by Shirl Henke
Alex paced in frustration. "I've already asked Puck. And Chitchester and Alvanley, everyone I could think of."
Drum's cool green eyes looked amused. "I was last on your list, I assume," he observed dryly.
Alex scowled at his friend's good humor. "I have observed ... shall we say, your rather surprising sense of protectiveness toward Joss since we were married."
Drum laughed. "Your lady is in as much need of protection as General Massena is from the Austrian army." He studied Alex's agitated pacing. "That chit must've been quite a sybaritic delight for you to search her out this way."
Alex had not mentioned his midnight lady's virginity ...
but his fascination with her went beyond even that. He wished he knew precisely what compelled him. Drum's next comment brought him from his brown study.
"Have you considered Caruthers as your benefactor?"
"He would certainly know where such an expensive delicacy could be procured," Alex replied. "Yet I doubt he was the one. I had planned to visit him last." Frankly he dreaded facing Monty's mocking amusement when he was forced to enlist his aid. Alex had always made it clear that the decadent diversions of the peerage held no charms for him, refusing his uncle's invitations to visit "viewing rooms" to watch other men perform on women, even boys. An appalling variety of perversions, active and passive, were available if one possessed sufficient blunt.. . and the ennui required for one to wish this sort of entertainment.
His uncle professed to know nothing of Alex's gift. "A virgin, you say? Are you certain? There are ways to fake it involving surgical skills acquired in the Orient."
"She was most certainly a virgin. I've had enough women of both kinds to tell the difference," Alex replied stiffly, looking about the deserted alcove in Whites where he and Monty sat sharing a drink.
"You were foxed, were you not?" Monty asked, lifting one brow.
The old devil's enjoying this. "Not nearly that drunk. Can you help me find her? How many places deal in genuine innocents?"
The cynicism in the baron's eyes glowed. "I told you marrying that Methody wench was a mistake. She may be twice as smart as Octavia but she's equally cold."
"Leave Joss out of this. She's a good and loyal friend. We were speaking of bedmates."
"You'd have been better served to defy your father and remain single. Lud, it's not as if you needed the blunt."
"You're an odd one to preach against a marriage of convenience. And I did not accuse you of wedding just for
money. You did it as a duty to your family, don't deny it."
Monty shrugged. "I do admit to a once and faded hope for an heir to claim the title ... but after my wife suffered two miscarriages, her physicians assured me she would be barren. Your arrangement neatly precludes even the possibility of legitimate Blackthornes."
"My parents are already provided with ample heirs," he replied, uncomfortable now for an entirely different reason.
"But your sister's children won't be Blackthornes, will they? You could bed the bluestocking," Monty said, shifting the subject back to Joss.
A faint hint of color heated Alex's dark countenance. "Why must everyone persist in throwing Joss at me?" he replied with an oath.
"Perhaps because you married her," the baron suggested dryly. A rich, mocking chuckle came from him as he signaled a waiter to refill their drinks. Then seeing the mutinous set of his nephew's jaw, a characteristic that reminded him fondly of his younger sister, he said, "I shall make inquiries with several of the more discreet and pricey establishments that most likely were the source of your mysterious gift. Are you quite certain you can't describe her with any greater clarity?"
Alex raked his fingers through his hair, newly cut in the latest Brutus fashion. Frustration was etched on every plane of his face. "I told you 'twas black as a moonless night in the Apalachicola swamplands. I could feel, not see. She had long, long hair, lots of it, thick and soft, a slender body, high breasts—rounded but not large, flared hips and sleek curved calves."
Monty chuckled. "At least 'tis obvious it could not have been your wife come to claim her marital rights of you." At Alex's look of guilty horror, the baron laughed again, then said, "I shall see what I can do to locate your vanishing virgin, my boy."
* * **
In the following weeks, warmer weather finally arrived along with some distressing news from America. Barbara Blackthorne was coming to meet her new daughter-in-law. But there was still no word regarding the identity of Alex's mysterious bedmate. To further add to the turmoil in his already complicated life, his relationship with Joss, which had subtly shifted from the hour they'd spoken their marriage vows, had now deteriorated still more.
At first he had thought she would get over her maidenly discomfort at sharing a house with a man who lived in his style. He gave her time to adjust. They shared occasional meals and discussed matters of mutual concern—politics, social reform and her work. But the easy camaraderie, the teasing laughter seemed less spontaneous than it had before they shared a name and a roof.
Since the silly accident with the fire, the situation had grown decidedly worse. Joss seemed to avoid him at every opportunity. When they did meet accidentally, she always seemed to have a ready excuse for not sharing a meal or spending the evening together. Over the course of the past year and a half he had come to expect her to welcome him whenever he felt in need of her cheer. He relied on her companionship far more than he'd realized. Now the shoe seemed to be on the other foot. It was he who waited and she who came and went as she wished.
At times he wondered if she had somehow found out about the virgin he'd taken in their home. The thought of asking her directly left him frankly terrified. What would her reaction be? He assured himself that the chance she knew anything of the event was so remote as to be nearly impossible, unless the chit had ventured upstairs to confront his wife. But that was an equally remote possibility inasmuch as the mystery woman, virgin or no, was a professional who had doubtless been well paid.
Whatever the baffling reasons for this estrangement, Alex was coming to realize that his original misgivings when he'd proposed this arrangement to Joss might have been well founded. Marriage had become the ruination of a rare friendship.
It helped not a whit that he was as sexually frustrated as a fourteen-year-old at Eton. For some utterly perverse reason, since the virgin, none of the women who had crossed his path appealed to him. Lady Cybill pouted a while, then cast her lure once more, but he was heartily sick of her and all her sisters under the skin from drawing rooms to bordellos.
Truth be told, he was finding many of his earlier wastrel pleasures to be a source of boredom. He found himself working longer hours at the warehouse and brooding about the virgin who seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth. If only he could find his bedmate, he was certain at least one of his problems would be solved. But Monty had not been able to turn up a trace of her in spite of his formidable connections.
For the moment a more pressing difficulty loomed, however. The imminent arrival of his mother. He must at all costs keep her from learning the true nature of his arrangement with his wife. But how could he make her believe that a woman like Joss had ever attracted him in the first place? Barbara Blackthorne was no fool and she knew her only son's taste in females quite well. The situation was almost enough for him to wish for war between Britain and the United States, thus keeping her safely at home across the Atlantic.
But war had not arrived and his mother's ship had. The Savannah Star would be docking that very afternoon. Somehow he and Joss must join forces to convince Barbara of their domestic felicity. Nervously he waited for his wife to join him for luncheon. With no appetite whatsoever, he stared at the cold collation of fruit, cheeses and thinly sliced beef that Bonnie had set out.
"My, you look as if you planned to slaughter that cow all over again," Joss said to her scowling husband as she entered the dining room. Her forced gaiety ill concealed her unease regarding her mother-in-
law. What would a beautiful woman such as Barbara Blackthorne think of her son being wed to a clumsy, half-blind bluestocking such as Jocelyn Woodbridge?
Alex looked up and smiled. "I hope your morning was productive. No trouble at the school?"
"No. Poc's freed the building of rats and sweep catchers."
At the mention of his name, the dog gave a cheerful bark and sat expectantly at the end of the sideboard, his keen nose twitching at the smell of food.
"Just be certain you never walk about that neighborhood or anywhere near the hospital without him along to protect you."
"I've always been quite safe, Alex." Unspoken between them lay the memory of her father's untimely death. Like Elijah, his daughter had made many enemies. She studied her husband's face as he filled their plates, mindful that she disliked Stilton cheese and preferred her beef well done. "This isn't about my safety, is it, Alex?" she said after they sat facing each other at the table.
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, shoving the small pot of freshly grated horseradish in circles on the pristine white linen tablecloth. "No, it isn't. We have to come to some sort of understanding about my mother."
"She won't like me, will she?" Joss asked, clutching her napkin tightly in her lap.
"Of course she'll like you. You're bright and witty and charming," he soothed.
"But not at all what she'll expect your wife to be."
Alex swore and shoved back his chair, started to get up, then leaned forward and met her gaze. "Not exactly," he equivocated, then rushed on, "but we can convince her we're suited."
"Frankly, since none of your friends or mine believe it, I fail to understand how we shall pull it off."
"She's already indicated that she'll be staying with Monty and Octavia, so that should make matters less complicated. We won't be forced to share a bed." As he blurted out the bald facts, his face heated almost as much as Joss's did.
"We shall be much in her company, Alex, in spite of that," she reminded him.
He reached up and rubbed his eyes, searching for a way to say what he meant to say. Bloody hell, when had it become so difficult to talk with Joss? "While we're in her company, we shall have to...that is. . .well, act as if we were...friends," he finished weakly.
"As we did before we were married?" she asked quietly.
He cleared his throat nervously. "Er...perhaps friends isn't quite right either." He wondered if he looked as utterly wretched as he felt. Finally managing a crooked grin, he said, "There is no way to ice this smoothly, Joss. We shall have to pretend to be lovers—only pretend," he hastened to add when she emitted a small gasp.
The pain startled her, squeezing her throat dry for a moment so that she could not speak. Pretend to be lovers. As if the idea were so utterly ludicrous as to be unimaginable! But they had been lovers, at least for one night. One glorious blissful night when she had slept in his arms. Joss blinked back the burn of tears and nodded. "I understand, Alex, but I've no practice at such arts. I shall follow your lead." And pray Barbara Blackthorne's visit is a brief one.
Chapter Thirteen
Barbara stood on the deck of The Savannah Star, flagship of her husband's mercantile fleet, as it glided along the London quay. Her heart thrummed with excitement as she scanned the crowded pier, hoping to catch sight of Alex's golden head. She missed her only son quite desperately and had already decided to pay him a visit when the letter announcing his marriage reached them.
She chewed her lip in vexation, praying she and her new daughter-in-law would like each other. The marriage had been sudden and unexpected. Perhaps she's already rounding out with my next grandchild, she thought with an arch grin. Impending fatherhood and family responsibility would serve to tame the young hellion ... as much as any Blackthorne male could be tamed.
On the dock, Joss stood beside her husband, myopically scanning the large ship's deck for her mother-in-law. Alex had never described Barbara Blackthorne except to say she was considered a beauty. What would she think of her handsome son's unlikely choice of a bride? Alex's gloved hand pressed against her own, which rested possessively in the crook of his arm. She could feel his steely biceps flex as he moved, and her mouth went dry.
Joss had donned her best gown, a light gray poplin with lace collar and cuffs. Her hair was smoothed back into a neat coil, for once centered on her head, but the weight of it pulled miserably at her scalp. She felt a headache coming on, but knew it was as much from nervousness as from her braids. I look as good as I can, she repeated silently to reassure herself. It did not work.
Then Alex began waving and Joss saw Barbara Blackthorne. Observing the statuesque woman with pale gold hair and exquisitely chiseled features gliding down the gangplank, Joss would have sworn she was Alex's sister, not his mother. Her son's offhand comment that she was considered a beauty was a gross understatement. She was a vision in soft pink muslin.
Only as the woman drew closer could Joss see the glint of silver at her temples, blending in with curling masses of hair several shades paler than her son's. Her whole face beamed when she smiled, revealing straight white teeth and a few tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.
"Alex, my darling, it's been so long!" she cried as he swept her up into his arms and swung her around like a child. When he set her back on the ground, Joss stared at mother and son. She was tall for a female, almost as tall as Joss, although Alex's massive body dwarfed hers. His bronze skin and chocolate eyes were obviously inherited from his mixed-blood father, but there was a bit of something about the mouth and the jaunty tilt of his head that spoke of Barbara.
They turned from each other and Alex performed the introductions, carefully taking Joss's hand like an attentive bridegroom as she made her curtsy to her new mother-in- law.
"Welcome to London. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance," Joss said, trying to be natural, yet knowing how stilted the words sounded. She could sense Barbara's bright turquoise blue eyes sweeping over her, but there was nothing scornful or hostile in the gaze.
Barbara moved forward and embraced Joss warmly, saying, "It is long past time this wild rogue was brought to heel. I am delighted to meet the woman formidable enough to accomplish the trick! Welcome, Jocelyn, to the Blackthorne family."
She smelled faintly of violets and her embrace felt so sincere that a bit of the stiffness left Joss's body. "Thank you, milady. You are most kind."
"Stuff, I haven't considered myself a lady since I left England thirty-two years ago. You must call me Barbara. I fear I'm a thoroughly reconstituted American, Jocelyn."
"More so than my father, who was born in Georgia," Alex said with a grin, delighted that his mother accepted Joss.
"Speaking of that rascal, he sends greetings to you both and welcomes you, Jocelyn, as the newest Blackthorne. So do Mellie, Charity, Susan and Polyanne and all their husbands."
"All?" Alex asked. "I take that to mean Mellie has gone and married her farmer."
"His name is Aaron and he dotes on her."
"It must be wonderful to have such a large, happy family," Joss said wistfully. "Alex has spoken often about his sisters."
"No doubt to tell you how they tormented him," Barbara replied with a chuckle, then took Joss's hand and squeezed it. "Now you, too, are a part of our large, happy family."
"Tell me about Alex as a little boy," some imp made Joss ask as they traversed the busy wharf to where Alex's coach awaited them.
While the coachman loaded up Barbara's trunks, Alex protested as his mother related anecdotes of a lone boy growing up surrounded by sisters.
As they prepared to climb into the carriage, Alex felt constrained to ask, "Are you certain you don't wish to stay with us, Mama? We have enough room."
"Nonsense, you are still newly weds, who deserve privacy in your quarters. Monty and Octavia are rattling about in that huge city house with several wings to spare—and a good thing, too, for I shall keep at least one between my sister-in-law and myself at all times," she added with a merry
peal of laughter.
"Uncle Monty wanted to be here to meet you, but his manager arrived this morning from the estate with some sort of difficulty the baron must deal with immediately," Alex explained, greatly relieved his mother would not be observing their sleeping accommodations firsthand. He gave the coachman the Caruthers's city house address and they were off.
* * * *
"What do you think of your son's bluestocking bride, Babs?" Monty Caruthers asked his sister as he handed her a late-night libation.
Barbara accepted the brandy, then sat down in an oversize leather easy chair in his book-lined study. "Do I detect a hint of mockery in your voice?" she asked sharply.
The baron shrugged. "You must confess she's hardly the sort of female one would expect Alex to marry," he replied dryly. They, along with his now retired wife, had just spent the evening entertaining the newlyweds at dinner and the theater.
"She's in love with him," Barbara announced. "Quite desperately so and he has not the faintest notion of it."
Monty studied her over the rim of the crystal. "I wonder if he does...oh, not consciously, no," he hastily amended when she raised one eyebrow quizzically. "But you should have been here the evening he came barging in to ask my help in securing the special license. A man don't leg-shackle himself without a demn strong reason. Mine was money. Alex has plenty of the blunt and the gel's penniless. I concluded his reason must be something not at all apparent, even to him. Always was curious about why he kept sniffing about that one. Met her the day he arrived in London. I tried to talk him out of it, you know."
"Whatever for? She's quite perfect for him," Barbara said heatedly.
He threw back his head and laughed. "Is it to be matchmaking then, puss? You ever were the romantic."
"Well, something must be done to wake him up. Men are such fools. His father was quite determined that we should not suit until I took matters into my own hands."
