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What did any of the wealthy, influential people present at Allonshire have to gain by causing Drake’s demise? It didn’t make sense. Yet it had to be one of them. No one would suspect a member of the ton to be guilty of murder. She certainly couldn’t accuse any of them.
But then, none of them knew they were suspected of anything. Drake would never tell them that his fall had not, in fact, been an accident, but an attempted murder. Therefore, the true culprit would not feel threatened. He might be caught off guard. Alex smiled slowly. It was time to utilize all the charm and feminine wiles that she had been taught but had disregarded all these eighteen years. What was it they said about catching more flies with honey?
She yawned again, rubbing her eyes in annoyance. Why did she suddenly require an afternoon nap? She had no patience with physical weakness. Yet, today alone, she had experienced several dizzy spells, been seized by acute nausea, and had fallen pray to the hateful female practice of swooning. She was not under that much stress.
It struck Alex suddenly, like a blow. Tossing the bedcovers aside, she rose and, in the same movement, tugged her chemise off and dropped it carelessly onto the floor.
The afternoon sun peeped through the draperies, casting more than enough light on Alex’s naked body as she stood before the mirror. Slowly she ran her hands over the contours of her body, staring at her reflection as if seeing herself for the first time. Her breasts were heavier than normal, the nipples having darkened to a deep rose color. She continued her exploration, smoothing her palm over what had been the concave surface of her stomach. She felt the slight rounding with a sense of awe and amazement.
How could she have been so blind? She had been so preoccupied, so utterly consumed with her own emotional turmoil, that she had paid little attention to her physical self. And each night, when she and Drake came together, it was always in the dark, for neither of them was ready to read what was in the other’s eyes. Now she frantically searched her mind, realizing that she had not bled in over four months … since her marriage to Drake.
Alex closed her eyes as the realization took hold, the absolute knowledge inserted itself in her shaken mind.
She was pregnant with Drake’s baby.
Chapter 27
THE BALLROOM WAS VIBRANTLY aglow, the brilliant chandeliers scattering fragments of light, the highly polished floor reflecting the golden cast of the gilded ceiling. Liveried footmen scurried about, seeing to refreshments and pouring champagne into crystal glasses for Allonshire’s guests.
Alex sipped at her champagne, watching the twelve people who laughed, talked, and danced in the elegant room. They had dined at seven o’clock; then everyone had gone on to the ballroom to continue the festive evening.
The men had been introduced to Alex at dinner, and despite Drake’s disapproving frown, most of them still hadn’t taken their eyes off her. In a flowing gown of rich red satin trimmed with delicate lace at the low-cut neckline and along the edges of the full skirt and sleeves, she looked like a radiant and majestic queen.
She felt, however, as if she might spill out of her bodice, and judging from the interested looks she was receiving from the gentlemen, she was not far from wrong.
Satisfied that she was unobserved, she gave a dainty squirm and a discreet tug at the uncooperative, square-cut neckline. It didn’t budge. This particular gown had not been designed for a woman who was almost four months pregnant. She gave a resigned sigh just as a smooth masculine voice sounded from behind.
“Never have I seen a more beautiful woman.”
Alex turned cool gray eyes to Sebastian’s admiring face. “Never have I met a man more well versed in ineffective flattery,” she responded pointedly. Her tone was light; her gaze was not.
Undaunted, he gave her a charming smile. “Not flattery, Alexandria, but fact. Surely you know how desirable you are to men?”
Alex considered tossing the contents of her glass into his arrogant, suggestive face, but she had no time to make a scene or to dodge Sebastian’s amorous flirtations. Tonight she had a special mission.
“Sebastian,” she asked softly, careful to retain her brightest smile, pretending to be enjoying a most delightful conversation, “have you not learned that desiring something and acquiring it are two very different things? Remember that even the loveliest of roses has thorns with which to protect itself.”
He leaned closer. “And if the thorns are plucked?”
“Then the rose has no choice but to connect its knee to the appropriate part of the offending male’s anatomy,” she purred.
Sebastian gaped, then covered his shock with a hollow laugh. “You are by far the most outspoken female I have ever met.”
“Now that I will accept as a true compliment, sir,” she replied, prepared to end their conversation and resume mingling with her guests.
Sebastian caught her arm. “How is my brother feeling? Any ill effects from his accident?” The question was casual enough, but his gaze was oddly penetrating.
Alex glanced across the room to where Drake was chatting with Eric Ravensley. Her husband looked breathtakingly handsome tonight in a black dress coat that fit snugly across his broad shoulders and a contrasting white waistcoat. Above his frilled shirt was Smitty’s handiwork—a perfectly tied white silk cravat that made Drake’s tanned face and raven hair seem even darker in comparison. He laughed at something Eric was saying, exuding that inexplicable, charisma that made Alex weak. Even from this distance, Alex could feel the unique magnetic allure that was Drake’s alone and was responsible for devastating women’s hearts effortlessly.
She realized that Sebastian was watching her expressions with great interest. Schooling her features, she replied, “As you can see for yourself, Drake is unharmed. He did suffer a dislocated shoulder and some minor cuts, but that is all.”
“He is quite lucky, then. He could have been killed.”
Again, Alex added silently. There was something about Sebastian’s tone, a certain sarcasm, that riled her. She drew herself up to her full height, prepared to defend her husband. “Luck had little to do with it, Sebastian. Drake is a splendid horseman. He made certain his fall caused minimal injury to himself and none to Jupiter.”
Sebastian raised his glass in a mock toast. “Of course. Drake is superb at everything he does. There has yet to be invented a skill at which he does not excel, a feat that he cannot accomplish—not to mention
a woman whom he cannot conquer. A most fortunate man, my brother.” He sipped at his drink.
