by Mary Brendan
‘Papa...’ Elise whispered, wondering where this was leading and which of them was to be most embarrassed by her father’s line of questioning.
Walter raised a finger to his daughter, begging her silence and obedience.
Alex shifted, resisting the urge to plunge his hands in his pockets. He glanced down at his boots, concealing a reluctant smile and subduing an urge to polish the dusty toecaps on the backs of his breeched shins. He felt like an errant pupil summoned to an audience in a headmaster’s office; he also felt a surge of the utmost respect for Walter Dewey, despite realising the old fellow was not about to make anything easy for him.
He might have done the decent thing by proposing to Walter’s daughter, but Walter wanted more than his title, his estates, his millions of pounds for Elise. He wanted to know she’d be cherished. In the not-so-distant past he’d been approached by a marquess willing to sell a daughter to him for the price of a short lease on a Mayfair town house. Alex knew which of the two gentlemen he admired and which he’d like as his future father-in-law.
Alex had made a few enquiries and knew Walter Dewey was impoverished. He had nothing other than this rented house, a small private income and his two beloved children. Yet future scandals held no fear for Walter; he’d charged those demons years ago and lost, emerging battle scarred. Just hours ago Walter had proved his contempt for compensation by rejecting Thomas Venner’s conscience money. The purpose of this interrogation was to allow Elise to listen and learn from his answers and his conduct whether she could trust him as the father of her children, the keeper of her heart.
‘Are you to answer me, sir? Or might I draw the conclusion that you have nothing further to add.’
‘I have something to add,’ Alex said. ‘There would have been no proposal...just yet.’
‘Ah...I see...’ Walter nodded. ‘Expand on “just yet” if you please.’
Alex’s eyes moved and merged with a wondrous golden glance before she whipped her eyes away. He observed her frown, her uncertainty before she once more fixed her eyes on her father.
What had Elise needed from him? Alex brought to mind her three vital requirements for her marriage: love and respect and loyalty... He’d vow each one and more besides if she’d let him.
‘It would have been too soon to expect your daughter to believe me sincere when promising her my love and respect and loyalty.’
‘I see...’ Walter said, glancing at his daughter just as Elise averted her face to conceal a bright sheen in her eyes. ‘It seems your acquaintance was not so short that you deemed kissing her in the shrubbery might be inappropriate—’ He broke off as he heard his daughter’s muffled protestation. He squeezed her hand, patting it in apology and consolation at breaking that confidence.
‘Well...I believe you sincere,’ Walter said, cocking his head at Alex. ‘I can tell my daughter might need some persuading. So...I think it best I leave you alone so you might do what a fellow must in these circumstances.’
Walter gripped the upholstered arms and pushed. He grimaced, lowering himself back into his chair. ‘As it is easier for you young people to get about, perhaps you should remove yourselves.’ He squirmed again into a comfortable spot in his seat. ‘Why not go outside and enjoy the last of the sunshine while you talk?’ he suggested.
Elise darted glossy golden eyes at Alex, her heart thudding like a drum. He held out a hand and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to go to him, to feel the hard gentleness of his long fingers at the small of her back, guiding her to the door.
* * *
Walter watched from his vantage point as the couple emerged on to the terrace. Not arm in arm yet, but close enough to make him contentedly close his tired old eyes.
He wasn’t surprised his Elise had caught herself such a noble gentleman. He’d seen early her beauty that went beyond looks and eclipsed her older sister’s prettiness. But Arabella had been blind to it. When Elise was little more than a toddler his wife had been disappointed that her younger child’s hair wasn’t fairer, her eyes not china blue, but turning a hue that hinted at autumn leaves. She’d wanted a twin for Beatrice and another tribute to her own image rather than a daughter who resembled the man she’d agreed to marry when in his prime. A man she’d henceforth found it impossible to love.
The viscount was a smarter fellow than he, Walter acknowledged with an inner chuckle. He wouldn’t allow himself to be led astray by a vain beauty who fluttered her eyelashes at every fellow in the room the moment her spouse left it. Oh, Walter had heard of his reputation and knew Blackthorne was a wealthy aristocrat with a penchant for the petticoat set. He knew, too, that he could easily negotiate a marriage contract within the aristocracy. But the boy was made in his father’s image and required a wife and a marriage that would remain steadfast through life’s ups and downs, and Elise with her grace and wit would challenge and charm and suit him perfectly till the day he died.
As soon as Alex Blackthorne had come into his study and Walter had witnessed the two of them together he’d known. A short acquaintance, maybe, but they were in love, yet each too proud or stubborn to yield and declare feelings when fate seemed set against them.
Walter chuckled softly to himself. One down...one to go...
But he was optimistic on that score, too. The doctor was well within his rights to give the Dewey household a wide berth following the scandalous uproar he’d witnessed earlier, yet Walter had an inkling that Colin Burnett would return later, and primarily to see Beatrice rather than to fuss over him.
Chapter Nineteen
‘I’m sorry my father has...’ Elise’s courage deserted her along with her voice. She had no idea how to carry on, but had felt compelled to blurt out something to shatter the wall of tension that seemed to be building between them as they walked side by side.
She indicated a path that opened on to a small rectangle where a bench was situated beneath an arbour smothered in ramblers. The rose garden faced west and the golden warmth of the sun clung to the mellow red-brick walls enclosing it. The early evening air had turned fresh and Elise crossed her arms, absently rubbing at their tops.
‘Are you cold?’
‘A little...’ She gave him a fleeting glance, glad he had spoken at last.
He slipped off his jacket, settling the fine garment about her hunched shoulders. Elise smiled her gratitude as sandalwood and a faint aroma of port and tobacco enveloped her. She nestled into the coat bearing his warmth and musky scent.
‘I’m sorry my father made such a scene in the garden earlier,’ she began quietly. ‘Please make allowances for how dreadfully overwrought he must have been after reading Aunt Dolly’s letter.’
‘It was an understandable reaction.’
‘And I’m sorry he has engineered this awkward situation and has made you...’ Again Elise faltered, gestured with a hand as she approached the ancient wooden bench and sat down, an inaudible sigh shuddering up from deep within.
‘Sorry your father has made me...?’ Alex prompted,
‘Oh...I think you know what I’m trying to say!’ she cried in muted frustration. ‘He has made you say things...indicate things you don’t mean and from embarrassment, or good manners, you have gone along with it.’
‘I’ve not humoured your father,’ Alex countered mildly. ‘You seem to assume that I know your thoughts, Elise. More often than not I’m simply optimistically guessing at them, wishing your feelings to reflect mine.’ His expression turned wry as he sat down beside her. With a weary sigh he sat forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘Despite you assuming I’m a practised womaniser, I’m as clumsy as the next novice suitor attempting a courtship. Attempting a proper courtship,’ he qualified ruefully, sensing her narrowed eyes leap to his profile.
Elise quelled an urge to snap that he’d been skilful enough to gain his mistress’s blatant ador
ation on the afternoon she’d seen them together in his phaeton. As he turned towards her, she squinted against sunlight that shadowed his features, yet lit hers to his slow scrutiny.
The vague amusement in his eyes transformed to a gaze of passionate tenderness as he took her slender pale fingers, slowly raising them to his lips in a reverential salute. He lowered her hand to her lap, allowing his fingertips to continue the caress.
‘Did you intend to say that you’re sorry your father manoeuvred me into declaring my proposal was heartfelt, but premature?’ he asked with studied solemnity.
‘Yes...’ Elise croaked, intensely aware of the sensation of his skin stroking on hers. Involuntarily she unfurled her fingers to allow more of his seductive touch. ‘Yes,’ she repeated, having cleared her throat. ‘I’m sorry you had to do that.’
‘I didn’t have to do it. I just found the courage, somehow, to lay bare my soul, despite not knowing how you would take hearing that I love you and respect you and will remain faithful to you.’
Elise’s dusky lashes lowered in confusion before flicking up so she might search his face for a sign he was teasing, or, worse, continuing to be dreadfully polite. But a glimmer of wonderment began rippling through her as his eyes remained steady despite self-mockery clouding their depths.
‘You will promise to give up your mistress for me?’ Heat spontaneously suffused her cheeks; the thought that had been spinning in her mind, making her jealous and miserable, had spurted forth from her lips of its own volition.
‘Of course...I already have. Did you seriously think I would not?’ His hands cupped her face, tilting up her chin so she must look at him. ‘I take my marriage vows seriously, Elise, that’s why I’ve not yet felt inclined to utter them.’
‘Neither have I,’ Elise whispered. ‘I know as a good daughter I should marry and not be a burden on my papa, but I’m glad I’ve not been asked as there’s been nobody that I’ve liked enough...until now.’
He smiled crookedly at her while brushing a thumb over her full pink lips. Instinctively Elise parted her mouth, touching moisture to soothe the sensitivity he’d trailed in his wake.
Alex dipped his head, ready to plunge his mouth on hers following her innocently erotic teasing.
‘What will become of her?’ Elise asked when their lips were merely a hair’s breadth apart. Her small palms caught either side of his abrasive jaw, tightening fiercely to hold him back. ‘How did your lady friend take knowing you are to be married?’ Elise knew she was being brazen in mentioning Celia Chase at all. A genteel young lady did not acknowledge the existence of a gentleman’s paramours; she certainly didn’t quiz him over them, even if she considered herself to be his future wife. Of course, in the eyes of the ton she was now sullied and need not adhere to their hypocrisies, she reminded herself, so promptly repeated her question.
‘I believe she is adequately supplied with admirers and will soon find another gentleman friend.’ Alex kept his tone neutral, his eyes on hers despite the temptation to let them fall to her alluring lips.
Elise was not content with that answer. How did she know if he might still number among Celia’s admirers? The thought of her husband secretly lusting after another woman pricked her pride. ‘Can you so easily suppress your feelings for Celia Chase?’ she demanded huskily.
‘Yes.’
‘And if I should decline your proposal?’
‘Then perhaps she would remain my friend... Who knows?’
There was a subtle challenge in his voice and velvet-brown eyes that was not lost on Elise. ‘So you do still love her and want to sleep with her...’ Elise’s brittle conclusion terminated in a gasp as Alex shifted alarmingly quickly, looming over her and trapping her back against the bench’s slats.
‘I don’t love her, Elise, and as for sleeping with her...I have no more desire to do so if we are to be married. I am not an adulterer. As I have told you.’ He dipped his raven head, smoothed his cool mouth against one of her flushed cheeks. ‘I love you, Elise. I want you...but if you were to reject me...not want me...you’d have no right to blame me for turning elsewhere.’
‘I do want you...’ Elise breathed. ‘I really do...’
Inwardly Alex smiled as he nuzzled her neck, causing her to blissfully sigh. She did love him and all that stood in the way of her trusting him was her wrongful perception of Celia Chase’s part in his life. How was he to explain that a man’s mistress often was no more important or useful to him than his tailor? In the way a gentleman might tire of a particular cut of clothing, so might he decide he’d outgrown his current paramour and look elsewhere for female company. He didn’t feel guilty or callous because of his point of view; he liked women he knew treated their role professionally and who were keen to benefit from the transaction. Alex knew fellows who had fallen in love with their mistresses and married them, but it had never occurred to him to seek more than shared passion and companionship from the women he bedded. Until he’d met Elise he’d not been sure that any woman could completely satisfy everything he needed from a wife.
‘Coup de foudre, I believe it’s called,’ Alex said softly. ‘From the moment you marched over to me to confront me at Vauxhall I was smitten even though I thought you were scheming Lady Lonesome. After you ran off I started scouring the crowds for a sight of you almost immediately.’ He twisted a smile. ‘I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw Hugh had joined your group and I realised I had a reason to approach you.’
‘I think I fell in love with you almost at once as well.’ Elise tilted her face to welcome the hand that had cradled her cheek at her shy declaration. She closed her eyes, letting out a soft sigh as Alex pulled her roughly towards him on the seat.
‘Perhaps Whittiker has done me a favour rather than a disservice,’ Alex said, his lips smoothing over satiny skin close to her brow. ‘But for him I might still be too proud to admit to what I’ve known for some time. I might invite him to the wedding reception.’
‘Don’t you dare!’ Elise giggled, nestling against his shoulder.
Alex pulled his coat away from Elise’s body by a lapel. She watched his long fingers disappear close to her breast, felt the nudge against tingling flesh as he withdrew the hand clasping a small box.
‘So, Miss Dewey...will you marry me?’ Alex asked with a gravity that wasn’t wholly playful as he went on to bended knee by her side.
‘I will be greatly honoured to do so, sir.’
He snapped open the small leather casket, turning it so she might see the jewel inside.
Elise stared at the ring for a long moment before raising astonished eyes to his face. ‘You brought this with you for me?’
He nodded. ‘It was my grandmother’s engagement ring. My mother had it in her safe keeping, so I called on her before heading towards Hertfordshire.’
Elise touched the huge sparkling diamond with a hesitant finger. ‘It’s so very beautiful...I’ve never seen anything so grand...’ she murmured, awestruck.
‘And it’s yours if you’ll do me the greatest honour, make me happier than I’ve ever been...and say you’ll marry me.’
Instead of reaching for the ring Elise joined him on her knees on the ground, hugging him tightly about the neck. Joyous tears dribbled on to her cheeks, wetting his hair. ‘I’ve never felt so happy either, Alex,’ she sniffed.
‘You like your gift,’ he noted with gentle humour, drawing her up to sit beside him. ‘I’m very glad...so would my grandmother be to know it goes to someone as fine and beautiful as you; my mother will adore you.’ He chucked up Elise’s chin as she dried her eyes with her knuckles. ‘She has given me firm instructions to introduce you to her the moment we return to town.’
Alex wriggled the gold shank free of its velvet nest and, taking her left hand, slid it in place.
The unaccustomed weight made Elise carefully lift her fingers so the
dying sun might fire the magnificent diamond to rainbow brilliance. ‘It fits me very well.’ She gave a beatific smile, spinning the ring and turning her face up to his.
It was the opportunity Alex had been waiting for. His lips seized hers with hungry heat, sliding silkily back and forth parting her lips. With an inaudible gasp Elise’s hands coiled about his neck and she kissed him back, luxuriating in the way her response made him widen her mouth to the touch of his tongue. It was the same as the first kiss he’d given her, but so much better, imbued with a wooing sweetness that had been lacking when he’d thought her a mercenary harlot.
‘God...do you know how long I’ve waited to do that again?’ Alex groaned against her hair when their lips finally unsealed.
Elise nodded, crumpling her loose silken hair on his jaw’s stubble. ‘Far too long...’ She sighed.
Alex pulled her on to his lap, ignoring her squeal of protest at the immodesty of it and again captured her mouth in a drugging kiss.
‘I want you!’ It was a rasping, half-laughing apology for his lack of control. ‘I want you, Elise...right now...I feel as though I could devour you...’
He sounded agonised and she held him in comfort, his mouth steaming against her heavy sensitised breasts covered by the wool of his coat. She arched her back, dropping back her head as exquisite sensations streaked from her nipples to the core of her femininity. Instinctively her hips squirmed against the hard heat pressed against her buttocks and the small groan grazing his throat turned feral.
Alex sprang to his feet, carrying Elise in his arms as though she were featherlight as he strode urgently towards the screening shelter beyond the brick wall. But just a few paces away from his destination a frustrated curse burst through his teeth and reluctantly he put Elise down.
Norman Francis goggled at the couple from beneath his low forehead. In his opinion, if one of the girls took after her mama it was Miss Beatrice, not the quieter one...or so he’d thought.
