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Run—run—run! Words pounding in her head in time with the blood pulsing in her temples and the trip-hammer beat of her heart. She was beyond reason by now and driven by purely primitive instinct alone. And when her headlong flight was abruptly halted by an arm around her waist, hauling her backward and almost off her feet, Alexa’s choked scream of terror was just as instinctive as her desperate efforts to tear herself free.
“No—no! Let me go, let me go!”
“Stop fighting me like a damned wildcat then, and I will! What in hell got into you? If I hadn’t caught up with you in time you’d have run right into a stream, you foolish, headstrong little...” Needing both his hands to hold her still and prevent her from clawing at him, there was only one way to stop her hysterical screeching, Nicholas thought grimly as he jammed his mouth down over hers. She was a bitch of the worst kind and a virago into the bargain, in addition to being a born whore. And he should have taught her a lesson by cutting her in public as if he’d never met her before or had forgotten that he had. But no—damn his own weakness—he’d allowed himself to yield to a senseless impulse and had led her down into the garden so that he could kiss her soft, corrupt, lying lips again—and again!
“I suppose I must look a frightful mess!” Alexa said after a while. “But I daresay you do too! How on earth shall we face everybody now? They are all probably waiting on the terrace until we return...”
“A second reception line. Do you think the Queen and Prince Albert will be there as well?”
“I cannot be sure about them,” Alexa returned thoughtfully before adding, “but I am sure that Lady Helen will be quite anxious by this time, aren’t you?”
“And so will your devoted Lord Charles, I suppose; not to mention all your other admirers; I consider myself lucky that duels are no longer in fashion.” The familiar caustic note had returned to Nicholas’s voice, although Alexa pretended to ignore it as she tried to keep her tone light.
“I don’t suppose I shall be quite as lucky in avoiding unpleasant consequences as you are, since I’m not a man. You will get the sly winks and ribald comments from your friends, and I will be considered a fallen woman, no doubt.” She gave a rather shaky laugh. “At any rate I can console myself with the fact that I am rich, I suppose. And that I can live wherever I please and do whatever I please without worrying about conventions any longer!”
“I had no idea that you ever did,” Nicholas said drily. “Swimming naked in the moonlight and frequenting bordellos for amusement...?”
“Oh, stop before you become nasty and cutting and make me hate you all over again!” Alexa had been content to stroll slowly with his arm encircling her waist and holding her close to his side, as if that last kiss that had held them locked together in a kind of spell had actually transformed them into lovers. But now she made an angry attempt to pull free, only to be thwarted when he swung her body before his and forcibly lifted her stubborn chin with one hand to make her face him.
“Did I actually manage to persuade you to stop hating me for a few minutes? You should tell me how I achieved such a miracle so that I can try to repeat it.”
It was only after he had kissed her very thoroughly again and they had resumed their leisurely walk that Alexa thought to ask if he had any idea of where he was taking her this time.
“It must be getting quite late. Oh dear!” she said with belated concern for her unfortunate chaperones, who must by now be searching for her everywhere. And as to their
reactions and the reactions of everyone else when they saw her disheveled appearance and drew their conclusions... well, that was something she was not ready to think of just yet.
In spite of her attitude of careless bravado, Alexa could not help hanging back when she saw the lights ahead of them. “Perhaps it might be best if I could go straight home. You could tell everyone that I had a fainting fit and you did not know what else to do. I really do not think that I...”
“We are going back to the house through a side door that leads directly into one of the guest apartments,” Nicholas said as if he had not heard her fainthearted protests. “We can tidy ourselves in there before we go back to face the rest of the assembly and pretend we returned to the house almost at once by another route and have been here all along. Unless you prefer to have developed a headache that necessitated your lying down to rest for a while?”
Chapter 34
It was inevitable, of course, that there would be gossip and even outright speculation as to how well Viscount Embry and the rich and recently widowed Lady Travers knew each other and for how long. And was it not strange, went some of the whispers over tea and dainty sandwiches and petit fours, that so many people had observed the couple leave off dancing to walk quite openly down to admire the garden, and no one could remember seeing them return?
“I did notice that Embry danced with the oldest Dameron girl. Lady Helen, is it? But that was quite some time afterwards, of course!”
“Can’t say that I remember seeing Lady Travers during the early part of the evening either, not until we were ready to leave and all waiting for our carriages. Last time I saw her before then was with Atherton’s younger son, Viscount Deering. Understand he’s paying court in that direction.”
“Adelina allows it?”
“My dear—Lady Travers was presented to Adelina, and did not receive one of her setdowns. Everyone was waiting for it of course, and you cannot imagine the surprise...!”
“I was most surprised when I heard that Newbury of all people had condescended to be almost agreeable! Now that, you must agree, is quite unu
sual!”
Adelina, Dowager Marchioness of Newbury, was aware of all the whispers and all the sly questions that were being asked, for she had long made it a habit to be aware of everything in case she might be able to make use of some tidbit of gossip or information. Like a spider, she spun her webs, keeping in touch with her old “friends” and acquaintances only because they might prove useful to her some day. She had always despised the same gossips she milked dry while remaining contemptuously detached; and she had always made whatever decisions she felt she needed to make quickly and definitely and without stupid qualms. But now for the first time she was nonplussed; and the thought infuriated her enough to cause her to pace restlessly before the open window that looked out over the square to the house opposite—the one belonging to the very creature who was the cause of her present mood.
The Dowager almost snorted aloud. Lady Travers indeed! If poor John had become senile enough before he died to imagine that his fortune and name were enough to transform a chit of a girl into an adversary capable of matching wits with her, why then it was a pity he could not have lived long enough to find out how deluded he was. Just as deluded as he must have been all those years ago to imagine that she might still want him even after he was no longer a man. Her lips curled contemptuously at the memory. Silly fool! But then, so were most men, as she had discovered very early. When she had taken lovers it had only been to use them for her own pleasure; as and when she pleased. And none of them had ever guessed how easily she had led them to do her will and to serve her.
But the past was the past, and something had to be done now about John’s widow before her hints became threats and she succeeded in causing an ugly scandal—which was her intention, no doubt, if John had tutored her. Her granddaughter? The Dowager stared thoughtfully out of the window. Whether she was or not made no difference at all to her, and why should it? Gavin had always been a romantically minded weakling, with his infatuations for poetry and Byron and women. He had been a whining, clinging child she had detested, and he had turned into exactly the kind of man she had expected. She might have ignored, if not tolerated, his marriage to that silly young French creature if he had not compounded his stupidity by getting a daughter by her and then chasing after Byron to Greece, where typically he had succeeded in getting himself captured instead of killed. There had been ransom notes. How she had laughed as she tore them up and tossed them in the fire, thinking that perhaps the hospitality of the Turks might teach him something of life’s realities. But then... Ah, the cursed Fates! Embry, her strong, golden son had irritated her by dying and leaving Gavin the only surviving heir.
There was a desk in front of the window, and Adelina sat down abruptly, feeling the treacherous weakness in her legs. Damn old age! Damn her body for submitting to what her mind was not ready to admit! Her fingers played with a silver paper knife, sharper-edged than most. Gavin—who could only beget girls and had been all but turned into one himself by the Turks, who enjoyed young striplings more than they did women. At least he’d been ready to accept every one of her dictates after he had been returned. And he had accepted everything she had told him about his wife and their child. Such tragic deaths she had made up for them! Nothing left to chance. The brat was not to be told anything—she should have been safely married off to some planter by now and breeding brats of her own. There had been more than enough money to make sure of everything. There was still a regular sum of money deposited to the account of Martin Howard, which must be stopped, of course. Adelina remembered the girl’s words that night of the Sutherlands’ ball. “I am said to take after my grandmother; they say she’s a witch.” Ah yes, she remembered being called that too!
Still playing with her paper knife, the Dowager Marchioness frowned abstractedly. Get rid of her! As subtly as possible of course. And as quickly as possible. A pity that it couldn’t have happened the other night, but there were other alternatives. Madame Olivier— la belle tante? Did the niece know? Her grandson, Charles—smitten by the woman or her fortune? Nicholas—ah, he was the only puzzle remaining for the moment—he, and his relationship with Lady Travers. But if there was a relationship between the two, she would find out, for the people she paid to follow them both were the best in that kind of business, and she had used them before. Gavin? Suddenly the Marchioness began to chuckle soundlessly to herself. Ah, yes— Gavin. And why not? The ultimate weapon in her hands. Charles—or Gavin. Or both? And as for Nicholas, he must marry Helen as soon as possible so that both she and the gossips might forget how openly and humiliatingly he had neglected her at the ball last week. In fact, the announcement of their engagement should be made at Helen’s ball here. So many different situations might be arranged!
The old Marchioness was still at the window when she noticed that one of the carriages had been brought around to the front of the house that had occupied so much of her attention of late. Ah! So she had finally decided to venture abroad again, had she? And high time too!
