Nicholas inhaled sharply and took a step away from her. “You’re lumping me in with the lot of them? So, what, I’m no better than your father because of what I did? I wasn’t the only one in the carriage that night!” Motioning to the red and gold chair, he shouted, “I spent two goddamn days in that chair, worrying for you, only to be accused of being just as vile as those who would call you whore!”
During his speech, she had stood up angrily and stalked away from him. At his words, she turned to face him. “Are you daft? My time with you meant more to me than you know! Do you have any idea how hard it was to not talk to you? Do you? Do you know what you do to me?” She heard her words and stopped herself short, mortified she had said so much. Changing the topic abruptly, she focused on his last words. “Wait. Two days?” she asked in disbelief.
“You got knocked around pretty good. Poor Mrs. Ferguson was beside herself.” His face settled into his typical, more jovial expression, his lips curving into a wry smile. “So, why don’t you tell me what it is I do to you, Miss Markland?”
She snorted. “Don’t be daft, Mr. Wetherby. It’s just an expression.”
His smile widened. “An expression? A rather unusual expression, if you ask me. Why don’t you tell me precisely how hard it was for you to not talk to me? I find I am interested in this particular line of inquiry.”
Heat rose to her cheeks, and she knew her embarrassment showed. “I didn’t mean it quite like that.”
“But you had a hard time not talking to me.” He was so pleased with himself Lexie was hard pressed not to laugh, despite her embarrassment.
Lexie brushed her hair from her eyes. Her head hurt, and she didn’t need the exasperation of watching Nicholas’s already massive ego inflate even more. “You talk so much, you make it hard to ignore the constant stream of chatter.”
He laughed, and Lexie tried to suppress a smile in response. “I’ll take that to mean you are impervious to my charms, then?” By the expression on his face, he clearly knew she wasn’t.
She snorted again and stared at her hands. “This topic is entirely inappropriate, Mr. Wetherby.”
“Call me Nicholas.”
Lexie made a derisive sound. “I think not, Mr. Wetherby. I’m your servant, not a friend.”
“You are far more than a servant, Alexandra,” Nicholas purred, and the sound of his voice sent shivers up her spine. God, when he turned on the charm, he was hard to resist. “I would think the time we spent in my carriage would have told you that.”
“I don’t have the vaguest notion what you do with your servants in your carriage.”
She thought he would take offense, but instead he laughed again. “Indeed, Alexandra, you’ve caught me. Mrs. Ferguson and I are engaged in a torrid affair that takes place within the confines of my carriage. I find her quite irresistible.”
She wanted to laugh, so she scowled at him instead. “Now you’re mocking me.”
He came and sat next to her on the bed. “I would never,” he said wryly. He took her chin and turned her head so she faced at him. Brushing her hair away from her temple, he examined her bruise. She had yet to see it, but it hurt to the touch, and she assumed her face had to be black and blue by now. The knowledge only fueled her embarrassment. Nicholas had been in the company of some of the loveliest women in California, and here she was, in nothing but a dressing gown, her hair askew, her face and her body battered and bruised. Not only that, but he’d also had a confrontation with her father. She knew what people said about her father behind his back, and that was embarrassing enough. What made the situation worse was that the rumors were largely true.
Nicholas touched her forehead lightly and she hissed in pain. He dropped his hand, and she turned her face away, ashamed.
“How are you feeling?” he asked gently.
She shrugged and studied the carpet to avoid seeing the concern on his face. This man could charm the devil right out of her. How could he so easily make his way into her heart after she had so carefully guarded it? It made no sense. Sighing, she said, “My head hurts, and I’m tired, but otherwise, I think I’m fine. Perfectly capable of resuming my duties.”
He patted her on the knee, and she was stunned not only by the familiarity of the gesture by her body’s immediate reaction to it. “I think not. Rest now. I’ll ask Mrs. Ferguson to bring up something to eat.” He stood up and regarded her for a long time. “You did a brave thing in saving the O’Connor boy. Both the O’Connors and James Campbell send their regards. I daresay you’re the talk of the town by now.”
Lexie shrugged. “Anyone would have done it.”
Nicholas shook his head at her. “No, not anyone. But you did.” He paused for a moment. “You’re an interesting woman, Alexandra Markland. I’ll tell you this, I’ve had more fun fighting with you than I’ve had enjoying any other pursuit with anyone else.” Gesturing to a small table by the bed, he said, “You’ve received a couple of letters. You were...you were quite popular at the Governor’s Ball.” Gracing her with a small smile, he turned and left the room.
Lexie sat down next to the table and went through the stack of letters she had received. There was a note from George Wallingford, inviting her to tea. Lexie rolled her eyes, exasperated. As if she’d want to spend another few hours listening to that man talk about himself. She’d heard enough already. Another note was from James Campbell, thanking her for rescuing his nephews, Claire O’Connor’s boys, and inviting her to dinner. Several notes from gentlemen she had apparently met at the ball, but could not recall. Those missives she threw away. The note from Claire O’Connor positively glowed with praise for her heroics. Claire ended her letter by stating if Lexie ever needed anything—anything at all—all she had to do was call on them and the O’Connors would assist her.
It was a nice thought, anyway.
And, finally, she came to a letter with no return address, and Lexie’s heart sank, knowing what was inside. Just what she needed, on today of all days. A note from her fiancé.
She opened the note and felt the color drain from her face. He said vile, hateful things. He implied she was little more than a doxy who spread her legs for just about anyone. He admitted to beating her father, and warned her the same would happen to her should be become displeased with her. He didn’t specify which infraction warranted a beating, but Lexie assumed any violation—real or perceived—would merit such treatment. He threatened her with prison if she didn’t marry him, or if she breached the terms of their agreement. Though he had before, this time he didn’t offer to buy out the remainder of her contract with Nicholas. Not that she would let him, even if he did.
Lexie was aware of the terms of her contract with Buchanan. Being a virgin on her wedding night was not one of them. Such a thing had been assumed, of course, but it had not been expressly stated. Oh, there would be hell to pay if she were not—and if he knew—but it violated nothing. And, being honest, she’d more than likely be paying the price for her infidelity even if she came to him pure and virginal. He already assumed the worst of her.
Anger, hot and bright, burned in her chest, and she crumpled up the letter. Vile, hateful man. She might be engaged to him, but she didn’t belong to him yet. She couldn’t do anything about her impending marriage—she accepted that. But she was not about to give him everything she had. She was already a fallen woman in his eyes, and in the eyes of her father.
I’ve had more fun fighting with you than I’ve had enjoying any other pursuit with anyone else. Nicholas’s voice rang in her ears.
So had she. Fighting with him was more fun than flirting with any other man at the ball had been. And his kisses... The mere thought of those kisses made her burn, even now, though not with shame.
She shoved the crumpled letter into the drawer of the bedside table. Later, when Nicholas wasn’t around, she would burn it. She could never defy the precise terms of the contract, and would be forced to marry Buchanan. She would go through with it, and not just for her father’s sake, th
ough that was the primary factor. She understood Buchanan would have her prosecuted if she did not. She was loath to think of what else would happen, should she decide to disobey him.
But that bastard would not steal everything from her.
He didn’t own her, not yet. She would claim some joy for herself while she was still able. She’d live while she could.
Because she was going to seduce Nicholas Wetherby.
Chapter 10
She had no idea when it would happen, but she knew it would.
Nicholas largely left her alone for the next few days, making himself scarce, even in his own home. She wished she knew what she had done to drive him way.
Lexie worried he avoided her for some reason. It dawned on her she needed to take the initiative this time.
A few days later, after only having seen him in passing, she caught him in the foyer, on his way out the door. Leaving her yet again. “Mr. Wetherby!”
At the sound of his name, he turned toward her and graced her with a glittering smile as he put on his hat. “Miss Markland.”
Nervous heat rose to Lexie’s cheeks, her heart hammering as it always did when she was on the receiving end of his smile. “I—I was wondering when you’re planning on returning.”
He pulled his hat from his head as he regarded her, and ran a hand through his tawny mane. Lexie found herself daydreaming about doing the exact same thing. “Are you keeping track of my whereabouts, Miss Markland?”
She took a step back, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way she blushed at his question. “No sir,” she responded. “I was, uh, wondering if you would perhaps like to have tea prepared for you this afternoon.”
“Tea?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes, tea,” she affirmed. “With sandwiches.”
“With sandwiches,” he echoed, regarding her for a time. Then, with a suggestive smile, he said, “I would, perhaps, if this is an invitation.”
She chewed her lip. “No, sir,” she replied, an embarrassed flush creeping up her neck. What was she doing? She should back out of this plan while she had the chance.
“A pity. Would you like to know my business, so you can plan accordingly?”
“That’s none of my concern, sir,” she lied, sucking on her lower lip for a fraction of a second. “But if you would like to tell me, I would be able to better apprise Mrs. Ferguson of your needs.”
“My needs?” he asked with a chuckle. “I am intrigued.” He took a couple of steps toward her, and she was aware of his body, so close to hers. His proximity to her made her heart race, even though he did not touch her. Strange intimacy, completely foreign to Lexie, swam between them. “I’m making arrangements for a business trip. My business venture in San Francisco needs my attention. Your new friends the O’Connors have already left. Campbell and I will be leaving in a few days.”
“You’re leaving?” she asked, stunned. Even she heard the tremor in her voice betraying the emotion beneath. She had so many plans for them, and she wasn’t prepared to part ways. Not yet.
He nodded. “I can’t put it off any longer.”
“How long have you known?”
“About a month.”
Shocked and hurt, Lexie’s temper flared, and she held on to her anger. “A month? A month and you never said anything?” she demanded.
His lips curved into a mocking, self-satisfied smile. “A month, Lexie, during which you weren’t speaking to me, if you’ll recall.” He took another half step toward her, crowding her body with his, a posture so close, so intimate, it would have been an embrace had either of them but lifted their arms. Lexie tilted her chin to look up him.
She took a breath, aware the act of inflating her lungs caused her breasts to brush against him, hot and hungry for his touch. Since she had known how he felt against her, she didn’t want to live without his heat. The decent part of her was mortified she took such pleasure in it. “Well, I’m talking to you now,” she whispered.
His eyes hooded with lust, he reached out with those large hands of his and cupped her face. His gaze slid over her features, studying her, and she wanted to lose herself in his glittering turquoise eyes, so bright and beautiful they took her breath away. Silkily, he said, “Indeed you are.”
“And you’re leaving me.”
“Leaving you? You sound as though you’re somehow attached to me, Miss Markland.”
She squared her shoulders and notched her chin. He was not making this easy for her, but if he thought he was leaving her, he had better think again. Steeling her resolve, she said with a shrug, “And what of it?”
That gave Nicholas pause. “I—I’d thought you would be pleased by an extended absence.” In San Francisco, he might be able to bear the thought of not touching her. He wouldn’t be tempted to seduce her every moment of every day, anyway. She was a good woman, an innocent. He would court her, but not until he released her from his service. He intended to do so as soon as he was able set her up somewhere away from her father. And when he returned, she would be free for him to court properly, like she deserved.
She put her hands on her hips and took a step back. Her eyes glittering, her full lower lip set into a stubborn pout, she said, “Well, I’m not. In fact, I don’t like this at all.”
He had to smile at her display of temper. He liked the way she pursed her lips together, the way her eyes flashed, the way her cheeks pinked. “You don’t?”
“Absolutely not. After the night we shared, that you think you can just leave me is deeply disturbing, Mr. Wetherby.”
He frowned at her. He hadn’t realized their time together in his coach was so important to her. That, in her eyes, their time together meant he was supposed to feel something for her. Such an innocent, and if he had a shred of honor, he’d leave her here and never look back.
“This is business, Lexie. It has nothing to do with you and me.”
“Of course not, because I’m just a servant.”
“Goddammit, Lexie, why are you being so difficult?”
“Because I don’t want you to go!”
They stared at each other while her words hung in the air between them. “Well. That does change the game some, doesn’t it?” he asked, intrigued by this new turn of events. She folded her arms and continued to glare at him, but he could tell how nervous she was. She’d laid her feelings out for him, made herself vulnerable in a way he never would, and he’d be a fool to turn her away. A wry smile crept to his lips. “No matter. Invite me to tea, Lexie, and I’ll tell you all about my business trip.”
“I don’t want to hear about your business trip, Mr. Wetherby.”
“We can find something else to talk about. Invite me to tea.”
She huffed and rolled her eyes. He waited for her response, and just as he was beginning to give up hope, she shook her head. “Fine. Will you join me for tea, Mr. Wetherby?” She may as well have been asking to shovel manure from the stables for all her enthusiasm, and he suppressed a laugh.
“Excellent. Yes, I will join you for tea. Was that so hard, Miss Markland?”
“It wasn’t easy,” she retorted, her face flaming. He loved the way she blushed, how the color rose from beneath the collar of her blouse and pinked her porcelain cheeks.
He laughed at the frustration in her tone. Cupping her face in his large hands, he leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. It was quick and sweet, not meant to proceed any further. He brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face and smiled.
“Ah, sweet Lexie, nothing worth having ever is.”
She’d never been more nervous in her entire life.
She took a deep breath and released it slowly. Her choices were her own, for now. Whatever she decided to do—or not to do—was her choice, and hers alone. But with him leaving so soon for San Francisco, she didn’t know if she was able go through with this. She didn’t know if she could seduce a man and then have him leave her. She had been raised better, hadn’t she?
Nonetheless, she had prepared herself to
be seduced. She had taken a bath, broken out the best of her two gowns, and, underneath her corset, instead of her linen chemise, she had put on the silk nightgown Nicholas had given her. Primped and perfumed, she made her way downstairs to set up tea.
She thought she’d done a fine job, all things considered. Tea, small sandwiches, everything she thought would comprise a proper English tea. In truth, she had no idea what an English tea would be like. She’d never been outside of Sacramento, barely been outside of her own neighborhood. She had skipped rocks on the river, she had walked the dusty, rickety streets of downtown, but she had never traveled, never gone anywhere. She wasn’t cosmopolitan and cultured like Nicholas’s woman should be. She was a poor girl from the wrong side of town, well-read, but still dreadfully provincial. She wondered if Nicholas would see it the same way.
But he didn’t seem to when he strolled into his parlor at three o’clock. Leaning his walking stick in the corner and taking off his top hat, he said, “Good afternoon, Miss Markland. You look lovely.”
She nodded her thanks, pleased he had noticed. She expected him to take a seat as she poured the tea, but instead, he came around behind her and pulled out a chair for her, motioning for her to sit.
“Thank you, Mr. Wetherby.”
“Please, call me Nicholas.”
She cleared her throat and sat down, and once she did, he moved around and took a seat opposite her. He regarded her for long moments, waiting for her to speak, while she just sat there, at an appalling lack for words, staring mutely at her hands. Nicholas sighed, but his eyes sparkled with humor.
“I suppose I will have to start our conversation. Very well. Would you like to hear about my business trip?”
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