Desires of a Perfect Lady

by Victoria Alexander

  He snorted in disdain. “I was a fool.”

  “No doubt. Besides, she was married within days, and you were engaged to Alice and wed nearly as quickly. It seemed to me it was best to keep my opinions to myself. After all, what was done was done.” She paused. “And I did like Alice very much although I never thought she made you truly happy.”

  He stared at her. “I was happy.”

  “No, Sterling, you were content. There is an enormous difference.” Her voice softened. “When your father and I were first married, we couldn’t bear to be apart from one another. You and Alice . . .”

  He narrowed his gaze. “Yes?”

  “You and she behaved much as though you’d been married forever rather than newly wed.”

  “If I recall correctly . . .” Annoyance sounded in his clipped words. “Father was ill, and I had other things on my mind.”

  “I’m not faulting you. If Alice had lived, I have no doubt you would have had a long and good life together.” She met his gaze firmly. “However, I never once saw you look at her the way you looked at Olivia. And when Alice died . . .”

  “Yes?” he snapped.

  “When she died, it did not break your heart.”

  Sterling stared. “I was most distraught.”

  “Yes, you were. You had lost a great friend.” She shook her head. “Not a great love.”

  “I cared deeply for Alice.”

  She studied him.

  “I did,” he said again firmly, as if trying to convince himself as much as her. He’d had a great deal of affection for Alice. If the love he’d felt for his wife had not been the same as his feelings for Livy, well, wasn’t that to be expected? Livy had been the great love of his life. Alice was . . . he cringed to himself. He had never admitted it even in his own mind, but Alice was second. His mother might not think he lied well, but he seemed to do an excellent job of lying to himself. “I never intended—”

  “No, you didn’t,” his mother said quickly. “You are not that sort of man.”

  “Do you think she knew?” The idea that Alice might have realized that he’d never really put Livy behind him tore at his heart. He wouldn’t have hurt her for the world.

  Mother hesitated as if searching for the right words. “I am sorry, darling, of course she knew. A woman always knows.”

  “She never said a word,” he said staunchly.

  “Nor would she. She had loved you for much of her life.” She laid her hand on his arm. “Don’t think for a moment that Alice wasn’t happy. She was, very much so.”

  “I did try,” he said, more to himself than to her. And indeed, hadn’t he put all thought of Livy aside when he married Alice? Hadn’t he ignored her letters?

  “Now what do you intend to do?”

  “I intend to help Olivia meet the terms of her husband’s will, acquire her well-earned inheritance, and become independent.”

  “Oh dear.” Mother shook her head. “I had rather hoped . . .”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t say what you were going to say.”

  “Don’t say that she is free now and as she has turned to you for help, it seems an excellent beginning?”

  “She had no one else.”

  “Regardless, the simple fact is that she did turn to you.” Mother narrowed her gaze. “And when this is over and done with, then what?”

  “Then I shall resume my life exactly as I left off.” That too was a lie. His life had changed forever the night her father had told him the truth.

  “And Olivia?”

  “Olivia will be able to breathe,” he said softly.

  “So you are giving up any hope of a future together?”

  He cast her an annoyed glare. “You are an exasperating female, Mother.”

  “I always have been, dear.” She smiled. “It is not like you to give up.”

  “I am facing the reality of the situation.” He shook his head. “She has not forgiven me.”

  “Your primary fault was in believing her father.” She shook her head. “In truth, who could blame you? You had no idea—”

  “She wrote to me, Mother. She sent me three letters.” Perhaps he did need to talk to someone after all. “The first before she married Rathbourne telling me the truth of the matter. I assumed it was an apology.” He glanced at her. “I never opened it.” He drew a deep breath. “The next two came after she married, when Father was ill. They went unopened as well. In those, she again asked for help.” Even now, the words in her letters twisted something inside him and carried with them guilt and remorse. And anger. At Rathbourne and more at himself. “There were not a lot of details; I suspect she was too afraid for that. But he treated her abominably, and she feared for her life. She begged me to help her escape him.”

  “Good Lord.” Shock rang in his mother’s voice. “I never imagined. But you said you didn’t open them.”

  “I didn’t.” He shrugged. “Recently, Lord Newbury came to me and told me the truth. He thought she might be in danger because of the nature of her husband’s death. I took it upon myself to pay a call on her.” He smiled in a wry manner. “She was not pleased to see me.”

  “I can understand why.”

  “There was an incident after that, but suffice it to say, I at last read her letters.” He met his mother’s gaze directly. “She has not forgiven me. I can’t say that I blame her.”

  “Nor can I.”

  “She won’t even let me talk to her about it. Tell me, Mother, what am I to do?”

  His mother raised a brow. “I have not been able to tell you what to do since you were a very small boy.”

  He snorted with disbelief. “You have never stopped attempting to tell me exactly what to do on all manner of subjects.”

  “Yes, well, you have never listened to me.” She paused for a long moment. “You shall have to make amends, you know.”

  He scoffed. “I’m funding her quest for her inheritance. I’m accompanying her to Egypt. What more can I do?”

  “I don’t know.” Mother chose her words with care. “But, it seems to me, you can be her friend. Prove to her that you can be trusted with her friendship, and, perhaps, eventually she will trust you again with her heart.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t—”

  “Furthermore, you must control that tendency of yours toward impatience. It is not an endearing trait,” she said firmly. “You have only recently learned the truth, and it’s to be expected that you would want to act at once. But Olivia has had a decade to consider your actions or lack thereof. And apparently those years have been most unpleasant.”

  “My fault.” A heavy weight settled in his stomach. “I should have helped her. If only—”

  “If only what?” Mother narrowed her eyes in irritation. “Would you have left your wife?”

  “No, of course not.” But he never would have married Alice. “If I had opened her first letter—”

  “But you didn’t, and that cannot be undone. Now, you have the future ahead of you. Much in life has come easily to you, but you have never been one to give up what you have wanted. Do not make that mistake now. Sterling.” She leaned closer to him. “You have never stopped loving this woman. I failed to tell you once to follow your heart. I do not hesitate to do so now.”

  He stared at her. “You’re right, Mother.”

  “I usually am.” She frowned. “About which part?”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Nor do I. What were you thinking?” she said cautiously.

  “I have never given up on what I have wanted. I have never accepted defeat, and I am not about to do so now.”

  “Thank goodness.” She smiled.

  It wouldn’t be easy, and it would require patience, never his strongest quality. His spirits lightened. He had won her heart once before. He was older and, hopefully, wiser, and he was determined. They couldn’t pick up where they had left off, but they could go forward from h
ere. He grinned. “Don’t plan a wedding just yet, Mother.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t think—”

  “And do not interfere.”

  “I would never—”

  He raised a brow.

  She cast him a weak smile. “Very well, I shall try . . .”

  “You shall do more than try.”

  “Trying is all anyone can do. You cannot ask for more than my wholehearted attempt to keep at bay a mother’s natural instinct to help her child,” she said in a lofty manner.

  He fixed her with a firm look.

  “I do promise to keep myself from assisting my son.” She heaved a long-suffering sigh. “However, I do retain the right to lend my assistance should you request it.”

  He laughed, leaned forward, and kissed her cheek. “That is most appreciated.”

  “As well it should be.” She sniffed and shifted her parasol. “Oh, that nice Mr. Cadwallender has come out on deck.” She studied the young man for a moment. “He’s not nearly as stodgy as most solicitors of my acquaintance. Of course, he is quite young, and perhaps stodginess comes with age and experience in that profession. Still, it does seem to me that he has a great deal of potential. He is quite dashing, with all that blond hair and those dark blue eyes.

  “I thought it was most interesting to learn he is related to the publishing Cadwallenders. I believe the last book I read was printed by Cadwallender. For the life of me, I cannot recall the title, but I did like it rather a lot. Oh, not so much as the latest offering from . . .”

  His mother continued, unaware that her conversation was entirely one-sided. It was surprisingly refreshing to have bared his soul. To have spoken his thoughts aloud. He wondered why he didn’t do so more often.

  He had become accustomed through the years to keeping his own counsel. In truth, he’d had no one to share his thoughts with. There had only been one person in his life he’d ever been completely open with.

  He nodded in agreement to something his mother said and smiled to himself. She was right, and whether or not he took her advice again in the future, he would do so now.

  He would curb his impatience and bide his time. He’d be bloody charming, the perfect traveling companion. He would be friendly, gracious, carefree, and enjoy every blasted moment of this so-called adventure. After all, he had no family finances to administer, no political questions to occupy his mind, no issues regarding the estate to concern himself with. He had left it all behind in London. Why, he was very nearly free of all of his usual responsibilities.

  The thought struck him that he’d be the man he once was, before he’d become the Earl of Wyldewood. Before the responsibilities and the tragedies and the heartaches of his life had sobered him, before he learned that he had failed her. Abruptly, he realized that since Olivia had come back into his life, he’d been grim and morose and far too serious. That was about to change. And by God, even if it killed him, he would indeed earn Livy’s friendship.

  And then he would claim her heart.

  Nine

  Dance with a prince in the moonlight.

  From the secret list of desires of Olivia Rathbourne

  The docks at Marseilles teemed with the life of a thriving seaport. Pity they were only here for a few hours.

  Olivia rested her forearms on the railing of the packet and drank in the intoxicating foreign scene laid out before her. There was little else for her to do at the moment. Josiah was arranging the transfer of their baggage to the ship that would take them to Egypt. Or, to be more accurate, Josiah was manfully trying to wrest control of the transfer of their things from Millicent, who was confident she knew better than the solicitor how to efficiently accomplish moving the baggage. Although, with an odd sort of tug-of-war going on between the two, “efficiently” was perhaps not as accurate as “haphazardly.” Olivia did hope Sterling’s mother and the young man did not come to verbal blows although she wouldn’t put it past Millicent to box his ears.

  In the five days of their journey thus far, Millicent had adopted the solicitor as one of her own. Josiah did not seem particularly averse to said adoption even as he struggled to maintain a professional manner.

  He had also taken on the position of Sterling’s secretary for the duration of their travels for what Olivia assumed was handsome compensation. He was therefore in charge of making certain they progressed from one point to the next. Josiah had pointed out that he really had nothing else to do and did wish to be useful. All in all, he was a very nice and thoroughly competent young man.

  Olivia was grateful that the details of transferring their party and their belongings and the sundry and assorted details of travel were out of her hands. She was left free to contemplate the exotic scene laid out before her. Marseilles was the shipping portal to the Mediterranean and lands to the east. The setting of the port in the French town was an intriguing mix of old and new. Ancient fortresses and castles stood watch over the harbor where modern steamships rested, iron beasts straining to break their bonds and rush toward the freedom of the open sea. A forests of masts from steamships and sailing vessels alike reached upward toward the brilliant blue sky as if they too yearned to break free and soar through the heavens. She wondered how the masses of ships managed to avoid one another in a harbor that appeared huge yet still did not seem big enough to support the number of vessels crowding the water.

  The scene on the docks was every bit as crowded. Cargo masters and sailors and fishwives bustled about their daily chores with voices raised in a cacophony of foreign tongues and languages both lyrical and coarse. The business of commerce and the transport of products and people mingled with a chaos Olivia suspected was confusing only to the unfamiliar eye. Carts and wagons laden with cargo made their way through the throngs of workers and passengers, exotic and ordinary. Cargo in giant nets was lifted onto ships by cranes cranked by burly men with sweat-glistened skin.

  Those traveling for pleasure were easy to spot. They stood on the docks in groups of various sizes. Large fashionable hats and delicate parasols separated the ladies from their maids, expressions of inconvenience differentiated the gentlemen from their valets. Which of them might be joining them on their voyage to Egypt? She did hope their fellow passengers would be a carefree lot. She wished to enjoy the rest of the voyage, and convivial companions would certainly help in that respect.

  Not that she hadn’t enjoyed their travels to this point. Millicent was most amusing. After the first few days, when he was obviously trying to maintain his position as official overseer, Josiah had proven to be a pleasant traveling companion as well, as interested as she in what excitement might lie ahead. Sterling, however, remained an enigma although she had to confess, she was enjoying his company.

  She had thought to avoid him, then discarded the idea as both impractical and annoying. This was her adventure, after all, and she refused to spend it hiding in her cabin. But he had apparently taken her desire not to discuss their past to heart and had not brought up the subject again. Admittedly, he had had no opportunity as they were very rarely alone. He had been charming and attentive, the epitome of polite and gentlemanly behavior, and hadn’t seemed the least bit interested in being anything other than her friend. Exactly as she wanted it. Then why did she find his perfect, gentlemanly manner so annoying?

  As for the matter of his seduction . . . she sighed at the thought. She’d been sharing a cabin with his mother, Sterling had been quartered with Josiah, so there had been no opportunity for that either. She’d tried to be as flirtatious as possible once she had decided on his seduction. But even to her own ears her flirting had struck her as somewhat forced and unnatural. Apparently, flirtation was indeed an art, and she was long out of practice. Coupled with Sterling’s proper behavior, well, it was all most frustrating. Still, she would have her own cabin on the next, much larger, ship.

  She turned her attention back to the sights on the docks. The kaleidoscope of images and sounds was mesmerizing, and she found herself wondering if a teetering sta
ck of crates was cargo bound for someplace exciting and exotic. Or if a well-dressed young woman, who even at a distance had an air of uncertainty about her, was traveling to join a husband or a fiancé for a new life in a new land. Still, in spite of the thoroughly up-to-date steamships and the fashionable clothing of the more well-to-do passengers, Olivia imagined that the scene was the same as it had been for hundreds of years.

  “It’s new, you know.” Sterling came up beside her.

  She started at his voice. “What’s new?”

  “The port. Well, fairly new as these things go.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “Were you reading my mind?’

  “Yes.” He grinned. “Admittedly, it was not at all difficult to guess at what someone like you would be thinking.”

  She raised a brow. “Someone like me?”

  He laughed. “You needn’t look offended. It was an observation, not a criticism.”

  “Very well.” She paused. “What did you mean then by someone like me?”

  “I meant someone who hasn’t traveled or seen the sights beyond the boundaries of her own life but has always wanted to.” He leaned toward her in a conspiratorial manner. “I have to confess, I am finding this all as fascinating as you do.”

  She started to protest that he no longer knew her that well, then caught herself. “You’re enjoying this then?”

  He grinned. “You’re surprised, aren’t you?”

  “You seem to be full of surprises,” she said under her breath.

  “Ah, you expected me to maintain my surly demeanor all the way to Egypt and back.” It was a comment more than a question.

  Heat washed up her face. “Well . . .” She cast him a reluctant smile. “Yes.”

  He laughed, the carefree laugh she remembered from so long ago, and it settled in her heart. She ignored it.

  “I had fully intended to remain inconvenienced for the duration of our journey, but I admit, the, well excitement of it all has worked its way past my resistance.” He braced his hands on the railing and drew a deep breath. “In spite of myself, I find this intoxicating. The lure of the sea, the call of foreign lands, the mystery of what may lie just out of sight.”