“I don’t believe that will be necessary,” he said.
“And why not? Precisely who are these guests?”
“Miss Danvers and Miss Webster will be staying here for a while,” he said.
“Have you completely lost your senses?” she shrieked. She sat up, her plump body looked positively squeezed into her gown, as if her maids had had to tie her flesh up to pour her into the dress. He shook his head.
“She is staying here? Why? Her cottage is more than acceptable for her,” she said.
It was on his tongue to tell her of all the repairs that the cottage needed, but getting into that discussion with her would only prove frustrating for him. So instead he would merely tell her about Rachel’s injury. “Miss Webster injured her ankle and the doctor suggested she stay put for the time being.”
“And that requires that the Danvers girl sleep in the room next to yours? Why ever would you put her there?” She took a breath, but did not stop talking. “We have perfectly acceptable rooms in the servants’ quarters, which is where she belongs,” his mother said indignantly.
“I beg your pardon, Mother, but I do believe the daughter of an earl deserves something much more than being hidden in the servants’ quarters.” He glanced back at his ledger, not truly focusing on the numbers, but in an effort to let his mother know he found her argument weak and uninteresting. He knew it was scandalous to have Mia sleeping in the room next to his. Yes, he should have put her somewhere else. There was an entire floor of bedchambers that were generally held for guests. But he’d wanted her close. Wanted to know precisely where she was so he could protect her. Especially until he knew for certain whether or not Drew had any involvement, even the slightest, in the killings.
“She is no longer the daughter of an earl. That title passed on to someone else when he died. She is a girl without a name, without a family. She is utterly on her own.”
“Precisely the reason why we are providing her with a safe place to live,” he said. He made a nonsensical note in his ledger.
“Have we not done that with that cottage? She has lived there for years and has never once offered so much as a pence for rent.” She came to her feet then. Though she was not an overly tall woman, he knew there were plenty in proper Society that found his mother a force to reckon with. “We give her charity and now she has convinced you to allow her to live in our home? I have never heard of such a thing.”
“She did not convince me of anything, Mother. I invited both of them after Miss Webster’s injury. Not to mention the fact that their cottage is not too far from where the murder occurred. They could have been in danger,” Alex said. He didn’t owe her an explanation. He was the bloody Duke and he’d do however he pleased. He didn’t have to answer to anyone save Queen Victoria herself.
“It will be utterly scandalous. How are you to marry Juliet if you have a woman sleeping in the adjoining quarters to your bedchamber? A room set aside for your wife, I might point out.”
The men in his family had made sport of scandals and he’d be damned if he’d be chastised for simply trying to protect someone from harm. He opened his mouth to argue the point, but she spoke before he could.
“You’ve gone and made her your mistress, haven’t you?” she asked.
“Not that it is any of your business,” he said, careful to keep his tone even, “but no, I have not.” He wanted so much to tell her that he’d gone as far as asking Mia to be his wife, but he knew that would probably send his mother into a fit of the vapors that would no doubt require a doctor to pull her out of.
She eyed him, not speaking for several moments, as if trying to ascertain whether or not he spoke the truth. “Truth or not, it is what everyone will believe and it is unthinkable, Alex. I will not allow it.” She crossed her arms over her ample bosom and glared at him.
As a child, that had been the expression that had cowed him into submission, made him the dutiful boy he’d always been. Always the one to do the right thing, follow orders, be responsible. Well, this time would be no different. He was doing the right thing and protecting Mia regardless of the potential scandal or how it made his mother feel.
It was Alex’s turn to come to his feet. “First of all, you don’t have to allow it.” He stepped around the desk. Instead of standing head and shoulders above her, he leaned against his desk. “This is my home. You do not make decisions for me or give orders to anyone unless I approve.” That earned him a shocked and appalled expression. “Secondly, Miss Danvers is not my mistress. She is a woman in need of some protection and it is my choice to provide that. I will not take kindly to anyone—anyone, Mother—treating her with anything but respect and kindness.”
“I have never been spoken to in such a fashion. You should be ashamed of yourself, Alex.”
“Perhaps it’s time for some fresh air, Mother. I hear the estate in Derbyshire is in need of some repairs. Perhaps you’d enjoy a visit there to oversee that project. I could have a coach ready for your departure in the morning. First thing.” He’d never spoken to his mother in such a fashion. He’d certainly wanted to, on more than one occasion, but felt it would serve no purpose. But today he could take her snide attitude no longer.
Her eyes first rounded in surprise then narrowed. “You think to send me out of London to some faraway hovel? I will not be banished by my own son.”
“Then behave yourself, Mother. She is our guest.” With that, he walked back around and sat at his desk. He returned to his ledgers, though he made no calculations. He couldn’t help but wonder if his own outburst was truly about his mother’s nasty attitude or if he was feeling more than simple protectiveness toward Mia.
She released a loud puff of air and turned on her heel and walked out.
Alex, in spite of the scenario, smiled.
***
Edward had thought of little else since he’d seen and spoken to Rachel. Of course the conversation he’d had with Alex shortly thereafter had been uncomfortable. Drew was obviously into some sort of trouble. But that was not what occupied Edward’s thoughts as he rode home. Rachel, beautiful, sweet and lovely Rachel. Damnation, he thought he’d forgotten her. He certainly had bedded enough women in an attempt to do so.
It had been a long time since he’d stood in the rain and given her his heart, which she had, in turn, coolly rejected. He’d sworn that day that he’d never love another woman and he’d kept faithful to that vow. He’d not sworn off women, though; quite the contrary, he’d made it his duty to be around as many as he could, daring any of them to tempt his heart.
But none of them had.
And then there she’d stood in her pale green gown with its worn hem and faded calico print. He’d wanted to do nothing more than pull her close to him and kiss her until every day they’d spent apart faded from his mind. But he wouldn’t allow her to hurt him again. It was impossible. She’d removed his heart that day and he knew precisely how to be the cold gentleman.
He’d had years to practice, after all. Every woman he’d kissed, every woman he’d touched, he’d imagined her. Every time he’d expected her image to fade, but as if her face had been branded upon his eyes, she was all he ever saw. Well, enough was enough. She had tormented him for years and now it was time for him to repay the favor, as it were.
He’d seduce her. Make her beg him to bed her. He’d touch her body, kiss her, then he’d walk away, leaving her to miss him.
Chapter Sixteen
Alex stood in the ballroom, drink in hand.
“If you keep scowling in such a manner, you’ll have your selection of beauties,” Edward said. “Woman cannot resist a brooding duke. Not to mention you’re beginning to look like the other Carrington brother.”
“Go to the devil, Fairbanks.” Alex downed his drink and dropped the glass onto a footman’s tray as he walked by.
“What has you in such a foul mood this evening?” Edward asked.
Alex exhaled slowly, annoyed his friend had noticed. Frankly, he hadn’t star
ted the evening feeling this way. His confrontation with his mother had only reinforced his belief that he was doing the right thing where Mia was concerned. He’d known it was wrong to propose to Mia, but he wanted her. The desire he felt for her was tormenting him. But she had declined and now he had to accept it was time to formalize the arrangements with Juliet. His desire for Mia need not interfere with that.
He’d left Mia in the capable hands of two footmen who were guarding her every move. Still he longed to be there instead, making certain she was safe. But he had his social responsibilities to attend to this evening, and as soon as he’d arrived, he had marked his name down twice on Juliet’s dance card, and once on a handful of other women’s. Then he’d stood at the edge of the ballroom and watched the display before him. Both of Mia’s sisters were here and the only pleasure he’d had was seeing them both cringe when he’d walked in. Their concerned eyes followed him. They were worried he would make a scene, call them out here in front of everyone in Society. He considered it. But it would solve nothing. And one foolish move could increase the danger Mia was already in.
Still he couldn’t help but wish she were here. That she’d had the same opportunities as the rest of these women. That she had lovely dresses made of soft and luxurious fabrics. That she had a line of men waiting to dance with her and bring her lemonade. Yet she was in hiding while everyone in the room believed her to be dead. Everyone save himself and her two selfish sisters.
“Seriously, Alex, I think you just made that girl cry. If you’re going to glare, perhaps you should aim your vitriol in my direction. I don’t find you the least bit frightening,” Edward said. Though his tone was light, there was something decidedly more sinister about Edward tonight. It was on Alex’s tongue to inquire from his friend about the previous relationship he’d had with Rachel, but the band started to play.
“I believe this dance is for Juliet,” Alex said.
“A waltz. So you truly are going to propose to that girl?” Edward asked.
“We all have to marry sometime, old man.” With that, Alex left his friend standing there while he walked over to where Juliet stood with her mother and a handful of other women. “Miss Beckinsale, I believe this is our dance,” he said.
She allowed him to take her arm as he led her onto the ballroom floor. He swept her into the waltz. He couldn’t help but notice the difference in her petite frame and Mia’s taller one.
“You look lovely this evening,” he said. His words were polite and even true, but sounded stiff and bordering on insincerity. She was very pretty, anyone could see that with her pale blond hair wound into a series of tight curls atop her head and her warm brown eyes. Yet he seemed unmoved by her gracefulness or fair complexion.
“Thank you, Your Grace, you look very handsome as well,” she said. “Perhaps you would enjoy a brief walk after our dance?”
Admittedly he was somewhat shocked by her proposal. It was innocent enough, there were plenty of safe places where they could walk without putting her reputation in danger. If he was serious about pursuing her for his duchess this was something he should do. Something he should want to do.
“Sounds lovely,” he managed. Perhaps having a conversation with her outside the confines of the ballroom would prove interesting.
Their dance ended and as planned he led her, her elbow resting in his hand, to the balcony. It was well lit, bathed in light from hundreds of candles. She looked beautiful standing amidst a rose topiary with her fair hair shimmering in the soft light. Yet he found himself unmoved by her.
For a moment he tried imagining what it would be like to kiss her—if he were to pull her into a darkened corner and press her against the balcony rail and kiss her with all the passion he could muster. He released a low breath. Nothing. Even the thought of such a scandalous embrace left him feeling nothing.
“Your Grace, I have heard you enjoy the opera,” she said, her soft voice interrupting his inappropriate, yet benign thoughts.
“I do have a fondness for the opera,” he said. He briefly wondered how she would know such a thing about him, but no doubt his mother was responsible. Her whispers through the crowds were quite effective. “And you, Miss Beckinsale, are you an enthusiast?”
“Oh, yes, I find music a most effective form of communication,” she said. He could have sworn she opened her mouth to say more, then settled for a sweet smile.
He sensed there was more there, more to be said about how she felt about music. Perhaps there was passion in this proper girl. But was he not courting her because she was so proper? Was that not his main intention, to select a girl who would be the perfect duchess? Why, then, was he desperate for her to reveal something hinting at a real personality, at someone inside who had her own opinions and own ideas?
“Do you play?” he asked.
“I beg your pardon?” Her eyes rounded.
“Instruments. Do you play any instruments?”
She smiled. “Oh, well, yes, I play the piano.”
“Are you any good?” he asked.
“It isn’t for me to say, Your Grace. It would be unbecoming of me to discuss my skill, or lack thereof.” She placed her gloved hands on the railing. They were nice gloves, quality material and fit her hands perfectly, accenting her thin fingers. And no doubt they provided a modicum of warmth for her.
Mia needed gloves. Tomorrow he would buy her some. Perhaps a pair in every color and style so she could have her pick. He mentally shook himself. Now was not the time for him to be considering another woman. He was supposed to be focused on his future duchess.
“Suppose I won’t find it unbecoming. Would you answer the question then?” he asked.
She considered him for a moment, but shook her head. “It would not be proper. Ladies should never be braggarts.”
“Then you are talented,” he said.
“I never said as much,” she said, her tone even. She stared out into the yards below the balcony. A path wound through the gardens, then darkened, allowing some reckless couples privacy for trysts.
It was amusing to him that a society who claimed to truly be scandalized by people’s behavior seemed to do everything they could to create perfect scenarios for said behavior. And then the rest of them would stand around and discuss the carnage. If one considered it, it truly wasn’t much different than the Romans and their Coliseum. Perhaps this was less bloody.
“Beethoven or Mozart?” he asked. He seemed determined now to get her to speak her mind about something. To say something that was truly her and not merely according to custom.
“Beethoven is my personal preference, but Mozart is perhaps more talented,” she said. “I simply have an affinity for Beethoven’s pieces.”
“Wouldn’t you agree, though, that Beethoven’s fifth symphony is a rather pounding piece of music? Almost crudely so,” Alex said.
He saw it, the brief flicker of anger before she schooled her features and once again became the placid beauty she was trained to be. She had not agreed with him. Not only that, but she had been angry with his assessment. What would it take to push her to the limit where she snapped? Where she told him precisely what she thought?
“He was mourning when he composed that piece, Your Grace. Mourning the loss of his own hearing, which certainly was the greatest of deaths for a man who so loved music,” she said politely.
Hell, he knew that and he actually favored Beethoven as well and didn’t agree with the remarks he made, but knew it was a popular sentiment. Granted, he should not be so inclined to push a lady to do anything she was uncomfortable doing. Still the desire to know Miss Beckinsale’s personality beneath her layers of propriety, well, he couldn’t deny that he was curious. Perhaps once in the safety of their marriage she would lower her restraints, at least with him.
Though he doubted as much. Juliet Beckinsale was much like a lovely doll. Designed to be pretty and delicate, not really created to offer much more than aesthetic pleasure. Though he knew that’s what he should want
from a wife, the thought of living with such a creature for the rest of his days left him feeling hollow.
And all he could think about was getting home to Mia. Saying all the same things to her and then hearing precisely what she thought on the matter. Agree with him or not, she’d tell him.
Craving her body was one thing. He could manage the lust. But craving her opinion and defiance was inexplicable and bordered too closely on wanting her companionship. That was dangerous territory indeed.
***
Alex had been quite thorough in ensuring that Rachel followed the doctor’s instructions of getting plenty of rest while elevating her ankle. They had spent the morning reading and conversing and having a rather lovely time. It had been a much-needed diversion from the myriad of thoughts that had consumed her mind since Alex’s impromptu proposal. But then the footmen had come in to retrieve Rachel for her rest. So it was in the sitting room having just been left alone that Mia’s sanctuary was breached.
“Look at you, sitting there all proper as if you belong in this room, in this house,” the woman’s words came from the area of the door, but Mia needed no introduction, she knew precisely who spoke. Alex’s mother was a formidable woman, but Mia had been through too much in her life to fear her.
“I am but a guest in the house,” Mia said stiffly. She would rather not fall into a confrontation with the woman; she knew Alex’s mother did not care for her, though the reasons were a mystery to Mia. “If you need the room, then say the word and I shall find myself another sitting area.” She came to her feet.
“I never said you should leave. Besides, the two of us haven’t had time to speak since you’ve entered my son’s life.” Though her words were harmless, the tone in her voice indicated otherwise.
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