Authors: Jennifer McNare
“Don’t worry, Aunt Rose, I shall,” he assured her.
“Perhaps sometime next week?” he suggested,
turning to Tiffany.
“Alright then,” she agreed.
“I would like that, thank you.”
As their carriage moved toward the east end of the park,
Alex’s attention was drawn time and again to the occupants of vehicles passing
in the opposite direction.
Much to his
chagrin, he was a well-known member of Society and easily recognized.
Stopping briefly to converse with those who
hailed him, he graciously introduced Tiffany to several of his acquaintances,
many of whom displayed obvious surprise upon seeing him out and about with the
Marquess of Melborne’s daughter.
At the
rate they were going, he mused, speculation about their relationship would be
making the rounds within the hour.
It wasn’t until they’d gone a considerable distance that the
traffic finally thinned and they were able to move more than a quarter of a
mile without stopping.
Not surprisingly,
it didn’t take long after that for his aunt’s eyes to begin to droop.
With the constant rolling of the carriage
wheels and the gentle swaying of the vehicle, her head lolled and fell forward
shortly thereafter.
Taking their cue
from their mistress, Romeo and Juliet promptly followed suit and soon all three
were snoring softly.
“I believe we’ve worn them out,” Tiffany said softly, eyeing
the sleeping trio.
“It would seem so,” he agreed, smiling benevolently.
“Fortunately, my mother and sisters should be
returning in the not too distant future, and when they do she will no longer be
required to act as our chaperone.”
That was too bad really, Tiffany thought, for she had taken
an instant liking to the elderly viscountess.
“What are they like, your mother and sisters?”
“You’ve no need to worry.
They are relatively harmless, I assure you,” Alex teased, detecting the
subtle note of anxiousness in her voice, “and I guarantee that all three will
be absolutely delighted to meet you.
“Do you really think so?” she asked, not bothering to deny
his spot-on assumption.
His expression was reassuring.
“They will adore you, Tiffany, just as I
do.”
Although he spoke in an offhand manner, the last part of his
statement caused Tiffany’s heart to flutter nonetheless.
And now, with only a few inches between her
and Alex and the viscountess fast asleep, she was becoming increasingly aware
of the meager distance that separated them as they journeyed through the
tree-lined park.
Knowing that she had
only to reach out her hand to touch him was beginning to play havoc with her
senses and memories of his drugging kisses soon flooded her thoughts.
Not surprisingly, Alex too, grew more and more aware of his
and Tiffany’s physical proximity with each passing minute.
Casting a sidelong glance in Tiffany’s
direction, his eyes fastened upon the slender column of her throat.
Recalling how his lips had traced along that
delicate skin, he felt the unmistakable stirring of arousal.
Sensing his eyes upon her, Tiffany slowly turned to face
him.
Lifting his gaze, Alex focused it upon the brilliant blue of
her eyes, and what he saw there caused an immediate stirring in his loins.
Tiffany felt the heat rise to her cheeks, fearing that her scandalous
thoughts were most likely reflected in her eyes.
They sat that way for what seemed a timeless moment, neither
of them able to look away until Alex ultimately broke the silence.
“Lady Tiffany, whatever are you thinking that
has brought such a lovely blush to your cheeks?” he asked in a roguish whisper.
Tiffany dropped her gaze, ducking her head in
embarrassment.
If not her eyes, the
irksome reddening of her cheeks had surely given her away.
Reaching out, Alex placed a finger under her chin, tipping
her head up.
“Tell me,” he encouraged
softly.
Suddenly he wanted, no
needed
, to hear her say it.
There was a husky timber to Alex’s tone and the smoldering
look that had entered his eyes sent a delicious chill racing down her
spine.
“I was thinking about the last
time you kissed me,” she murmured truthfully, her voice barely more than a
whisper.
“And I was wishing…” she
trailed off, suddenly self-conscious.
Moving his finger from beneath her chin, Alex ran his thumb
slowly along the line of her jaw.
“What
were you wishing?”
His silver gaze was nearly hypnotizing in its
intensity.
“I was wishing… that we were
alone.”
Alex nearly groaned aloud.
At that moment he would have gladly applied for a special license and
hastened Tiffany to the altar, for waiting to make love to her until their
wedding night was going to be torture.
“No more so than I,” he uttered in a ragged whisper.
Like before, Tiffany’s awareness of her surroundings seemed
to fade away as she fell completely under Alex’s captivating spell.
It was only the sudden lurch of the carriage
as it hit a dip in the road that managed to shake her from her blissful daze.
Across the aisle, Rosemary’s chin bounced heavily against
her chest, rousing her from her slumber.
Alex dropped his hand at once, sitting back against the
seat.
Tiffany immediately followed suit.
Mercifully, Romeo and Juliette were undisturbed by the
jostling of the carriage and the two dogs continued their peaceful snoring.
“Filbert, the door,” the viscountess called out, lifting her
head and blinking her eyes open.
“Aunt Rose,” Alex said softly, drawing her attention as she
attempted to focus.
“Oh, good heavens,” she said, taking note of her
surroundings.
“I must have dozed off.”
“Only for a moment,” Alex assured her with a kind smile.
“Yes, well, what were we discussing, dear?” she asked, as
she attempted to collect her bearings.
As they resumed their earlier conversation, fortunately only
Alex and Tiffany seemed aware of the physically charged atmosphere that
lingered between the two of them.
And
while Aunt Rose remained blissfully unaware, she did, however, manage to stay
awake for the remainder of their drive.
“Regrettably, I have some pressing business matters to
attend to tomorrow,” Alex told Tiffany as he walked her to her front door a
little less than an hour later.
“But I
would like to call upon you later in the week, if you’re amenable.”
Though she didn’t wish to appear too eager, she couldn’t
repress her pleased smile.
“I would like
that.”
“Excellent,” Alex replied with an engaging smile of his
own.
“Until then, my lady.”
After placing a light kiss upon the back of her hand, Alex
took his leave, leaving Tiffany feeling as if she were floating on a cloud.
Entering through the doorway of White’s after a long day of
business-related activities, Alex was ready for a much needed break as he
greeted the host, handed his coat and hat to the waiting footman and then made
his way to the main gathering room.
Glancing about, he wasn’t surprised to see that the exclusive
gentlemen’s club was far less crowded than usual.
With a quick sweep of the room, he could see
that the man he was looking for had yet to arrive.
With a friendly nod toward a group of
acquaintances, he requested a drink from one of the uniformed waiters and then
moved purposefully to an unoccupied corner of the room.
Settling into a comfortable chair, he waited
for his drink and the arrival of Brendon Leighton; the former arriving
considerably before the latter.
Walking into the room with a rueful expression, Brendon
walked briskly to Alex’s side.
“Sorry,
old man,” he said with an apologetic grin.
“I was
unavoidably
detained.”
“And did this unavoidable detainment have a name?” Alex
queried with a knowing smirk.
“Jacqueline,” Brendon replied unabashedly, dropping into the
chair next to Alex.
“French?”
“Oui,” he replied roguishly, crossing his ankles and
reclining contentedly against the chairs plump cushion.
“Actress?”
“Ballerina,” he said with a blissful sigh.
“Extremely flexible,” he added, waggling his
brows wickedly.
“Well then, clearly you’re forgiven,” Alex said
benevolently.
Chuckling, he raised his
glass in salute.
“I knew you would understand.”
Raising his hand, he summoned a nearby waiter.
When his drink arrived, Brendon took it from the waiter and
then held it aloft, grinning at Alex.
“Here’s to the night ahead, may it be one we shall never forget.”
“Here, here,” Alex replied with a matching grin.
When Alex walked through the front door of his townhouse
shortly before dawn, he was surprisingly steady on his feet.
Though he’d only just dropped Brendon off at
the docks, neither of them had drunk nearly as much as they might have on such
an occasion.
After leaving White’s and heading to Covent Garden to watch
a highly-touted boxing match between two of London’s best-known bareknuckle
pugilists, he and Brendon had visited a few of their favorite local pubs, and
then ultimately ended up at Boodle’s several hours later.
Within minutes of their arrival at the
private club, they’d been heralded by several of their friends and had soon
been coaxed into joining a high-stakes card game that had lasted well into the
early morning hours.
As he was never foolish
enough to gamble when he was too far into his cups, he’d refrained from
overindulging.
Fortunately Brendon was
likeminded, and as a result, both of them had left the table relatively sober,
in addition to being significantly plumper in the pockets.
All in all, it had been a highly enjoyable evening, as well
as a very profitable one.
And of course,
the fact that he wouldn’t have a splitting headache to deal with later on was
an added bonus, he thought, as he made his way up to his bedchamber.
He doubted that the Marquess of Melborne
could say the same, however, for on their way out the door, he’d spotted
Tiffany’s father at another of Boodle’s high-stakes card tables, looking quite
the worse for wear.
Considering the
sullen expression he’d observed upon William’s face, he could only imagine that
the marquess’ evening hadn’t gone nearly as well as his own.
Not surprisingly, he felt little sympathy for
the miserable son of a bitch.
Opening her eyes, Tiffany lay quietly for a moment, unsure
what it was that had woken her.
Glancing
toward the window, she could see that it was still dark outside.
Hmm, perhaps it was nothing, she mused,
allowing her tired eyes to drift shut.
But then she heard it, a series of muffled thuds, followed by the
unmistakable sound of cursing in the hallway outside her bedchamber door.
What on earth?
Was that her father’s voice?
Concerned, she swung her legs out of bed and
reached for her silk wrapper.
Pulling the gown’s sash tight at her waist, she hurried
across the room and pulled open the door.
She saw him then, one hand pressed against the wall, as if he were
trying to regain his balance.
“Father,
are you alright?” she asked, hastening to his side.
As he turned to face her, she was met with a
bleary-eyed gaze and immediately detected the potent smell of alcohol.
Good heavens, he was completely soused, she
realized.
“What the devil do you want?” her father snapped, slurring
his words as he attempted to focus upon her face.
“Nothing father…I…here let me help you,” she said, reaching
for his arm.
“I don’t need your damned help,” he barked, yanking his arm
from her grasp.
Pushing away from the
wall, he attempted to stand on his own.
Taking a step forward, he teetered precariously upon the balls of his
feet.
“Here, father,” Tiffany said, reaching for him once
again.
“Let me just get you to your
room.”
“I don’t need any help from the likes of you,” he muttered
gruffly as he steadied himself.
“Father,” Tiffany said in a calming tone, “if you’ll just
hold onto my-” Her words were cut off as he rounded on her.
He jerked his arm free of her hold and
slapped her, his face mottled in fury.
“Did you not hear me, girl?
Leave me be damn you!” he shouted.
Tiffany staggered backward, her hand clutched to her cheek,
her eyes wide with shock.
Despite his callousness,
her father had never raised his hand to her before.
William stared at her for a moment, his expression slightly
dumbfounded, as if he too was shocked by what he’d just done.
But then, mumbling something unintelligible
under his breath, he abruptly turned away and staggered down the hall in the
direction of his bedchamber.