Midnight My Love

by Anne Marie Novark

  Entering the hall, she picked up the day's mail from the silver salver on the table. In addition to several notes from friends, she found an official looking packet from the Royal Society. Her hands trembled as she broke the wax seal and opened the parchment. Scanning the contents quickly, Alex read that her thesis had been accepted by the society as a valuable piece of research and would be placed beside the works of Herschel and his sister.

  Damien! He had sent her thesis off--stolen it, in fact. She had told him she wasn't ready to submit it. Told him she felt she needed more data. He had ignored her decision and took it upon himself to present her theory--her father's theory--to the Royal Society.

  She read the letter again and sank into a nearby chair. Her father's theory would finally be recognized by the leading astronomers of the day! All the nights spent observing the George's orbit, all the tedious drawings and calculations to record its path, all those hours writing the thesis had paid off.

  Damien had made sure she kept her promise to her papa. He had faith in her work and the theory. Alex realized Damien was the only one who had taken her work seriously. Robert thought it a harmless endeavor, while Carlisle referred to it as her little hobby. Even Jenny hadn't understood the significance of her studies.

  Only Damien shared her love of the stars. He had encouraged and supported her throughout. Alex wished he were here to share her joy. She also wanted the opportunity to tell him what she thought of his high-handed ways. But he was gone . . . perhaps forever.

  She went to the kitchen for some biscuits to take to the observatory. Mrs. Abernathy was just descending to the cellars. Saying she would help herself, Alex headed for the pantry. A knock on the back door sounded. There was no one to answer the summons, so she went to the door. A young ostler from the Duck and Drake stood on the steps.

  He swallowed nervously. "Be you the lady of the house, ma'am?" he asked, pulling off his felt cap and bowing.

  "I am," Alex replied.

  "The gentry-cove what was visiting Lord Turlington left this at the inn, Tuesday last, when he spent the night in the private parlor." He held out a slender brass tube.

  Alexandra recognized Damien's small telescope--the one he always carried with him tucked in his boot or jacket, the one her father had given him.

  The ostler shuffled his feet. "M'master says to apologize for bringing it so late, but Mistress only found it this morning when she cleaned behind the sofa."

  One thought flashed through Alex's mind as she took the telescope. Damien had not stayed with Marcella that night! Her heart thumped loudly in her ears. She tried to concentrate on what the young boy was saying.

  "That gentry-cove drank a' awful lot of m'master's best brandy. Fell asleep on the sofa, he did. We tried to wake 'im, but he was out like a light." The ostler shook his head and pointed to the telescope. "That must've fell out 'is pocket when we pulled 'is boots off."

  The butler hurried through the kitchen to the open door. The young servant fell silent in the presence of such an august personage.

  "Here, now!" Sterling scolded. "That'll be quite enough. You've stated your business. Be off with you!" The butler pushed the boy out the door.

  "Sterling, please give him something for his troubles," Alex said, staring at the telescope in her hands.

  The butler frowned as he handed the boy a coin.

  Alexandra smiled at the young man. "Thank you."

  Touching his forelock once again, the ostler bowed and left.

  After he closed the door, Sterling chided his mistress. "You should not be opening the doors, Miss. It isn't proper. No telling what jackanapes might come loitering by."

  Clasping the telescope to her heart, Alex smiled again. "I would not have missed that particular messenger for all the world." She ran upstairs, clutching the precious metal cylinder in one hand and the letter from the Royal Society in the other.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  It was a long week for Damien. Garr had advised him to do something romantic. This presented a challenge because romance had never entered into his dealings with females.

  Damien racked his brain trying to think of something. He toyed with the idea of abducting Alexandra and carrying her off to the Border. But that smacked of vulgarity and would undoubtedly cause a scandal. He was through with scandal.

  What would be romantic to Alexandra? Damien grinned as he thought of his notion of romance. Making love to the beautiful woman he had fallen in love with in a candle-lit room, on a soft feather bed. But first, he must marry her. And he wasn't sure he could carry it off. She had been so angry when he'd last seen her.

  Finally, Damien hit upon the very thing. He sat at the desk in the private parlor of the Castle Inn. Finding some yellowed parchment and an old stylus, Damien began to write.

  Dear Rob, I've decided to marry your sister, if she'll have me. I'm off to London for a special license. I'd like you and Jenny to meet me at Willowmede to witness the ceremony in six days' time. Demon.

  He searched the desk for wafers and found some in a drawer. Folding the letter, he sealed the wax with his signet ring. Garr had told him Robert and Jenny were visiting the Sedgewickes in Dorset. Scribbling the directions on the parchment, he gave the missive to the landlord with orders to see it delivered with all possible haste.

  Garrett leant him the curricle and team, and with a hasty farewell, Damien started for London. He needed to pay a visit to his great-aunt Vallonia.

  By mid-afternoon, he was tooling the grays along Oxford Street. Stopping at his house in Cavendish Square, he quickly changed his clothes to something more suitable for making a social call on an elderly lady.

  The sun was shining in a clear blue sky. He decided to walk to his aunt's house in Brook Street. An ancient porter, dressed in resplendent livery complete with powdered wig, answered the knock on the door. The servant's eyes brightened a moment at the sight of his mistress's favorite nephew.

  "Welcome, my lord," Hawley said, as he took Damien's beaver and cane. "Your aunt will be glad to see you. She's in the Versailles Room." The porter slowly shuffled across the tiled foyer, his back bent with age.

  Vallonia Avenall sat in stately splendor near the fireplace. She wore a shimmering silk gown of puce with enormous panniers, a lace fichu over her shoulders, satin slippers with diamond studded heels, and a tall coiffure lavishly powdered. Two patches adorned her rouged cheeks.

  Damien's aunt-by-marriage upheld the elegance of her generation in her home as well as her apparel. The servants were dressed in green and gold livery, gilt and crystal abounded throughout the house, every room was furnished with Louis XV furniture. The Versailles Room was a small replica of the Galerie des Glaces at the royal palace in France. Great chandeliers held hundreds of tiny candles and one entire wall was covered in mirrors. Thick Aubusson carpets blanketed the marble floor.

  The old woman's obsidian eyes narrowed when Damien entered the saloon. "High time you came to see me, young cawker," she complained. "Can't remember when you last honored me with your impertinent presence. Broke our dinner engagement a month ago or more to escort Robert Turlington home. I haven't seen hide nor hair of you since."

  Damien grinned. "Your tongue is as waspish as ever, Aunt Val." He took the outstretched hand in his own and bent to kiss the wrinkled rouged cheek.

  Vallonia Avenall snorted. "So, my boy, what brings you round? Thought you were rusticating near Bath. How's Turlington doing?"

  Damien took a seat near the raised dais. "Much better. He's up and about and handling his loss quite well. In fact, he's getting married soon."

  "Glad to hear it. Good family, the Turlingtons. I knew the Baron's grandfather." Her eyes twinkled merrily. "Knew him quite well."

  "Please spare my blushes, Aunt. You don't have to boast of your conquests to me. Your exploits are legendary. They called you the Valkyrie of Love--with good reason, I understand."

  Smiling, the old lady rapped his fingers with her fan. "As they have reason to call you Demon, my bo
y. We're two of a kind. I only wish you could find someone to love like I found your uncle. I never looked at another man after I married my Henry."

  "As a matter of fact, I have found someone," Damien said. "That's the reason I'm here. I intend to get married."

  Vallonia leaned forward eagerly. "Who has captured your cynical heart at last? Do I know her? Don't keep me on tenterhooks, nephew. Tell me who the girl is."

  Damien laughed. "It's Alexandra Turlington--Robert's sister. I've known her for years. I think I've loved her for a long time, but . . ." He shrugged his shoulders and gazed at the flames in the hearth.

  The old woman twisted her fan until it threatened to snap in half. "I could wring Clarissa's beautiful neck for the way she treated you and your father. It's no wonder you went to the devil."

  Damien brushed an invisible speck of lint from his sleeve. "That's all past, I assure you."

  "It's high time you pulled rein on your wicked-paced life. Almost given up on you, boy!" Vallonia rang for refreshments. "Alexandra Turlington. I'm not well acquainted with her, but I've seen her a time or two. Attractive girl, though not in her first blush of youth. Good family, handsome jointure. Well, when's the wedding to be? Haven't seen the notice in the papers yet."

  Damien shook his head. "No, because I don't know if she'll have me. There's been a misunderstanding between us. I'm going to set things right, but she still may refuse my offer."

  "Nonsense!" Vallonia snorted. "I haven't met a woman yet, who could resist a handsome rake like you."

  "Alexandra is not like other women," Damien said. And thank God for that.

  "Glad to hear it. Does she love you?"

  "I believe so," he replied.

  "And you love her?" asked Vallonia.

  "With all my heart."

  "You've asked her to marry you?"

  Damien took a quick turn about the room. "Yes, and she refused. I've botched it from the start. I must have fallen in love with Alexandra many years ago, but I thought it was only lust I was feeling."

  He turned grim eyes toward his aunt. "I've wanted many women before, but I've never met another woman that I've wanted as I do Alex. I thought spending time with her at Willowmede would cure my infatuation. It's only fed fuel to the flames."

  The doors opened and the old porter shuffled in bearing a silver tray. He handed Damien a brandy, then poured his mistress a glass of sherry. With a stately bow, he left the room.

  Vallonia sipped her sherry and stared at her great-nephew. "Did you tell her you love her?"

  "No."

  "Why ever not?"

  Damien paced around the room again. "It's a long story. I won't bore you with the details. Suffice it to say, my curst temper got the better of me. I offered Alexandra an unforgivable insult, but I thought I had just cause. When I found out I was mistaken, I asked her to marry me. She flung my proposal in my face. I was too proud to explain myself and left Willowmede in a towering rage."

  Vallonia set down her glass. "Come, my boy. You'll have to do better than that. I must hear all the particulars, especially if you want my help."

  Before Damien knew it, he was pouring the whole story in his aunt's sympathetic ear. When he came to the end, Vallonia leaned back in her chair. "And did you tell her you didn't spend the night with your mistress?"

  Damien frowned. "She's not my mistress, damn it! That affair has been over for a year or more. But no, I didn't explain. If Alex loves me, she'll have to trust me."

  "I agree, but the circumstances were against you. No woman wants to share the man she loves. What do you intend to do now, my boy?"

  "I thought I was at point-non-plus." He smiled. "Garrett Fleming suggested I sweep Alex off her feet. So I've come up with a plan, and I believe I have it all worked out. All I need now is a special license. That's why I've come here. You must know a bishop or two. I certainly don't--I haven't gone near a church in years."

  "And what makes you think I have?" asked Vallonia.

  Damien lifted an eyebrow. "Surely, you know someone high up on the ecclesiastical ladder?"

  His aunt cackled with mirth and patted his hand. "You know me too well, nephew. Let me think." She stared out the window for a moment. "Yes, I do know someone who will serve our purpose. Roland Williams joined the clergy after I rejected his offer in my first Season. I believe he's a representative for the archbishop here in London. I'll give you a letter of introduction and you'll have your special license in no time at all."

  ****

  Late one night at the end of that interminable week, Alexandra was up in the observatory trying unsuccessfully to focus the telescope on the northern quadrant. Rain had threatened earlier in the evening, but the clouds had blown away leaving the skies crystal clear. Perfect weather to view the heavens. Or it would be if she were able to adjust the lens to her satisfaction.

  After numerous attempts, she finally gave it up. No matter; her mind wasn't on her work anyway. All she could think about was Damien. She felt like shouting to the world that Demon Avenall loved her and only her. He had not spent the night in Marcella's arms after all. Nor had he made improper advances to the servant girl, Lucy. How she had misjudged him!

  Smiling to herself, she picked up the slender brass telescope from the workbench. She took it to the window and peered through the lens. It was a powerful instrument for one so small. Damien would surely miss it. Perhaps he would return to Willowmede to look for it. The telescope was one of his most prized possessions. He wouldn't give it up without a thorough search.

  Lowering the telescope, Alex held it against her heart. She ran her fingers over the smooth, cold metal. She must see Damien as soon as possible. Maybe she should go to London or Avenall Abbey. She could write to Robert. He would know where Damien had gone.

  Alexandra wanted to feel Damien's arms around her again. She wanted to see his eyes darken with passion. She longed for the smile that transformed his face, erasing the cynical expression he habitually wore.

  The large metal hinges on the oak door squeaked, and Alex slowly turned to see who had entered the observatory. She expected Mrs. Tolles coming to scold her into going to bed. It was nearly midnight, and the housekeeper had taken it upon herself to see to Alexandra's welfare since she was alone at Willowmede this week.

  Alex's breath caught in her throat and she nearly dropped the small telescope. There on the threshold stood Damien. His topaz eyes raked her from head to toe. Alexandra's heart pounded and she thought she might faint. He looked wild and untamed, his gaze intense--as if he intended to devour her in one bite.

  Her cheeks grew hot, her palms sweaty. He had looked at her exactly like that, all those years ago. She had been so frightened of her brother's dangerous friend. Frightened of the feelings he aroused in her heart.

  She wasn't frightened any longer.

  "Alexandra. . ." He spoke the one word--half question, half command.

  Instantly, she flew across the room and into his arms. Damien held her in a crushing embrace, drawing her against his body. His mouth came down on hers, bruising her lips, kissing away the hurt.

  Winding his fingers in her hair, Damien tilted her head back. His tongue invaded her mouth, and Alex submitted gladly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him closer, leaning against his hard frame.

  Suddenly, Damien wrenched his mouth from hers and grasped her shoulders with strong hands. He looked into her eyes, his breath coming in labored gasps. Sliding his hands down Alex's spine, he tightened his grip and held her close, her head pressed to his chest.

  After a moment, Alex heard a rumbling from deep within him and realized he was laughing. She pulled back and stared up at him.

  Kissing her nose, he grinned. "I can't tell you how relieved I am at this reception, my love. I thought you would still be angry with me, that you wouldn't even speak to me."

  "The battle's not won yet, my lord," she said, pushing him away and standing before him with arms crossed. "How dare you send my thesis off to the Royal So
ciety after I expressly told you I didn't want to submit it! That was the most arrogant piece of high-handedness. . . I shall not stand for it."

  "Who spilled the beans?" he asked, smiling.

  "I don't find it amusing," she warned.

  "Come, Alexandra. How did you find out?" he asked soberly.

  "I received a letter from Sir Joseph Banks and the Royal Society. He said my thesis will be published in the Society's next volume of Philosophical Transactions. Naturally, I'm thrilled with the acceptance of Papa's theory. But to go behind my back after I expressly told you I wasn't ready--it was my thesis, Damien. My father's thesis. It was up to me to send it."

  Alexandra stood with smoldering green eyes, indignation stamped clearly across her brow.

  "I apologize for my arrogance," he conceded. "But I'm not sorry I sent the thesis. It truly is a remarkable piece of research. You give your father all the credit, but you put in five long years of hard work. Would you ever have sent it?"

  "That's not the point," she said.

  Damien advanced toward her. Alex retreated until her back was against the wall. He took her in his arms and she halfheartedly pushed him away. His eyes bored into hers as his lips possessed hers once again.

  After a moment, he pulled back. "Confess, you may never have found the courage to send the thesis. It's where it belongs and you know it."

  Alex clasped her hands around his waist. "Damn you, Damien Avenall! I know it is. I can only hope it helps someone locate whatever it is that's pulling the George off course. Not that I intend to quit looking myself."

  "We will continue the search together, Alexandra. I still want you to marry me. In fact, I insist upon it."

  Smiling, she traced his jaw with a gentle finger.

  Damien seized her hand and kissed her fingers hungrily. "I told you once, you were playing with fire," he said, his voice ragged with desire. "I love you, Alexandra. I want you. Don't make me lose what control I have. God knows it's little enough at the moment."

  "I love you, too," she said softly. "Why didn't you tell me you hadn't spent the night at Nugent Manor? Why didn't you tell me you loved me then?"