing her. And I feel dreadful that I am not comfortable with the men of the ton. I never know what to say when they speak of horses or shooting and I often find myself babbling incoherently about the plight of horses having to bear a man’s burdens. Those conversations are dull as dust, and the things I enjoy would never interest them, even if Mama would allow me to mention the sciences.”
Why couldn’t social grace come naturally, as it did to her friends? Alison was so different from them. Instead of spending her time inside doing ladylike things, she spent every free moment outside either with a science tome or a specimen of some unusual rock, bug, or plant. As marriageable packages went, she was not at the top of any man’s list—a truth she’d learned after two painful Seasons spent pressed against a hard wall, doing little more than perfecting her posture.
“Do not make excuses for yourself, and never fear you are less than any other woman. You’re only different. You have a unique beauty and grace all your own.” He grinned, another rarity for her father, and ran a hand along her forearm. “Choose a lord, for I think you will find they will all choose you.” Then his face turned somber. “However, if your birthday comes and goes and you have not chosen, I will be forced to select a husband for you.”
Alison knew exactly whom Papa would choose—the Duke of Langley had arrived moments before Jonathan. She gritted her teeth in a manner that drove Mama mad, but thank heavens Papa didn’t reprimand her. No woman could wish for a more powerful or influential husband. Even if he were a pompous man, so full of ego and lofty position that he would consider himself the only person of importance in almost any situation.
She relaxed her jaw, determined to stop being childish. “I am woman enough to choose. If any of the men offer, I will do so and do my best to make you proud.”
“They will and you certainly will,” he said, his eyes shining. He stood straight again, ever the earl, and gently emphasized his next words. “Provided you choose a husband.”
Quarter of an hour later, while the last of the guests settled in, Alison nibbled the tip of her thumbnail and tried not to stare at Mr. Foster, who spoke to Papa in the center of the library.
“I’m working on a lamp which might be used in coal mines to keep miners safe from the threat of explosion. I had initially considered flint and steel. You see, the flint rod would be inserted into a steel ring. When it slid in and out, tapping against the metal, the frictional energy would create a spark within the enclosed chamber.” All of a sudden, he lowered his head and his jaw twitched as he continued in a quiet and tense tone, “But the glass was prone to shattering and I have yet to decipher how to feed fresh air into the lamp safely and without inconvenience. I may need to consider a different method.”
“Fascinating.” Papa’s voice rose and Mr. Foster looked at him again. “Scientific study has al
ways intrigued me, the trial and error until one finally reaches the perfect conclusion. You must share some of your recent discoveries or inventions with the rest of the party when they arrive. I’m certain you will captivate them.”
“Science is captivating, indeed. In particular electro-chemical research, which I find myself delving into of late.” Mr. Foster’s words came faster and he gestured with a wide swing of his arm, which just missed a nearby table. “I am determined to make a name for myself in the world of science, choose a wife, and settle into married life.”
Papa gave an approving nod. “I’m sure you will.”
Alison smiled around her thumbnail. Though Mr. Foster was often quiet and enigmatic, he could be jerky and unaware of his surroundings when exceedingly interested in a topic. She had never actually seen him knock something over, but still, she loved that about him. She’d always been the same way—just a touch inappropriate and ill suited for most social situations. His negligence of certain social rules made her feel less out of place. She wanted to kiss him for it, but instead of returning her wicked overture, he might well ask her what the devil she was doing. After all, she’d tried once before to catch his eye. To say she hadn’t succeeded was a massive understatement.
Vaguely Alison thought she heard someone say something to her, but she couldn’t bring herself out of her memories of the two-week long humiliation.
Just after her coming out, she’d spent an entire visit listening with rapt attention to every word Mr. Foster had spoken, which hadn’t been difficult. She’d smiled, laughed, avoided revealing too much of her unladylike knowledge—all the tricks her mother had guaranteed would bring her a man’s affection. Yet, despite her best efforts, she’d also been loud, ungraceful, and a hundred other awful things. She’d been such a disaster, the few times she’d caught him alone, that he’d excused himself and rushed off to “see to his experiment.” Still, one bright afternoon, her foolish heart had deceived her silly brain into thinking he might kiss her. She had been standing close as he’d spoken of the manner in which the voltaic pile could conduct electrical currents using only copper, zinc, some brine-soaked cloth, and a few wires. All of a sudden, he’d stopped and stared in her eyes. Hanging on that pregnant pause, she had leaned in slightly and prayed he would kiss her. But he’d nearly tripped over his own feet trying to make his escape.
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