"He's probably afraid to love," Robert said. "His mother cuckolded his father countless times. He doesn't want to live as his father did."
Jenny felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach. "Do you think Alexandra loves him in vain then? Will Rochdale allow himself to love and be loved?"
Hugging her close, Robert kissed the tip of her nose. "If anyone has a chance to break through Demon's defenses, I'd gladly lay my blunt on Alexandra."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The moonlight across her pillow woke Alexandra. She had fallen asleep after the picnic. Glancing at the clock on her mantel, she saw the time to be near midnight. Her stomach rumbled with hunger. She'd missed dinner.
Gathering a shawl about her shoulders, she went downstairs to the kitchens. She made a sandwich of cold roast beef, poured a glass of warm milk, and carried the tray of food to the library. She was wide awake. A book would be just the thing to while away a couple of hours.
She thought about going to the observatory, but decided against it. For the last few days, Alex had searched for her thesis, but to no avail. It seemed to have disappeared. Maybe Damien had picked it up to go over one more time, even though she'd told him she wouldn't send it to the Royal Society. But Alex knew sooner or later she would send it. She must keep her promise to Papa.
The door of the library stood open and candlelight streamed into the dark hall. She heard the shuffling of cards and Garr's surprised voice.
"Don't know how you manage, Rob. Most amazing thing, really. You shuffle half the deck with one hand, then shuffle the rest of the deck. Put them together, and you're ready to deal. How'd you learn?"
"Demon and I perfected the technique. It took hours of practice," Robert said. "You have to be sober, of course. Wouldn't do at the clubs, but it's sufficient for a game between friends."
Alex started to enter the library, but paused at Robert's next words.
"I can't believe Demon would serve us such a trick. He wasn't planning to spend the night with the Nugent, as far as I know. In fact, he said he'd see us at dinner. Besides, Jenny believes Demon loves Alex."
Garrett cleared his throat. "Thought so myself. But he was mad as a hornet when he left Bramble Court. Terrible temper, Demon has. Told him not to do anything he'd regret. Told me he knew what he was about. Pity."
"If he loves Alex, then why did he go off with Marcella?"
"Can't say," Garrett answered. "She looked pleased as punch, hanging on his arm. Can't stand the woman, m'self."
"I thought that affair ended a year ago."
"It did. The Nugent always latches on to Demon like a leech whenever he's near. Wants him back."
"Does he want her?" Robert asked.
"Wouldn't think so, but never can tell with Demon. You know how he is about women. Beds 'em, but never weds 'em. Discovered he loves Alex--running scared now."
"Maybe you're right," Robert said. "The more I think about it, the more I believe Alex would make a good wife for him."
"Capital girl, your sister," Garrett agreed. "Never seen her have a fit of the vapors or anything like that. Might be just the one for Demon. Last of his line; must have an heir, you know."
"They both have an interest in astronomy," Robert continued, ignoring Garr's profound observations. "They've stayed up till all hours of the night for the past month, looking at some planet or star or something."
"Yes, b'gad," Garrett exclaimed. "And Demon's always in that observatory of his at the Abbey. Carries that small brass telescope your father gave him wherever he goes."
Alex heard a chair scrape the floor and decided against selecting a book. Taking her midnight supper to her room, she settled herself on the window seat and gazed at the bright sky. She nibbled at her sandwich, then put it down. Her appetite had deserted her.
Drawing her knees toward her, Alex rested her head against them and closed her eyes. She knew Damien had wanted to hurt her when he escorted Marcella home. How dare he spend the night with his former mistress? Especially after the passionate kisses they'd shared behind the waterfall.
This was the last and final straw. Damien would never change. He was a heartless libertine. He was immoral and cruel . . . and . . . How could she love such a man?
She tried to allow for his unfortunate childhood. His mother must have been terrible. Damien bore emotional scars that would never heal.
Alex jumped up and paced around her bedchamber. She pushed away the thought of holding Damien and soothing away his hurts. She must face the truth. He didn't love her. Had never loved her. He couldn't love her.
What was she going to do? She had been so hopeful of scaling his defenses, of winning his love. Now, the future seemed . . . she had no future. Not with Rochdale anyway.
Lifting her chin, she decided to go to the observatory after all. She would not go into a decline. She would throw herself into her work; there was much to be done. She must find that thesis, or start all over.
Climbing the stairs to the tower, Alex made a promise to herself. She would not think about Damien and what could have been, ever again.
****
The next morning, Damien rose with a stiff neck and a pounding headache. Sleeping on a short sofa and imbibing the landlord's best brandy was not conducive to a good night's sleep. Still, he felt lighthearted and cheerful. He would ask Alexandra to marry him and he would be a good husband. Not all marriages had to be like his parents'.
Pulling on his boots, he gathered up his jacket and made his way to the taproom. The innkeeper hurried to greet him.
"Good morning, m'lord." The landlord beamed at his guest. "I tried to rouse you last night, but your lordship was sleeping like the dead. I took yer boots off and polished them myself."
"Thank you," Damien said. "I need water and a razor, some breakfast, and my jacket pressed. I'd like to return to Willowmede as soon as possible."
The innkeeper nodded. "I told the wife you must be the one staying with the Baron. I'll show you to a room and get the shaving gear quick as a wink. Would yer lordship like me to shave you?"
Damien followed the man up the stairs. "No, I believe I can manage myself."
Thirty minutes later, Damien was congratulating himself. Brewster, his valet, would be appalled at the condition of his boots and jacket, but Damien was satisfied with his appearance. At least he'd look presentable when he proposed to Alex.
Sitting down to a hearty breakfast of eggs and beefsteak, Damien felt nervous. In all of his dealings with women, he'd never considered their feelings. Did Alex love him? Would she marry him?
He remembered the passion he'd awakened in her--remembered her trembling body. Her responses were pure and real. Not like the practiced responses of his past lovers.
Damien swore he'd be worthy of Alexandra. He knew he didn't deserve her love. For years, he'd been obsessed with the memory of one stolen kiss. One woman had dominated his thoughts and dreams. He could not rid himself of his need for Alexandra, even though he'd stayed in the same house with her for over a month.
She must feel something for him. She had to. She could not have responded as she had, if she held him in disgust. Suddenly, Damien was seized with a rash impatience. He wouldn't be content until Alexandra was his.
Ordering his mare saddled, he tipped the ostler and headed for Willowmede. He rode cross-country, remembering another such ride not so very long ago. Damien shook his head. How could he have denied his love for Alexandra for so long? Why had he fought so hard against these intoxicating feelings? They weren't that bad; in fact, they were pleasant, comforting--even exhilarating, once you grew accustomed to them.
When he reached Willowmede, he met Robert and Garrett at the stables. The grooms were harnessing a pair of perfectly matched grays to Garr's curricle. Damien dismounted and handed the reins to an underling. "Off to the wars again?" he asked.
Neither Robert nor Garrett answered; they merely stared at him. "Don't stand there with your mouths half-cocked. I know I'm late coming back."
"Slept in your clothes, Demon?" Garrett asked, shooting a knowing glance at Robert.
Damien grinned. "As a matter of fact, I did. I had a hell of a night." Rubbing the back of his neck, he thought of the hard couch at the inn.
"The Nugent accommodating as always?" Garr wanted to know.
"Let's not go into that, if you please. I'll tell you one thing, though. After spending the evening with Marcella, I've finally come to my senses."
"Glad to hear it," Robert said.
Again, Damien noticed a look pass between his two friends.
"Are you leaving immediately, Garr?" he asked. "Wait a few minutes, I want to talk to you before you go. First, I must speak to Alexandra." He strode off in the direction of the house, leaving his friends to gawk at his retreating back.
****
Alexandra found it difficult not to think of Damien. She decided to keep busy so her mind couldn't stray toward the man she had the misfortune to love.
Maggie helped her into an old muslin gown, and Alex headed for the herb garden. She'd neglected it for the past couple of weeks; there would be plenty of work to keep her hands and mind occupied.
The chives were thriving and had multiplied tenfold. Alex focused her attention on separating and replanting the onion-like plants. She knelt down, so she could reach the back of the herbal bed. There were several clumps that refused to make contact with her shovel. As she stretched forward, Alex felt a strong body lean over her. Large brown hands took the small gardening trowel from her and scooped up the elusive plants.
Alex felt a treacherous shiver rush through her body. Damien's long fingers clasped her trembling hand, pulling her to a standing position. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her toward him, cradling her back against his hard body. He buried his face in her hair and held her against him, not saying a word. They stood there for a moment, their bodies as one.
Suddenly, Alex recalled his perfidy from the day before and jerked herself from his hold. She turned to face her tormentor. He smiled and devoured her with his golden eyes. Alex felt her knees weaken. This was foolishness, she reminded herself. The man was wicked, and if she gave in to her emotions, she would regret it for the rest of her life.
Damien placed his strong hands on her shoulders and gathered her into a powerful embrace. Before she could protest, he kissed her. Something was different about this kiss, but Alex didn't know what it was. She felt her senses reeling, and she pushed him away with all of her might. She saw a momentary flicker of hurt in his eyes. It was gone in an instant, and he smiled again.
"Don't be missish with me, Alexandra," Damien said. "I want you to marry me. I've never forgotten that first kiss we shared together. You've plagued me for many years. I know my past is black, but I promise to reform. Your love will keep me on the straight and narrow." There, he'd said it. He'd asked her to be his wife. He took both of her hands in his to pull her to him again.
Alex wrenched herself from his hold and stepped back. "You must be mad!" she gasped. "Have you no shame? Have you no scruples at all? You think you can spend the night in the arms of your mistress, then come and offer marriage to me?" She looked him up and down with scathing contempt. "You flatter yourself if you think I'd ever stoop to marry one such as you. I thought perhaps you'd changed, but I was wrong. You'll always be a rakehell." She waited a moment for an explanation--anything, but he stood silent before her.
Damien's stomach tightened into a twisted knot. He'd never had a woman berate him before--yes he had--but not one he loved. And she was accusing him of things he hadn't done. Perhaps he'd intended to bed Marcella, but he'd decided against it. He'd be damned if he would explain himself.
Alex saw Damien's face harden into a stone mask and her fury mounted. She hated him for what he'd awakened in her. She hated herself for loving him despite all he'd done. "If I ever considered marrying you, yesterday's actions killed anything I ever felt for you." Hot tears were threatening as she continued. "You marched your mistress in front of me. You deliberately hurt me, when you offered to escort her home. I saw you watching me."
"Yes--and I saw Carlisle kissing you." His voice was harsh. Would she deny it? Had he been mistaken?
Alex shook her head. "At least Carlisle's intentions were honorable!"
She waited for him to say something, but he continued to stand there like a statue--silent and cold. Alex took a deep breath. "Besides, if I married you, how would I ever know you'd be true to me? You have dozens of discarded mistresses. Anytime we quarreled, how would I know you wouldn't run to one of them for solace?"
Still he said nothing. Alex straightened her shoulders--he would not see her tears. "You say you will change, but old habits are hard to break, Damien. You've lived a life of debauchery for most of your thirty-five years. Marriage is based on truth and love, and you're incapable of either."
Alex turned away, gripping her skirts with fisted hands. If only he would say something--give some explanation. She knew she would forgive him if he told her he loved her--that he'd made a mistake.
Damien's mouth curled into his old sardonic smile. He would never let her know how much her words hurt him. He'd been better off when he'd avoided love. He was right when he swore never to trust a woman. She had not denied that Carlisle had kissed her. He bowed with mock formality. "It seems I can say nothing to alter your opinion of me. My presence is repugnant to you, so I shall leave Willowmede immediately. Believe it or not, I wish you only happiness." His boots crunched the gravel path as he turned and walked away.
A cold numbness spread through Alexandra. He was going out of her life forever. She wanted to call him back, but couldn't. The incident with the maid and his actions yesterday proved he would never change.
Wet tears scalded her cheeks as she knelt to retrieve the shovel. If she gave way to her heart, she would marry a man who didn't love her and one whom she could never trust. In her mind, she felt she'd made the most logical decision. But her heart ached. Alex knew she was destined to live her life alone, with only the memory of a few kisses to keep her company for the rest of her days.
****
Damien slowed his steps as he neared the stable. He'd left Alex only minutes ago. It seemed a lifetime.
Robert and Garr were still inspecting the horses and the curricle. Garrett was making last minute preparations before he left for Portsmouth, where he would take ship to Spain and rejoin his regiment. Damien stopped near the horses. "I'm going with you, Garr. And I'm ready to leave, as soon as possible."
"This is rather sudden, isn't it?" Robert asked, eyeing him with a frown. "I thought we had plans to go to Bath tomorrow. Did something happen between you and Alex?"
"Ask her yourself. I'm sure she has plenty to say about the matter," Damien answered curtly.
"Lover's quarrel?" Garr asked.
Damien shot him a withering glance as he walked around to the driver's side of the curricle.
"Don't push him," Robert warned Garr. "He looks dangerous at the moment."
"Demon's always dangerous," Garrett reminded his friend. "Short temper. Volatile nature. Used to challenge people at the drop of a hat, remember? We acted his seconds many times."
"I remember. Let up on him, will you?"
"All right," Garr said. "You sure you want to go, Demon?"
"I'm sure," he answered, as he swung himself up into the curricle. Looking down into Garr's puzzled face, Damien took up the reins. "I'm driving."
"Anything you say, old boy." He jumped into the curricle beside his friend. Damien saw him wink at Robert.
"Yes, Garrett, I know you think you're humoring me," he said. "Don't look so damned pleased with yourself."
"What about your things, Demon?" Robert asked.
"Tell Brewster to follow in the carriage. We'll spend the night at the Castle in Portsmouth." Damien gave the horses the office to start, and the curricle sped down the gravel road at an alarming rate.
Garrett held onto his hat with one hand; he grasped the edge of his seat wi
th the other, holding on for dear life. He glanced now and then at Demon's stern profile. Something was amiss, and he resolved to find out what the problem was.
The drive to Portsmouth took less than seven hours. The weather was fair, the roads good. Damien was silent, his whole attention focused on the horses. Garr watched the scenery flash by.
At Warminster, they changed horses; stopping only for a quick tankard of ale. Garrett eyed his friend with concern. Demon appeared oblivious to his surroundings.
"Want me to handle the ribbons a while?" he asked.
Damien stared at him a moment, as if he'd forgotten his presence. He shook his head. "I know I'm devilish company today. But if you have no objections, I'd like to continue to drive."
"All right, old fellow. But I demand a reckoning, as soon as we reach Portsmouth."
Damien nodded. The second part of the journey was accomplished much like the first. They reached Portsmouth at half past six. Pulling into the inn yard, two ostlers rushed to unharness the sweating horses and lead them to the stables. Garrett and Damien established themselves in the Castle Inn's best private parlor.
Sometime later, they were sipping port. On the table were the remains of a well-cooked dinner of pheasant, sweet peas, boiled potatoes, and salmon.
Garrett leaned back in his chair and regarded his friend across the table. Damien sat in a brown study; his brows drawn together in a frown as he gazed at the candlelight reflecting on his glass. Garr watched as he tossed off the port and poured another glassful.
"Aiming to make a night of it?" Garr asked conversationally.
"I aim to get rip-roaring drunk." Damien quickly downed another glass.
"Gonna have a thick head in the morning," Garrett warned.
"So? I had a thick head this morning," Damien retorted.
"This morning?"
"Yes," he said. "I imbibed the landlord's brandy a little too freely last night."
"Landlord?" Garr asked.
"At the Duck and Drake."
"The Duck and Drake?" Garrett said, staring hard at him.
Midnight My Love Page 17
