Authors: Jennifer McNare
He looked as if he was about to apologize again.
She stopped him.
“Please.
You don’t need to say anything, Alex,” she said in a quiet, but steady
voice.
“I’m fine, truly.”
He studied her face for a moment.
“Are you?” he asked softly.
She didn’t answer, reaching for her horse’s reins
instead.
Stepping into the stirrup, she
hoisted herself up and onto the saddle.
“We should be going,” she said as she adjusted the heavy fabric of her
riding skirt.
He hesitated for a moment, watching her, and then finally
mounted his stallion.
They spoke very little during the ride back to Sethe Manor,
Tiffany deliberately dropping back to follow a short distance behind Alex so
that their lack of conversation would seem less awkward.
It was only as they neared the house that she
finally drew alongside him.
After a
brief discussion on how best to get her into the house whilst attracting the
least possible notice, Tiffany spurred her mount ahead, leaving Alex alone in
the cover of the trees to follow behind a short while later.
Thankfully, the stable was located to the rear of the house
and Tiffany managed to attract very little notice as she quickly dismounted
just outside the entrance.
Handing over
the horse’s reins to the first groom she saw, she then made a hasty retreat,
heading directly to the servant’s entrance as Ashleigh had instructed.
Likely due to the vast number of guests they were currently
attending to, there were no maids or footmen lingering about as she entered the
empty passageway.
Alone in her chamber, Tiffany hurriedly shed her damp
clothes and then hung them in the armoire to dry.
Although she’d managed to slip into the house
unnoticed, until she spoke with Ashleigh she wouldn’t know for certain if her
presence had been missed.
Imagining her
father’s reaction, she could only pray that it hadn’t.
Selecting from the gowns that had already
been pressed and hung, she chose a pale green day dress of silk charmeuse that
buttoned up the front.
Hastily donning
the dry garment, she then made her way to the vanity table and quickly ran a
brush through her tousled hair, freeing the numerous tangles and then tying it
back with a green ribbon that matched the color of her gown.
Once satisfied with her appearance, she left her chamber and
went in search of Ashleigh.
She found
her in the drawing room, taking tea with several other ladies.
Noting her arrival, Ashleigh rose from her seat and
immediately made her way to Tiffany’s side.
“How are you feeling, dear?
Has
the headache passed?” she asked, loud enough for the others to hear.
Taking her cue, Tiffany nodded.
“Yes, it has.
Now that I’ve rested I’m feeling much better, thank you.”
“Excellent, now you can join us for tea,” she exclaimed
cheerfully, leading Tiffany toward a vacant seat.
“Lady Wilington was just sharing the most
interesting story with us all,” she said then, turning her smile in the
direction of a stern-faced, middle-aged woman with coal-black hair piled high
into a sturdy-looking bun atop her head.
As it turned out, Lady Wilington’s story wasn’t the least
bit interesting at all, but like the other women in the room, Tiffany made a
good show of appearing as though she was completely engrossed in the drawn-out
tale of the woman’s latest trip to visit her sister in Yorkshire.
However, as it seemed that Ashleigh had
effectively kept the other guests from noting her earlier absence, her relief
far outweighed her disinterest, and if need be, she was more than willing to
listen to a dozen more of the mind-numbing tales.
Later on, after the ladies had finished their tea, Tiffany
was finally able to speak with Ashleigh alone.
Leading Tiffany into her private sitting room, Ashleigh
closed the door and immediately spun around to face her.
“Good heavens, I was worried sick about you,”
she said, grabbing Tiffany’s hand and pulling her in the direction of a
velvet-covered settee.
“When the storm
rolled in and you were nowhere to be seen, I was near frantic.”
“I’m so sorry.
I
never should have left the group,” Tiffany acknowledged, as she settled onto
the settee next to Ashleigh.
“My
father?” she asked anxiously.
“He and several of the other gentlemen have been holed up in
the game room all afternoon playing cards.
I think it is safe to say that he has no knowledge of your temporary
absence.”
“Oh thank goodness!”
The relief she felt was immense.
“And thank you for covering for me, Ashleigh.”
“Did you think I would have done anything else?” Ashleigh
replied, squeezing Tiffany’s hand.
“I
know how your father can be.”
Her tone
was compassionate.
“But where have you
been?
Were you caught in that wretched
downpour or were you able to find shelter?” she asked, her expression full of
concern.
“I made it to the old overseer’s cottage shortly after the
storm began,” Tiffany explained.
“But
not before I got a good soaking, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, how dreadful,” Ashleigh said sympathetically.
“But you were so clever to think of the
cottage.
I was dreadfully afraid you
might have been forced to huddle under a tree somewhere.”
“You would have been proud of me,” Tiffany replied with a
grin.
“I managed to start a fire all on
my own.”
Ashleigh’s brow rose in surprise.
“You did?”
“You needn’t appear so shocked,” Tiffany chuckled.
“I am not completely incompetent, you know.”
“Of course you’re not,” Ashleigh agreed, shaking her head at
Tiffany’s teasing.
But then her
expression turned questioning.
“So Alex
didn’t find you then?” she asked.
“When
the two of us realized that you hadn’t returned, he immediately set off to go
and look for you.”
“He did… find me that is, at the cottage.”
“He did?”
Ashleigh’s
eyes widened, her eyebrows shooting upward.
When Tiffany merely nodded and remained silent, Ashleigh’s
expression quickly turned to one of exasperation.
“And?” she prompted.
“What happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
Ashleigh was her closest friend, but even so, she couldn’t bring herself
to tell her what had really happened at the cottage.
“Nothing?”
Tiffany shrugged.
“We
warmed ourselves by the fire and waited for the storm to let up?”
“That’s all that transpired?”
Ashleigh’s tone held a note of skepticism.
“That’s all.”
She
could only hope that she sounded convincing.
“But after last night…well, I just thought…”
“You thought what?”
Tiffany asked, injecting a forced lightness into her tone.
“That after one kiss Alexander Warrene would
suddenly profess his undying love for me?”
Ashleigh studied Tiffany’s face.
“Well no, not exactly.
But-”
Fortunately a soft knock sounded at the door just then,
drawing Ashleigh’s attention.
“Come in,”
she called, turning to the door.
A young maid peeked her head around the door.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Your Grace, but
you wanted to know when his lordship awoke from his nap.”
“Oh, yes, thank you Polly.
I shall be along in a moment.”
The maid bobbed her head and pulled the door closed.
Without giving Ashleigh a chance to continue their
conversation, Tiffany rose quickly to her feet.
“Go see to your son, Ashleigh.
We
can talk later.”
“Are you certain?” she asked hesitantly, rising to stand
next to Tiffany.
“Of course,” Tiffany assured her.
“Now run along and give Justin a kiss for
me.”
Grasping Ashleigh’s elbow, she
steered her friend toward the door.
“I’ll stop by the nursery to visit my darling godson later.”
“Alright then, we shall finish our conversation later,”
Ashleigh said, reaching for the door handle.
“Oh wait, I almost forgot to tell you,” she said spinning around, her
expression suddenly animated.
“Tell me what?”
“The Langdons, they’ve taken their leave.”
Tiffany eyed Ashleigh curiously.
“I assumed they wouldn’t be leaving until
tomorrow, like everyone else.”
“As did I.
But after
returning from the picnic, the baroness informed me that she and her husband
would be departing earlier than they had originally anticipated.”
“Did she give a reason?”
“Well,” she began, her voice lowering furtively, “she
implied that it was due to the baron’s health, but I think it had far more to do
with the conversation she had with Alex, more than anything else.”
“Conversation?”
Ashleigh nodded.
“Shortly after you left, I saw the two of them walking by the lake, and
though I couldn’t hear what they were saying, it didn’t look like an altogether
pleasant exchange.”
Tiffany’s eyebrows shot upward.
“And then, after just a few moments, Alex turned and
abruptly walked away, leaving her standing there with a decidedly bad-tempered
expression upon her face.”
“How…interesting,” Tiffany murmured.
“Isn’t it though,” Ashleigh agreed with an evocative smile.
Downstairs, in the privacy of the duke’s study, Alex had
been conversing with Nicholas for the past quarter hour regarding the upcoming
sale at Tattersalls, the premier bloodstock auction house in Europe, and the
upcoming races at Newmarket.
“With the previous three winners coming out of Hastings’
stables, his entry is sure to be the odds on favorite.”
“Indeed,” Nick
agreed.
“If Lord Foxwell’s Star Dancer
can take the
Town Plate
this year, it
will be considered quite a coup.
“In any event, I shall be there to cheer him on,” Alex said,
raising his glass.
“For Hastings’ head
has grown nearly as big as his considerable paunch, and I for one would be
delighted to see Foxwell knock him down a peg or two.”
“Here, here,” Nick replied, raising his own glass to his
lips.
Draining the remaining liquid, he
then reached for the decanter that sat on the small table between their two
chairs.
Alex eyed him with a knowing grin as Nick poured another
splash into his glass.
“You can hardly
wait for all of this to be over, can you?”
“How can you tell?” Nick replied drolly, holding up his
glass so that the sun streaming in through the window glinted upon the
finely-cut crystal snifter.
“Chin up, old man, you’ve only one more night before they
all return to their own homes,” Alex said, his tone consoling.
Nicholas snorted, tipping his glass to his lips once again.
Alex fought the urge to chuckle.
“That reminds me,” Nick said, setting his empty glass onto
the table.
“The Langdon’s made a rather
abrupt departure earlier this afternoon.”
He looked to Alex questioningly.
“Any chance their sudden exodus had something to do with you?”
Alex took a sip from the snifter of brandy he held before
answering.
“It’s quite possible.”
His expression was deliberately blasé.
Nicholas quirked his brow, eyeing Alex expectantly.
“I found the baroness’ increasing imprudence somewhat
bothersome,” he admitted drolly.
“You ended it?”
“She didn’t take it well, I’m afraid.”
Nicholas snorted.
“She’ll recover soon enough, I’d wager.”
“I do not doubt it.”
If he knew Lucinda, she would have another man warming her bed within a
fortnight.
“So, is that the
only
reason you ended it?”
Alex didn’t like the assessing look on his friend’s
face.
“Are you suggesting that I may
have had an ulterior motive?”
Nick shrugged his shoulders, though his calculating
expression remained the same.
“I can assure you that it had absolutely nothing to do with
Tiffany Marlowe, if that is what you’re thinking.”
Alex’s tone had a defensive edge to it.
Nicholas took a long, slow swallow of brandy before
speaking.
Setting the heavy crystal
glass atop his desk, he leaned back in his chair and looked Alex straight in
the eye.
“Who is it that you are trying
to convince Alex, me or yourself?”
Tossing back the last of the dark, amber-colored liquid in
his glass, Alex schooled his features into a mask of composure and rose
casually from his chair.
The question
was unsettling, and far too close to the mark than he cared to admit.
Walking over to where Nicholas sat, he placed
his empty glass alongside Nick’s atop the desk.
“Thank you for the drink.”