by Dawn Ireland
In less than twenty minutes, they were headed down the stairs. At the bottom, she patted the winged lion’s head. Funny, how things could change in just one night.
Yesterday, she’d felt threatened by the carving. Today, she felt as if he was protecting her. Anna’s romantic fancies must be rubbing off.
As they entered the dining room, Alex took a deep breath and tried to organize her jumbled thoughts. She supposed she’d have to answer their questions, but what to say?
Lady Bradford glanced up as they came through the door. “There you are, Lady Lochsdale, I’m so pleased. I spoke with Lord Worthington this morning. Please, sit and have some breakfast.”
She took the chair across from Lady Bradford.
Anna kissed her mother on the cheek and dropped into a chair at the head of the table. She promptly started to fidget with her silverware, all the while glancing at Alex.
Sometimes Anna seemed so much younger, even though they were only separated by two years. She reminded her of a new colt, terribly curious and full of boundless energy.
“I was pleasantly surprised at this turn of events.” Lady Bradford nodded to Williams to serve their breakfast. Once he and the footman departed, she continued. “I thought after last night you were through with my nephew. When did you change your mind?”
“I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d find something to read in the library.” Her face grew warm. She didn’t like to lie, but she couldn’t very well admit he’d come to her room. “I spoke with Lord Worthington, and we agreed that marriage to each other would be the best solution to both our problems.”
They didn’t need to know he wanted nothing to do with her after she’d provided him with an heir. God willing, he’d come to care for her before then.
“I see.” Lady Bradford gave her a searching look. “Did you tell him you love him?”
“Yes.”
“And.”
“It didn’t matter.” She glanced down at the eggs and sausages on her plate. Though they’d smelled heavenly a few moments before, she’d lost her appetite.
“My cousin is an ingrate. He doesn’t deserve to marry you.” Anna viciously stabbed at a tomato on her plate. “I wish he was here this very minute.”
She grinned at the mental picture of Anna brandishing her fork at Declan. It was fortunate no one had ever taught Anna to use a weapon. Someone would have gotten hurt.
Lady Bradford shook her head. “I had hoped...” She sighed. “Lord Worthington seemed so changed this morning. He wanted the engagement ball to be held right away. I assumed he’d finally come to terms with his feelings.”
With dignified grace, Lady Bradford rose. “No matter, at least you’ll be his wife, and my niece.” She circled the table, then reached down to give her a hug. “Welcome to the family.” She tipped Alex’s face up, and gave her an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry, he’ll come around.”
“He’d better,” Anna muttered as she attacked yet another defenseless piece of food.
Alex smiled at her soon-to-be cousin. Warmth spread through her at the thought of how readily Lady Bradford and Anna had accepted her as part of the family. She wanted to belong. If only Declan could come to love her.
The door opened, and Williams interrupted, “Lady Bradford, you asked me to tell you as soon as it was done.”
“Thank you, Williams.”
With a slight bow, the butler left, and Lady Bradford turned to her. “Lady Lochsdale, I’d like you to see something. Would you come into the parlor?”
She followed Lady Bradford, with Anna bringing up the rear. The massive double doors were closed, but Declan’s aunt swung them open and stepped to the side.
Bright sunlight lit the room. Alex had always thought the furnishings in this part of the house subdued, but now she understood why. Her gaze was drawn immediately to a painting above the fireplace. The woman in the portrait gave the room the vibrancy it lacked.
Declan’s mother.
The resemblance was unmistakable. She’d chosen to be painted in the entranceway of Castelton House, one hand lightly resting on the amber-eyed lion at the foot of the stairs.
Her gown was a deep claret, with flounces on the sleeves and lace at the neck. A bouquet of what appeared to be forget-me-nots trailed from her other hand. The artist gave the impression Declan’s mother was only now coming down the stairs. No rigid poses for her. It was an unconventional portrait of an extraordinary woman. She could almost pity Edward Devereaux.
Lady Bradford’s unsteady voice sounded beside her. “This is why I thought Lord Worthington had changed. I haven’t seen Maura’s portrait in years.”
Anna crossed from the doorway to get a closer look. “This was Aunt Maura? She’s beautiful. You’re right, Mama, Lord Worthington does favor her.”
When she glanced over at Lady Bradford, Alex observed tears threatening to mar the older woman’s powdered cheeks. She searched her pocket and brought out a handkerchief, handing it to the distraught woman.
“Thank you, dear.” Lady Bradford wiped her eyes and looked back at the portrait. “Lord Worthington asked me to have it brought down when I saw him this morning. It was the first time he ...” Lady Bradford turned to look at Alex. “He actually talked to me, asked me about his mother. It wasn’t a long conversation, but it’s a start. I’m not sure how you did it Lady Lochsdale, but I want to thank you.”
A glow started in Alex’s stomach, warming her whole body. So, he’d listened after all. She clung to this slight hope, like a brand burning amongst the ashes. Maybe he could change.
She stared up at the portrait of the free-spirited woman who’d loved with such boundless joy. This is what Declan would have been like if his mother had lived. So many wasted years. Even now, he was a prisoner of the past, unable to move on.
She made a vow to the woman in the portrait. Regardless of the cost, she would do her utmost to teach Declan not to fear love.
Declan strode into the solid expanse of Bradford Hall, and wondered who trained Bradford’s servants. He hadn’t knocked, yet the door was opened to admit him. An impeccably liveried butler led the way to the breakfast room, showing no surprise at the earliness of the hour.
When he glanced around the sunny room, he discovered it was empty. Blasted, where was his cousin? Bradford’s note had arrived at daybreak this morning and had said to come immediately. He welcomed the diversion. Anything was better than thinking about last night, and Alex.
Unable to sit still, he circled the room, noting Lady Bradford had been allowed to decorate the space. Even the table chairs had cushions. Bradford wouldn’t have concerned himself with the amenities.
At last he sat on one of the chairs, its high wooden back carved with Celtic designs. He shut his eyes and rested his head back against the woodwork.
The Celtic knots dug into his scalp. The pain added to the pounding in his head. He deserved it for getting foxed last night. The result had been a disastrous proposal.
Perhaps it would be better if he avoided Alex. It wasn’t that he was afraid. That would be ludicrous. He didn’t love her, so what was there to be afraid of?
Last night was only... what? He could vividly recall Alex’s hands in his hair, her warm soft lips inches from his own. The way her eyes flashed when she’d told him she loved him.
Love.
He hoped to hell she didn’t mean it. Nevertheless, he couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said. If she did love him, it would be cruel to encourage her.
Once they were married, and they would marry, he’d get her with child as quickly as possible and try to rid her of this notion that she loved him. That’s what he should do. He didn’t want her love. Did he?
Either way, the less time spent with her, the better. He might not have to deal with her at all. After last night, she might already be carrying his heir.
Now he just had to come up with some way to break the news to Catrina. His head began to pound in earnest.
He opened his eyes t
o find his cousin studying him from the doorway. How long had he been there?
“I understand congratulations are in order.”
“How in the hell did you know that?” He sat forward, giving his head a slight shake, which increased the throbbing behind his eyes. His cousin’s talents had come in handy on several occasions, but they were still a mystery to him.
“You underestimate the value of servant’s gossip.” Bradford, dressed only in his breeches and a shirt, crossed the room and took the chair opposite him. “Cook heard the news at the market this morning. My steward informed me.
“As with all gossip, there are only elements of truth. But based on your apparent distraction, I take it you have asked the Countess of Lochsdale to be your bride.”
“Yes.”
“I was under the impression Lady Catrina would be your choice.”
“She was, but Lady Lochsdale needs the protection of marriage.”
Bradford raised an eyebrow. “And you have to be the one to give it to her?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Declan stood, walked over to the window, and peered out on the meticulous gardens that were Lady Bradford’s passion. “As long as I get my heir, it doesn’t really matter whom I marry.”
“Well, you’re correct about one thing. The Countess of Lochsdale does need protection.”
The tone of Bradford’s voice made Declan uneasy. He turned to see a slight frown on his cousin’s face. “What have you found out?”
“If you’ll come to my study, I have something to show you.” Bradford left without a backward glance.
He followed his cousin through the labyrinth of elegantly appointed hallways. Thank God Castleton was laid out in a simpler design than the twisting passageways of Bradford Hall. The place was a nuisance, but it suited his cousin.
As they crossed the threshold of the study, he was struck anew by the clutter. He’d forgotten Bradford’s unique method of organization. No servants were allowed to clean this holy sanctum. Books and papers lay scattered in piles atop of every flat surface.
The irony was, his cousin never lost anything.
As if confirming his thoughts, Bradford went to a table in front of the fireplace. It sat next to the only chair in the room that was devoid of papers. After glancing through several in the stack, he handed a slightly grimy sheet to Declan. “I received this yesterday afternoon.”
He took the paper and perused its contents. “A registry for The Swan dated February, 1775?”
“Look toward the bottom.”
Two names were very familiar. “Luther Addington and his mother. Staying at The Swan? Not a typical haunt of the Ton, I admit, but nothing nefarious.”
Bradford shook his head. “Because it was so close to the time you and Alex’s father were attacked, I did some checking. Seems the arrogant boy didn’t make a favorable impression with the landlord. The man was more than willing to talk. On two separate occasions, Lord Addington and his mother met with a man known in those parts as ‘Spider.’ Later, Spider bragged about coming into extra cash. Said he did a little work for them.”
“Wasn’t one of the men who kidnapped Lady Lochsdale named Spider?”
“Indeed.”
“A rather large coincidence, don’t you think?” He needed proof. “Could you get me a description? I’ll lay odds this ‘Spider’ was one of the men on the docks that day. The bastards hadn’t been after the money at all.” He gave a low whistle. “No wonder they let me walk away.”
He began to pace the small distance between a cluttered table and his cousin’s mounded desk. Tapping the list slowly on his other hand, he considered the likelihood of “Spider” being a killer and Alex’s kidnapper. If they were one and the same, then she was in more danger than he’d thought. Unease clenched his spine. He handed the list back to his cousin, fighting the impulse to rush home.
Bradford set it back on its pile, then crossed to his desk. “I’m still working on ‘Spider’s’ identity. He hasn’t been seen in the area for a couple of years.”
“I’d appreciate anything you can get.”
Bradford studied at his cousin, uncharacteristic concern in his cool gray eyes. “Lord Worthington, do you think this is a good time to announce your betrothal? I believe Addington has killed at least once to get Lady Lochsdale’s estates. What’s to keep him from adding to his list?”
“I’ll have to take the chance. Besides, this might force him to do something rash. Do you still have someone watching him?”
“Constantly.”
“Might you also watch my future bride? If I’m otherwise occupied, I want to be sure she’s safe.”
His cousin raised an eyebrow. “As you wish.”
Before last night, Declan would have balked at the idea of someone else protecting her. But how could you protect someone you were avoiding? “Thank you.”
Bradford nodded. “I’ll send you any information I receive, but be careful. I can assure you, nothing this man does will be in the open.”
Declan crossed to the threshold and tugged on his doeskin gloves. “Addington cloaks his machinations with a fair façade, but the fox isn’t able to hide from the hunter forever.”
Taking his leave of Bradford, he waited in the front hall while his carriage was brought around. He half hoped Alex wasn’t in residence when he returned.
It was bad enough he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her most of the morning. How was his treacherous body going to react to being in the same room?
He didn’t have an answer, but he was about to find out.
Alex felt a prickle of awareness. Someone was behind her. Lady Bradford and Anna didn’t seem to notice. They were both engrossed in the portrait of Declan’s mother above the mantel.
She took a deep, steadying breath, then turned around. Declan stood in the doorway to the parlor.
He was staring at the portrait, one expression after another crossing his face. What was he feeling? Longing, pain, hatred? By the time his gaze met hers, he was in control, his demeanor one of polite distance.
He kept looking at her, yet spoke to his aunt, disapproval in his voice. “I see you wasted no time bringing the portrait down.”
Lady Bradford’s tentative reply came over Alex’s shoulder. “I assumed you meant right away. When we spoke this morning, I thought...never mind what I thought. Would you like me to have it returned to the attic?”
“No.”
Declan kept watching her, his face unreadable. The silence echoing in the room intensified the heaviness in her heart. The old Declan was back, more of a stranger than before. Even Anna didn’t try to fill the stillness with her chatter.
“We’ll leave you alone.” Lady Bradford sounded as if she didn’t want to go. “Lady Anna, come help me decide on the invitations for the ball. We are still having an engagement ball, are we not?” It was the closest thing to a challenge she had ever heard from Declan’s aunt.
“Of course,” he replied.
He still intended to marry her. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until she felt the air leave her body.
Lady Bradford swept by them, with Anna trailing behind, casting worried glances over her shoulder. Declan’s aunt gave Alex a nod of encouragement, before she closed the double doors with a soft click. They were alone, but she didn’t have the slightest idea what she should say.
When she glanced back, she discovered Declan was still watching her, the small muscle near his mouth jumping erratically. She wanted to throw herself in his arms and end this awkwardness. Instead, she turned to look at the portrait. “She was beautiful.”
“My father seemed to think so. Perhaps if she’d been less comely, things would have been different.”
The bitterness in his reply left her feeling cold. “It’s not just appearance that causes one person to love another.”
“I suppose not.” Declan crossed to the brandy decanter that sat on a table near the fireplace.
Instead of comi
ng within inches of her, he chose to go around the outside of the room, placing a marble-topped table between them. He poured a brandy and took a small sip, then swirled the contents of the glass, watching in fascination as the amber liquid climbed the smooth sides.
“I apologize for last night,” Declan said. “It should never have happened.”
“I’m glad it did.”
Did he regret asking her to marry him, or did he feel he’d taken advantage of her? Either way, she didn’t want him to be sorry.
She swallowed with difficulty and glanced down. She’d been twisting her bracelet. Her chaffed skin appeared raw from the repetitive motion. Funny, she didn’t feel any pain. At least, not in her wrist. She forced her hands to her sides and looked up into his eyes.
For just an instant, she fancied she saw passion and longing swirling in their dark-edged blue depths. Then, like the end of a piece of music, it was gone. The intensity still thrummed through her soul.
He placed his glass on the table. “Be that as it may, we have to move on from here. We’ll announce our betrothal a week from this Saturday. Allowing time for the banns to be posted, we can be married a fortnight after that.”
“So quickly?”
“I thought you needed to marry posthaste.”
“I do, but what about the preparations?”
“They won’t be a concern.” Declan gave her a small smile. “After all, you already have your wedding gown.”
Her wedding gown, the one he’d designed for her. Now she was glad he’d forced her to get it.
He started to move around the table toward her, then stopped. “Alex, I don’t want you to leave the house in the next few weeks without my aunt or myself at your side.”
“Why?”
“Never mind why. I’m asking you to obey me in this.”
Had he learned something new? The threat her cousin posed was the same as before. What was going on? “Lord Worthington, I’m not going to be confined to the house without good reason.”
