Alex's Angel (17 page)

She uncrossed her arms and pushed them against his chest, propelling herself away from him. “I don’t need your help. I just need the money we already agreed upon.”

“I can’t do that, Emily. I won’t be responsible for your further ruin.”

She opened the hand that still gripped the money and stared down at the crumpled bills. “I suppose I have no choice but to take this and leave, then.”

She glanced up at him. Her eyes looked huge and devastated.

He swallowed back the urge to relent. No, she had to come back. If he refused her the money, she’d come back. She would accept his protection. “Will you make me a promise?”

Her mouth dropped open again. “You—you of all people now want a promise from me?”

“Yes, I do. May I have it?”

She crossed her arms back over her chest. “It depends on what it is.”

“If you need money in the future, come to me. Don’t go to the Blue Duck.”

Her features hardened. He held his breath, knowing what was coming.

“I’d never come to you for anything. Not now.”

Her tone was so scathing he almost winced.

“Don’t say anything so rash, Emily. It is a very cold, cruel world out there. Don’t let pride keep you from asking me for help.”

She stared at him with those large, hurt eyes. “You think I am nothing more than a strumpet from the Blue Duck.”

“That’s not true, Emily.”

“Yes, it is true. I can see it in your eyes. However, I am more than you imagine. I have a purpose in my life. I live to make the world a better place. I am going to make something of myself—I am going to change the world for the better.” She looked at the money in her hand again. “Well, I shall never forget you, the man who enabled me to keep a roof over my head and food in my mouth until I could find my way. But that’s all you shall ever be to me.”

“You’re taking this all wrong. I—”

She laughed softly and held her other hand up, as if to forestall him. “No, please. There’s nothing more to be said between us—except, maybe, for this. You threw away your chance at higher education. An education so many would have been grateful to attain. You ran away from your family. You use your wealth to gain whatever you wish. You seem to have no purpose in your life except for the pursuit of pleasure and you don’t care who you use or how you trample on them. You even command your slave to stand outside your door like some sort of sentry. You look down on me and think you can command me to your will because I am just a poor, pitiful girl from the Blue Duck. But the truth is”—she raked him with her gaze—“Do you want to know something, Alex?”

He suddenly felt like a condemned man. Awaiting sentence.

“What?” he asked, with all the reluctance he would experience if he were to stick his neck into a guillotine.

She lifted her chin and such strength of character shone in her eyes, such determination and assurance of purpose, it took his breath. It dazzled him, holding him bemused. He stared at her, transfixed by her inner beauty and knowing all the while she was leagues above him. She was like a brilliant shining star. No…an angel.

He still held his breath, hoping against all hope for mercy.

For mercy from an angel might just be the thing to heal him.

She opened her mouth and he felt a peculiar pinching in his chest. “I feel sorry for you.”

She said the words so softly, so calmly, yet they hit him with gale-force impact. He flinched and staggered back a few steps. Maybe he even felt a bit ill. But she was turning and leaving.

He let her go.

* * * *

It had only been a week since the day Emily had left and Alex still couldn’t get his mind off her. It made other business hard to focus on. Even his own inner demons had to take a secondary place to his new, all-consuming obsession. What was she doing? Was she feeding herself regularly? Who was she seeing? Would she ever come back to him?

I feel sorry for you.

Her words echoed in his head. He couldn’t stop hearing them. Oh, she was far more perceptive than Alicia had ever been. It had taken Emily only one night to discover the empty void beneath his façade.

But still, he needed to be able to do something for her. To protect her against herself and her inexperience. She was all alone in the world and she needed guidance.

He had someone take rooms in the boarding house where she was staying; it hadn’t been difficult to find her. But what if she took it into her head to leave the city? What if she couldn’t be easily traced once that happened?

Christ. Had he misjudged her stubbornness and done the wrong thing by not giving her more money? He pictured her, going hungry, growing thinner. Forced to let men take her to their rooms—

“I am soon to retire from my position. I am done with politics.” The red-haired Virginian’s drawl broke into Alex’s thoughts. He’d come to visit the Secretary of State, Mr Thomas Jefferson, here at his house on the banks of the Schuylkill River, for a teatime appointment. But he’d come early to discuss matters that concerned them both. The two men shared a deep concern about the fate of American mariners being held in Barbary since the vessels
Maria
of Boston and
Dauphin
of Philadelphia had been captured in the summer of 1785.

Alex looked up just as the other man leant back in his chair and stretched his tall, lanky frame. “I cannot wait to return to Monticello and put all of this behind me. My daughters and my grandchildren need me more than this country does.”

Jefferson gave a slightly wistful sigh. Alex nodded and gave the appropriate, polite response but, in Alex’s opinion, Jefferson’s withdrawal had more to do with the upcoming fight over what to do about the Barbary pirate situation. Just this October past, the British had made a truce with Portugal and the two Portuguese ships that had been guarding the Straits of Gibraltar had been called off.

It left American shipping without protection in the Mediterranean and the easy prey of the pirates. Jefferson’s views on handling the Barbary situation and his belief in the need for a national navy were in conflict with those of the Democrat-Republican Party, to which he owed allegiance. The issue of a national navy promised to be one of the most contentious debates in the coming congressional session.

“Last year, a young authoress asked for my help in contacting family members of the
Dauphin’s
captured crew who live here so that she could interview them for a book.”

Alex startled at the abrupt change of subject from something of such seriousness to some bored society miss and her book. “A captivity novel?”

Damned sensationalised novels that portrayed horrific experiences for vulgar tastes. It surprised Alex that Jefferson would even mention it.

A slight smile stretched Jefferson’s lips and he shook his head. “No, this work documents the real effects such loss has on the families and community while striving, in a surprisingly effective way, for objectivity and avoiding gross over-sentimentality. She includes sketches of these men based on the descriptions given to her. Very evocative—touches the heart in a way that is hard to put into words.”

Alex paused. Yes, there was merit in trying to humanise an issue that people had grown too desensitised about. “It sounds unique.”

“All the more remarkable given her youth.” Jefferson’s hazel eyes grew thoughtful.

“She’s young, then?”

“Yes, seventeen or eighteen—thereabouts.”

Oh, no. Not something like this. He’d had his fill of idealistic young women and their youth, naïveté, skittish stubbornness. And he couldn’t picture such a creature turning her head away from her own view to look at the deeper issues of the world. “It’s surprising that such a young girl would turn her interest to such a serious topic.”

Jefferson’s expression grew thoughtful and he nodded slowly. “Yes, well, it’s a personal connection. Her father was a mariner on the
Maria
out of Boston. Seven years ago he perished from plague while still in Algerian captivity. Her grandmother died in the recent fever. She has no source of income, no kin to depend on. It is a troubling situation. But I would like to see this work published in pamphlet form.”

Alex nodded. “For immediate distribution in Congress, free of charge.”

“Exactly. But for now, her most pressing need is for decent lodgings. She’s living alone in a boarding house—like a girl on the town—and it just doesn’t seem right. If we worked with her, it would be best if she could be living in a situation with an older woman around.” Jefferson stood. “Well, then, would you like to meet her?”

“Of course,” Alex said.

Jefferson moved in his loose-jointed way across the room, then leaned out of the door, speaking quietly to a servant.

They waited and discussed how the Portugal treaty would affect trade. Alex could barely taste the fine French wine Jefferson had given him. The last thing he needed right now was the additional responsibility of some knotty-headed, bluestocking artist girl. Well, Aunt Rachel could handle her need for room and board and whatever else a starving artist needed. He’d have a look at this girl’s work. If he believed it really matched Jefferson’s confidence, then yes, he’d provide the funds to have it printed. He needn’t bother himself over her further than that.

The door came open. He looked up just as a girl of medium height entered. Her dark curls bounced as she walked slowly, almost hesitantly into the study. As she passed the window, sunlight glinted on those dark locks, illuminating them to a glowing wine colour.

Before his brain could react, his sensual memory recognised every line and graceful, sensual sway of that lithe little frame. And his body reacted accordingly, all the blood rushing from his head to his cock at once.

Halfway into the chamber, she turned to him. Her large, sherry-brown eyes widened and her face paled. She froze like a doe caught unawares.

“Ah, Miss Eliot.” Jefferson’s boots echoed on the hardwood floor.

A momentary joy beat through Alex’s blood, followed by the most profound thought. He had her exactly where he needed her to be.

Totally under his control.

He would not fail this time. He would see her safe and well-positioned in life. There would be no disaster this time.

He could never have her.

Not the way he’d intended two weeks ago, keeping her as a spoilt, petted mistress. Possessing her delicious sensuality and compelling inner fire for his own. No, she wasn’t some impulsive, wilful girl who had run from her family. She was a good girl who had fallen on hard times and trouble, who had been forced to sell her virtue—a prime target for the first wolf she came across.

And he had been that wolf.

He’d have to find her a respectable husband. It was the very least he could do in terms of making up for what he’d done to her.

Jefferson was approaching her. He placed his hand lightly on her shoulder. Alex’s chest tightened in a strange way at the sight. God, Jefferson had no designs on her, he knew that. But the tightness was there anyway. The same burning possessiveness he’d felt that night in front of City Tavern. How the hell would he ever release her to another man?

It didn’t matter—he would have to. But first he’d have to see her fashionably clothed and introduced to the right people. He wouldn’t release her to just anyone. It would have to be a gentleman and someone worthy of her.

Restlessness quickened in his legs and he suddenly wanted to collect her and be gone. He came to his feet just a second after Jefferson did.

Jefferson led her to Alex. “Emily, this is Mr Alexander Dalton.” He flashed one of his quick, shy smiles at Alex. “Good news, my dear. He has agreed to pay for the printing of your book.”

The chamber still swam in Emily’s vision. The jolt was simply too much. Alex was too young and certainly too handsome to be anyone’s ‘benefactor’. Her head had been spinning ever since Jefferson had spoken Alex’s name this morning.

But seeing him here had been a shock all over again. As if before had been merely a theory, distant from her. As if it somehow might not be true. As if somehow she might still be able to keep her wits, pride and freedom and still get the funding for her book to be printed.

Jefferson had said that Alex was rumoured to be the second wealthiest man in Philadelphia but no one knew for certain how much wealth he held. His father had owned a sizable mercantile company but, upon his inheritance, Alex had sold it in its entirety to Sexton Shipping. Now he was a man who did not have to work but rather made his money investing. She’d known he was well off but was he really
that
wealthy?

His grey-blue eyes held hers unwaveringly, piercing her with their intensity until she shifted on her feet. She saw no sign of her charming defender from the Blue Duck. No sign of her gentle lover. Instead, she saw everything Jefferson had described.

And it frightened the very devil out of her.

“I want to see this book.” Alex’s voice was hard, commanding.

“Of course,” Jefferson said. He released her shoulder, then motioned toward his desk. “Please have a seat at my desk, Mr Dalton.”

Alex walked over and sat while Jefferson spread her sketchbook open. Alex’s eyes flickered over the illustrations that had been the cornerstone of her life for over a year and a half. Then his eyes returned to hers, still piercing, still burning her.