She didn’t know if she would ever see it. She bent her head
in acknowledgment and wandered to the massive rosewood armoire, but she did not
dare to open it.
“Would you care to see the rest of the suite?”
“There is more?” In astonishment, she saw he gestured toward
still another door.
Alex gave her a curious look. “Perhaps I should not tell
you, if you are satisfied with these arrangements.”
Her gaze went to the wide bed she had thought they would
share and then back to him. There was something in his dark eyes she wished she
could read, but she felt only the heat of embarrassment as she realized he had
never intended that they share the bed. “Let us see the rest of this palace,”
she replied stiffly.
“Actually, palaces are royal residences. ‘Mansion’ will have
to suffice for commoners like us.” Alex stalked to the door at the side of the
room and threw it open. “Your dressing room, madam. Your maid’s chamber is
behind this. The first earl didn’t think highly of having servants close at
hand, but the second earl’s wife insisted it was less than civilized to have to
ring for her maid. She had the dressing rooms cut up with partitions for the
servants.”
Evelyn slipped past him to a room larger than her old
bedroom. A discreet door at the rear indicated where some stranger would sleep
if she had to employ a maid. Another massive armoire filled one wall, and a
lovely dressing table occupied the wall next to it. Her glance fell on yet
another door, similar to the one she had just come through.
Following her gaze, Alex stoically crossed this smaller room
and opened the door opposite. “My dressing room.”
“Oh.” Evelyn held back. The rooms they had just come through
were as impersonal as a museum because no one had actually lived in them. She
had a feeling that would not be the case in these next ones.
“Come along. I have seen your home. You must learn mine.”
Impatiently he caught her elbow and led her to the next room.
The dressing rooms were fairly identical, hers being more
silver and gold and his blue and gray. The exception lay in the fact that there
were brushes and combs and wig stands scattered about his dressing table. A
rack in the corner held a jumble of walking sticks, umbrellas, what appeared to
be a discarded golf club, and a pair of tall leather boots. On the wall hung
pistols intricately carved about the long barrels, with beautifully polished
wood handles. Dueling pistols. Her heart sank a little further.
Alex was waiting for her to enter what she hoped was the
final chamber. Steeling herself, she strode bravely through this next door, to
find herself at last in Alex’s home.
There was no mistaking that this was where he lived. Despite
servants’ attempts to tidy all personal belongings into their proper places,
they could not hide the overflowing liquor cabinet with the marvelously ornate
decanters and crystal goblets. Nor would they take away the lovely matched
paintings of ships at sea on either side of the massive tester bed. Dark blues
dominated here, in the heavy comforter and bed hangings, accenting the
tapestried draperies. The feel was almost medieval, and the crossed swords on
one wall added to the feeling.
She knew the armoire would conceal his expensive frock coats
and linen. She doubted that he wore nightshirts or caps, but if he did, they
would be in those drawers over there. The stand beside the bed held a lamp for
reading the jumble of volumes stacked beside it. The massive bookcase desk
between the windows held more leather-bound books and an organized chaos of
papers and pens and ink. She recognized ledgers behind the shelf windows and
knew he used this room as much for an office as anything else. She felt Alex’s
presence here so strongly that she had to force the erratic beat of her heart
into control before facing him.
There was almost a vulnerability behind his normally
impenetrable black eyes, and Evelyn’s attempt at controlling her emotions
slipped. She touched his arm and wished that he would wrap it around her and
carry her to that bed they ought to share. Instead, he went rigid, and she
hastily removed the offending hand.
“I like this room best,” she offered, then turned and left
for the formal chambers that were to be hers.
“Alex has terrified me for years.” Alex’s cousin Alyson smoothed
her skirts across the settee. The petite young woman smiled warmly at her
husband, Rory Maclean, who had just released her hand.
Evelyn saw no terror in Lady Alyson’s demeanor. Her hostess gestured
airily with her hands and continued. “Alex looks at me with those forbidding
dark eyes of his as if I were some particularly repulsive henwit. He waits for
me to be gone so he can go about his business. He is so . . .”
She threw her hands up expressively. “He is so very large and intimidating that
I feared him on sight, which is always a mistake with Alex. He takes advantage
of fear and plays it against you. Do you know, he actually threatened me with
physical violence? Horrible man. But of course, I know now what you must have
learned from the first. He’s quite incapable of harming a soul.”
The Maclean coughed at this absurd generalization of Alex’s
docility, and Evelyn had difficulty hiding her amusement. She had fallen in
love with Alex’s cousin Alyson the first time they met. The relationship
between this fey female and her decidedly down-to-earth Scots husband enthralled
her. Alyson was capable of flights of fancy beyond the bounds of reason; Rory
simply held her on a silver chain and brought her down when she flew too high.
Obviously Alyson was treading clouds now, but not dangerously enough that her
husband wished to disturb her.
“Alex can be a trifle intimidating,” Evelyn agreed with a
polite murmur.
“A
trifle
understates the fact. Alex
cultivates
intimidating,” Deirdre, the countess, announced. “Many’s the time I have
contemplated taking a fire iron to his head. I cannot imagine how you came
close enough to even consider marriage.”
From behind her, Evelyn heard the clink of a glass, followed
by Alex’s deep rumble. “Perhaps my wife neglected to use Alyson’s boiling water
or your fire irons to entice me.” He rested his hand on Evelyn’s shoulder. She
could sense his hidden amusement even though she knew he would keep his face
poker straight. She looked up to test her judgment, and he lifted his glass in
a slight salute. “Would you believe that faint creature over there once dumped
boiling water down my leg?” he said, indicating Alyson. “I still have the scars
to prove it. Very odd idea of terror, I must say.”
His voice sent tremors to Evelyn’s toes, and the look on his
face pierced her with quiet joy. Here with his family Alex was relaxed and at
ease, and she felt the closeness they once had shared. She smiled and brushed
his hand. “I won’t ask what you did to cause a lady as gentle as Alyson to act
so. I’m certain you deserved every minute of your agony.”
“He did, but at least he displayed uncommon good taste if
not good sense. There’s some hope that the lad has grown up since then.” The
lilting roll of Rory’s R’s hinted of strong emotion, and Evelyn glanced between
the two men.
Alex’s hand tightened on her shoulder, but there was no
anger in his reply. “You are still jealous that I might have married her first,
Maclean. Letting Alyson get away may have been one of my worst moments of stupidity,
but it seems to have worked out very well. Evelyn, at least, doesn’t faint at
the sight of me.”
Amusement twisted Rory’s lips as his wife grew as puffy as a
pigeon with ruffled feathers. Soothingly he rubbed a knuckle against her cheek.
There did not seem to be need of any further communication between them, Evelyn
noted jealously. Again her eyes lifted to Alex. So Alyson was another of the
women who had rejected his suit. For a man who despised marriage, he certainly
had a talent for asking for it.
“I might not faint at sight of you,” Evelyn spoke for
herself, “but I am inclined to do so should you ever say a pleasant word
without prompting. Will you please sit down and quit towering over me? I’m
likely to strain my neck.”
Laughter rippled around the room, and Deirdre murmured a
soft “Brava!” When Alex sat down and took Evelyn’s hand, a splattering of
applause erupted.
“As you can see, the tyrant apparently prefers timid, easily
browbeaten men,” Alex teased, refusing to let Evelyn’s hand go.
That inane remark brought more laughter. Alyson jumped to Evelyn’s
defense. “That is not at all as I understand it, monster. You must know that
Father tells tales. You had best treat Evelyn with all due respect, or I shall
repeat them to everyone.”
Alex grimaced and Evelyn shook her head in embarrassment. “Do
not take all Lord Cranville says with seriousness,” she said.” He is not privy
to all that has gone between Alex and me. We are not always on our best
behavior.”
“I would say Alex never is, but admittedly, he has his uses,”
Rory said. “Have you got that Weatherford contract yet, Hampton? We need to act
on it with all due haste.”
Alyson made a wry moue of distaste as Rory turned the topic
to business. Alex immediately swam for these safer shores, and the two men
retreated to another room, leaving the women to share confidences without
interruption. Evelyn felt abandoned. She was accustomed to being consulted
about business and included in the men’s arguments. Finding herself in this
all-female company left her uneasy, and she was surprised when Deirdre picked
up her embroidery and took the chair that Alex vacated.
“As much as I love my husband’s heir, Alex can be daunting.
Tell me, Evelyn, are all women in the colonies as courageous as you?”
Evelyn exchanged a glance with her mother, who busied
herself with mending and listening, then shook her head and laughed. “Not any
more than all the women in London are as lovely as you and Alyson.”
Deirdre complacently accepted this reply. “All the women in
London are cowards, then. Everett does not speak much of his fears, but he has
been worried that Alex would never settle down. That is one of the main reasons
he sailed off as soon as he learned Alex had fallen headfirst into woman
trouble as soon as he set foot in Boston. He was quite determined to whip Alex
into line this time.”
Embarrassed, Evelyn didn’t know what to say. It seemed she
and Alex had nothing secret between them. Did his family know, too, that they
did not sleep together? Apparently such a situation was not unusual in society,
since she had learned most married couples kept separate bedrooms, but it still
felt wrong to her.
Alyson chided her husband’s aunt. “Come, Deirdre, you know
Father could never make Alex do anything against his wishes. Like Alex, he gets
restless and looks for trouble sometimes. He has only himself to blame for his
illness now. It sounds as if he enjoyed every minute of his stay in Boston.
With smugglers and rebels involved, I am surprised Rory did not join them.”
“That is probably because he knew you were breeding again,”
Deirdre replied before tossing the conversational ball. “Amanda, do you think
all men are as trouble-prone as ours?”
Amanda lifted her gaze from her sewing, at ease with the
discussion that left Evelyn’s head spinning. “Men crave action more than do
women, I suspect. We have been trained to stay home and tend to our tasks, so
we make our trouble in less active ways.”
“Like talk,” Evelyn interrupted. “That is why they say that
behind every good man you’ll find a good woman. We twist their arms verbally
instead of physically, so no one sees it. I had never quite thought of it like
that.”
“You almost have it,” Deirdre laughed. “If it were not for
women plotting and planning as we do here tonight, men would never get things
straight. They would take swords to each other and be done with it. Alex and
Rory have come that close to blows, but look how much better it is when they
work together. Do you think that would ever have happened if Alyson had not
been there whispering soft words in Rory’s ear?”
A dreamy smile drifted across Alyson’s face as she sought
some memory. Evelyn watched her with fascination, knowing Alex considered his
cousin half-mad.
“Not always words, Deirdre,” Alyson said. “We take action
too, but we’re not as big and strong as they, so we cannot beat them
physically.”
“But we can join them physically.” Deirdre laughed as she
completed out loud what Alyson left unsaid. “We are all married ladies here,
cherub, we need not be shy.” She turned her attention to the newest married
member of the company. “I think Evelyn already knows the power we can wield
without saying a word. I don’t think Alex’s gaze left you all evening.”
Evelyn blushed and wished she had something to occupy her
hands as all eyes turned toward her. She had no power over Alex. He controlled
her heart, her soul, her life. She was helpless. Perhaps it was different when
a husband loved his wife, but these women did not know that Alex was incapable
of love. She shrugged diffidently. “Alex is his own man. I have no desire to
control him,” she responded.
Alyson smiled affectionately, and Deirdre patted her hand. “With
Alex, that’s probably wise. Nevertheless, there are some things you must teach
him. A little sugar always makes it easier.” She rose and straightened her
skirts. “Everett should be awake by now. Will you go up to see him before you
go home, Alys?”
“Rory and I both will. You go on now. I know he’ll wish to
see you first.” Alyson sadly watched her stepmother hurry away.
The unspoken truth lay between them with these simple words.
The physicians came and went on a daily basis with pills and nostrums and
advice, but the earl’s health still did not improve. Rory and Alyson normally stayed
in Deirdre’s old home with their two rambunctious youngsters when in London,
but this last week Alyson had practically lived at her father’s side. The
strain was beginning to tell despite the evening’s light chatter.