“My dear, you are ravishing.” Needham kissed his wife’s hand, and she dimpled, coloring like a schoolgirl.
How long had they been married? A fool could see they still adored each other. Had Needham ever strayed? Most married men did, with the exception of Sethwick, Warrick, Clarendon, Yancy, and Bretheridge, Lucan’s five giddily married chums.
Lucan skirted the marble-topped mahogany table, and as he did, the pug jumped from the settee.
Beaming, Mrs. Needham looped her arm through her husband’s proffered elbow. “Shall we? I’m quite looking forward to seeing the play from your box in the first gallery, Your Grace. I’ve not enjoyed such a spectacular view before.”
Lucan extended both elbows and winked. “I’m to have the honor of escorting these goddesses? How did I, a mere mortal, earn such a privilege?”
“A bit overdone, don’t you think, cousin dear? Seonaid?” Katrina chuckled and peeked around him to see both Alexa and Miss Ferguson grinning.
“Yes, quite.” Alexa tilted her head, precociousness causing the gold flecks in her eyes to flash. “As for your good fortune, Your Grace, it’s nothing of the sort. You have the larger carriage, therefore it’s logical we make use of it else one of us would be compelled to sit upon the other.”
Alexa laid her hand atop his arm, and though her glove, and his shirt and cutaway coat separated their skin, a jolt seared him just the same. From her little start and half-gasp, she’d felt it too.
Lucan would endure the lot, piled in a chaise’s close confines if it provided the opportunity to hold her. He lowered his head and whispered in her ear. “Alas, I shouldn’t have offered the use of mine, and I might have enjoyed the privilege of your plump bum atop my lap once more.”
Chapter 23
Twenty minutes later, Alexa descended from the plush interior of Lucan’s carriage parked along Catherine Street before the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane. It took nearly the entire ride for her skittish pulse to calm and her body temperature to return to normal after his wicked remark.
Sit on his lap, indeed. Sounds wonderful. Her buttocks still tingled where the bulge of his manhood had pressed against them yesterday.
Accepting his outstretched hand, she permitted him to tuck hers into his side and braced herself for the now familiar jarring sensation his touch caused.
A dank breeze wafted by, and she shivered, settling her velvet cloak more tightly about her shoulders. The weather had taken an abrupt turn for the worse, and the sky, which had glowed a vibrant cerulean yesterday morning, now threatened to unleash an ugly gale upon them.
A hint of Lucan’s woodsy cologne lingered in the air. Quite the most delicious smelling man she’d ever met. She furtively eyed him from beneath her lashes.
Dressed in his evening finery, stark black except for a ruby and diamond stick pin in his neckcloth, the man exuded male perfection.
When had she become intrigued with him? When she left London, she feared she’d leave her heart behind, which thoroughly botched her future plans of marrying and having a family.
“Oh, it’s become quite brisk, hasn’t it?” Aunt Bridget hustled past, expertly steering Katrina and Miss Ferguson through the throng, like a schooner parting the sea.
Shaking his head in bemusement, Uncle Hugo followed, leaving Alexa and Lucan to trail at the rear.
“Alexa, we shall go straight to my box rather than mill about and chat. Better, I think, to distance you from the gutter-minds for now. I have several friends I’m anxious to introduce you to. They have promised to visit our box, and my aunt specifically requested you be seated beside her.” His lips twitched, and he winked. “She’ll undoubtedly say something scandalous.”
She gave him a mischievous grin. “I hope so.”
“Hmm, perhaps I ought to keep you two apart. No telling what sort of a conundrum the pair of you might dredge up together.” Lucan guided her past two couples animatedly chatting at the stairway’s base.
Upon spying Alexa, they ceased conversing and presented their rigid backs.
Cut direct.
Her smile faded. The injustice rankled. She lifted her chin as they ascended the stairs. “This is what you’d have to endure if I were your duchess. Constant shunning and ridicule. Is that what you want?”
Lucan directed the quartet a stern look. “If you were my duchess, those inferior cod’s heads would grovel and beg for a kind word from you. They’re not fit to wait upon you.”
At his profession, the sting from their scorn evaporated.
He slipped an arm about her waist. “Marry me.”
“No.” She would give him credit for persistence, but edged away, heedful of the impropriety of his touch.
She might easily become enamored of Lucan, but to what avail? Alexa intended to depart in a short while—wanted to leave upon settling the inheritance hullabaloo—and she doubted she’d ever return to London. Or England, for that matter.
Encountering him every now and again was simply too painful to contemplate. She mightn’t be the stuff of which duchesses were cast, but that didn’t mean she relished seeing him with another woman. Even if it was the wisest course and would make him happier in the end.
Perhaps she’d hire a companion and travel the continent. Yes, that might do nicely. If she could afford the distraction. Mr. Ponsby hadn’t disclosed her actual allowance.
Why did her father stipulate she must marry a Scot?
Confounded inconvenient.
Never mind that for now.
Finding Balcomb topped her list, and when she knew the facts, the whole of everything behind her tenure with the travellers, she could move forward and plot a course for the rest of her life.
Wait. What about the letter from my father?
Where had it got to? Amongst the drama yesterday, she’d forgotten about the note. Uncle Hugo or Aunt Bridget must have tucked it away. When they returned home tonight, she’d ask about it.
Once inside the theater, Alexa surrendered her cloak and put aside the previous ugliness as the evening’s excitement took hold. After yesterday, she was determined to enjoy her time with Lucan, brief though it may be, and glean whatever pleasure she might from her short Season. Travellers always chose to view their circumstances through optimism’s lenses.
She looked this way and that, taking in the theater and the grandiose patrons. She’d never seen a performance indoors before, although she’d enjoyed several at summer fairs upon outdoor stages. On occasion, she’d played her violin with other tinker musicians for entertainment and coin.
“It’s quite something, isn’t it, and larger than I’d anticipated.” She almost strained her neck, gawking at the ceiling’s painted angelic beings. Was the ornate plasterwork’s gilding actual gold?
“The theater seats more than three thousand, and now, gas light illuminates much of it, far safer than candles.” Smiling and nodding, Lucan propelled her around a passel of tittering misses, each virginally attired in white, including their slippers and hair fripperies.
Craning her neck, Alexa looked for the others in their party. There they were, chatting with several others near the bottom of an imposing carpeted staircase. They turned and smiled as she and Lucan approached.
“Isn’t it magnificent, Alexa?” Katrina glowed with excitement.
Unlike Alexa, she thrived in crowds and the tonnish hubbub.
Seonaid’s astute gaze vacillated between Alexa and Lucan. “It can be a bit much for those not accustomed to the pomp.”
Alexa nodded. “Yes, it’s grand, and yes, it’s a bit much, but I’m quite anticipating the performance.”
“Shall we make our way to my box?” Lucan extended his free arm, indicating they should precede him.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Harrison leaning languidly against a column, arms fold
ed, and a brooding expression warping his sullen countenance.
Drat. Why did he have to be here tonight? Most assuredly, Minerva and Shona attended as well. Alexa hadn’t completely sorted her feelings, hence when she received a note today asking her to call upon Minerva, she’d sent her regrets.
In the missive, her stepmother implored Alexa to reconcile the differences between them, but something rang insincere in her overdone plea. The letter lay on Alexa’s dressing table where she had tossed it.
What differences did Minerva mean?
That she thought her daughter was entitled to the entire estate and inheritance? That there remained no doubt she resented Alexa’s reappearance?
That she and her bounder brother might have had something to do with Steafan’s death?
One thing became clear as Loch Arkaig’s pristine waters; Alexa couldn’t live with them, and honestly, she didn’t trust Minerva, even if motherly fear for her daughter’s future motivated her actions.
Moments later, Alexa sat in the front row of Lucan’s box, him to her right and the delightful Lady Middleton to her left. The remainder of their party sat behind them. What a splendid view of the stage. She angled forward to better see.
“Here, Alexa.” Katrina tapped Alexa’s back. “Use my opera glasses. I’ll borrow Mama’s or Seonaid’s.” She dipped her head close to Alexa’s ear. “Mama always falls asleep after the intermission. I pray she doesn’t start snoring again as she did at the opera.”
Katrina rolled her eyes. “She’s not a delicate snorer either. Rather sounds like a bull snorting or choking. Several guests hissed their annoyance when she rattled particularly loudly during an aria.”
“Thank you.” Grinning, Alexa accepted the pair.
With the extent of shopping they’d done these past weeks, she couldn’t believe Aunt Bridget had overlooked purchasing additional opera glasses.
“I brought mine.” Seonaid produced a mother-of-pearl embellished set. “I purchased them while in Paris visiting my aunt.”
To the rear of the box, Seonaid raised her glasses and peered round the theater. She gasped and stiffened, her jaw dropping open. She snapped her mouth closed before abruptly lowering her theater glasses.
“Are you all right, Seonaid?” Nothing untoward caught Alexa’s attention in the sea of unfamiliar faces tilted toward their box.
“Yes, I’m fine.” Seonaid offered a wan smile. “I didn’t know Lord Devaux-Rousset had returned to London, is all. I met him in Paris also.”
Judging from the tense set of her mouth, their association hadn’t been altogether pleasant.
“Miss Atterberry, you’ve drawn the attention of several theater-goers.” Smiling and occasionally waving, the dowager inclined her neatly coiffed silver head toward the other stalls. The turquoise ostrich feather atop her head dipped and bobbed with her exaggerated movements, as did her spectacular diamond earrings.
“Those Hinton windbags are sharing that cow Clutterbuck’s box.” She inclined her head and gave a little finger wave their way. “Yes, I’m talking about you, too, you pernicious chinwags.”
Suppressing a giggle, Alexa set the opera glasses to her eyes and instantly regretted the impulse when she encountered a myriad of attendees pointing their attention in the direction of Lucan’s box.
Mr. Mortimer waved exuberantly, earning him a glower and the smack of her fan from the lady beside him.
Lucan edged closer to Alexa and lifted her hand. He kissed the back for a lingering moment. Given the surge in whispers nippily following his kiss, several sets of theater glasses likely dipped to focus upon their hands.
“Please, please, marry me, Kitten,” Lucan whispered in her ear.
Alexa swung round to admonish him, but her mouth dropped open at the heat radiating from his granite eyes.
If I were tinder, I’d burst into flames.
The scorching temperature permeating her was hot enough to incinerate. She flipped her fan open. Heaven above, what this man did to her . . .
What she’d like him to do to her.
He lowered his lashes partway, a seductive smile teasing one side of his too-tempting mouth, the blasted dimple in his cheek mesmerizing her. “Smile and nod, then give me a look of besotted adoration. You may flutter your eyelashes and giggle to make your infatuation more believable if you wish.”
“Foolish man, I’ll do no such thing.” Alexa chuckled, the tension easing from her.
“Then say yes to my suit.”
“No.” She released another tense laugh. “Have you always been this obstinate or do you not understand the word?”
Hadn’t she thought the same thing about him when they’d first met? Only now, she found his pigheadedness charming and amusing.
He winked and set her hand upon his sculpted thigh, holding it there by placing his hand atop hers. “My ploy worked, didn’t it? Aren’t you more relaxed now?”
“Uh hum.” She was.
The dowager nudged Alexa with her fan.
“Yes, my lady?”
Alexa tried to ease her hand free, but Lucan firmly pressed her palm into his leg, giving a brief squeeze and another wicked flash of white teeth.
At this rate, she might be the one to ravish him. She clenched her teeth against the desire to trail her fingertips along the muscle.
Surveying the audience, he patted her hand as if he knew perfectly well how he affected her.
Probably did.
The earlier cacophony filling the auditorium filtered to a muted buzz as the audience quieted in readiness for the performance.
Dowager Lady Middleton all but bellowed into the stillness, “Tell me, my dear, why on earth did you refuse my nephew’s proposals?”
Chapter 24
Standing before her bedchamber window, Alexa fastened the frog at the neck of her redingote before gathering her muff and umbrella. Fog engulfed the garden and intricate frost patterns etched the perimeters of her windows.
Autumn had, at last, descended in full force and appeared intent on remedying her previous temperate weather by skipping straight to soggy and freezing, making this the most frigid November in Londoners’ memories.
The Highlands would be bitterly cold. How did her family fare? Certainly, with a thousand pounds at their disposal, more comfortably than in previous years.
“Hyde Park today again?” Katrina flopped onto her back atop Alexa’s bed.
“Yes. His grace is teaching me to drive, and afterward we’re going to a tea house to warm ourselves.” Alexa smiled faintly. “He’ll have coffee, of course.”
She’d never known anyone who preferred the beverage more.
Katrina rolled onto her stomach, exchanging a pleased— almost smug—look with Seonaid. “’Twould seem the duke is courting my cousin.”
“And most diligently at that,” Seonaid agreed, curled in a chair before the fire, Sir Pugsley fast asleep in her lap.
Alexa laughed and pointed her umbrella in turn at both women.
“Stop it, you two. The duke and I enjoy each other’s company, and he seeks my advice about which damsel he should turn his attention to for a bride. You are welcome to join us and lend your expertise. I’m sure his grace would appreciate it, given he’s made a complete muddle of finding a spouse on his own.”
“Go outside? In that?” Katrina fluttered her fingers above her head in the window’s general vicinity. “I’ll eschew the experience, thank you. I shouldn’t want to take a chill before the ball tonight. Major Domont requested I save a waltz for him.”
A dreamy smile tilting her pink mouth, she released a long sigh.
“Ah, yes, the major. He seems to appear wherever you are. Happenstance, I’m sure.” Alexa winked, and Katrina grinned unabashedly.
At this rate, Katrina would b
e betrothed well before the Season’s end.
Seonaid had encountered Lord Devaux-Rousset a number of times too. However, their encounters proved far less cordial. When he’d taken a seat beside her at the Featherspoon’s musicale last week, she’d stabbed him a glare fierce enough to singe the feathers from a goose before jumping up, and fists clenched, stomped away muttering, “Insufferable, handsome toad.”
“Isn’t the duke’s time to select a bride running short? Christmastide is but a few weeks away, and the banns need to be read for three Sundays, unless he purchases a special license.” Seonaid’s doe-like eyes regarded Alexa innocently, yet Alexa also detected the merest bit of amusement shining in their russet depths.
“That’s ’cause he’s made his decision already.” Cupping the side of her mouth while slicing an exaggerated look toward Alexa, Katrina said in sotto voce, “Only the lady he’s chosen isn’t cooperating.”
“He most assuredly has not made his decision.” Alexa knew full well what her precocious cousin hinted. “And I am too cooperating. I’m helping him choose a duchess, aren’t I?”
Katrina and Seonaid snorted in unison then burst into gales of laughter, waking Pugsley.
He gave them a drowsy look before closing his eyes and resuming his gentle snores.
Let them have their fun. Alexa was helping Lucan, except he wouldn’t cooperate. To date, he’d found some fault or other with every lady Alexa suggested he show an interest in, and he continued to ask her to marry him each time they met, although with a chaperone present, he’d resorted to some creative measures.
Yesterday, he’d slipped a note into her glove when Bindy stopped to pet a dog. The caress of his fingers as he secreted the paper against Alexa’s palm caused all manner of disconcerting thoughts and sensations.
The day before, he’d persuaded her to extend their outing and indulge in a hot chocolate in order to discuss which miss he should dance with at the Bremerton’s ball that night. Tucked away in a corner nook, he used his knife to write wed me on his pastry plate.
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