An Impossible Attraction

by Brenda Joyce

  “That is wonderful,” Alexandra said. She meant it, because every farmer in the shire depended on good weather for their crops and livelihood.

  “I have had three good years in a row, enough to make a handsome profit, and then some other investments have paid off, as well,” Denney said eagerly. His brown gaze had become searching. “I have invested in the railroads, mostly. I am now adding a fine wing to the house, for a grand parlor, if you will. There will be a small ballroom, too. I have decided that I will entertain in the future. I should love to show you my plans,” he added.

  “I am sure your plans are very pleasing.”

  Edgemont said eagerly, “His manor has fifteen rooms, Alexandra—fifteen rooms!”

  She somehow smiled again. But her dismay had increased, against her will and intentions. The squire kept staring, his cheeks flushed, his dark eyes shining. Surely he wasn’t in love with her? She did not want to hurt him by being incapable of returning such passion.

  “You may come and visit Fox Hill anytime,” Denney said. “In fact, it would be my pleasure to give you a tour of the house and gardens.”

  “Then I must call as soon as possible,” she said lightly. She glanced at Edgemont. She needed to be alone with Denney so she could find out how he might be inclined toward helping her sisters.

  Edgemont smiled at them. “The squire has been invited to the de Warenne fete tomorrow night. It is such an honor, as it is Lady Harrington’s daughter’s birthday celebration.”

  “I am impressed,” Alexandra said. She hadn’t heard about the party, but she knew both girls, even if she hadn’t seen Sara or Marion in several years. They were close to Olivia and Corey in age.

  “I am on very good terms with Lady Harrington and Sir Rex,” Denney told her eagerly. “The party is for their youngest, Sara. I should love it if you joined me, Miss Bolton—with your sisters, of course.”

  Alexandra’s first reaction was sheer surprise; then, instantly, she thought of her sisters, who had never been to a high-society fete. Her mind raced. Of course she must accept. This would be a wonderful opportunity for her sisters—and the kind of evening they deserved, and should have had and become accustomed to. But neither Alexandra nor her sisters had had a new gown since before their mother died. While the sad truth was that no one invited them out, due to their circumstances, even if someone had, they did not have the proper attire to attend most social functions.

  Corey could fit into one of her old ball gowns, with some slight alterations. And surely they could find something for Olivia to wear from among their mother’s clothes. They would be sadly out of fashion, but they would be able to attend.

  “We would love to attend,” she said quickly.

  Edgemont looked carefully at her. Alexandra knew he was wondering how they would find the proper clothing. “Father, I was hoping to walk with the squire outside, as the sun has come out and all chance of further rain is gone.”

  His eyes widened, and he beamed. Then, “I’ll be in the study. Enjoy your walk.” He walked out, leaving the door wide-open.

  Alexandra stared at the threshold until he was gone. Then she faced her suitor. “Squire Denney, I am very flattered that you have called.”

  “A rainstorm could not have kept me away.”

  “Is it possible to have a very frank discussion?”

  His eyes widened. “I so prefer candor. It is one of the things I like best about you, Miss Bolton, after your excessively kind nature. You are always direct.”

  She turned. “I fear you have put me high upon a pedestal, a stature I do not deserve.”

  His brows lifted. “If any woman deserves to be placed upon a pedestal, Miss Bolton, it is you.” When she began to speak, he interrupted. “I have admired you for years. You have taken wonderful care of your sisters and father, and such selflessness and compassion is to be commended. And then, of course, there is your beauty. I am practically speechless, in fact, to be standing here with you now.”

  Alexandra almost blushed. She was hardly a raving beauty, but she would not dispute him. “I am glad you find my nature pleasing. And you are right about one thing—I try very hard to take good care of my younger sisters as well as my father. Olivia is only eighteen, Corey just sixteen.”

  A slight bewilderment crossed his bluff face. “They are lovely young ladies.”

  She gestured at a chair, deciding to forgo their walk. He sat, and she took the adjacent seat, then clasped her hands in her lap. “I was on the verge of marriage nine years ago, before my mother passed on. When my mother died, I made the decision to devote myself to my family—and I broke things off with my suitor.” She smiled firmly. There was some old sadness, thinking of Owen and their dreams now. “I promised her that I would take care of this family. I made a serious commitment to the care and welfare of my sisters and my father.”

  “The commitment you are speaking of only heightens my admiration for you, Miss Bolton.” He hesitated. “I have the impression that you loved this gentleman.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I did.”

  “You are a paragon, Miss Bolton. But why are you telling me this?”

  “How direct might I be?” She sat up straighter.

  “As direct as is necessary.” He flushed, suddenly seeming dismayed. “Are you about to tell me that you remain committed to the deathbed vows you made to your mother?”

  “I will look after my sisters and my father until I die—although I hope my sisters will be wed well before that day.” She smiled.

  He slowly nodded. “I see. My intentions are honorable, Miss Bolton.”

  “That is what Edgemont indicated.”

  He held her gaze. “Do you know why I suggested your sisters accompany us tomorrow night?”

  She shook her head. “Not really.”

  “Because it seemed to me that it would make the evening more pleasant for you—less awkward—but it also seemed to me that two such young ladies should be given the opportunity to get out and be seen.”

  Her heart sped. “That is so kind of you.”

  “I consider myself a kind man—and a generous one. If my suit progresses as I hope it does, you will not have to carry the burden of caring for your family by yourself.”

  Alexandra gasped. Tears came to her eyes. She was speechless.

  But now she knew. He had means, his suit was a serious one, and he would be generous with her family.

  “I have admired you for years, Miss Bolton—from afar, and very respectfully.” He spoke thoughtfully now. “I never dreamed my wife would die so suddenly—she was in such good health until her final illness. I mourned her deeply.” He paused, grim for a moment. “But she has died, and a year has gone by. You remain unattached—which bewilders me.” He met her gaze. “I am of a very solid character, Miss Bolton. I am a dependable and honorable man. I am certain things will work out to both our satisfaction, if you give my suit a chance.”

  “I will give your suit all the respect and consideration it deserves,” she somehow said. She could barely believe this was happening. Her sisters were going to have futures outside of Edgemont Way. It seemed like a miracle.

  He stood, as she did. “Shall we walk outside?”

  Alexandra took his proffered arm. “It will be my pleasure to stroll with you,” she said.

  But as they left the house, she glanced over her shoulder. Corey and Olivia were standing in the doorway, their expressions grim with dismay. Then Corey turned and stormed into the house.

  ALEXANDRA TENSED as the squire’s brougham queued up in the circular drive before Harrington Hall. It was a beautiful evening, and the sky was stained pink above the high gray stone roof of the mansion, with fingers of pink and peach drifting across the magnificent gardens and grounds. A fountain stood in the center of the drive, its waterworks a lavish display, bursting a dozen feet into the air. But she was exhausted, having stayed up the entire night to finish repairing and restoring dresses for herself and her sisters. In fact, she’d been sewing witho
ut interruption since Squire Denney had left her yesterday afternoon.

  Of course she was tense, not excited, now. And her tension escalated. She, Olivia and Corey sat facing backward, toward her father and Denney, so she had to crane her neck to look outside. The coaches ahead were large, luxurious broughams, with perfectly matching horses and liveried coachmen, and the gentlemen and ladies alighting were in the finest tails and ball gowns. Even in the dusk, Alexandra saw jewels glinting from the ladies’ throats and ears, and from the gentlemen’s hands. She’d almost forgotten how wealthy the peerage was. She looked down at her bare fingers, her green satin gown. The fabric should have shone, but it had been hanging in the closet for too many years. No one wore dresses with full sleeves above the elbow anymore, but there had not been enough time to alter her own dress—she’d altered the sleeves on Olivia’s and Corey’s gowns, instead. Her skirts were too full for the current style, as well. At least, she thought grimly, her gown still fit.

  “That is a beautiful dress,” the squire said, clearing his throat.

  Had he read her thoughts? Was she being transparent? She somehow managed to smile at him. His eyes had been shining yet again when he’d arrived to pick them up and escort them to Harrington Hall. Alexandra did not think she looked well—she was pale from her efforts to properly garb her sisters, and dark circles shadowed her eyes. He hadn’t noticed, obviously. And maybe he didn’t see how old—and old-fashioned—her dress truly was.

  Olivia took her hand. Her eyes were sparkling with the kind of excitement she generally reserved for her paintings and sketches. She had never looked prettier. Her long tawny hair had been pinned up in curls, and she wore one of their mother’s pale ivory ball gowns. Their gazes met. Alexandra was so proud of her.

  “You do look beautiful,” Olivia whispered.

  Alexandra squeezed her hand. “So do you—and so does Corey. We are going to have a lovely evening—all because of the squire.”

  Denney beamed. “I hope so,” he said.

  Alexandra glanced at Corey. Her eyes were huge as she stared out of the carriage at the arriving guests, and her cheeks were flushed with excitement, too. She was almost as tall as Alexandra, and only a bit slimmer in build, and the pale blue watered silk was stunning on her. It was far too adult for someone of sixteen, but there hadn’t been anything else in Alexandra’s closet. Corey looked eighteen, at least, and terribly beautiful.

  Alexandra felt a pang. Corey and Olivia had never been out in society, not like this—and though she did not want to blame anyone, there was one person to blame. She reminded herself that their father was no longer himself. Elizabeth Bolton’s death had crushed him, leaving him with no passion but drink and gaming, and no spirit to challenge that passion. Did it matter? Her sisters deserved more, and maybe something good would come of this night for them. The gentlemen present would have to be blind not to notice them.

  Suddenly hoofbeats sounded, as if an army was approaching. It was almost their turn to alight, but Alexandra turned, as did her sisters, the squire and Edgemont. A huge black coach, pulled by six magnificent blacks, red-and-gold crests emblazoned upon its doors, passed them, clearly cutting to the head of the line. As it did so, gravel sprayed their carriage.

  Alexandra stared after the magnificently attired footmen, in red-and-gold livery, pale stockings, patent shoes and long, curled white wigs. She felt her tension increase. She reminded herself that when Elizabeth Bolton was alive, she had been to a few high-society fetes. Being nervous was absurd. Would anyone really care about their sudden appearance in society, or that they wore older clothes? But now she worried, and not for herself. She did not want her sisters ridiculed tonight.

  The huge coach had halted, though she could not see who had gotten out. But she thought she glimpsed a tall, dark figure striding through the crowd, bypassing the queue and directly entering the house.

  Oddly, her heart thundered, and she stared.

  “Ah, it’s our turn to alight,” Denney exclaimed. A coachman had opened his door, and he got out.

  Her father was about to follow Denney to the curb. He must not ruin this for them, she suddenly thought. And she did not trust him. She settled in her seat and faced her father, resolved. “I prefer that you do not overimbibe tonight.”

  His eyes widened in shock. Then, “You cannot talk to me that way, Alexandra.”

  She firmed. The one thing she could control, or at least try to control, was her father’s drinking. “There is a flask in your pocket. May I have it?”

  He gasped and turned red.

  She held out her hand and somehow smiled. “If you want me to marry Squire Denney, it will not help if he sees you stumbling about. And, more importantly, what if Corey and Olivia attract suitors tonight? We are clearly in dire straits, and that means our behavior must be impeccable.”

  Grumbling, Edgemont took a tarnished silver flask from his pocket, and then, before handing it over, he took a swig. “Father!” Alexandra reproved.

  “You remind me more of your mother every day,” he groused, handing her the flask.

  Alexandra uncapped it and poured the contents out the window. Then she exchanged looks with her sisters. “It is our turn.”

  Corey was somehow both pale and flushed at once. Alexandra murmured, “You will be fine.” She gave her hand to Denney’s coachman—he did not have liveried footmen, obviously—and stepped down to the ground. Her sisters followed.

  Olivia came close and whispered, “What are you thinking? We are not here to attract suitors! How could we possibly do that? Everyone knows we are in dire straits.”

  Alexandra smiled at her. “Being here tonight makes me yearn for better circumstances, not for myself, but for you and Corey. Father and mother used to go to balls frequently. You should have had this life, Olivia. So should Corey.”

  “We are fine,” Olivia insisted. “And right now, the only task we must concentrate on is getting you out of an unwanted betrothal.”

  Alexandra grimaced, glancing ahead of them, but the squire hadn’t heard. “My mind hasn’t changed. I am very pleased that the squire is courting me,” she whispered back.

  “Maybe you will find someone else here tonight,” Olivia said. She was never combative, but her will was steel. It had always been that way. She was simply so good-natured that very few knew that fact about her.

  “I am nervous,” Corey suddenly said, interrupting them. “Enough so that I have a headache. And those men are staring at us.”

  Corey was never nervous, Alexandra thought, and looked past her sister to see three gentlemen standing by the open front doors, where the doormen were ushering other guests inside. The gentlemen were about Alexandra’s age, and they were regarding her and her sisters. One smiled and touched his top hat, his look of admiration focused on her youngest sister.

  Alexandra somehow smiled back. “He was smiling at you,” she said to Corey. “And there was nothing bold or improper about it.”

  “He was smiling at Olivia,” Corey said quickly. But she blushed.

  Alexandra took her arm, reminded of just how young her sister was. Corey might be reckless and willful at home, but she was overcome now, and Alexandra did not blame her. She would not be so anxious if she’d had the kind of life she had been born into, she thought. And while Alexandra’s marriage to the squire would not give her that kind of life, it would be a step upward.

  The squire turned, gesturing for them to join him. They hurried to his side, following other guests up the walk. Alexandra had been to Harrington Hall many times, at first with her mother, and on two occasions, after Elizabeth’s passing, with her sisters. Lady Blanche had greeted them warmly, even after their fall from grace, as recently as last year.

  The entrance hall was the size of their dining room twice over, and standing just outside the threshold of the ballroom, Alexandra saw their hosts, Lady Blanche and Sir Rex. He had lost his leg in the war and was leaning on a crutch. It didn’t matter. They made a stunning couple as th
ey greeted their guests, for she was pale and pretty, and he was dark and handsome. Sara was with them, a stunning, bejeweled and well-dressed brunette. Alexandra felt a twinge of envy as she studied her, but the envy wasn’t for herself, it was for her sisters.

  Then she realized that they were being remarked.

  Alexandra started. Lady Lewis was staring hatefully at her—as if she wished her dead. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? Lady Lewis was one of her best customers. The other woman turned away when she saw that Alexandra had noticed her, but then she began whispering to two other ladies, and Alexandra knew they were discussing her.

  The squire was greeting several gentlemen, and he’d stepped ahead of them. Alexandra turned to her sisters, uneasy and dismayed. “Did you see that?”

  Olivia met her stare. “Why would she look at us that way?”

  Alexandra took a steadying breath. Now she noticed Lady Henredon across the room—and Lady Bothley, too. What had she been thinking? She sewed for all these women, and it was unacceptable for a servant—or a seamstress—to step out with her betters.

  Her stomach churned. She turned—and bumped into Lady Lewis, who had approached.

  “Alexandra, what a surprise. I did not recognize you in that dress.”

  Unable to manage a smile, she was aware of her sisters stepping close to her, one on either side.

  Lady Lewis glanced contemptuously at the three of them. “I don’t recognize any of you, dressed as you are.”

  Alexandra’s heart thundered. “That is very unkind.”

  Lady Lewis lifted a brow. “It’s not as if I said that I am accustomed to seeing you all in rags—and sewing my gowns.”

  Corey choked.

  Olivia took Corey’s hand.

  Alexandra forced a smile. She wanted to explode, but she needed Lady Lewis’s account, at least for now. “No, you didn’t say any such thing, and I apologize. You would never speak so disgracefully. I am certain of that.”