by Wilma Counts
Her long lashes fluttered with embarrassment. “I enjoy children.”
Alexander’s heart gave a sudden jolt. This was a woman who should have a dozen children. She would be warm and loving, with a great sense of fun. Like his own mother, who had shunned nurses and insisted that he be at her side.
A delicious warmth crawled through his body at the image of Grace with a child in her arms.
“At least we have managed to convince one and all that we are happily engaged,” he retorted softly.
“Not all.” She pointedly glanced toward the brightly dressed dandy in the corner.
Alexander was not at all surprised to discover Mr. Wallace closely watching them. The twit was no doubt gnashing his teeth in frustration at the fear he would have no scandal to sell to his powerful friends. With his numerous debts, he had to be smelling the cells of Newgate in his dreams.
“Then we shall have to work harder,” he murmured, reaching out to pull her arm firmly through his own. “Come.”
Although she had little choice but to fall into step beside him, she glanced at him in protest. “Alexander.”
“What?”
“We cannot just leave.”
“Of course we can,” he assured her, pulling her through the open doors that led to the library. “We will be gone just a moment.”
“Where are we going?”
He smiled down at her upturned face. “I told you that there was another tradition on this eve.”
He halted beside a small table with a candle burning on a dish and beside it a bowl of water. Grace glanced up in surprise.
“What is this?”
Alexander pulled out a chair. “Sit here.” He waited until she had settled on the satinwood chair and then took his own seat next to her. Carefully, he grasped the candle and tipped it until the hot wax had dripped into the bowl of water. “Now we shall begin.”
“What are you doing?”
He watched the wax harden in the water. “I am going to tell your future.”
Grace gave a startled laugh. “Absurd.”
“Not at all. My grandmother would tell my future every year.”
“And what did she foresee?”
Alexander remembered back to those moments with his grandmother, when she would make a great show of preparing for her reading. It was all very mysterious for a young boy.
“Love, happiness . . .” His voice trailed away as he was struck by a poignant memory. “And oddly enough, a life filled with music.”
It was difficult to determine in the firelight, but Alexander suspected a soft blush had stolen to her cheeks.
“You are merely jesting.”
He gazed deep into her wide eyes. “Not at all.”
For a moment they stared at each other in silence; then Grace turned toward the water on the table.
“And what of my future?” she said, attempting to distract him.
Alexander obligingly glanced at the wax. “I see a gentleman. Tall, dark haired, and extraordinarily attractive.”
“Obviously a stranger,” she retorted in dry tones.
He ignored her thrust as he continued to stare at the wax. “That is odd.”
“What?”
“I see true love and some danger that seems to have to do with water.”
“Perhaps my true love is a sailor,” she suggested.
All thoughts of the strange vision of the water were abruptly forgotten as he lifted his head. “That would be unfortunate,” he said with soft emphasis.
“Why?”
“Because you are my fiancée.”
Unable to prevent himself, Alexander leaned forward and captured her soft mouth in a fierce, wholly possessive kiss. He would drive all thoughts of other men from her mind, he told himself, only to have his own thoughts scatter like leaves in an autumn wind as sweet pleasure spiraled to the pit of his stomach. A soft moan was captured in his throat as he lifted his hand to stroke the line of her jaw. The pleasure was almost unbearable, but even as he leaned forward to deepen the kiss, a sharp pang in his thigh had him pulling back with a gasp. Glancing down, he discovered a black kitten hanging on to his thigh with its front paws. With a resigned sigh he plucked the intruder from his ill-treated leg and allowed it to curl upon his arm.
“I believe Byron is attempting to warn me that we have been gone long enough.”
Clearly flustered Grace rose to her feet, her eyes as brilliant as gems. “Oh.”
Alexander also rose, deeply regretting their moment alone was over. “Grace . . .”
It took a moment before she could force herself to meet his gaze. “Yes?”
“Happy Christmas, my dear.”
Nine
Although Grace had been placed in the same chambers she had used while her mother was married to Edward, she had never taken excessive notice of her surroundings. Now, after a sleepless night, she could confidently state that the ceiling mural possessed precisely six angels, four harps, twelve clouds, and Eve holding an apple. The paneling acquired a rose tint at the break of dawn. And the tick of the clock was only drowned by the barking of the dog outside her window.
At last weary of courting her elusive sleep, she had risen from her bed and attired herself in a warm woolen gown a shade of cinnamon. Then she headed downstairs and made a straight path for the library.
She had no desire to join those in the breakfast room. Not until she had managed to sort through the coiled emotions that had plagued her through the long night.
It was all most aggravating, she acknowledged. Before Alexander had arrived at Chalfried she had never tossed in her bed all night or been tormented with images of being held in a gentleman’s arms. But of course, before Alexander came to Chalfried she had never sung Russian love songs or played in the snow or spent hours talking about herself. And she certainly had never spent so much time laughing.
If this were occurring to another woman Grace would have accused her of being in love. But she was far too sensible to tumble into love with a gentleman who could never possibly return such love.
Wasn’t she?
With a faint shake of her head, Grace stepped into the library only to falter at the sight of Mr. Wallace.
“Oh.” She suppressed a shiver at his soft form encased in a tight coat of pink satin with a burgundy waistcoat. He appeared more a piece of confectionery candy than a gentleman of breeding. Unfortunately, he was far more dangerous than a bit of sweets, unless one added a dash of poison.
Seeming to be unaccountably pleased by her sudden arrival, Mr. Wallace performed a deep bow. “Good morning, Miss Honeywell, and may I add Happy Christmas.”
Wavering between the manners her mother had painstakingly ingrained into her and the desire to put as much distance between herself and this unpleasant man as possible, she at last forced a stiff smile to her lips.
“Thank you.”
“Were you searching for Fox?”
Grace hesitated. She had no desire to confess she had been seeking a spot to brood upon her unpredictable heart. Besides, a fiancée could hardly deny wishing to be with her beloved.
“Yes.”
“I believe he is currently involved with Lady Falwell.” His hand raised to point out the window.
Barely aware she was moving, Grace crossed the carpet until she could clearly see Alexander and Lady Falwell standing upon the terrace. Her heart gave a painful jerk as she realized that Alexander was gently holding his companion’s hands as he gazed into her upturned countenance.
At least she now understood what had drawn Mr. Wallace to the room, she thought with a flare of disgust. She had known it could not have been for any love of literature.
“I will speak with him later,” she muttered.
Clearly realizing that she meant to leave, Mr. Wallace boldly reached out to grasp her elbow. “She is very lovely, is she not?”
Grace shuddered at his touch. What could she say? Lady Falwell was without a doubt the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. So be
autiful that it would be a miracle if any gentleman did not fall beneath her spell, she thought with a pang.
“Yes, she is. Lord Falwell is a very fortunate gentleman,” she said stiffly.
Wallace gave a sly laugh. “Not all would think so.”
“Oh?”
“There have been very persistent rumors that she is often seen in the company of Fox.”
Grace’s heart grew cold as she recalled the numerous occasions that Lady Falwell had managed to intrude into her moments alone with Alexander. And how readily he had dismissed her to be with the married woman.
Then, with an effort, she reminded herself that this gentleman was determined to cause trouble for Alexander. What better method than making his fiancée believe the worse?
“Well, there will always be those anxious to spread scandal, even if it is pure conjecture,” she retorted in pointed tones.
“Oh, certainly, and I suppose it is only natural that the two would seek out each other’s companionship since they were neighbors in their youth.”
“Quite natural.”
The evil eyes narrowed. “Still, one cannot completely dismiss the fact that they have been seen together in a posting inn near Surrey.”
Grace caught her breath in shock, although she managed to keep her composure intact. “More gossip.”
His smile twisted in an ugly fashion. “If you insist.”
“I do.”
He leaned closer, the cloying scent of his cologne nearly overwhelming. “I suppose you would also insist that Fox included me in this cozy country gathering simply because he takes such great delight in my company?”
Grace shifted back in unease. That was a question that Alexander had been obviously unwilling to answer. “Why else?” she asked cautiously.
“It occurred to me that he might wish to convince me that all is splendid between Lord and Lady Falwell and of course, reveal his most convenient engagement to you, my dear. What better means of putting a halt to the rumors flooding through London?”
Grace did not want to listen. Wallace was as vicious and poisonous as a snake. And certainly he would love nothing more than to harm Alexander. But made suddenly vulnerable by the pain twisting in her heart, she discovered her normal common sense eluding her.
She needed to be away from this ghastly man. Somewhere where she could think in a rational manner.
Very conscious that Mr. Wallace was regarding her with a growing smile, Grace composed her features in an icy expression of disdain. Whatever her inner thoughts, she would not give this man the satisfaction of knowing how deeply he had disturbed her.
“Are you always so suspicious when you receive an invitation?”
He shrugged. “It all depends upon who has issued the invitation.”
“How very lonely you must be.” She offered him a regal nod of her head. “Please excuse me.”
Not giving him the opportunity to halt her, Grace swept from the room. Then, with swift steps she hurried to the back of the house and through the door that would lead to the parklands. It was bitterly cold, even with the cloak she had gathered during her flight through the house, but it was the one place she could be assured of being alone. Wrapping her arms about her, she blindly walked toward the distant woods.
Blast Mr. Wallace.
She did not want to think Alexander capable of loving another gentleman’s wife. Or worse, using her to hide his secret.
But while she told herself that Alexander was an honorable and trustworthy man, those insidious accusations refused to be dismissed.
Alexander and Lady Falwell were indeed very close. Far closer than mere acquaintances. And few gentlemen would not find Lady Falwell desirable.
And, of course, there was his rushed engagement with her. He claimed it had only been to protect her reputation, but could it have been instead a heaven-sent opportunity to continue his liaison with Lady Falwell while pretending to be nicely engaged?
Grace pressed a hand to her throbbing heart. In truth, Alexander’s motives were none of her concern, she told herself in an attempt to chide her dark thoughts. Their engagement was no more than a sham, and he had never once encouraged her to believe it would be anything more. What he chose to do with his life was his decision, and his decision alone. She had no right to judge him. But the sharp pain that flooded her body was answer enough to the troubles that had kept her awake long through the night.
She had fallen in love with Alexander. And while her unrequited feelings would be difficult enough to bear, it would be even more difficult to accept that she had been so mistaken in him.
Grace shivered as the sharp wind tossed back the hood of her cloak. Halting to tug it back over her tousled curls she suddenly froze as a tall form appeared beside her. She knew who it was before she lifted her head to meet the impossibly blue eyes.
“There you are.” Alexander smiled, although a hint of puzzlement could be detected in his tone.
He no doubt thought she must be a bit daft to be walking in such weather, she told herself.
“Good morning.”
“I waited for you at breakfast.”
Her stomach quivered at the sight of his smile. How handsome he was. So tall and strong, with a hint of devilish amusement in his eyes.
Did Lady Falwell care so deeply? Or was she just amusing herself?
“Is there something that you need?” she forced herself to ask.
“Merely to give you this.”
He held out a small box, and before she could halt the instinctive movement she had reached out to take it from him.
“What is it?”
“A small Christmas token.”
Slowly opening the box, Grace gave a sharp gasp. Lying upon the dark satin was a delicate gold chain and on the chain was a tiny charm shaped as a musical note. Tears of pleasure rushed to her eyes at the thoughtful gift.
“Oh.”
“Do you like it?” he prodded.
“It is beautiful,” she breathed. Beautiful and perfect, she acknowledged even as a voice in the back of her mind told her that she would be a fool to think it was anything more than another ploy to convince others of the supposed engagement. “But this is too much.”
“Nonsense.” His smile remained, but his raven brows faintly lowered. “It is a simple thank-you for the wretched burden of being my fiancée.”
For once his teasing failed to amuse her. “I fear that it has not been enough,” she warned.
“What do you mean?”
She forced herself to meet his gaze squarely. “Mr. Wallace believes that our engagement is a ploy to hide your relationship with Lady Falwell.”
He visibly stiffened, a guarded expression descending upon his countenance. “I see.”
“I denied his accusations, of course.”
He studied her pale features for a long, unnerving moment. Then something that might have been disappointment flashed through his eyes. “But you believed them,” he said in low tones.
Her hands clenched onto the box until her knuckles turned white. “It is none of my concern.”
He stepped back as if she had physically slapped him. “Do you think me capable of inviting my mistress along with her husband to my own home?”
Grace gave a slow shake of her head.
What did she believe?
Standing next to him Grace would have sworn that Alexander was incapable of such treachery. But she could not completely dismiss the image of him holding Lady Falwell’s hands as he gazed down at her lovely face.
“As I said, it is none of my concern.”
Her words had a startling affect upon Alexander. Suddenly the charming companion she had come to love over the past weeks was replaced by the icily aloof stranger she had encountered in his bedchamber.
Her heart felt as if it were being slowly ripped apart at the sight. She stepped forward, but his unrelenting expression halted her in midstride.
“Do not stay out long; it is quite cold,” he said stiffly. Then with a
small bow he turned and walked away.
Left on her own, Grace lifted a hand to her lips as tears suddenly fell.
Ten
It was cold.
Her nose had long ago turned red and her toes numb, but still she remained standing in the falling snow.
After Alexander’s abrupt departure she had wandered until she had arrived at the lake. Then, uncertain where to go she had simply halted.
She had been a fool, she told herself sternly. The moment she had seen the expression on his face she should have realized the truth. He had not been a man wracked by guilt, but rather a man wounded by her lack of faith in him.
Her first impulse had been to scurry after him and confess that she did not believe he could be so treacherous any more than she could be so treacherous. That it had only been the uncertainty of her tumultuous feelings that had made her trust waver for even a moment.
Then sanity had halted her impetuous desire. She could not confess her feelings. Not unless she wished to become a ridiculous object of his pity. Perhaps it was best that their former companionship had become strained. Already the thought of him leaving Chalfried was enough to make her heart ache. Surely only the worst sort of fool would allow herself to be lured even further into his enchantment?
Feeling sadly out of sorts, Grace gazed down at the necklace clutched in her hands. If only he were not the most eligible bachelor in England, she sadly thought. If only she were not a plain country miss with no prospects. If only . . .
Her futile thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the faint cry of a kitten.
With a frown she turned about only to discover Boswan standing mere steps away. Grace felt her breath falter in shock.
“You. What are you doing here?”
He revealed his blackened teeth as he regarded her startled expression. “I warned you I would be back. I even brought you a present.”
An uncontrollable fear inched down her spine as he slowly held up a bag. She could not imagine what he might have brought. Indeed, she had no desire to try to imagine. Then the muffled sound of a kitten’s cry could once again be heard.
“Byron,” she cried, reaching out for the bag.
It was deftly held out of reach as Boswan gave an evil laugh. “I threatened more than once to drown that filthy cat of yours. This one will do as well.”
