by Lucy Ashford
At seven Verena knocked and came in, her bright smile somehow making Rosalie’s world even darker. ‘The children will be going to bed soon,’ Verena announced, ‘then it will be time to set off.’ She hesitated. ‘You’ll still be upset, I know, by what happened this afternoon. But Katy and you couldn’t be in safer hands than Alec’s—I’ve heard Lucas saying it often!’
His hands. Oh, God. Rosalie remembered his exquisitely tender lovemaking and fresh pain surged through her. She tried her hardest to smile. ‘To be honest, I’m slightly daunted by the thought of tonight’s ball. Though you’ve been so very kind.’
‘No kindness is too much for a friend of Alec’s!’ declared Verena, sitting cosily on the bed beside her. ‘Once Alec actually saved Lucas’s life, did he tell you? In the Pyrenees. Lucas had injured his leg and was likely to freeze to death in the snow, so Alec got his men to build a rough stretcher and between them they carried him miles across the mountains in winter, to safety! I somehow knew Lucas was in trouble. But I also knew that with friends like Alec, Lucas would come home to me.’ Verena patted Rosalie’s hand. ‘Now, I’m going to send my maid to you again, to help you to put on your gown. And I have an amethyst necklace and eardrops you may like to borrow. They will match the lilac of your gown quite beautifully—I’m sure Alec will think so …’ She hesitated again, then went on, ‘Alec might sometimes seem a little distant, a little cold. But life has treated him harshly, you know. His family—well, his family quite frankly do not deserve him. What are your plans, my dear?’
Rosalie tensed. ‘Plans?’
‘I mean—when will the two of you be married?’
Rosalie forced out each word as if it drew the lifeblood from her. ‘I am not sure now that the marriage will take place.’
Verena’s face said it all. ‘But we thought—Lucas and I thought you were made for one another! Oh, I know Alec seems distracted often. He worries about the funding of his soldiers’ hostel—the hostel was his father’s idea, you know, but his father abandoned it, so Alec had to take it all on. And unfortunately he refuses all offers of help from friends like Lucas. He is too proud!’ She shook her head. ‘Now, I know it’s really none of my business, but Alec thinks the world of you. Didn’t you see the look in his eyes, when he saw you in that gown?’
‘He was betrothed once before, I know. I think he is so wary of another commitment …’
Verena’s brow creased in perplexity. Then—’You aren’t thinking of Lady Emilia?’ Verena raised her hands in amusement. ‘She was a silly little thing; he never had a shred of anything except pity for her. You didn’t really imagine … Oh, my goodness, I can tell by your face that I’ve said quite enough. I’ll go and fetch that jewellery.’
When she’d gone, Verena’s maid came to help Rosalie put on her lilac ballgown, then dressed her hair. ‘Madame looks beautiful!’ she enthused. ‘I will just pin up your hair—so—and leave a little of it trailing down your neck, like this—madame? Are you listening, madame?’
Rosalie was miles away, gazing at herself in the mirror. ‘You look exquisite,’ he had told her just now. And Verena: Didn’t you see the look in his eyes, when he saw you in that gown?
Rosalie sat very still. The beginning of an unfamiliar emotion—hope—was just beginning to tingle through her veins.
For months afterwards, Lord Stokesay’s ball was talked about as one of the most splendid events of the Season. ‘The food! The guests! The gowns!’ everyone was fond of exclaiming as they reminisced over it. ‘Do you remember how the garden was lit up like a Venetian carnival? And there must have been over five hundred people in the ballroom! Of course, the Prince Regent was there, with the elegant Lord Conistone and all the other members of the royal set. And even Prinny looked dazzled by it all!’
Rosalie, sitting inside the Oxford mail coach the next day with Katy in her arms, gazed unseeing out of the window as London’s western suburbs turned into rolling green countryside. Katy, who’d been sleeping, was looking around at the other passengers with a frown. ‘Tick-tock man?’ she asked Rosalie.
‘We won’t see tick-tock man for a little while, darling,’ she said with an ache in her throat. For ever would be more like it.
She had so much to thank him for. It wasn’t his fault that Rosalie’s heart had been broken into little pieces. That her whole being hurt so, every time she remembered his smile, the touch of his fingers, his kiss …
All over, now. She blew her nose hard on a handkerchief—it was Alec’s, she’d laundered it and kept it from that night when … Oh, Lord, those stupid tears were coming again. People were looking at her.
She sat up straight and pointed out of the window. ‘Look, Katy. There are some sheep. And some calves, do you see them?’ What a fool she’d been.
Last night Rosalie, Verena, Alec and Lucas had travelled to Lord Stokesay’s ball together. Lucas was as charming as ever, paying compliments to Rosalie on her gown, though his eyes burned with passion when he turned back to his much-loved Verena. Alec was courteous, but distant. Their only chance to speak privately came as they lined up to be presented to Lord and Lady Stokesay, when Alec said quietly, ‘I’m so sorry you had to find out, in such an abrupt and unpleasant way, about my brother’s wickedness to your sister.’
Her hand was on his arm—so warm, so strong—and the painful thudding of her heart made her realise just how much she was starting to hope. ‘I understand,’ she said quickly. ‘And Alec, I understand how hateful all this has been for you, as well as dangerous. Oh, your poor face!’
Her eyes had flown up to the bandage almost, but not entirely, hidden by his wavy dark hair. ‘You patched me up beautifully,’ he said. He reached to touch a stray curl that brushed her cheek and the intimacy of his touch jolted through her. ‘The main thing is,’ he went on steadily, ‘that you can now be quite sure Stephen will never dare to threaten you again. He knows that I hold all the cards now.’
‘Because you could expose his attempt to seize Katy?’
‘Indeed. The kidnapping of a young child—whatever the motive, whatever the relationship—is unforgivable, whatever one’s rank.’
Vividly across Rosalie’s mind flashed the imaginary scene of a terrified Katy, delivered to a man—Stephen—who told her he was her father. Unforgivable. Unbearable. Her hand tightened just a little on Alec’s arm; he looked down at her with concern etched across his features. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Thank you, yes. I’m fine.’
‘One thing,’ went on Alec in a level voice as the queue moved slowly forwards. ‘I’ve just heard that my father and his wife might be here. Had I realised it, I would have declined the invitation. I hope you are not embarrassed by it.’
All she knew about Alec’s father was that he had withdrawn his support for Two Crows Castle and cut Alec off, both financially and socially. An older version of Stephen, she’d assumed with scorn. She lifted her chin stubbornly. ‘Your friends are not embarrassed to be with you. Far from it. So why should I be? It’s your father’s loss.’
‘Thank you,’ he said quietly.
At first Rosalie was terrified of being introduced to all these grand people, but she curtsied and spoke clearly, aware always of Alec’s firm hand on her arm. And to her surprise, she found she was beginning to attract admiring glances.
She’d always considered herself too thin. Straight fair hair like hers was not fashionable, she’d thought. Men preferred lively, curvaceous women with curling locks and flirtatious conversation—didn’t they? People came up to speak to Alec, of course, not her. But his friends’ eyes would slide to her and widen. ‘Congratulations, Captain Stewart!’ she heard one of them say. ‘You’re a sly dog—glad you’ve brought your intended out in public at last!’
Verena spoke to Rosalie as she passed by on her way to the dancing. ‘I told you that you looked beautiful!’ she beamed.
‘Ah—flattery.’ Rosalie smiled back, waving her hand lightly in self-deprecation.
But Alec’s eyes were warm when
ever he looked at her and he seemed relaxed, almost happy. Until his father and stepmother arrived.
Alec and Rosalie were sitting down to supper with Lucas and Verena and all their friends when the late arrivals were announced. ‘The Earl and Countess of Aldchester.’
Rosalie saw that Alec went very still. Verena said worriedly, ‘I had not thought they would be here tonight …’ The conversation was restarted by Lucas talking lightly to Alec across the table. But Rosalie watched as Alec’s father and his wife came in.
He was a distinguished figure, in height and profile more like Alec than the hateful Lord Maybury. Yet he and Alec were estranged. Why?
Then she saw the beautiful woman at the Earl’s side. Could she really be the Earl’s wife, Lady Aldchester? But she was so young, only a little older, surely, than Rosalie! She had curling dark hair and a pale, exquisite face. Her gown, a precious thing of pink silk covered with layers of gauze and embroidered with pearls, revealed satiny bare shoulders and the curve of a perfect bosom.
An inexplicable cold warning tingled down Rosalie’s spine.
But it appeared that father and son were happy to avoid one another’s company; after supper Alec took her into the room where the dancing was, to lead her into a cotillion. There was just a moment, with his hand holding hers as he smiled gravely down at her, that she felt like confiding in him about her plan. But then he’d said, as the music stopped, ‘Will you be all right with Verena and her friends for a short while? There are some people I need to speak to, you see.’
He led her to the edge of the dance floor, where Verena’s friends crowded round Rosalie as she watched Alec’s tall figure disappear. ‘You are fortunate,’ some of them sighed. ‘We’ve all of us had our eye on Captain Stewart, at one time or another.’ They chattered on and she tried to concentrate on what they said. But it was very warm in here, too warm; she didn’t like the noise and the heat, and she missed Alec. She moved nearer to an open doorway, fanning herself.
Out there was a veranda and the night air suddenly tempted her. She walked slowly along it, gazing at the lit-up garden, the sparkling fountains. Linette would have loved all this. She would have loved the dancing, the beautiful house, the people strolling along the paths just below her …
And she saw them there. Alec and—his stepmother.
They were talking in low voices, intent only on each other. Rosalie was frozen to the spot. His stepmother—so beautiful—had her palms pressed to Alec’s chest and looked as though she was pleading with him; while Alec, his expression grave, was shaking his head. His stepmother spoke a little more, then reached up on tiptoe to kiss him lingeringly on the lips. After that she turned and walked swiftly along a path that led back into the house—and Alec stood very still, as though he might never move again.
Half-remembered words were tumbling in chaotic confusion through Rosalie’s brain. ‘So she’s back in town! Dear God, she’s beautiful, but she’s wrecked his life.’
And that letter. I know there are risks, my dear, but might I see you?
Desperately she tried to make sense of it all. Perhaps Alec had loved this woman years ago, before she was married. And then she chose his father, for his title and money, thus embittering Alec for good. Yet still she toyed with him, summoning him with a scented note, a silken look …
Lady Aldchester was so very lovely. Rosalie felt her stomach pitching with nausea as she somehow got back into the house to find Verena. Her lips seemed to be refusing to form the right words as she said, ‘I’m not feeling very well. I’m really sorry to be such a nuisance, but I wonder, would your carriage take me back now?’
After that, it was easy. The next morning she got her things together, then found Verena and told her, ‘I received an invitation a few days ago, from an old friend who’s moved to the country. I’ve decided to go and stay with her for a while.’
Verena was bewildered. ‘But Alec … Is your betrothal at an end? Aren’t you going to speak to him before you go?’
Rosalie couldn’t bear to. Her heart would surely break. ‘I think he will understand.’
Verena looked grave. Disappointed in her. ‘I hope you’ll leave a note to tell Alec where you will be?’
Rosalie hesitated ‘Of course.’ Not that he would need it. He would realise, surely, that she knew his secret at last. I don’t think you’ll ever know how much I wish that things could have been different …
Quickly she wrote down Helen’s address; Verena took it, tight-lipped.
So here she was, on the mail coach to Oxford, with a new life ahead of her. And she knew she would never stop missing Alec Stewart for as long as she lived, but now she understood. Why his betrothal to Lady Emilia had been so brief. How he’d tried to stay away from his lovely stepmother. Why he’d deliberately excluded himself from polite society, to live an austere life with his soldiers.
But that woman clearly still held his heart in her smooth white hands.
Katy was sleeping again as the coach rocked on its way and Rosalie held her close. With her portion of the Lavalle fortune, she was free to do as she wanted. To live where she wanted.
And she wished, she wished she was back at shabby old Two Crows Castle, with Alec. In Alec’s arms. In Alec’s bed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Two days later Alec was striding up the front steps of the house in Belgrave Square. A footman opened the big door, then Jarvis was hurrying towards him. ‘So very glad you could come, Master Alec! Such news, such dreadful news …’
‘My father said very little in his message. What’s wrong, Jarvis?’
‘I think your father would prefer to tell you himself, sir. Would you mind waiting a little, until I can inform him you’re here? His man of business arrived a while ago and they are still closeted in the library.’
‘Shall I wait in the parlour?’
‘Very good, sir. I’ll let you know the moment his lordship is free.’
And so Alec had time to remember the conversation between himself and Susanna at Lord Stokesay’s the other night.
She had looked so self-conscious, so artificial in that over-elaborate gown of pink silk and gauze. She’d also looked tense. She’d begged him to come with her into the garden, for privacy, and once there she’d murmured, ‘I realise you find it difficult to trust me. But I helped you last time, did I not, with my news about Stephen’s intentions towards the child?’
‘You did,’ he answered curtly, trying to keep his senses clear of that over-strong scent she used.
‘That little girl. Is she safe, Alec?’
‘Most certainly.’
She let out a breath of relief. ‘At least, then, I can feel I’ve done something of use, before I leave.’ She sighed.
‘You’re leaving the ball already?’ Alec asked sharply.
‘Not here—London, I mean! Oh, Alec, I have decided that your father does not deserve my wickedness. You are the one honest member of this family and I want to tell you that I am leaving England for good. I’m going back to Italy. Please tell your father I am sorry. And I know, my dear, that I do not deserve your good wishes, but I hope you believe me when I say that I truly wish you well.’
One lingering touch of her silken mouth upon his lips that left him cold and she was gone, leaving behind only her scent and the rekindled memories of the night he’d so bitterly regretted ever since.
* * *
In the winter of 1814, Napoleon was a prisoner on Elba, and London had become a city of parties and frivolity. By then Alec’s father was besotted with Susanna, the Contessa di Ascoli. Alec had been forced to acknowledge she was enticing indeed, with her soft raven curls, her ripe mouth and her sultry, dark-blue eyes. But he was wary, too, because he read lechery in the sidelong glances she cast his way.
That Christmas his father was at Carrfields, holding a house party that was to continue into the New Year. Alec, whose engagement to Lady Emilia was already faltering, had promised to come from London, but would stay for just two nights.
He was due back with his regiment in early January, because Lord Wellington did not expect the peace to last.
By the time he arrived at Carrfields he was dog-tired, and dismayed by his father’s news that he and the Contessa—who was there as a guest—were engaged to be married. Last time Alec had met her he’d heard her saying that she would die if she had to stay in the country. But here she was at Carrfields, his father’s betrothed.
Alec had forced himself into his usual light-heartedness, drinking toasts in champagne to the happy couple with the rest. But thanks to his fatigue the drink had gone to his head and he was glad to make his excuses at midnight and retire to his room, where he’d fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
He thought he heard his door open two hours later, but imagined it, in his alcohol-induced languor, to be a dream. He stirred and muttered something, but the dream persisted; he imagined that someone was there in his room, a sinuous creature with long dark hair, who was starting to ease off her satin nightgown, then lowered herself to bed beside him, her silken hands stroking his powerful naked shoulders, her scent enveloping him.
‘Alec. Oh, Alec. How I desire you,’ she breathed.
Alec was aware of trying to fight his way through the confusion of heavy sleep, his mind still hazed by champagne and exhaustion; but in his dream the dark-haired nymph was pushing back the sheets to reach for his thickening member and twisting her lithe body to slip astride him. Uttering little cries of delight, she coaxed him and passionately caressed him into the act of love, then lay curled in his arms.
He’d woken before dawn to memories of that shadowy, erotic dream. His manhood was pulsing again, troubling him …
Then he realised. Someone was pressing herself against him, fondling him with languorous fingers, her tongue sliding between her lips and her dark-lashed blue eyes hot with invitation—
His soon-to-be stepmother. His naked, soon-to-be stepmother. He’d jumped from the bed. Hell. This nightmare had been only too real.
She watched his naked body as he started reaching for his clothes, her eyes lingering on his erection. ‘It’s early. Come back to bed,’ she’d murmured.
