Whirlwind Affair

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  He didn't know, but he did know he hadn't yet found "the one." The one who made him feel that certain something- that elusive spark he saw every time Austin and Elizabeth exchanged a glance. Every time Caroline and her husband Miles were in the same room. Each time his brother William smiled at his wife Claudine. He'd seen it every day growing up, between his parents, until the day his father died. He couldn't name it, couldn't explain it.

  But by damn, he wanted it.

  Wanted the happiness and completeness his siblings enjoyed. Wanted to bounce his own child upon his knee. Wanted a wife to share his life with and to make love to every night.

  Now all he had to do was find her.

  But that was proving bloody well difficult. Damn it all, it seemed he'd met every unmarried woman in the entire country. Still, perhaps his luck was about to change. Elizabeth thought he might like the lovely Mrs. Brown. In fact, he recalled her exact words-/ have a feeling you '11 find the happiness you seek in London -and Elizabeth 's "feelings" had an uncanny way of coming true. Indeed, the way her intuition, or perception, or visions, or whatever one chose to call it, had led to his brother William's incredible rescue, was legendary in his family-and a closely guarded secret. They'd opted not to tell anyone else so as not to expose Elizabeth to the inevitable curiosity and skepticism her unusual talents would provoke.

  Had her words been in reference to Mrs. Brown? Or had she meant he would find some relief, some peace, from the heaviness that lay upon his heart? A series of images flashed through his mind, and he braced himself as if to receive a blow. The fire roaring out of control. The panicked shouts of men, the terrified screams of the horses. Then Nate's face…

  He squeezed his eyes shut until the disturbing image faded. He'd never discussed that night or Nate's death with Elizabeth, but she did have that unnerving way of knowing things…

  When he'd asked her to translate her cryptic comment, she'd merely graced him with one of those indecipherable female smiles that claim / know something you don't know. Well, he would know-whatever it was-soon enough. The passengers were making their way off the ship.

  He craned his neck, scanning each person's face as they approached. A pair of young men. Definitely not. A middle-aged gentleman followed by a weary-looking couple each holding the hand of a small child. Robert smiled at the children and received gap-toothed grins in response. Returning his attention to the passengers, he clicked off mental "no's" as a clergyman, a portly gentleman, and a gaggle of chatting matrons passed by. Where was Mrs. Brown? It seemed almost everyone had disembarked.

  His gaze flicked over a woman swathed head to toe in mourning black, and another mental "no" quickly formed in his brain. Although Elizabeth had told him Mrs. Brown was a widow, her husband had died years ago. She'd no longer wear mourning clothes.

  Still, there was something about the woman's face that brought his gaze back to her. Those wide-spaced eyes, and that intriguing dimple in the center of her chin… and the way she was looking at him, as if she recognized him.

  Confusion assailed him, and he lifted a hand to shade his eyes from the sun. This couldn't be the right woman. Where was the bright smile? The radiating joy? The sense of laughter and mischief? Sadness and seriousness surrounded this woman like a dark cloud. He gazed beyond her, but the only passenger behind her was a plump matron struggling down the gangway with a trio of small, yapping white dogs.

  He returned his attention to the woman in black. She walked toward him swiftly, her eyes scanning his face. He caught a brief glimpse of an errant brown curl that escaped her black bonnet. Recognition slapped him, and although he realized she was indeed Mrs. Brown, his mind struggled to equate this woman with the sketch Elizabeth had given him. They were precisely alike… yet nothing alike at all.

  "You must be Lord Robert Jamison," she said, stopping several feet away from him. "I recognize you from the sketch Elizabeth gave me."

  I wish I could say the same. Surely she did not still mourn her husband? Yet that must be the case as Elizabeth had not mentioned that Mrs. Brown had suffered a more recent loss. Sympathy for her washed over him. Obviously she'd adored her husband, as his death had tragically depleted her. Her eyes, the color of fine, aged brandy, appeared haunted and anxious in her pale face. How sad that mourning had taken such a toll on her. How unfair that a man she so clearly loved had been stolen from her, taking all her laughter and joy with him. She looked tiny and frightened in her stark clothing, as if her state of grieving had literally swallowed her whole. He shoved aside the disappointment and pity he hoped didn't show on his face, then offered her his most charming smile and a formal bow.

  "I am indeed he. And you must be Mrs. Brown."

  "Yes." Not even a ghost of a smile touched her lips. Her expression grew even more grave as her gaze darted about their surroundings. He watched her, feeling uncharacteristically short of words. He racked his brain for something to say, but she surprised him into further silence by stepping closer to him. So close, in fact, that the tips of her shoes touched his boots and her black skirt brushed his breeches. So close that her scent drifted over him, a tantalizing combination of sea air and-he inhaled deeply-some sort of flower. Before he could identify the delicate, elusive fragrance, she rested her gloved hand on his sleeve and rose up on her toes, leaning toward him.

  Egad, she meant to kiss him! Was this how things were done in America? The only other American he'd ever met was Elizabeth, and he couldn't deny she possessed a forthright, friendly manner, although not quite this forthright. Still, he didn't want to hurt Mrs. Brown's feelings by rebuffing her very un-British greeting.

  Lowering his head, he brushed his lips over her mouth. And everything in him stilled. For the space of several heartbeats, he couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do anything save stare down into her shocked eyes while two impossible words pounded through his brain.

  At last.

  A frown yanked his brows downward, and he stepped back from her as if she'd turned into a pillar of fire. At last? Bloody hell, he'd gone mad. The next stop for him was Bedlam.

  Two bright crimson spots stained her cheeks. "What on earth are you doing?" she asked in a voice that trembled with unmistakable outrage.

  Now he'd done it. Whatever she'd been about, clearly she hadn't intended for him to kiss her. And he wished to hell he hadn't. His mouth still tingled with the hint of her taste, and he barely resisted the almost overwhelming urge to lick his lips. Or lean down and lick hers.

  Undeniably unsettled, his gaze roamed her face, taking in her becoming blush, the dark lashes surrounding her golden-brown eyes, the pert nose painted by a smattering of pale freckles, the dimple gracing her chin, and then her mouth… such a lovely, plump mouth. Moist, deliciously pink, the bottom lip lusciously full, and the top lip, impossibly, even fuller.

  Good God, what sort of cad was he to entertain even the hint of a lustful thought toward her? The woman was in mourning. Not that he'd had a lustful thought. Certainly not. That inexplicable tingle he'd felt had merely been… surprise. Yes, that's all it was. She'd surprised him. And that jolt he'd felt? Nothing more than embarrassment. Yes, he'd simply made an ass of himself. Not the first time, and unfortunately, most likely not the last.

  Relieved that he'd settled everything back into the proper perspective, he took another step backward. "My apologies, madam. I meant no offense. In truth, I thought you'd meant to kiss me."

  "And why would I possibly want to do that?"

  Amusement, rather than offense at her question and tone, nudged him. "Perhaps an American greeting custom?"

  "Absolutely not. I'd merely intended to ask you something, in a discreet manner."

  "Ah. You wished to whisper in my ear."

  "Precisely."

  "And what did you want to-"

  " Alberta! There you are, my dear."

  Robert turned toward the high-pitched voice. A short, plump, fashionably dressed matron walked crookedly toward them, trying without much success to control
three small white dogs that seemed intent upon jerking her in three different directions. Even if he had not recognized the formidable Lady Gaddlestone, there was no mistaking her dogs, those mischievous little charmers he clearly recalled from the last time he'd seen them when he'd mentally dubbed them Sir Piss-a-lot, Sir Bite-a-bit, and Sir Hump-a-leg.

  "Tedmund! Edward! Frederick! Cease at once!" The baroness pulled back on the leads, barely halting the trio before they dragged her past him and Mrs. Brown. One of the beasts promptly lifted its leg and watered a weed that had sprouted between the cobblestones. The other two pranced about, one eyeing his ankle as if contemplating a nibble, while the other regarded his calf with an unmistakably lustful gleam.

  Raising his brows, Robert intoned, "Sit." Three canine bottoms instantly hit the cobblestones, and three sets of shiny black button eyes gazed up at him.

  "Marvelous, Lord Robert," the baroness said, her breath puffing in exertion. "Although I must say it is quite vexing that the boys will listen to a near stranger rather than their mama."

  "Ah, but Teddie, Eddie, Freddie, and I are old friends, are we not?" Robert crouched down and tickled his fingers over their silky fur and was promptly presented with three tummies to rub. "We enjoyed several invigorating strolls during your last visit to Bradford Hall." He arose, much to the boys' dismay, and made the baroness a formal bow. "A surprise and pleasure to see you again, Lady Gaddlestone. I was not aware you'd sailed on this ship. I see you are already acquainted with my sister-in-law's friend, Mrs. Brown."

  "Indeed. Alberta proved a wonderful traveling companion. A stroke of genius on my part, hiring her."

  Hiring her? What was the baroness talking about? He glanced at Mrs. Brown and noticed that although a blush stained her cheeks, she lifted her chin and regarded him with an expression that would have done Prinny proud, almost daring him to look upon her with disfavor for undertaking employment. Which he did not. Still, the fact that she had, surprised him. And whetted his curiosity.

  Before he could think upon the matter further, the baroness continued, "I would have been utterly inconsolable if she'd drowned this morning."

  Robert stared at the baroness. "Drowned?"

  "Yes. La, it was frightful!" A shudder shook Lady Gaddlestone's ample frame. "The dear girl was hit in the back with a runaway winch, and over the side she went. Thank heavens the boys saw the entire incident. They nearly barked themselves into apoplexy. Captain Whitstead performed a brilliant maneuver and the crew pulled dear Alberta from the sea. Bless the saints she can swim like a fish."

  The baroness waved her hand in front of her face, and Robert prayed she wasn't about to swoon. He recalled that the baroness was not prone to draping herself artistically over a fainting couch and ringing for her hartshorn-thank goodness-and true to his memory, she rallied. Once assured that she was steady on her feet, he turned his attention to Mrs. Brown. "I'm sorry you suffered such a terrible ordeal. Were you hurt?"

  "No. Just frightened."

  "Oh, but you never would have known she was!" Lady Gaddlestone interjected. "She was utterly marvelous, remained perfectly calm, bobbing on the surface like a cork. Heavens, I would have screamed like a banshee, then sunk like a rock. Captain Whitstead was most impressed. As for me, I'm certain I'd have succumbed to the vapors for the first time in my life if I hadn't needed to rescue one of the other passengers from the boys. All three of them quite inexplicably threw themselves upon Mr. Redfern's ankles! Oh, such snapping and snarling as I've never witnessed from my babies! Luckily Mr. Redfern was very understanding when I explained that all the excitement had adversely affected the boys' delicate constitutions. Of course, his trousers will never quite be the same, I'm sure."

  She drew a quick breath, then plunged on, "Now we can only pray that dear Alberta does not suffer any lingering affects, such as a congestion in the chest." She pinned a stern glance on Mrs. Brown. "You must take a hot bath the minute you're settled, then take yourself off to bed."

  Mrs. Brown nodded. "I-"

  "And you," the baroness intoned, swinging her gaze to Robert, "shall make certain she is well taken care of until she is in the duchess's care."

  "Of course."

  "Excellent." Lady Gaddlestone nodded, clearly satisfied that her dictates would be obeyed. "Now I understand the duchess is close to giving birth. Has the child arrived yet?"

  "Not as of this morning." A laugh rumbled in Robert's throat. "But Austin has already paced a ditch in the drawing room."

  "Well, I shall expect to be informed when the babe arrives so I may schedule a visit. I just adore purchasing baby gifts." She gave Robert a thorough up-and-down inspection. "You're looking quite fit, young man," she proclaimed with an approving nod. "Hard to believe, but I dare say you're even more handsome than when I saw you last. You've the look of your father about you. That same devilish gleam in your eye."

  "Thank you, my lady. I-"

  "Perhaps you can cheer up Mrs. Brown a bit," the baroness plowed on. "Poor dear is still in the doldrums over losing her beloved David. Laughter is what she needs. I've told her at least a dozen times that she's far too serious by half, have I not, Mrs. Brown?"

  Mrs. Brown had no opportunity to reply, for the baroness continued, "She enjoyed the boys, however. They managed to coax a number of smiles from her. Remarkably pretty woman when she smiles, which is of course not to insinuate that she isn't remarkably pretty when she isn't smiling, which is sadly most of the time, but when she smiles she is very remarkably pretty. Tell me, dear boy, don't the duke and duchess have a dog?"

  "Yes. They have-"

  "Excellent. Canine company will do Mrs. Brown a world of good. And now, dear boy, tell me, are you married yet?"

  "No."

  "Betrothed?"

  "I'm afraid not."

  The baroness raised her brows and pursed her lips, and Robert could almost hear the gears turning in her head. "Excellent" was all she said, and Robert was not certain he wanted to know what she meant by it. She glanced beyond Robert and waggled her gloved fingers. "My carriage is ready to depart." She extended her hand and Robert obligingly bent and brushed a kiss over her fingertips.

  "Always a pleasure, Lady Gaddlestone. Welcome home."

  "Thank you. I must say it is a relief to have both feet planted back on English soil." She turned to Mrs. Brown. "I shall see you again before you return to America, my dear."

  "I hope so," said Mrs. Brown.

  "You may count upon it." Giving the leads a slight tug, she set her brood in motion and was nearly yanked off her feet. "Good-bye for now," she huffed as she staggered away.

  The instant he judged her out of earshot, Robert turned to Mrs. Brown and offered her a sheepish grin. "I rather feel as if I were rolled over by a runaway carriage."

  Allie looked up at him, at his striking countenance, lopsided grin, and mischievous eyes, and her throat tightened. With his ebony hair and dark blue eyes, he looked nothing like blond, brown-eyed David, but his teasing manner, his easy smile… they were so achingly, hauntingly familiar. Clearing her throat, she said, "Lady Gaddlestone is really very kind."

  "I would never imply otherwise. She could, however, talk a saddle off of a horse." His gaze roamed her face, his eyes reflecting concern. "You're certain you're all right after your accident?"

  Accident. "Yes, thank you."

  "Now that the baroness had departed, perhaps you will tell me what you'd been about to say before she arrived." A teasing light sparkled in his eyes. "Something you'd wanted to whisper in my ear?"

  Heat suffused Allie's face. Did this man take nothing seriously? Not only had he had the temerity to kiss her but now the gall to tease her about it! She clutched her gown to keep from touching her lips where he'd kissed her. How could such a feathery touch, one that had lasted less than a second, have affected her so? He surprised me, that is all. That rapid beating of my heart… merely the result of the unexpected. And the unwanted.

  She cast a glance around the bustling dock area an
d another chill crept down her spine. Someone was watching her. She knew it. Biting back her unease, she said, "I'd simply planned to discreetly ask you if we could leave here as soon as possible. I'd noticed Lady Gaddlestone coming toward us-"

  "Ah. Say no more. I quite understand. Even people we like can sometimes prove exhausting. We shall depart immediately." He smiled at her and offered his arm, tilting his head with another David-like gesture that made her teeth clench. "My carriage is right this way."

  When she hesitated to take his arm, he simply grabbed her hand and settled it in the crook of his elbow. "See there?" he said. "I don't bite. Hardly ever."

  She fell into step beside him, trying to reconcile the impulse to snatch her hand away from him and the undeniable relief the safety of his presence offered. His arm felt firm and muscular beneath her fingers, more so than David's had. And although Lord Robert was several inches taller than David, he matched his longer strides to her shorter ones, unlike David. She'd always felt as if she had to run to keep up with her husband.

  When they arrived at a handsome black lacquered carriage, Lord Robert instructed the waiting footman to fetch her trunk. He then handed her into the carriage and settled himself on the plush, gray velvet squabs across from her. Deciding the time had arrived to tell him, she cleared her throat.

  "I'm afraid I owe you an apology, Lord Robert. You traveled all this way to escort me to Bradford Hall to see Elizabeth, but I'm afraid I must remain in London for at least a day or two. I have some business affairs to see to." She forced her hands to stay still and not pluck at the material of her gown. "There are several matters regarding my late husband's possessions that I must take care of. He'd resettled in America, but he was English, you know. From Liverpool."

  "No, I didn't know." He glanced down at her mourning gown. There was no mistaking the sympathy in his gaze. "I’m very sorry for your loss."

  She lowered her lashes so he couldn't read her eyes. "Thank you."

  "Although it's not exactly the same, I know what it's like to lose someone you love. My father died several years ago. I miss him every day."