Authors: Jennifer McNare
As he’d known it would, Nick’s head immediately whipped in
the direction of the dancers, his eyes eagerly searching the crowd for his
duchess.
Spotting her dancing with the
Duke of Ravenfield, Nick’s calculating smirk vanished as quickly as it had
appeared.
Alex then watched in unabashed
amusement as Nick’s jaw slowly tightened, his gaze riveted upon the attractive,
unmarried duke.
Silently congratulating
himself on redirecting Nick’s focus, he felt only a moment’s remorse for having
cast poor Ravenfield into the lion’s den, so to speak.
For a man who had once considered marriage a fate worse than
death, Nicholas had done a complete about face since he’d fallen head over
heels in love with Ashleigh St. John.
In
fact, it was apparent to Alex, as it was to anyone with a set of eyes, that
Nicholas Leighton was more than pleased with his new role as husband and
father.
However, despite his friend’s
obvious delight in the matrimonial state, he had no pressing desire to join the
ranks of the legally wed himself.
Besides, the expression on Nick’s face at that very moment was anything
but
delighted.
He looked like he wanted to lay Ravenfield
out.
Funny, but the emotion reflected on his friend’s face was
something he’d never really understood, nor did he wish to, reminding him that
he had absolutely no desire to find himself in a similar situation any time
soon.
Marriage could definitely
wait!
Then, just as he was beginning to feel guilty for
deliberately causing Nick’s distress, the music came to an end and Ashleigh was
suddenly making her way toward them, having excused herself from Ravenfield at
the edge of the dance floor.
Nick’s
expression relaxed immediately and a smile once again curved his lips as
Ashleigh came up and linked her arm through his.
After giving her husband a loving glance, her
gaze then shifted to Alex.
“Alex, I’m so glad you were able to attend the festivities
this evening,” she said, her voice dripping with sugary sweetness.
“I was beginning to fear that you weren’t
going to make it.”
The odd tone, combined with the mischievous glint in her
eye, set Alex instantly on guard.
Curious, he cast a questioning glance in Nick’s direction.
His apprehension only intensified when he saw
that his friend’s face had suddenly become devoid of all expression.
Turning back to Ashleigh, he smiled
apologetically.
“Please forgive my tardiness,
Your Grace.
I’m afraid that I was
unavoidably detained.”
“It’s quite alright, Alex,” she replied, smiling
serenely.
“You accepted my invitation,
and therefore I shouldn’t have doubted for even a moment that you would fail to
honor your promise to attend.”
Without
waiting for him to comment, Ashleigh directed her next remark to her
husband.
“I have always considered Alex
to be a man of honor,” she said.
“Wouldn’t you agree, darling, that Alex is an
honorable
man?”
“Yes of course.
I
would have to agree that Alex
is
a
most honorable man, my dear.”
Alex glanced back and forth between the two of them, his
unease mounting with each second.
Honorable
man
?
What the deuce were they going on about, he
wondered?
“Would you say that Alex is not only the type of man who
keeps his promises, but a man who honors his debts as well?” Ashleigh asked.
“To the best of my knowledge, Alex has always honored his
debts,” Nicholas agreed.
Honored his debts?
“Would one of you care to explain what the
devil you’re talking about?”
Alex asked,
his even tone betraying just a hint of the foreboding he was beginning to feel.
“I believe my wife is trying to verify whether or not you
are the type of man who would honor a lost wager,” Nicholas clarified, though
his tone as well as his expression remained deliberately ambiguous.
Ashleigh nodded, eyeing him expectantly.
The word
wager
, combined with the wicked little grin
slowly curving her lips into an upward arc, set warning bells ringing in Alex’s
brain.
Good God, she couldn’t mean what
he thought she meant.
No, surely not,
for that was ages ago.
She
wouldn’t.
She couldn’t.
Oh Christ!
Warily he turned and scanned the ballroom, searching for one
particular individual, all the while silently praying that he didn’t see her.
He didn’t realize that he was holding his
breath until he felt a slight burning sensation in his chest a few moments
later.
With a conscious effort he
resumed breathing and continued his search.
Seconds later, his gaze fell upon a woman seated near one of the sets of
French doors leading out to the terrace.
Bloody Hell!
He couldn’t suppress a grimace of distaste as
he watched Lady Olivia Whitlunde shift her considerable bulk into a more
comfortable position within the confines of the small chair that she had
somehow managed to cram herself into.
Slowly he turned back to Ashleigh, shaking his head from
side to side, his expression a silent plea.
Over a year ago, during an impromptu card game, he’d made a foolish
wager with her and lost.
His forfeit had
been that at some point in the future, he would have to request a waltz with
the widowed marchioness.
It was a
dreadful price to pay by any man’s standards, for despite the fact that she
outweighed him by at least a stone, Olivia Whitlunde was as brazen as a
dockside whore and her voracious appetite for the amorous affections of
handsome young men was common knowledge amongst the majority of the
ton
.
It was also widely-known that her late husband had left her a sizeable
fortune and that Olivia tended to be quite generous with her lovers.
It never ceased to astound him, the number of
young men who were more than willing to overlook both her abrasive personality
and physical unattractiveness in exchange for her financial largesse.
However, unlike some of his less fortunate
peers, Alex had no need of her generous pockets; nevertheless, Olivia had been
pursuing him for years.
Damn that blasted wager!
If Ashleigh held him to it he would have to ask the old battle-ax to
dance, an act that would only serve to encourage her unwanted attentions.
He winced internally at the thought.
Unfortunately however, despite his pleading
expression, Ashleigh’s own expression remained woefully unchanged.
Despite her rather unorthodox victory, for
she had admittedly stacked the deck, it was obvious that she expected him to
honor the wager they’d made.
Closing his
eyes, he heaved a long, drawn-out sigh.
Reopening them, he hesitated for a moment and then finally turned and
stalked away.
As he headed in the
direction of Olivia Whitlunde he could hear the unmistakable sound of muffled
laughter drifting over his shoulder.
Five minutes later Alex felt close to suffocating under the
heavy, cloying scent of Olivia’s perfume.
Her enormous breasts, barely restrained within the low-cut bodice of her
garish purple gown, were crushed blatantly against his chest and she’d already
propositioned him twice.
Cursing
silently, he reminded himself for the one-hundredth time never to wager with a
beautiful woman again.
“Rumor has it that you’ve been tipping Lucinda Langdon’s
skirts of late,” Olivia commented, her stale, fetid breath hitting him like a
punch in the face.
It was all he could
do to remember that he was a gentleman and to keep his aversion from showing
plainly upon his face.
“Idle gossip I assure you,” he replied with cool civility.
“Humph.
I seriously
doubt that, Chesterfield,” Olivia scoffed, not the least put off by the
somewhat frosty tone of voice.
“But nevertheless,
I doubt that she will hold your attention for long.”
Her lips curved into a salacious grin.
“They never do, do they?”
She continued then, without waiting for a
response.
“When you’re ready to know
what it’s like to have a real woman in your bed, you need only to send word.”
Alex barely suppressed a shudder as he spun Olivia into the
midst of the other dancers.
Noting the
odd, questioning looks directed their way as they moved across the floor, he
groaned inwardly.
Lord only knew what people
were thinking.
He purposely kept his
gaze unfocused, but even so, he caught the amused eye of Albert Lindley just as
Olivia tightened her grip, pushing herself against him in a shockingly indecent
manner as she deliberately brushed her pelvis against his.
Hells
bells!
He was never going to live
this down.
And when the gossip reached
London, which it undoubtedly would, he was sure to be ribbed mercilessly the
moment he set foot within any of his clubs.
He could practically hear the teasing quips and mocking jests already.
After several more excruciating minutes had passed, the
music finally came to an end and Alex was quick to pry himself from Olivia’s
fleshy, clinging arms.
Leading her from
the floor, he deposited her at the nearest vacant chair, ignoring her sullen
pout as he quickly bid her a good evening and took his leave, all the while
pondering the most effective method to cleanse his mind of the odious
experience.
Perhaps a large snifter of
brandy would help, or better yet an entire bottle he thought as he walked
swiftly away.
“Ashleigh Leighton, you are simply terrible?” Tiffany chided
under her breath, as she came to stand next to her friend.
She’d seen Alex dancing with Olivia Whitlunde
a short while ago, and though her tone was admonishing, she couldn’t fully
disguise the reluctant grin that tugged at her lips, for she had long-known
about the wager.
“I know,” Ashleigh replied, stifling a giggle behind her
hand.
“Do you think he will ever forgive
me?”
Of course he would, but Tiffany wasn’t going to let her off
so easily.
“Only time will tell, I
suppose,” she teased, her expression dubious.
Ashleigh smiled impishly, not seeming the least bit
worried.
“So?” she said, glancing down
at the dance card dangling from Tiffany’s wrist.
Tiffany knew exactly what she was asking and couldn’t
contain her joyful smile.
“The final
waltz.”
Grasping her wrist, Ashleigh gave Tiffany an encouraging
squeeze as the two of them shared a silent, telltale exchange.
Nearly an hour later, with his mood considerably improved,
having downed several glasses of Nick’s best brandy, Alex made his way from the
relative quiet of the duke’s study and back into the ballroom in time for the
dance he’d promised Tiffany.
Scanning
the room, his gaze fell upon her a few moments later as she was being escorted
from the dance floor by the Duke of Ravenfield.
Meandering through the crowd, he kept his eyes on the duo as he moved
purposefully in their direction.
Both
blonde and fair and possessing classical good looks that complimented each
other to perfection, they made a striking pair he noted contemplatively.
The two appeared quite taken with each other
as well, it seemed.
For as he watched,
Ravenfield leaned down to whisper something in Tiffany’s ear, something that
caused a faint blush to color her cheeks and a warm smile to light her delicate
features.
Surprisingly, much as he’d
felt watching Tiffany with Brendon Leighton, he didn’t like it.
He didn’t like it one bit.
Shocking not only himself, but Tiffany and Ravenfield as
well, he strode forward and grasped Tiffany’s arm, pulling her rather abruptly
from the duke’s side.
“Excuse us,
Ravenfield,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically brusque as he addressed his
longtime friend.
“But I believe the next
set is about to start, and Lady Tiffany has promised this one to me.”
Before either of them had uttered so much as
a word, Alex was already propelling Tiffany away from the bemused duke.
Caught off guard by the suddenness of his action, Tiffany was
rendered momentarily speechless as Alex led her swiftly from the duke’s
side.
Surely they still had a few
minutes before the music was set to begin again, didn’t they?
However, glancing down at the fingers wrapped
lightly around her upper arm quickly sent her thoughts skittering in an
entirely different direction.
This was
the moment she had been waiting for all evening, and although she tried to
temper the outward signs of her excitement, she feared that her elation was
evident for all to see as Alex guided her through the crowded room.