He watched for some kind of reaction and was surprised when Damien merely nodded.
"The doctor warned us you might be suicidal," Damien said. "Your man and I were keeping a close watch. So was Miss Sedgewicke. I may not have a high regard for women, yet Jenny Sedgewicke is one of the few whom I trust. I knew she would take good care of you."
Robert patted Titus's shining neck. "She's an angel, isn't she? I don't think I could have made it through this damnable fiasco without her."
"So why did you spurn her help and make such a scene at dinner?" Damien asked. "The peach wasn't the only problem--there's something else, isn't there?"
"To tell the truth, I'm in a hell of a fix with Felicia." Damien snapped off a piece of hay, and placed it in his mouth. "From what I can see, it shouldn't take much to set things to rights. True, your fiancée is not in the least bit lover-like. She can't bear to look at you; she's uncomfortable with the loss of your arm. I've never believed Lady Felicia was the woman for you," he said. "Now, on the other hand, Miss Sedgewicke is head over heels in love with you. If you don't know that by now, you're buffle-headed."
Robert smiled crookedly. "And what would you know about love? You've spent your life despising women, avoiding emotional entanglements, and swearing eternal freedom from the cat's paw."
Damien laughed. "True--but I'm an exception to the rule. Most people spend their whole lives searching for love. I can recognize it when I see it, and Jenny Sedgewicke definitely loves you."
"I hope so." Robert ran his fingers through his black hair. "Because I've discovered I love Jenny more than I ever dreamed possible. Yet, if she returns my love, it only makes everything worse. I spoke to Felicia earlier this afternoon. Her obvious embarrassment about my arm led me to believe she'd welcome an end to our engagement. We agreed we didn't love each other and I thought all would be well. I was anxious to declare myself to Jenny, you see."
Damien stood and brushed the hay from his biscuit-colored trousers. "So, what's to keep you from your heart's desire? Felicia certainly doesn't want you near her."
Robert slammed his fist against the door frame. "That's just it. Felicia refuses to call off the engagement for fear of what the ton will think of her. Also her father doesn't want a scandal. I can't end it in all honor, as she so sweetly informed me, because gentlemen don't cry off from engagements."
Damien whistled softly. "Surely the circumstances . . . ?"
Robert shook his head.
"You couldn't apply directly to Lord Thane?" he asked.
"How can I without looking the knave?" Robert replied. "There has to be a way out of this tangle," Damien said thoughtfully.
Robert searched Damien's face, hoping against hope he might have an answer. "If you see a way clear of this imbroglio, I'd be forever in your debt."
"For God's sake, don't enact me a Cheltenham tragedy," Damien said. "One thing's for certain. You will not marry Lady Felicia Marlow. Give me time to think. Surely, we can discover a way out of this coil."
****
Near midnight, Alexandra sat at her worktable in the observatory. She stared at the thesis she had worked so hard on. She felt like throwing it in the fire. How dare Rochdale make advances to a maid at Willowmede? She had known all along his kisses meant nothing. He merely amused himself with the female sex. He was incapable of tender emotions.
A footfall sounded on the stairs, and Alex jerked her head toward the door. As if conjured by thought, Rochdale stood there; an intensity emanating from his powerful body.
With careful concentration, he crossed the room and flung himself into a chair next to Alex. He grinned at her in a wolfish fashion, his teeth startling bright in his tanned face. He had been drinking; he reeked of brandy.
"You're certainly in no condition to work tonight," she said, eyeing him with disgust.
"You work, I'll watch." Leaning back in his chair, Damien rested his booted feet on the workbench. He clasped his hands behind his head, and looked at Alex. "You may proceed, my beautiful vixen."
Alex jumped up and pushed Damien's boots off her worktable. "Both of us should go to bed. I'm in no mood to work tonight." She collected her papers and stacked them neatly in a pile.
In the next instance, she felt strong hands on her shoulders. Rochdale swung her around to face him. "Is that an invitation, my love?" Before she had time to reply, his mouth claimed hers in a fierce kiss.
Alex tried to push away, but Damien held her fast. She willed herself not to respond and stood rigid in his arms.
In a moment, he lifted his head and stared deeply into her eyes. "Kiss me, damn you. Kiss me back." All traces of drink were gone.
Alex wrenched herself from his grasp. She wanted to slap his handsome, lying face. "Why should I kiss you, Damien? You share your kisses far too freely. Or wasn't Lucy accommodating enough?"
"Who the hell is Lucy?" he yelled.
"You don't know?" Alex stared at him. "My God, you're worse than I thought. You force your attentions on an unsuspecting maid, and you don't even know her name. Lucy is the young servant who brought your shaving water this afternoon."
"I forced my attentions...? That little baggage threw herself at me as soon as Brewster left the room."
Alex arched her brow in disbelief and Rochdale curled his lips disdainfully. She realized he'd retreated behind his cynical facade.
He executed a low bow. "I see you prefer to believe the word of a stranger, a servant whom you've known less than a month, instead of me, whom you've known most of your life. I've never lied to you, Alex. I never will." Turning on his heel, he strode to the door.
"What am I supposed to believe?" Alexandra cried. "I've heard horrible stories about you for years. Your reputation is the biggest on dit in town." She dashed treacherous tears from her eyes. "I was beginning to think most of the tales couldn't be true. How could they be? You've been so patient with Robert, and you've helped me with my thesis. You can't be as black as people paint you."
Rochdale sneered. "Oh yes, I can. They call me Demon with good cause. The stories are true. Trust me."
"I trusted you once," she said softly. "You're my brother's best friend, and I've liked you since I was a little girl. What changed between us, Damien? I never quite understood. For the past several weeks, it's almost been like old times. We've worked well together, and I've enjoyed our discussions on the George and the stars." Her voice was barely a whisper now. "I thought we could be friends again."
Damien paused and looked back. His eyes glittered savagely. "We can never be friends, Alexandra." He slammed the door and was gone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The next morning, Damien poured himself a cup of hot coffee and filled his plate with eggs, ham, fresh baked scones, and raspberry preserves. He sat at the far end of the table, well away from Alexandra and Miss Sedgewicke. Alex barely acknowledged his presence and kept her eyes firmly fixed on her copy of the London Times. The dark circles under her eyes emphasized her unusually pale complexion.
Damien heard a commotion outside the door of the breakfast parlor and a familiar voice saying: "No need to show me the way, Sterling. I know Willowmede like the inside of my palm. Been here many times. I'll announce myself."
The door was thrust open and the Right Honorable Mr. Garrett Fleming stood on the threshold. Alex jumped up in obvious delight and ran to him. Damien clenched his jaw as she kissed him on the cheek.
Garr smiled triumphantly. "Told Sterling he needn't announce me," he said, crossing the room and shaking Damien's hand.
"Oh, Garr, do sit down and have some breakfast," Alex said. "Jenny, you remember Garrett Fleming? He brought Robert to London from Spain. Help yourself, Garr, and I'll ring for a fresh pot of coffee."
Garr rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Don't mind if I do. Left Wolverhampton at the crack of dawn. Must say, I'm devilishly sharp set."
After taking a few bites, he looked across the table at Rochdale. "Awfully quiet, old boy. No need looking like a thunderclo
ud. If you're worried about m'father, don't bother. He's fine. Just a touch of the gout and in one of his pets. Thinks he's going to stick his spoon in the wall every now and again, like I said." He turned to Alex. "Wild-goose chase, you know."
"I beg your pardon?" she asked.
Garr buttered a roll and dabbed a large spoonful of the raspberry preserves on top. Between mouthfuls, he explained. "When I brought Rob to London, told Demon m'father was probably in one of his takings. Nothing serious, and I was right." He looked around the table. "Where is Rob, by the by?"
Alex smiled. "He's already eaten and gone to the stables. Garr, I've never had the chance to thank you for all your help with Robert. I don't know what he would have done without you."
Garrett flushed with pleasure. "Anything for ol' Rob, ought to know that." He caught Damien staring at him. "I say, Demon. Making me deuced uncomfortable with all them black looks. Something wrong, old boy?"
Damien forced a smile. "Not in the least. I'm glad you came. Robert will be pleased to see you. When you've finished your breakfast, we'll join him. I believe he's going to examine his wheat fields this morning."
Garrett gaped at his friend. "Rob ain't riding?"
Damien nodded.
"Well, who would've guessed? Old fellow was practically done up when I left him in Cavendish Square." Garr chuckled. "Joke's on me. Thought I'd run down and pay my respects to poor ol' Rob before I left for the Peninsula, and he's riding around playing Farmer George."
Alex poured the coffee. "Robert's made great progress. He's doing all manner of things. He's worked hard, and Jenny and Damien have helped him immensely."
Garr frowned. "What about the fiancée? Said he was going to cry off."
"The engagement is still on, as far as I know," Alex said. "Lady Felicia and her father are visiting Willowmede now. The earl is out fishing and Lady Felicia is still abed."
Damien caught Jenny's gaze. "Robert tried to call off the engagement, but Lady Felicia refused to release him. Even though she freely admitted they wouldn't suit, she doesn't want a scandal and reminded him gentlemen can't honorably cry off. She says they shall have a modern marriage--each going their separate ways."
Jenny's eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. She quickly returned her attention to her plate, a frown marring her smooth forehead.
Satisfied he'd given Miss Sedgewicke food for thought, Damien quickly rose from the table. "Come along, Garr. Robert will be anxious to see you." He waited as Garrett hurriedly finished his coffee. They went to join Robert and left the ladies to enjoy their breakfast in solitude.
****
Later that morning, Alexandra and Aunt Haygood worked side by side in the stillroom. With notebook in hand, Alex jotted down a list of the newly made jams, jellies, and preserves. Aunt Haygood watched and fussed over a batch of peppermint tea, steeping in a brightly painted ceramic pot.
Sterling appeared at the door. "Excuse me, Miss. Lady Nugent has called. She awaits you in the drawing room."
"Drat!" Alex muttered under her breath, then smiled at the butler. "Thank you, Sterling. I'll be there in a moment."
Bowing with infinite grace, the faithful retainer retired to the nether regions of the house.
Aunt Haygood carefully set the teapot on the shelf and wiped her hands on her apron. "What in the world can that woman want?" she sniffed.
"I don't know, but we must go quickly," Alex said. "We can't allow Jenny and Felicia to bear the brunt of Lady Nugent's waspish tongue."
"No, indeed," agreed her aunt.
Opening the door to the drawing room, Alexandra saw Jenny sitting on the sofa, a tight smile frozen on her lips. Felicia sat enraptured, as she listened to the older woman.
Lady Marcella Nugent, a dashing matron in her early thirties, turned and gushed at the new arrivals. "Miss Turlington! And Miss Haygood! I came as soon as I heard the dreadful news. I was just offering my sympathies to Lady Felicia. Such a tragedy. My heart positively bleeds for all of you."
Alex sank onto the sofa next to Jenny. "So thoughtful of you to pay a visit." Glancing at her friend, she wasn't surprised to see angry sparks shooting from the normally calm gray eyes. Alex couldn't blame Jenny; she wasn't overly fond of the woman either. She watched as her ladyship removed her gloves and folded them in her lap.
Lady Nugent lived five miles north of Willowmede with her husband, Lord Thomas Nugent. Alex had heard the lady enjoyed the favor of numerous lovers. She didn't doubt those rumors in the least. Tall and Junoesque, her ladyship had rich ebony hair and dark violet eyes. Perhaps if her eyes weren't so hard and calculating and if she would refrain from so many affectations, Alex could like her better.
Marcella waved a wispy handkerchief at no one in particular. "I arrived at Nugent Manor only yesterday. Thomas and I were in Naples for a month. He's off again already on another diplomatic mission. They really work him to death, poor darling."
Felicia's eyes glowed. "It must be exciting to travel all over the world."
"La, child. I much prefer merry ol' England, I assure you. Foreigners can be so very vulgar, you know." She turned to Alexandra. "How is your poor brother doing, Miss Turlington? It's simply too terrible. The baron has always been the picture of good health and to be struck such a blow when he's in his prime is simply too much! You must send my best wishes up to his invalid's bed."
Alex smiled. "You can tell him yourself. Robert is hardly an invalid and has made an amazing recovery. He's out riding the north farms today with Rochdale and Garr Fleming."
Seeing Marcella's blank expression, she added, "Examining the wheat."
Lady Nugent made a quick recovery and gurgled with laughter. "I knew Turlington was not the kind of man to take his losses lying down. And here I was sympathizing with Lady Felicia when I should be congratulating her."
Felicia had the grace to blush. Alex clenched her fists in the folds of her skirts. Some how, some way, that betrothal must be broken, she thought.
Marcella prepared to take her leave. "I only stopped by for a second, dears. I've a hundred things to do, you know. Since Turlington is up and about, why don't you bring everyone to the Manor for luncheon one day soon. How about Tuesday?"
Alexandra shook her head with feigned regret. "I'm sorry. We're already engaged for Tuesday."
Smiling stiffly, Marcella drew on her gloves.
"You see," Alex explained, "Carlisle has invited Lord Thane to fish in the bass pond at Bramble Court. You know what an avid fisherman his lordship is. Carlisle has planned a picnic for all of us in the afternoon."
"Certainly. I understand perfectly," Marcella said. "Oh well, some other time. I must be off, darlings. Give Turlington my best and tell Rochdale I'm sorry I missed seeing him." She swept out of the room and Alex breathed a sigh of relief.
Aunt Haygood sat straighter in her chair. "I just bet she missed seeing Rochdale," she mumbled.
"What's that, Aunt?" Alex asked.
"Marcella Nugent never does anything without an ulterior motive, as you well know. Robert was merely a convenient excuse to visit Willowmede. It was Rochdale she wanted to see."
"Why would she . . .?" Alex was interrupted as Garr Fleming strode into the room, a frown marring his usually cheerful features.
"What the deuce was the Nugent doing here?" he demanded. "Saw her getting into her landaulet. Looking a tad shopworn, wouldn't you say?"
Alex's eyes widened and Aunt Haygood nodded her head grimly.
Flushing, Garr apologized. "Sorry, shouldn't have said that. Forgot I was in company. Last I heard, Marcella was in Brazil or some such outlandish place." He paused as a thought occurred to him. "Does Demon know she's home? They were thick as thieves a couple of years back."
Felicia gasped. "You don't mean Lord Rochdale and Lady Nugent . . . ?"
Garrett nodded, then remembered to whom he was speaking. "Meant to say they're good friends. Yes, that's what I meant. They're just good friends."
Alex's heart tumbled in her chest. It shouldn't ma
tter about Rochdale's past, yet somehow it did.
Aunt Haygood harrumphed and coughed loudly. Thumping her on the back, Garr offered a bit of advice. "Try some horehound tea for that cough, Miss Haygood. Be right as a trivet in no time."
Jenny laughed and Alex, though still pale, joined in. "Garr, have you forgotten who you're talking to? You must remember Aunt Haygood is a leading authority on herbal teas and their medicinal values."
Garr looked much struck. "You don't say? Had you told me before? Please, accept my apologies, ma'am--just thought I'd drop a little hint."
Miss Haygood waved him away. "I must go upstairs and lie down. I feel one of my spasms coming on." She glowered at Mr. Fleming. "And rather than horehound tea, I believe some Roman chamomile will help soothe me. Unless you have another suggestion, young man?"
"Wouldn't dream of it," Garr said. "Don't know what I was thinking. Deplorable memory. Never can remember a thing."
Aunt Haygood stared at him until she was satisfied she'd put him in his place. Refusing all offers of assistance, she slowly made her way to the door and left the room.
****
From her window seat, Alexandra gazed at the sinking sun. She had spent the afternoon hiding in her bedchamber. Tossing her unread book down beside her, she leaned her head against the cool pane of glass. Ever since Garrett had revealed Rochdale's relationship with Lady Nugent this afternoon, Alexandra's stomach had not stopped churning. She shouldn't be surprised, but it had caught her completely off guard.
Lately, life had become extremely complicated--something new to her. Since her father's death and even before, Alexandra's days had been fairly regulated with household duties, her nights devoted to the skies.
Every spring, she went to London for part of the Season. She enjoyed the social events and making the rounds with Jenny. There was never a shortage of admirers, yet Alex felt them all lacking because she couldn't help comparing them to a tall, sandy-haired viscount with lazy topaz eyes.
Alex picked up her book, flipped through the pages, then set it down again. That brought her back to the major complication in her life right now. She didn't know what to think about Rochdale. And why should she think about him at all? Because he was there, whenever she let down her guard. Hard, ruthless, passionate. The memory of his kisses made her tremble. Why had he kissed her again, and why had she responded with such enthusiasm?
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