by Dawn Ireland
She looked down at her stained footwear. Tar from the decks had left a sticky residue all over the delicate satin. She didn’t care. The damage was done. He should set her down, but somehow she didn’t want him to.
Declan glanced over at Paddy. “When you find the rest of her things, would you send them along?”
“That I’ll do, my lord.”
As Declan moved forward, the air filled with cheers from the sailors on The Merry Elizabeth. Paddy grinned, and gave her a wink. She buried her heated face in Declan’s shoulder as he carried her down the gangplank. Why the hell had she allowed him to do this?
A little voice in her head answered.
Because you wanted him to.
Alex reached back under her hair and slid the knife out of its sheath in one smooth motion, adjusting the tension of her grip as the blade made an arc over her shoulder. She focused all her concentration on the wooden target about thirty paces away.
The weapon flew from her fingertips, hitting the center of the block with a thump that could be heard over the birds and rustling noises of the walled garden.
She’d hit the target seventeen out of the last twenty times. Not too bad, considering she’d only been practicing the last three hours. The activity had helped calm the nervous energy she’d felt all morning whenever she thought about the ball tonight.
“Excuse me, my lady.”
She turned to see Declan’s butler, Williams, at the entrance between two giant shrubs. Even from here she could see the thin line of his mouth and his disapproving stare. With a sigh, she waited for him to approach, wishing Edgar were here. No matter what she did, Oakleigh’s butler always remained unruffled. Williams stopped before her with a slight incline of his head.
“Yes?”
The butler handed her a calling card. “There’s a Lady Catrina Edwards to see you. I’ve put her in the drawing room.”
“Now?” She glanced at the card, then down at her old gown, the faded color not even close to its original bright blue. She wouldn’t have time to change, but it might have been worse; at home she would have been wearing her breeches.
“Are Lady Bradford or Lady Anna in residence?”
“No, my lady, they’ve gone to Madame Colette’s for a final fitting on their gowns for tonight.”
“And Lord Worthington?”
“He said he would be returning late this afternoon.”
Just her luck, she’d have to see Catrina alone. By now, Declan must have told her about the engagement. Unease curled itself through Alex’s body. She doubted Catrina would be gracious about losing him, but there didn’t seem to be any sense putting off the inevitable. “Tell her I’ll join her shortly.”
After he left, she retrieved her knife and practically ran up to her bedroom. As usual, Mary couldn’t be found, so she wouldn’t have been able to get into another gown anyway. She pinned up her hair to the best of her ability and pinched some color in her cheeks. It was still half an hour before she entered the drawing room.
I should have changed.
Catrina sat ensconced in one of the parlor chairs, looking like a queen at an audience. Her light lavender gown had beadwork on the bodice, with a cream colored damask underskirt. The double ruffle of lace at the edge of the three-quarter sleeves covered the majority of her arms. Too bad Alex couldn’t say the same about the neckline. The gown dipped down to reveal a substantial amount of bosom.
Catrina rose with polished ease, holding her hands out to Alex. “Lady Lochsdale, it’s so good to see you again.”
Alex moved forward and tentatively took Catrina’s hands. “It’s nice to see you as well.” She couldn’t help it that her response sounded less than sincere. This was not the greeting she’d been expecting. Perhaps Declan hadn’t told Catrina about the engagement after all.
She tugged her hands out of her guest’s grasp, then motioned for her to sit. Catrina waited until she’d taken a seat on the settee, then sat next to her.
Catrina glanced at Alex with a slight, apologetic smile, her hands resting primly in her lap. “I realize I shouldn’t have come, but I just couldn’t wait to thank you.”
What did Catrina have to thank her for? Had she missed something? Catrina gazed at her expectantly, but she didn’t even know what they were discussing. She gave a slight shrug. “I’m not sure—”
“I understand this is going to be a big night for you.” Catrina adjusted a ruffle on her bodice and smoothed the lace flat. “It really is so gallant of Declan.”
“What is?” She wasn’t good with riddles, and an inner voice was warning her she didn’t want an answer to this one. She should have known it would have something to do with Declan. The unease increased when she realized Catrina was unusually free with Declan’s first name.
Catrina scooted closer to Alex, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Oh come now, Declan told me all about it.”
“About what?”
“Your agreement. It really is noble of him to come to your rescue.” Catrina gave a patient little sigh. “I didn’t even try to talk him out of it. He feels such responsibility for you because of your grandfather.”
Responsibility? It wasn’t only responsibility, was it? She felt a tightening in her chest.
“Of course,” Catrina continued, “I was devastated that we wouldn’t marry, but I understand his reasons, and I support him however I can.” She slipped a handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed the corner of her eye. “It made it much easier knowing that after the birth of your heir, you’ll be returning to the country. At least I’ll have Declan here with me.”
Alex wanted to tell her she was wrong. Declan couldn’t mean to stay in London with Catrina. But how did the woman know what she and Declan had discussed? Alex searched her memory, but didn’t remember telling anyone she’d agreed to go away after the child was born. “How did you know about our arrangement?”
“Declan told me.” Catrina gave her a sad little smile. “We share everything. He was so apologetic. It just broke my heart, so of course I told him I understood.”
Catrina patted her hair, a habit Alex found infuriating under normal circumstances, and then reached over to lay her hand on top of Alex’s. “I want you to know he’ll be well looked after when you’ve left. I realize you’ve become friends in the last few months.”
Friends? She made a conscious effort to take slow, even breaths. Is that all they were? She’d been a fool to think enjoying each other’s company meant anything to him. Just because Declan had started being nice didn’t mean he was coming to care for her. Bitterness welled up in her as she remembered the nights she had lain awake, hoping he’d come to her. Now she understood why he hadn’t. The nights must have been reserved for Catrina.
Alex forced her face into a polite mask. “I appreciate your concern.” She stood and managed to get the appropriate words past her lips. “I’m glad to know he won’t be alone. If you don’t mind, I have some things to attend to before this evening.”
“Of course.” Catrina rose, appearing to barely touch the polished wood floor as she headed for the door. At the last moment, she turned and searched the pocket of her gown for something. “I almost forgot. Declan left this at my house the other evening. Would you return it to him?”
“As you wish.”
“Thank you.” She laid a silk bag on a small table near the door and swished out, her panniered skirts making a slight rustle as they brushed against the sides of the doorway.
Alex stood there listening to the mantle clock beating away the minutes of her life. Perhaps this was all a misunderstanding. Declan would be able to explain how she knew of their agreement. Catrina’s animosity toward her was never a secret. It must be some sick game she played as revenge for ruining her plans.
Feeling a little better, she crossed to the table and picked up the bag. She untied the string, letting the cloth slide over the contours of a black obsidian horse. Against her will, she checked for the chip on the base.
It was Declan’s statue.
Her fingers tightened around the legs. She’d given it to him, and he’d left it with her. There was no other way it could be in Catrina’s possession.
She lifted the piece over her head, prepared to shatter it against the wall, but she couldn’t do it. Instead, she hugged it to her chest and sank to the floor, tears making a silent course down her cheeks. There was no hope he’d come to love her, no hope at all.
Chapter 20
Declan couldn’t suppress a feeling of apprehension. He suspected it wasn’t only due to his announcement this evening. Fingering the note in his pocket, he climbed the worn stone steps of Bradford Hall. What could possibly be so important that his cousin called him away from last minute details for tonight?
A footman opened the door before he’d had time to knock. He observed the servant as he guided him through the turning passageways of the hall.
Unless you searched for unusual details, you’d never notice him. The man’s face lacked any distinguishing features. Everything about him was average. With the prerequisite wig and footman attire, he’d be impossible to describe.
He didn’t doubt Bradford chose his servants with this in mind. They did more than answer the door, but he wished to hell, this one had let him knock. He found it unnerving.
The footman preceded him into the study, announced his arrival, then left, shutting the doors behind him. Bradford stood behind his desk, shuffling piles of papers, while Morgan sprawled in the chair by the fire. At Declan’s entrance, his friend and cousin exchanged a look of concern. Morgan’s eyes were the most telling. For once they were totally devoid of mischief.
The knot in the pit of his stomach tightened. “What is it?”
Bradford looked at him, steady gray eyes luminous in the dim light. “Luther has put a petition before King George.”
“A petition for what?”
“He’s trying to do away with Queen Elizabeth’s dispensation. If he succeeds, he won’t need Lady Lochsdale. All her estates, as well as the title, will go to him.”
“Can he do that?” He couldn’t believe the petition would succeed. Of course, the king wasn’t aware of Addington’s questionable past, a past that might have included killing the other members of Alex’s family.
“I’m afraid he can. We both know our illustrious king is not stable. His advisors are busy trying to keep the country going. In the scheme of things, this is a minor problem.” Bradford crossed to one of his many bookshelves, found a decanter, and poured a good amount of amber liquid in it before handing it to him. “They may suggest the king pass it to keep the peace.”
He took a sip of his drink and waited for the brandy to warm his throat. “I don’t understand. Why would his petition create a problem?”
His cousin leaned back against his desk, being careful not to disturb the piles. “Addington has been instigating trouble. It seems some of the more traditional lords don’t like a title and the management of estates falling on a woman’s shoulders. They’ve been putting pressure on the king to sign his petition.”
Declan dragged his fingers through his hair. Alex could lose everything. She’d had to give up one home already, how would she handle this? Granted, with their marriage, she’d always have a place to live.
With her estates gone, she could never leave him. A feeling of excitement washed over him, only to be squelched by a sobering thought.
She would never be the same if everything were forcibly taken from her. He couldn’t deny it was a seductive idea, but if keeping her with him meant destroying her dreams, it wouldn’t be worth it. He didn’t want her to change. “There must be some way we can stop the petition.”
Bradford indicated one of the piles on his desk. “I haven’t gathered enough evidence to prove anything to the king. It could be two weeks, or never, before I get the information we need. We’re running out of time.”
Morgan cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “I have an idea. It might take a bit o’ doing, but if it could be saving the Countess of Lochsdale her lands, then I’m thinking you should try it.”
His friend had a look in his eye Declan had come to know well. He was almost afraid to ask. “What?”
“You should be taking her to Greta Green. Tonight, before the king has time to sign the petition.” Morgan appeared entirely too pleased with himself.
“How’s that going to help?”
“I’m thinking the king won’t be apt to sign the lands over if she has a husband.”
Bradford stopped tapping his index finger against his chin and stood. “He’s right. Even the staunchest conservatives in the House of Lords will see you as taking the reins.”
His cousin rubbed a hand over his face and continued. “The only other option is to advise the lords of your engagement and hope for the best. But everyone knows engagements can be broken, then they’d be right back to a woman in control. They might opt to support Addington’s claim, over the possibility of a man in charge.” Bradford shook his head, giving Declan an apologetic look. “Several of the lords feel strongly about this issue. I doubt they’d be willing to wait.”
“It looks as if I don’t have a choice.”
“Not if you want Lady Lochsdale to keep control of her title and estates.” Bradford crossed behind his desk and jotted something down on a piece of paper. “Contact this man when you get to Greta Green. He’ll know how to procure the papers you’ll need. The sooner you get her there, the better.” His cousin gave him a wry grin. “I’ll make sure the relevant lords are made aware of your wedded bliss in the morning.”
Wedded bliss. How in the hell was he going to talk Alex into this? Maybe he shouldn’t say anything. He could steal into her room and take her away. She’d already agreed to marry him. What difference did it make when they said their vows?
His dreams, both waking and sleeping, had been filled with the silkiness of her skin and the soft curve of her lips. In spite of that, he’d made a conscious effort to control his desire.
He wasn’t like his father. Alex could walk out of his life tomorrow, and he’d continue on as normal. He had to believe that.
Did it really matter that each day he enjoyed her company more? She kept him off balance, reminding him life was to be lived, not just passed through.
The evenings had been the hardest. Memories of Alex wrapped in a blanket, her hair tousled and dancing with firelight, tormented him. He’d solved his problem by staying out so late his exhausted body could crave nothing but sleep. He’d proven he could stay away from her. When the time came, he’d be able to let her go.
But that was somewhere in the distant future. Now his self-imposed celibacy was coming to an end. His manhood stirred in anticipation. Tonight she would be his.
She had to leave.
Alex paced back and forth in her bedroom, trying to make sense of her tangled thoughts. Images of Declan, naked, as he stood by the fireplace kept intruding. His body sculpted in light and shadow, the curtain of his hair covering his face as he studied the fire.
It had been foolish to think she could heal his past. Choking on a small sob, she sat on the bed, dragging the covers to her chest.
Should she stay, sharing as many of those moments as possible before she bore him his heir, or should she leave him to the woman he wanted to marry? The woman who would in no way threaten the wall he’d built around himself.
Could she accept the humiliation? What would it be like to walk into a ballroom knowing the Ton’s gossip consisted of her husband’s latest indiscretions? She squeezed her eyes shut and lay back on the bed. How could she pretend everything was fine? The pain of it would tear her apart.
Did he feel responsibility and nothing more? An hour ago she would have said he was coming to love her, but Declan’s continuing relationship with Catrina told her quite clearly he had no intention of letting that happen.
She’d been an amusement for him these last few weeks. But his attentiveness had seemed so real. Did he care about her even a little? She ho
ped so. Would he forget her when she was gone? A knot formed in her stomach.
Perhaps.
You’ll come to hate him. She ran her hands over her face, then dragged her fingers through her hair. If she stayed, she would come to resent his indifference. She didn’t want to hate him, any more than she’d wanted to love him, but you didn’t always have a choice. For both their sakes, she needed to walk away. If she were lucky, one day she’d be able to think of him without pain.
She sat up and turned the bracelet on her wrist as she pondered her options. If she returned to Oakleigh Manor, Declan would only track her down and make her marry him. His pride and imagined debt to her grandfather would never allow him to let her be.
Eleanor would be on Declan’s side, even without knowing they’d made love. She’d see it as a sensible solution, not realizing the damage a one-sided relationship would inflict on her.
Then there was Luther’s threat. No, she couldn’t go to Oakleigh, at least not yet.
Perhaps she could find a way to blend into London. At least for a little while, until Declan searched for her elsewhere and it was safe to return home.
Once she got to Oakleigh, she’d need to find a husband if she intended to stay. She hugged her stomach, the thought of someone else touching her, as Declan had, made her feel ill.
The problem was, she didn’t have any contacts here. She suspected Lady Bradford, Anna, or Morgan would be willing to help, once they knew the circumstances, but it wouldn’t be fair to put them in the middle. No, she had to do this on her own.
If she was going to keep her estates, she needed to marry. But where could she find a husband at this late date? What she needed was time, and a place to hide.
She crossed to the window and watched the servants scurrying to and fro in the garden as they strung the Japanese lanterns for the ball. All she wanted to do was go home to Oakleigh Manor. The only home left to her after...
A shiver of excitement passed through her. Was The Merry Elizabeth still in dock? Paddy would understand and help her to escape. They could set sail before anyone missed her.
