Heaven Sent the Wrong One (28 page)

"And who might this lady be?" The Viscountess questioned.

A slow smile rose on Allayne's lips.

Alexandra clung to her father's arm for support. Oh, she knew what those lips felt like
—firm and supple, teasing and cajoling, leaving a trail of fire on every inch of her skin. She could taste them now in her mouth, sweet and ardent, tinged with strawberries and champagne—and the unique flavor that was only his. And then, as if to taunt her some more, dangle an unattainable lure, and punish her with the weapons he knew would defeat her by a windfall—his dimples winked. Deepened.

The sight of those endearing indentations on his cheeks, her favorite things to kiss that would soon be hers no longer
—made Alexandra want to weep.

In contrast to her
breaking heart, the excitement, muffled tittering and shoving, escalated among the ladies. He was an excellent catch. They all wanted him. And he was about to pick one of them.

She couldn't endure it. She would die on the spot.

But then he turned—walked down the steps with purposeful strides—towards her.

Alexandra froze
—pinned into place by those emerald eyes. Was he really looking at her—heading towards her? Or was Miss Ellery standing somewhere nearby? She glanced to the left and to the right. Miss Ellery was nowhere in sight. Perhaps ... perhaps he had another lady in mind?

Yes. That must be it.

The crowd parted as Allayne drew nearer.

Alexandra made an atte
mpt to move backwards and squeeze into the throng.

But the people behind her pushed forward to ga
wk.

Her Papa held her hand firmly on his arm.

She was cornered. There was no other way to escape. He was going to see her. He was going to—
Dear God
—

The few people ahead of them moved aside. She felt her Papa's arm slip away from her hand.

And then, he was standing before her. Gazing at her. Tall, dashing and broad shouldered, filling her senses with his clean, familiar scent, making her heart tumble in her chest until she couldn't think, couldn't breathe, without drowning in the warmth of his presence.

H
e bestowed upon her, that dazzling dimpled smile.

Her heart melted. Her knees weakened. He did that on purpose
—the cad! He knew the effect that smile had on her. She bit her trembling lip.

He took her hand in his
—and knelt on one knee.

Alexandra gasped.

Shocked whispers traveled around the hall.

"A-Allayne
—what—" Tears sprang in her eyes and she covered her mouth with the palm of a quivering hand, unable to summon her voice any longer.

"Your Grace
—" he regarded her intently, holding her gaze to his, caressing her knuckles in a mesmerizing rhythm with his thumb. "There is nothing I can offer you that you don't already have. I may have wealth, vast assets and land, but they are nothing compared to the grandeur of a Dukedom. I may lavish you with gifts and jewels, but they would pale next to the ducal heirlooms. My residences are splendid, but none as magnificent as the Duke's country seat. I don't even have a title to speak of—yet—and if you marry me, you will lose the prestigious rank of a Duchess." He paused. Waited. Searched her face.

She knew he was fortifying himself for rejection. She could see it all
—his apprehension, his emotions, his naked, vulnerable heart—shining in those beautiful, beautiful eyes of his. Lifting her hand, she quelled the hot rush of tears in her lids and touched his cheek. A gentle reassurance.

"But, if you marry me
—" his eyes glittered and a muscle twitched on his cheek. "in spite of the disadvantage of losing your rank, in spite of my inadequate position as a mere commoner,—if you marry me—I promise you, Alexandra, I will love you—and Gabriel—forever. I will cherish and protect you and our children, with all of my strength, and all of my heart. I might not have anything to offer that money can buy to surpass what you already have, but I can offer you my name, my life and my love. To live the rest of your days as my lover and friend; the owner of my heart and soul, the center of my existence—" He caught her hand and pressed the delicate skin of her pulse to his lips as he gazed at her with imploring eyes. "Will you marry me and be my wife, please—my love?"

A chorus of sighs flowed from the ladies in the room.

Alexandra's throat constricted. How could one refuse? But, she had to know. She needed to hear it from him so she could rest her fears. "A-and Gabriel?" Her chin trembled. She need not say more. He knew what she meant.

"Gabriel
—" he twined his fingers with hers, tightened his grip, his expression softening with love and tenderness as he spoke, "—has a bright future as the Eighth Duke of Redfellow."

The burden she had carried, dislodged from her shoulders the moment she heard his words. Tears blurred her eyes. Her spirits soared and touched the clouds. "Oh, Allayne
—" she choked on a sob, "I love you—I never stopped loving you. I would marry you, even if you were a penniless valet."

He surged to his feet with a laugh, picked her up, and twirled her around, then kissed her
—boldly—with all the passion of a man long deprived of his woman—in full view of everyone.

From the recesses of
Alexandra's mind as she floated in her own little dreamland of fairy tales and happy endings, she heard the orchestra play the Wedding March amidst the whistles and clapping from their enthralled audience. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her Papa approaching with a wide grin and the Viscountess swoon in her husband's arms.

Someone tugged on her sleeve. She reluctantly pulled away from Allayne's kiss to find Diana, the beautiful daughter of the Duke of Grandstone, handing her a bouquet of white roses.

"I'll see you at the altar," Allayne whispered with another gentle kiss.

"The altar?" Alexandra looked past him and saw that the podium had been furnished with a table. A man wearing the attire of a Vicar stood with a book in his hand. He was flanked by
the Duke of Grandstone and Jeremy on one side, and Cassie and the Duchess of Grandstone on the other.

"I'm not waiting another minute to marry you," Allayne grinned at her stupefied expression. "My mother had me at my wit's end for making me wait this long
as it was. She said that if we're going to create a grand scandal, we might as well have a grand wedding—and insisted on giving her a month, at least, to put everything together."

"Y-you knew all along that I'd agree to marry you?" She placed her hands o
n her hips.

"How could you resist?" He gave her another dose of that dazzling, dimpled smile and a swift kiss on the cheek, before he strode off to take his place at the podium.

She scowled at his retreating back. He was right. How could she resist? The blackguard knew from the start that she couldn't. And here she was, thinking, that—that, had been the most romantic proposal she'd ever seen. Humph! She should have known that the arrogant, impertinent man never changed his stripes. She ought to smash a pie on his very irresistible, very handsome face.

"Are you ready, my dear?" Her Papa laid her hand on his arm just as her gaze wandered to the array of cakes and pastries on the refreshment table.

She narrowed her eyes at her Papa. "You are an accomplice, aren't you? That's why you're here—and that's why you sent me this dress."

Her Papa chuckled and patted her hand. "I wouldn't miss this for the world. I may be occupied with the stables, but I'm not so oblivious not to figure out why you suddenly married Hen
ry, my dear. Did you think I did not notice Gabriel's resemblance to the Carlyles? Why—he looks exactly like George did during our old days at Oxford!"

Alexandra gaped at her Papa.

The orchestra replayed the Wedding March.

Her Papa led her on the short wa
lk to the altar.

She met Allayne's eyes as she took her place next to him in front of the Vicar. He squeezed her hand. The urge to box his ears for his audacity was quickly replaced by her inclination to dissolve into tears of happiness. With her heart th
umping wildly in her chest, she tried her best not to break into sobs as they said their vows. She would not, would not—turn into a watering pot. But then, Gabriel showed up bearing the rings in his Sunday best, looking happier than she'd seen him, since Henry's passing. Their son bestowed her with that dimpled smile identical to Allayne's—and her resistance vanished into thin air.

Unmindful of the exclamations and murmurs from the bejeweled guests, Alexandra laughed and cried, picked up her son and kissed
him and her husband—the two most important people in her life.

One hour later

A
t a table on the far end of the reception hall, Lord Bhramby held his quizzing glass against an eye and peered at the approaching gentleman. "Oho! Look who's here!"

"Ah
—Weston! Good to see you again, old chap!" Viscount Rose shook the Earl's hand as he sat across the table from them.

"Bhramby! Good Lord
—is that you?" the Earl exclaimed. "You look as ridiculous as ever."

"And you're uglier than I remember," Lord Bhramby snorted.

"Stop bickering, you two," Viscount Rose interjected. "Let's celebrate our success."

"Do you think the children know that we concocted that scheme in Bath?" the Earl said.

"Not unless my son-in-law, Jeremy, or my wife gave us away," Viscount Rose replied.

"We could have been more successful sooner if this idiot here
—" the Earl pointed a finger at Lord Bhramby's nose, "—had told us about their maid-valet ruse earlier! Pah!"

"How could that
be my fault?" Lord Bhramby slapped his finger away. "They seemed to get along just fine. Besides—I could barely see the view without Countess Penthorpe's titanic bosom smothering me everywhere I turned. And then, I had to leave for Europe and I never heard from either of you fools—how could I know that things had gone awry?"

"I admit I was flabbergasted when you told me about their ruse in Bath at the soiree a few weeks ago," Viscount Rose said. "It certainly helped in making sense of everything."

"Well, you can't imagine how astonished I was when you told me Alexandra married that old goat, Redfellow!" Lord Bhramby replied. "Last I saw her, she was all moon-eyed over your son."

"Well, thank God things turned out the way they should have, at last,"
Viscount Rose said. "Now—let bygones be bygones and let's celebrate with a toast."

"Who else did you invite?" The Earl of Weston looked about the room. "I see Grandstone's boy over there, but where's his old man?"

"Dead," Viscount Rose said.

"What about Bi
xby?" the Earl asked.

"Dead," Lord Bhramby replied.

"Furlough, Morrison, and Benton?" The Earl frowned.

Viscount Rose sighed. "Dead, dead
—"

"And almost dead," Lord Bhramby added.

The three men looked at each other.

"Well, then
—I suppose it's just you and me, George—and this possum over here," the Earl of Weston said.

"Oh, shut your mouth, you ugly toad!" Lord Bhramby uttered.

Viscount Rose raised his glass with a laugh. "To the original Rakes Club of London!"

"Cheers!" Bhramby and Weston clinked their glas
ses with his.

~

Meanwhile, at the opposite side of the reception hall, twelve-year-old Diana turned on her heels and headed straight for the bridal table where the newly-weds sat. She squeezed herself between her Uncle Allayne and his new wife, Alexandra
—alias Miss Anna Banana.

Plopping herself on her Uncle Allayne's knees and ignoring his protests that she was too old to be sitting on anyone's lap, she swerved her piercing blue gaze at the pretty lady who looked a great deal like her grouchy Uncle Jeremy.

"So—" Diana kneaded a piece of paper into a ball in her hands, raising a tawny brow, as she regarded the woman that had muddled her Uncle Allayne's brains and turned him into a barbarian. "Do you like bananas?"

"Pardon me?" Miss Anna Banana's eyes widened.

"Diana!" Uncle Allayne scolded in her ear.

"Do you know
—" Diana leaned closer to poor Miss Banana and lowered her voice, cupping her mouth with one hand, "—that Uncle Allayne has naughty pamphlets under his bed?"

"Oh?" A startled Miss Banana turned into
a blushing banana.

Interesting.
Diana grinned innocently at Alexandra's mortified face.

"Poppet!" Uncle Allayne's growl solicited glances in their direction. "Bloody
—where's your Papa?"

She slid from her perch on her Uncle's lap. "I love you, Uncle Allayne
," she gave him a noisy kiss on the cheek, and then turned to Alexandra. "So, you
do
like bananas," she waggled her eyebrows with a sly smile. "Oh, well—that's all I wanted to know. Bye now." She skipped off to play with Edward and Gabriel before the newlyweds could think of a retort.

"What was that about?" Alexandra turned to her husband with a flummoxed gaze.

"Nothing. Don’t mind her." Allayne took a sip from his wine glass.

"Is it true
? You have naughty pamphlets—?"

A dimple quivered on his cheek. "Don't believe in everything that that little imp tells you."

Alexandra crossed her arms on her chest. "You didn’t answer my question. Do you, or do you not have any?"

"Why don't you go look un
der my bed and see for yourself?" he shrugged, before turning to accept felicitations from one of the guests.

Alexandra relented. Surely, Allayne would have disposed of those pamphlets knowing she would be sharing his bedchamber. She nodded and accepted best wishes from the other guest
s.

Later that night, as Allayne slept soundly in exhaustion next to her after they
’d made love numerous times, Alexandra crawled out of bed to pick up her wedding dress that had been disposed of in a heap on the floor. She tried to shake the wrinkles out of the gown, but it had been rumpled beyond hope. With one last forceful jerk, she flung the dress over the back of a tall chair for her maid to retrieve for ironing in the morning. Something flew out from its hidden pocket, landing squarely on Allayne’s face.

“
Sorry,” Alexandra kissed her startled husband’s forehead as he sat up with a start on the bed.

“
What are you doing?” he asked sleepily, as she bent to retrieve the crumpled ball of paper that she recognized as the same piece Diana had been playing with earlier. How in heaven's name had it ended up in her pocket? She absent-mindedly unfurled the heavy vellum embossed with the Duke of Grandstone’s crest, and smoothed it with her fingers.

“
Nothing. Go back to slee—” Alexandra’s brows knitted as she read the written content.

“
What is it?” Allayne tilted his head question.

Alexandra handed the paper to him with a scowl.

And there, scribbled in a child's messy handwriting, he read, "Uncle Allayne hid the naughty pamphlets underneath his smalls in the drawer."