BRIGHTON BEAUTY (15 page)

"Y-you know?" she murmured faintly.

"I know enough. But, in all fairness to you, I am willing to hear your side of the story."

"M-my side?"

"That is correct." He waited, but when she seemed loath, or perhaps, unwilling, to begin, he said, "Perhaps I should tell you what I have heard and then allow you the opportunity to confirm, or refute, it."

Since she still looked as if for the moment speech was impossible, he surged ahead. "It seems that your . . . shall we say, blatant indiscretions . . . are on the lips of everyone in Town, my dear."

"M-my indiscretions?" Her lovely brows drew together with puzzlement.

Rathbone nodded coolly. "You are being linked with a man by the name of Mr. Harry Hill. An
actor,
Alayna.
A common actor!"
Feeling rage begin to pulse through his veins, he tried valiantly to contain it. Despite the guilt written all over her face, Alayna had not yet had her say in the matter.

He watched while a variety of other incriminating emotions appeared on her flushed countenance, then he fairly exploded. "I
demand
to know the meaning of this, Alayna!"

In an effort to calm himself he began to pace back and forth before the huge desk. Still, she said nothing.

He stopped pacing to glare at her. "Either you are acquainted with the man, or you are not! And, if you are, I demand to know to what lengths the . . . er . . . association has progressed."

Suddenly, her flushed cheeks became the color of new fallen snow. "P-progressed?"

"Dammit, Alayna! Can you do nothing but stutter and stammer in your own defense? It is enough that my future wife has consorted with such . . . such low-lifes! It would be the outside of enough to learn that she had . . . that she is carrying on a . . . that she means to . . . " He parked both fists on his hips. "You know very well to what I am alluding, Alayna. I
demand
to know the truth at once!"

Suddenly the dam of his betrothed's silence seemed to break. Replacing the fearful reticence in her gaze was a new level of determination. Her dark eyes flashed as she cried, "Then I shall tell you the truth! I shall tell you the whole truth, as ugly and horrible as it is!" Her pretty nostrils flared as she spat out the words. "I am not the person you think I am! I am someone entirely different.
I
would never consort with the sort of person you mentioned.
I
do not know an actor, or any theatrical people.
I
would never do anything to bring dishonor to
my
name . . .
or to yours.
The truth is, I lov . . . " Abruptly, she halted.

Stunned, Lord Rathbone just stood there. He watched her dark eyes begin to brim with moisture and her chin to tremble. The anger raging within him melted away. He had heard, that is, he had
nearly
heard, exactly what he wanted to hear. She loved him. And, the plain truth was, he loved her. He exhaled a long breath. He was satisfied.

Two strides closed the distance between them. "Alayna darling . . . " he said, his arms reaching to clasp her by the shoulders.

"I never meant this to happen," she murmured faintly through her tears.

"Nor did I," he echoed thickly

"Please
believe me, Rutherford, I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you . . . I never meant to . . . "

"Sh-h-h. It is all right, my darling. You need say no more."

She lifted imploring eyes to his. "But . . . you do not understand, I am not . . . "

He reached to put a finger to her lips. "Not another word, my sweet. I know that you love me and that is all that matters."

"Oh-h," she whimpered.

In one swift motion, he gathered her into his arms and gently pressed her trembling body to his. "Ah, my dearest Alayna, I do love you. I love you with all my heart. I never meant it to happen either. I never so much as contemplated the possibility. Life is so much simpler without love to complicate it, but the truth of the matter is, you have stolen my heart."

When at last he pulled back, it was to lower his mouth to hers.

Chelsea hadn't the will to resist him. With his arms wrapped tightly about her, his moist lips pressed to hers, she seemed to lose what little grasp she had left on rational thought. A moment ago, she had meant to tell him everything, to confess her true identity to him, to reveal her awful treachery. She would leave nothing out. But now . . . clinging desperately to the man she loved, she could no more tell him the truth than she could fly.

When his lips at last left hers and began instead to drop feathery light caresses on her bare neck and throat, Chelsea reveled in the shivery current that raced through her. She'd never been held by a man before, had never even imagined what a kiss might feel like. But, now, with her arms twined up around his neck, her back arched against the length of his hard body, she knew imagination could never come close to the delicious truth of this reality.

"Ah, Alayna," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "How shall I wait till we are married to make you mine?"

Suddenly, Chelsea's eyes sprang open.
"Wait?
But . . . you
must!
That is . . .
we
must! Oh-h!"

She felt the low rumble of his laugher bubbling up from his throat as he hugged her close to him again. "Of course we shall wait, my darling. I may be head over ears in love, but I am still a gentleman. I would never compromise you."

Chelsea did not hear him. Forming her hands into fists, she pushed hard against the solid wall of his chest. "Please, let me go. I should never . . . we mustn't . . .
please!"

His lips twitching, Rutherford moved a small step backward. "I was a fool to ever doubt you, Alayna. You are as pure as . . . allow me to beg your forgiveness, my dear." His tone was both solemn and sincere.

Still lost in her own mortification over the scandalousness of her behaviour, Chelsea could only repeat, "Please forgive me, sir, I should never have . . . "

"Forgive you!" Laughing aloud, Lord Rathbone released her completely. "You have done nothing wrong, sweetheart. We are to be married. It is perfectly acceptable that a gentleman and his betrothed should" . . . his eyes twinkled merrily as he gazed down upon her . . . "indulge a bit."

"Oh!"

Rathbone laughed again. "You are a perfectly proper young lady, Alayna. And you were entirely within the bounds to call a halt to my forwardness" . . . he grinned rakishly . . . "that is, for now."

Chelsea was too overset to speak. Stricken, she turned and bolted from the room.
She was anything but a perfect young lady!
She had taken this horrid perfidy to new depths of degradation. Dear God, how was she to climb out of it now?

W
hen Lady Rathbone retired to her chamber following dinner that evening, Chelsea was left alone again in the company of Lord Rathbone. Turning a shy gaze on him as he relaxed before the fire, she experienced the selfsame breathless reaction that she had felt this morning following his kiss. This afternoon, she had finally realized that not even the sick feeling that lay perpetually in the pit of her stomach was enough to deter her heart from the course it had chosen. She simply couldn't help herself. No man had ever affected her as Lord Rathbone.

At length, he turned toward her. "I meant to say no more on the subject, Alayna, but I thought you'd like to know that while in London, I took the liberty of setting the record straight regarding your whereabouts these last weeks."

Chelsea schooled herself to stay calm. There was, after all, no further need to be frightened of him. Both he and his mother were firmly convinced that she was indeed Alayna Marchmont. "My whereabouts?" she returned quietly

Rathbone nodded. "The word in Town is that" . . . he shook his head as if he could not put down the oddity of it . . . "you are currently traveling about the countryside in the company of this Mr. Harry Hill."

"Oh, my." Chelsea smiled feebly.

Rathbone rose from the wing chair he had occupied near the fire to fetch himself a snifter of brandy from the sideboard. "Apparently the man has got up a troupe of players . . . you being among them," he added, grinning at Chelsea as he recrossed the room to stand before the fire, absently twirling the amber liquid around in the goblet. "I actually heard something about your smashing debut on the boards in Bristol." He chuckled again as he continued to contemplate the absurdity of the notion. "Can you imagine the like?"

"Um . . . no." Chelsea managed a weak laugh. "I cannot."

"Of course, I knew that part to be a complete fabrication, for how could you possibly be two places at once?"

Chelsea chose not to comment. She had no idea where Alayna was at present, but surely she was not touring about the countryside playacting on the stage! Not even Alayna would do something so caperwitted as that.

"You know, my dear," Rathbone began afresh, his tone now solemn, "we are very fortunate in that by choosing to live abroad, we shall escape London's vicious gossip mill. I can assure you that, on the whole, the women of my community have far better things to occupy their time than fabricating vile rumors about one another."

Chelsea lowered her gaze from Lord Rathbone's handsome face to her lap. Apparently, he was assuming from her actions this morning that she meant now to fall in with his plan for their future. Their future together. In Honduras. She could not stop the low sigh of longing that escaped her at the thought. Despite the near overwhelming guilt she felt for deceiving the gentleman so shamelessly, another part of her heart sang with joy at the prospect of marrying Lord Rathbone and beginning a glorious new life with him. For that to actually come true would be nothing short of a miracle for Chelsea.

A small but sad smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "We are indeed fortunate, Rutherford. To say truth, I can hardly fathom it."

* * * *

A
t table the next morning, Lord Rathbone's countenance was again all smiles and good humor.

"I had thought that today, Alayna, we might drive into Chester. I have yet to meet with the gentleman the land agent there recommended to me. As I do not expect the interview to take overlong, I thought the two of us might take a leisurely stroll through the shops together."

Chelsea could not help but feel exhilarated by his suggestion. "Why, I should enjoy that very much, Rutherford."

"A capital idea!" Lady Rathbone chimed in. "As soon as the mist lifts this morning, the day should turn off quite sunny. If I were not so old and decrepit, I admit I would greatly enjoy such an excursion myself," she added with a laugh.

"Then you must come with us, Aunt Millicent," Chelsea said, turning a concern-filled gaze upon the feeble old woman.

"No, no." She laughed. "You children run along. I shall sit by the window and enjoy the sunshine right here."

"Are you quite certain, Aunt Millicent?"

"Indeed! I am certain."

Lord Rathbone began afresh. "I should warn you, Alayna, we've nothing like the Rows in Honduras. If you feel you have need of anything . . . feminine fripperies or such . . . I would advise you to make your purchases now while you've the opportunity."

"Oh, well, I" . . . Chelsea shot another glance at Lady Rathbone . . . "I can't think of anything I especially need. Perhaps I could purchase something for you, Aunt Millicent. Once Rutherford . . . and I . . . are gone, there will be only Jared and Mrs. Phipps to give a thought to your comfort."

"You are very thoughtful, Alayna," Lady Rathbone said smiling, her tone sincere.

"Yes, she is, very, isn't she, Mother?" Lord Rathbone put in agreeably. He turned another warm smile on Chelsea. "I must admit, Alayna, that your good nature and sweet temperament has quite taken me by surprise. As I recall, you were a bit of a terror as a little girl." His lips twitched as he gazed fondly at Chelsea.

"Indeed, she was!" Lady Rathbone added. "Why, I never saw a more selfish and willful little girl, and . . . "

"And you and our other aunts spoiled her shamelessly!" Rathbone sputtered accusingly, though affection was still evident in his tone.

"Well, she was a darling child nonetheless, all golden curls and . . . " Lady Rathbone cast a gaze at Chelsea, who held her breath while awaiting the conclusion of this sentence, " . . . and dimples."

Exhaling a relieved breath, Chelsea hurriedly put in, "As I recall, you were positively horrid, Rutherford. You used to tease me incessantly simply because I was a girl and too little to defend myself."

"Well, we are both grown up now," he reached for his coffee cup and sat back in his chair to sip it, " . . . and I should like to take you into Chester and buy you a gift."

"A gift?" Chelsea's brown eyes became round with delight. "But . . . why?"

"Because I've not yet bought you a betrothal present, and I should like it to be something special."

"Oh-h-h," Chelsea drew the word out tremulously. She had never received a gift from a gentleman before.

Dressing for their outing, Chelsea could not put down the feeling of breathless anticipation that had assailed her yesterday morning when she saw Lord Rathbone at table again and that continued to beset her every time she found herself in his delightful company. She had hardly slept for thinking about him, reliving again and again the wondrous feel of his lips on hers, and going over and over in her mind all that he had said to her since. Uppermost in her thoughts was the fact that he had said he loved her. But, of course, she told herself, he did not really love
her.
He loved Alayna. A pang of sadness stabbed her. If only she could remember that.

Last evening, she had thoroughly enjoyed sitting by the fire with him as they continued to talk far into the night about the wonderful life that awaited them in Honduras. Chelsea sat enthralled as Lord Rathbone spoke at length about the plantation. She learned that a portion of his land was given over to the growing of sugar cane and that he was experimenting with a new type of irrigation pump, as well as the rotation of various crops.