You, and Only You (29 page)

She couldn’t lie to him.
 
He was far too perceptive.
 
Besides, deep down she knew that she wouldn’t have even a moment’s piece
of mind until she knew the truth.
 
“If I
ask you something, will you be honest with me?” she queried hesitantly.

Her expression was earnest, her gaze beseeching.
 
What on
earth was this about?
 
“Yes, of
course,” he agreed.

Summoning her courage, Tiffany looked him boldly in the eye as
she asked the question that had been plaguing her thoughts for the latter part
of the evening.
 
“Why do you wish to
marry me?”

He blinked in surprise.
 
Of all the things she could have asked, he certainly hadn’t expected
that.
 
But nonetheless, he had agreed to
answer her honestly, and to the extent he could without hurting her, he
would.
 
“Did you not hear me when I
answered Lady Danbury’s question,” he replied softly.

“Yes, I heard you,” she responded, dropping her gaze to her
lap.
 
“But surely there is much more to
it than that.”

“Of course there is,” he acknowledged.
 
“Have I not proven time and again what you do
to me, Tiffany?
 
How desperately I want
you?”

“Yes, but …” she trailed off, shaking her head gently from
side to side.

But what?
 
Was she expecting a declaration of love?
 
Somehow he didn’t think that was what this
was about, but if it was, could he give it to her?
 
Was what he felt for Tiffany
love
?
 
In all honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure.
 
But if this
wasn’t
about that, if this was about something else entirely, he
was dammed if he knew what it was.
 
“But
what, Tiffany?” he coaxed.
 
“Please, tell
me.”

She hesitated for one long moment, and then slowly raised
her head.
 
“Is there another reason you
want to marry me?
 
Something that doesn’t
have to do with
me
at all?”

Something that didn’t have to do with
her
?
 
Alex felt a sudden
sense of foreboding.
 
“What are you
trying to ask me, Tiffany?”

Just come out with it, her inner voice chided.
 
“Did you ask me to marry you… because of the
land my father owns?”
 
There, she’d said
it.

Oh hell!
 
“Why would you think that, Tiffany?” he asked
calmly, even though he was afraid he already knew the answer.

“Baroness Langdon suggested as much,” Tiffany admitted.
 

Dammit, he was right.
 
Alex recalled the last time he’d been with Lucinda, shortly after having
learned of yet another one of Melborne’s stall tactics.
 
He’d been in a fine temper that night and
Lucinda had been all too eager to listen as he’d vented his frustration in
regard to William Marlowe.
 
God damn that
spiteful bitch to the pits of hell, he thought furiously.
 
Clearly she’d surmised that he and Tiffany’s
engagement was somehow related to the land deal, and had conveyed as much to
Tiffany.
 
As a result, he was going to
have to choose his next words very, very carefully in order to remain truthful
and still keep Tiffany from learning about the damnable wager.

Moving across the aisle, Alex sat down next to Tiffany.
 
Taking her hand, he looked her squarely in
the eye.
 
“Listen to me very carefully,
Tiffany,” he began, his tone earnest.
 
“I
asked you to marry me because I wanted to, because I care about you, and
because I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since the very first
moment I saw you that night at the theater,” he told her honestly.
 
“And while it’s true that your father and I
have recently come to terms in regard to an ongoing business dealing, I can
assure you that it has absolutely nothing to do with my feelings for you,” he
continued truthfully.

Tiffany felt the tension slowly leaving her body as she
listened to Alex’s words, for she could hear the utter sincerity in his
voice.
 
If he’d suddenly professed to
love her, she might have doubted him, but he hadn’t.

Alex could see the gradual softening of Tiffany’s
features.
 
Releasing her fingers, he
raised his hand to her face, running his thumb gently along her cheek.
 
“Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” she whispered.
 
“I believe you.”
 

“Good,” he whispered back, and then slowly lowered his lips
to hers.
 

Later that night as Tiffany prepared for bed, her thoughts
were once again preoccupied as she pulled her silver-plated hairbrush through
her long, blonde curls.
 
The night’s
events, comprising of the drive to the opera house, the performance, Lucinda
Langdon’s malevolent comments and her subsequent discussion with Alex, all
intermingled within her head.
 
Sighing
contemplatively, she smoothed the last of the tangles from her hair and then
set down the brush atop her vanity table.
 
Dressed only in her cotton night rail, she rose from her seat and walked
over to the widow, pushing the draperies aside.
 
Gazing up at the crescent moon, she stood lost in thought for several
minutes before finally allowing the heavy curtains to fall back into
place.
 

Turning to her bed, she doused the lamp that sat upon her
bedside table, kicked off her slippers and then slid under the cool linen
sheets, settling them over her midsection.
 
Resting her hands atop her stomach, she idly ran her index finger along
the band of her engagement ring as she tried to recall the exact words Alex had
said to her earlier that night.
 
“While it’s true that your father and I have
recently come to terms in regard to an ongoing business dealing, I can assure
you that it has absolutely nothing to do with my feelings for you.”
 
It had nothing to do with his
feelings
for her, he’d said.
 
The more she thought about it, the more it
troubled her.
 
Was she just being
paranoid, or had Alex chosen his words with careful deliberation, not lying to her
per say, but rather omitting a portion of the truth?
 
As much as she wanted to believe that the
baroness’ claims had no merit, and that Alex had been completely honest with
her, there was a small part of her that still had doubts.

“Good morning, Penrose.
 
Is my father at home?” Tiffany asked, as she entered the front hall the
following morning.

“He is, my lady,” he replied.
 
“I believe the marquess is presently in his
study.”

As she made her way down the hall to her father’s study a
few moments later, Tiffany’s stomach felt as if it were tied in knots.
 
After tossing and turning throughout most of
the night, she had finally come to a decision.
 
Despite what Alex had said, she couldn’t seem to put her fears to
rest.
 
Therefore, she was going to ask
her father outright about Lucinda Langdon’s allegations.

Reaching the closed door, Tiffany knocked softly upon the
wooden panel and then waited for permission to enter before turning the brass
knob.

“Yes,” the marquess said brusquely, looking up from the
papers spread atop his desk.
 
“What is
it?”

“Father, may I speak with you for a moment?” Tiffany asked
hesitantly.

William sighed in obvious irritation as he motioned her
forward.

Closing the door behind her, Tiffany made her way across the
room, taking one of the seats that sat before her father’s desk.
 

“Well, what is it you wish to speak with me about?” William
prompted tersely, eyeing Tiffany impatiently as she sat down upon the leather
wingback chair.

Despite her trepidation, she boldly met her father’s gaze.
 
She knew that if she was to get any kind of
information from him she couldn’t beat about the bush, she would have to ask
him straight out.
 
“Father, does my
engagement to Lord Chesterfield have anything to do with the property you
hold?
 
The property he’s been trying to
acquire,” she clarified, her voice strong and steady.

William’s expression turned guarded as he eyed his
daughter.
 
“Might I ask what has prompted
such an impertinent question?” he demanded curtly.

Tiffany stiffened her spine.
 
She couldn’t back down now, not if she wanted to know the truth.
 
“Someone suggested as much to me last night,
at the opera.”

The marquess’ eyes narrowed.
 
“Who?”

“Does it matter?”

“When I ask you a question, daughter,” his tone was harsh
and commanding, “I expect an answer!”

“A woman,” Tiffany replied, quailing slightly beneath her
father’s anger.
 
“I do not know her
name,” she lied.

William snorted.
 
“One
of Chesterfield’s paramours no doubt.”

Tiffany winced, for her father was likely correct on that
score.
 
Though he’d never confirmed it,
she had little doubt that Alex and the baroness had once been lovers.
 
But at the moment, that was neither here nor
there.
 
“Is it true?
 
Is
the earl’s proposal somehow related to your business dealing?”

“Since when have my business affairs been any of your
concern?” he snapped, rising abruptly from his chair.

Was he deliberately avoiding the question, she wondered,
feeling a sudden tightness in her chest?
 
Nonetheless, she too rose from her chair, facing her father boldly.
 
“If it is something that affects my future, I
believe I have a right to know.”
 
She
watched as her father’s face turned red, a visible sign of his mounting anger,
but she staunchly stood her ground.
 
She’d never confronted her father before, and it was both terrifying and
oddly gratifying at the same time.

“Your
right
?” he
bellowed, glaring at her from behind his desk.
 
“You have no
rights
,
girl.
 
I am your father and
you
will do exactly as you are told to
do, nothing more, nothing less.”
 

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said in a calm,
surprisingly steady voice.
 
Her father
glared at her, his expression revealing his continued anger, but also a hint of
astonishment.

“Alright then,” he said, after seeming to consider it for a
moment.
 
“You want to know the truth of
the matter?” his tone scathing, almost mocking.
  

She met his contemptuous gaze, her head held high.
 
“Yes, I do.”

“Fine.
 
It matters not
to
me
whether you know or not.
 
I only kept quiet because he asked me to.”

“So it is true.”
 
She
felt the tightness in her chest growing slowly tighter by the second.
 
“By marrying me, he gets the land he’s always
wanted.”

The marquis sneered.
 
“Of course.
 
Why else would he
have agreed to the wager?”

“Wager?”
 

William’s expression faltered, as though he realized just
then that he’d said something he hadn’t meant to say.

“What wager?” Tiffany asked, feeling the bile rise up in her
throat.

“That is enough!
 
Your
impudence knows no bounds, daughter,” he barked.
 

Tiffany was too dumbfounded to heed her father’s
warning.
 
“My future was decided by a
wager between you and the earl?” she choked out in disbelief.
 
“Dear God, what were the terms?”

“By dammed, girl, you go too far!
 
I have told you what you wanted to know and
now this discussion is over!”
 
Sitting back
down in his chair, William glared at Tiffany in barely suppressed rage.
 
“And just so that we are clear, if you
ever
speak to me with such flagrant
disrespect again, or dare to question me or my decisions, you will most
certainly regret it.
 
Now get out,” he
said, motioning angrily to the door.
 

Fighting back the sobs that threatened to break from her
chest, Tiffany turned to leave.
 
When she
reached the door however, she stopped.
 
Though a part of her had always known that her father didn’t love her, until
that very moment, she had harbored the smallest of hopes that he cared about
her, at least a little.
 
But now, that
tiny glimmer of hope was gone.
 
Summing
the very last bit of courage she possessed, she squared her shoulders and
slowly turned back to face her father.
 
“I have always known how you felt about me, father” she began, “but
until today I chose to believe that somewhere in your heart, you might care
about me, even the tiniest bit.
 
But what
you have done,” she said, shaking her head, “has finally proven to me without a
shadow of a doubt that you do not.”
 
Her
gaze unwavering, she severed the final tie in her relationship with the man
who’d father her.
 
“You are a cruel,
hateful person, but the fact that you would
wager
your own daughter is beneath contempt, even for you.”