A Dangerous Man (13 page)

She could not stand to see his beloved face twisted in so
much pain. She closed her eyes, her throat swelling, burning
as she dragged in her breath. "Oh, Alexander. There is nothing to forgive." She tugged on his hands, helped him to his
feet. "Ours would be a sad friendship, indeed, if it could not
survive a few harsh words. Please, sit beside me and we will
talk."

No fire burned in the grate, it was too lovely a day, but her
skin felt hot, damp with sweat.

He collapsed on the settee. Elbows on knees, he propped
his forehead against his hands. "I could not sleep. All I could
hear were my vengeful words, over and over, until I thought I
would go insane. I had to see you. I had to set things right."

"There is no need to say anything more. I would rather we
forgot it ever happened"

A cloud must have passed over the sun, for the light shining in through the windows suddenly dimmed. Then it brightened again, hurting her eyes. She wrapped her arms around
her waist, when all she wanted was to take his hand in hers and
offer him the same comfort she had needed so desperately.

But she could not. She was married to another man.

He dragged his hand through his hair. "I have to say this,
Leah. I cannot live with myself knowing I hurt you. I know
you never lied to me, or fed me false words of love."

His shoulders shook as he dragged in his breath. He pulled
a handkerchief from his frock coat pocket. "I should have told
you how I felt, but I thought twenty-two too young to marry.
I never dreamed anyone would steal you away from me. But
when you came to Town, I knew as soon as the men got a
look at you, they would want you as much as I did. But still,
I waited too long."
"

To give him time and privacy to compose himself, Leah
rose and walked to the hearth, her gaze tracing the gold
streaks swirling within the white marble. Twin vases filled
with roses sweetened the air with the scent of summer.

She plucked off a few faded blooms, tossed them into the
grate. If only she could as easily ease Alexander's pain,
soothe her aching heart, punish her father for his treachery.

I truly wish you would stop apologizing," she said, tracing her shaking hand over the mantel. "All is forgiven. I understood your pain last night. I understand your grief today.
I have felt them, too. When I thought I had lost your friendship and respect, it hurt unbearably."

He crushed the heels of his hands against his eyes, drew a
deep shuddering breath. "Well, then, are you happy with this
match?"

"It is too soon to tell," she said softly, trying not to cause him any more pain. "But the duke has been kind to me, his
family cordial. I believe I shall be happy here"

He surged from his chair. "Leah, I love you. I cannot bear
the thought of you with another man. Come away with me,
please. We'll flee to Scotland."

"Oh, you do not know what you are saying" She raised her
hands to stop his approach. "I am married to another man."

"He doesn't love you as I do"

"I am sure he doesn't love me at all. But that matters not. I
am his wife."

"It doesn't matter." His voice dropped to a pleading whisper. "Come away with me, Leah. I'd gladly suffer the scandal
if it meant we'd be together."

It happened so swiftly. One moment he was staring at her
through red, hazy eyes. The next he was grabbing her arms,
pulling her against his chest, kissing her with all the force of
his passion and the depths of his despair.

She twisted out of his arms. Legs trembling, tears rising,
she yanked the nearest chair until it stood between them.
"Alex, please, stop this madness. I love you, yes. I always
have. I always will. But I know, now, it is the love of a sister
for a brother, a friend for a friend." She held out one shaking
hand. "It is my turn to beg, Alex. Please, be my friend. Do not
do this to me"

He stared at her hand. "Do you love him, then?"

"He needs me, Alex. I cannot explain it, but I feel it in the
depths of my soul. We were meant to be together."

The steady tick of the mantel clock seemed hideously loud
in the silence. His shoulders heaved as he blew out his breath.
He tilted his lips in a wry, self-deprecating smile. "It seems I
must ask your forgiveness once again. In my madness, my
wits have gone begging. If they come knocking on your door,
would you please send them back to me?"

As he had intended, his quip teased a watery giggle from
Leah, despite her threatening tears and his attempt to ease himself back from madness, even as they both realized their
friendship would never, could never, be the same.

Through the lingering silence, Leah heard a sound very
much like footsteps out in the passage. A feeling of numbness
crept over her skin. An odd sense of time standing still, her
thoughts scattered and dazed, as she glanced over her shoulder at the shadows moving beyond the door.

Lady Montague scooped tea leaves from a wooden caddy,
then tapped them into a Wedgwood pot. "I must say, I am surprised, no-I am shocked at your visit here today."

No more shocked than Rachel. Never would she have
dreamed she would enter this house to call upon this woman.

She perched on the edge of her seat, her spine rigidly
straight and away from the back of her chair, as her mother
had taught her and as she had perfected through years of practice. No one entering the room would ever guess her pulse
was beating as wildly as Alison's feet during a fit of temper.

Her gloved hands folded one atop the other on her lap, she
adopted a serene expression, calm, poised, regal. Everything
a duchess should be. Everything that girl was not.

"When my butler announced the Duchess of St. Austin, I
assumed he meant Richard's wife." Margaret added boiling
water to the teapot from a silver urn, then closed the cover to
let it steep. "Although I could not imagine why she would
call on me. Aren't you styled the dowager duchess now that
he has wed?"

"Do not be catty, dear Margaret," Rachel said with a practiced smile, bland, indifferent, supremely confident. "I am
here to offer you my assistance."

Using a strainer to catch the sopping leaves, Margaret
poured out two cups, then held one out to Rachel. "I cannot
imagine what sort of assistance you believe I need"

"Why, securing St. Austin's affections, of course"

Margaret laughed, a sound as irritating as the clanging
horse hooves hitting the cobblestones outside the windows.
"I hardly think I need your help to lure him back to my bed"

"If you are willing to settle for that, then we truly have
nothing further to discuss." Rachel placed her teacup on a
small, claw-footed table to her right. With graceful dignity,
she rose, her silk skirts snagging on the worn crimson brocade upholstery.

The carpets were faded. The paper peeling back from the
walls. The house might be shabby, but Margaret's gown, spring
green and trimmed with flounces and buttons, was the first stare
of fashion. In the hunt for a husband, the woman obviously
knew where to spend her funds. Inwardly, Rachel shivered.

Outwardly, she donned a smile. "I simply thought you
more interested in the position of wife over mistress. Would
you be so kind as to ring for my carriage?"

Margaret sipped her tea. "St. Austin has already taken a
wife-and tossed her amongst the ton, quite theatrically.
Though she did handle herself rather well. More pity that"

"Do not play the naive henwit with me" Rachel resumed her
seat, spreading her skirts around her seat. "Marriages can be
dissolved and well you know it, given the right ... evidence."

"But the scandal-,'

"Is more damaging for the woman than for the man" Rachel
let a moment pass, as if she found the topic distressing.

She was not worried about the scandal. Richard had power
and position to ease the sting, and, as the wounded party, he
would have everyone's sympathy. Especially the men, who all
feared a bastard snuck in to inherit their precious lands.

As the women all wanted Richard in their beds, they, too,
would be willing to look the other way. "And I have no doubt,
he, himself, will be supremely grateful, after the fact, to have
escaped such a degrading mesalliance"

Margaret's steady gaze held an intensity that would have
made a lesser woman shift on her seat. Rachel simply lifted her chin and sipped her tea. Why had Richard found this
woman attractive? Her hair was the color of weathered bricks,
and she had freckles scattered across her cheeks.

No doubt it was her rather large bosom, accentuated by her
overly tight stays. Men, such slaves to their passions.

Rachel thanked God every day that He had gifted her with
luscious, gilt-colored hair and eyes so blue they shamed the
summer sky. Not many women could compare with her beauty.

And not many men could resist her.

She pushed away her memories, lest they upset her carefully composed demeanor. For the first time in her life, she
greatly feared she might lose everything, and years of scheming and maneuvering would have been for naught.

She could not let that happen.

Margaret stood and walked to the windows. "You have
never considered me a suitable candidate for Richard's wife
in the past. What has changed your position?"

"Nothing at all," Rachel said, following her across the
room. "It is simply the lesser of two evils. Given the choice
between you and that girl, I would greatly prefer you"

Margaret laughed again, squeaky wheels shuddering over
the cobbles. "If that is supposed to be a compliment, it went
wide of the mark"

"Do not be a goose" Rachel hid her grimace beneath a
smile, though it was growing more difficult with each passing second. "We do not like each other, and we never will, but
we could be allies in this." And Margaret would bear all the
blame while Rachel reaped all the benefits. It was a deliciously wicked scheme. She nearly laughed aloud at her own
cleverness.

Margaret pursed her lips. "What is wrong with the girl?"

"There is nothing wrong with her," Rachel said, pretending an inordinate interest in the pianoforte. She tapped on the
keys. Grossly out of tune. "As far as I can tell, she is a sweet
little thing. She simply is not one of us"

She leaned forward to whisper her confidence. "Her father
is in trade. Cotton mills, of all things. Spinning, weaving and
the like." She gave a delicate shudder. "What can St. Austin
be thinking to bring such a girl into my home? That he should
expect me to associate with one of the lower classes is beyond
all bounds. Not to mention, expose my daughter to all her
bourgeois ways. Why, it is unspeakable."

"Still," Margaret said, staring out at the street, as if mesmerized by the carriages rattling by. "The man must be quite
wealthy. Is it possible Richard married her for her dowry? Is
he having financial difficulties? If he truly needs her fortune,
he will not appreciate any interference on our part"

"Hardly," Rachel said, flicking the notion away with a twist
of her hand. "St. Austin has more money than he could possibly spend in a dozen lifetimes. No, it is more likely that he
compromised the chit and her father found out"

The room was stuffy, cloyingly thick with the smell of Margaret's perfume. A slow heat spread across Rachel's skin.
Anger? Jealousy? Disgust? She did not know. She did not care.

Nothing would keep her from her dreams.

She pulled her fan from her reticule, waved it before her
face. "He is so damn honorable, he would even wed someone
of her station just to make amends. But I ask you, should the
rest of us suffer her presence for life because of some minor
indiscretion on his part?"

"Absolutely not," Margaret said, her broad smile making
her appear almost pretty, her eyes alight with delicious, malicious glee. "And I want to be Richard's wife more than I've
ever wanted anything in my life."

You and a thousand others, Rachel thought, but she smiled
and looped her arm through Margaret's, as if they were the
best of friends, as they strolled toward the settee. "I have a
plan. You see, there is this young man"

Leah walked along the garden path, the gravel crunching
beneath her shoes a grim reminder of the footsteps she'd heard
echoing in the corridor outside the gold salon. Had someone
stood there, listening to her conversation with Alexander?

Watching as he-oh, God, she could hardly bring herself to
even think it-as he had kissed her? Or had she imagined it?

She wrapped her arms around her waist.

Oh, how she prayed that were true. The entire conversation
had been insane and so easy to misconstrue. And that kiss!

Even as an unwilling participant, to kiss a man who was
not her husband was unthinkable. A sheen of sweat spread
over her skin, from the sun or her turbulent emotions, she did
not know.

She trailed her fingers through the fountain, rubbed the
cool liquid over the back of her neck. Poor, sweet Alexander.