Intimate Betrayal (23 page)
Authors: Adrienne Basso
“The dowager duchess awaits you in the sitting room, Your Grace,” Burke whispered to Morgan when Alyssa began her long walk back toward her husband.
“Very good, Burke. We shall join her directly.”
Alyssa smiled triumphantly at Morgan as she reached his side. She felt as though she had just survived a baptism of fire.
“Come along, my dear,” Morgan requested. “There is someone else I want you to meet.” He squashed the momentary pang of guilt he felt as Alyssa trustingly complied. He knocked briefly on the sitting room doors to announce their presence before entering.
Alyssa walked into the room blissfully unaware of who awaited them, still reeling from her encounter with the staff. She stopped short when she saw a small, very dignified elderly lady seated on the settee. Morgan left Alyssa’s side, crossed the room, and bent down to kiss the woman’s cheek. Alyssa clearly saw the love Morgan held for this person reflected in his handsome face, and she realized at once the woman must be his grandmother. Alyssa felt a momentary rush of panic, and she brought her hands instinctively down in front of her waist, uncertain of her reception.
All too soon Morgan returned to Alyssa’s side. Tugging her by the hand, he brought her forward to be presented to the duchess. Alyssa felt her cheeks flush hotly and wondered what sort of impression she, and her protruding belly, were making on this extremely dignified lady.
“My dear,” the dowager duchess said softly. She stood up and clasped Alyssa’s hand firmly. “How delightful to finally meet you.”
Alyssa was relieved to see the kindness in the older woman’s eyes as she tactfully looked up into Alyssa’s face, instead of down to her expanded waistline. Alyssa made an awkward curtsy, but the dowager duchess pulled her upright.
“No need for such formality, Alyssa,” the dowager duchess insisted. “We are family. Come, you must sit down and rest. I am sure that you are weary from your journey.”
Alyssa was relieved to hear no censure in the older woman’s voice and relaxed a bit, although she was still nervous. She did not know the dowager duchess was in residence at the castle. Alyssa sat down on the settee, startled when Morgan sat unusually close beside her. The dowager duchess sat in a small gold-leaf chair on Morgan’s right.
They were prevented from making additional conversation by the arrival of Burke and several footmen bringing in tea. Alyssa’s stomach rumbled at the sight of the delicious food, and Morgan chuckled. “Better bring in another tray of pastries, Burke. The new duchess has a voracious appetite.”
Alyssa stared at Morgan in mortification. “Well, no thanks to you, sir, I am eating for two,” she hissed at him, low enough so the servants would not overhear. But the dowager duchess caught Alyssa’s words and she discreetly coughed behind her hand to conceal her smile.
“Morgan, you mustn’t tease your wife so,” the dowager duchess admonished, secretly delighted at his behavior. She could feel the tension between her grandson and his pretty new wife, but there was something else there, just below the surface. The dowager duchess felt a spark of hope for the success of this very unconventional marriage.
She had been more than a little shocked to receive an urgent note from Morgan informing her of his hasty marriage, his pregnant bride, and requesting she travel to Ramsgate Castle at once. She had many unanswered questions for her grandson, but she fully intended to form her own opinion about his new bride.
“Would you do the honors, Alyssa?” the dowager duchess requested, inclining her head toward the tea service. “I take mine with cream and one spoon of sugar.”
Alyssa nodded, moving closer to the heavy silver tea service the footman had placed on the elegant mahogany tea table. Her hand trembled slightly as she handed the dowager duchess a brimming cup of tea. She next poured a cup for Morgan and lastly one for herself. The dowager duchess was pleased to note Alyssa prepared Morgan’s tea exactly as he preferred it, without asking, and then took the initiative to fill a plate of food for her husband.
“Morgan tells me you are a Carrington, my dear,” the dowager duchess commented. “I knew your grandparents and both your mother and father.”
Alyssa’s teacup rattled at the mention of her family. “Oh, really,” she replied, dreading what might come next.
“Yes,” the dowager duchess continued. “I thought your mother was a charming woman.”
“I never knew my mother,” Alyssa explained, relieved that the dowager duchess had not mentioned her father. “She died when I was very young.”
“Yes, I know. How is your father faring these days?”
Morgan interrupted before Alyssa had a chance to respond. “Alyssa has only recently come out of mourning for the viscount, Grandmother. He passed on this spring. I do believe I mentioned this to you,” Morgan finished pointedly. He glared at his grandmother.
She smiled back at him, very pleased at his protective attitude. “Perhaps you did, Morgan. I must have forgotten. Well, at my age, what can you expect?”
Morgan snorted at that remark. What was his grandmother up to? She knew Alyssa’s family history completely, probably better than he did. And she never forgot things. He gave her a warning scowl that seemed to bring her tremendous delight.
Alyssa watched the exchange between the two with growing fascination, glad that she was no longer the focus of attention. She was not at all offended by the dowager duchess’s questions. She was, in fact, pleasantly surprised at the congenial way the dowager duchess was treating her, especially under these circumstances.
“I am pleased Morgan decided you should come to Ramsgate Castle,” the dowager duchess remarked. “It has always been one of my favorite residences.” The dowager duchess paused for a moment, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to her. “I hope you will not mind my being here, Alyssa?”
“Oh, no, Your Grace,” Alyssa hastily countered. “Truth be told, I shall be most grateful for your company.”
The dowager duchess nodded in approval over Alyssa’s sincere response. Despite the rather bizarre circumstances of their marriage, the dowager duchess found herself pleased with Morgan’s choice. He just might be able to make a go of it this time, she thought.
“Do have another crescent sandwich, Alyssa,” the dowager duchess insisted. “And try some of Cook’s marvelous scones. I promise if my grandson makes another uncalled-for comment about your eating habits, I shall kick him in the shins.”
Alyssa chuckled softly, turning her eyes to the duke. He gave her an engaging smile, and she felt her heart turn wildly in her breast. “Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes locked on Morgan’s handsome face as she took another scone. Suddenly flustered, she looked away.
“You really must go upstairs and rest, my dear,” Morgan said after Alyssa finished eating her pastry. “I am sure you must be tired.”
“I quite agree,” the dowager duchess immediately chimed in. “You do look weary. I shall instruct Burke to serve dinner in your rooms tonight. Newlyweds do need their privacy. Morgan shall escort you to your chambers.”
They all rose in unison. The dowager duchess turned to Alyssa and gave her a small hug. “I am thrilled that Morgan has made such a wise choice in his bride. I wish you much happiness, Alyssa.”
Alyssa returned the hug and felt tears sting the back of her eyes at the dowager duchess’s kindness. She felt immensely grateful to have discovered an ally in this woman. Given time, they might become true friends. Alyssa held on tightly to the arm Morgan offered her, and they left the drawing room.
“This is probably the largest staircase I have ever seen,” Alyssa commented as they mounted the wide circular stairs. Generations of ancestors, their portraits encased in plaster frames, watched their every step. When they finally reached the landing, gold sconces lit the hallway, and the oak flooring was carpeted with a thick oriental runner.
They made several twisting turns before reaching their final destination. Alyssa turned to the duke jokingly. “I shall need a map to find my way around.”
“I suppose these vast hallways do resemble a maze,” he agreed. Finally Morgan stopped and opened the door to Alyssa’s new bedchamber. “Here are your rooms. I hope you find them satisfactory.”
The bedchamber was vast, with a separate sitting area and large sets of windows on two walls. The predominant color of decoration was green, from the intricate tapestry wall hanging to the thick, green-patterned Aubusson carpet. The bed was an enormous affair, decorated with Spitalfield silks and ostrich-feather plumes. The furniture was dainty and feminine but extremely ornate, with gold-leaf trim. Alyssa could not imagine the dowager duchess selecting all the frilly accompaniments, and decided Morgan’s first wife must have decorated the suite.
“The room is very . . .” Alyssa searched in vain for a polite adjective.
“Overdone?” Morgan supplied, walking into the room and lightly fingering the silken bed trimmings. He had forgotten how elaborate Valerie’s tastes had been. If memory served him correctly, he had only entered this bedchamber twice.
Alyssa ventured a tentative smile, wondering if there would be any objection to her making some changes. She glanced speculatively up at the enormous feathers adorning the top of the bed, hoping she would be able to sleep under them.
“You must refurnish the room to suit you, Alyssa,” Morgan said. He turned the handle on the door of the adjoining bedchamber slowly, speculating if it was still locked. It wasn’t, and he strode into his own rooms, Alyssa following close on his heels. “And these, of course, are my rooms,” he added unnecessarily.
Alyssa looked around curiously, immediately preferring the rich appointments of Morgan’s chamber to her own. The room was decidedly masculine, with heavy, dark furniture, spartan decoration, and drapes in shades of tan and gold decorating the windows and bed. The room was warm and inviting. Morgan pulled the bell cord, and his valet, Dickinson, immediately materialized.
“Has Mrs. Keenly assigned a lady’s maid to the duchess?” Morgan asked his stiff-necked servant.
“I do believe Mrs. Keenly has chosen Janet, Your Grace. If that meets with your approval, my lady?” Both men turned to stare at Alyssa.
“I am sure she is very capable,” Alyssa answered, vaguely remembering being introduced to her new maid.
“Very good, Your Grace. I shall have Janet summoned. She will attend you at once.” The valet gave a low bow and soundlessly left the room.
Alyssa stood inside Morgan’s bedchamber for a few moments longer until she felt his eyes upon her.
“I shall wait for Janet in the other chamber,” she stammered, feeling as though she were intruding.
Morgan watched the various expressions flit over her face and wondered what she was thinking. She grabbed on to the connecting door and he spoke. “You may close the door on your way out. By the way, there is a very sturdy lock on it.” He wasn’t sure why he had made such a remark. Either to inform her or remind himself.
She was startled by his comment and did not know how to respond. “Will you be joining me for dinner?” Alyssa asked, deciding to ignore his mention of the lock.
“Yes,” he replied in an even voice. “I have some pressing business I must attend to, but it should be concluded by this evening. If there is a change in my plans, I shall inform you.”
“Very good. I shall see you later then.”
Chapter Seventeen
Alyssa slept fitfully, coming awake suddenly, her mind disoriented by her dreams. She sat up in the enormous bed and glanced about. The window curtains were closed, but the light from the dying fire illuminated a portion of the room, casting unreal shadows. She heard a noise and held her breath, waiting for something, anything, to emerge from the shadows. When nothing happened she let out her breath slowly, chiding herself for being so fanciful.
She squirmed back under the covers and gazed up at the dark ceiling, her ears straining for sounds. A sharp crashing noise followed by a muffled curse brought her attention to the closed door that connected her chamber to the duke’s. Alyssa leaned forward in the great bed and squinted her eyes. She could see a faint beam of light emerging from under the door. Morgan was in his room. Awake.
He had sent his regrets for dinner, and she was disappointed but not surprised by his absence. He had been formal and distant ever since their arrival at Ramsgate Castle, and she got the distinct impression he preferred his solitude to her company.
Another loud crashing sound brought her out of the bed, and before giving a thought to her actions, Alyssa opened the connecting door. Her eyes searched the dim, candlelit room until she found the duke. He was sprawled in a chair near the fireplace. A small wooden table lay broken on the floor next to one of his boots.
He had removed his coat and neckcloth and was dressed in a white shirt, black pantaloons, and one boot. The shirt was open at the collar, and Alyssa could see the small curls in the fine mat of dark hair just below his throat. She took a step toward him, and his head jerked up. For several moments he simply stared at her, and then he growled, “What the hell are you doing in here?”
Alyssa sucked in her breath and stared at him wide-eyed. “I heard a noise,” she explained in a breathless voice. “I saw the light beneath your door and came to investigate. Forgive me for disturbing you, Your Grace.” She turned to leave, but stopped when she felt his hand gently touch her shoulder.
“I . . . I knocked over that damn table trying to take off my boots,” he said, his voice slightly slurred. She could detect the faint aroma of brandy on his breath and realized that he had been drinking. She paused a moment, wondering what she should do. They simultaneously looked down at his feet.
“Isn’t Dickinson here to assist you?”
“I sent him to bed hours ago,” Morgan drawled. “However, since you are awake, will you kindly lend a hand, my dear?” He hobbled back to his chair and threw himself into it. Giving a loud sigh, he ran his hand through his disheveled hair and thrust out his booted foot expectantly.
“Yes, of course,” Alyssa replied, following him. She looked down at the boot in bewilderment, not having the foggiest notion how to proceed.
She bent over, facing him, and gave the boot a sharp tug. It didn’t budge. She tried again, with the same result. Alyssa glanced up at Morgan and saw his eyes were fastened on her face. He gave her a lopsided grin, and her heart thudded. “Grip the heel, madam” he instructed softly.
She did as he bid and was finally able to loosen the boot, but was still unable to remove it. She dropped his foot suddenly in frustration, straightened up, and rested her hands on her hips. “Now what,” she challenged, her face flushed by her exertions.
Morgan took a long sip of brandy, and then sat upright in the chair. “Turn around and straddle my foot. That’s right. Now grab hold of the heel, tightly . . . tightly, and pull as hard as you can.”
Alyssa let out an indignant shriek as she felt his other foot push against her buttocks, but she held on to the boot. Miraculously, she retained her balance as it gave way, and she yanked it off his leg. She turned, waving the Hessian triumphantly, before dropping it on the floor beside its mate.
“You would make an excellent valet, my dear,” he said with a husky note in his voice as he stood up. “I must tell Dickinson that, the next time he annoys me.”
They laughed together softly, but Morgan abruptly stopped when he took full measure of Alyssa’s appearance. Her hair was hanging loosely down her back, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were sparkling with humor. Her nightgown, though a modest cotton garment with a high, ruffled neckline, was nearly transparent when she stood before the fire. Her unself-conscious beauty charmed him, and for a moment he forgot her pregnant state and leaned forward to kiss her.
Alyssa saw the hot gleam in Morgan’s eye and gratefully moved closer. How she had longed for his embrace! Alyssa felt his hand tentatively stroke her cheek, and then his lips claimed hers in a gentle kiss. His mouth grew more demanding, and she returned his kiss without restraint, parting her lips, inviting his probing tongue. Her arms slipped around his broad shoulders as she arched her body closer to his, deepening their kiss.
Morgan lovingly stroked her hair as he placed gentle kisses on her cheeks and throat, and then buried his face in the hollow between her neck and shoulders. As he began kissing Alyssa’s breasts through the cotton nightgown, her breathless moan of desire brought him to his senses.
Morgan felt his desire for her twist in his groin, but he gently disengaged himself from their ardent embrace. He took a moment to steady his ragged breathing. “You should be in bed, madam,” he said gruffly.
“Oh yes, Morgan,” she readily agreed, rejoicing in the feel of his hard, strong body. Alyssa moved away from him, toward his impressive bed in the center of the room, her fingers busily unfastening the numerous tiny buttons down the front of her nightgown as she walked.
“Your own bed, madam.” His voice sounded cold and hard to her ears, and she turned to face him. She stared at him for one long frozen moment and shivered. Her hand clutched the front of her nightgown closed as she waited in restless anticipation for him to reach out for her, praying she had mistaken his meaning.
When his words finally sank in, Alyssa blushed violently, her eyes dropping to the carpet. His taut rejection wounded her heart and paralyzed her tongue. Trembling, she practically ran from the room, desperate to leave him before her tears started falling. She slammed the door connecting their chambers and leaned back against it, her body vibrating with shame and fury.
Never had she experienced such humiliation. Morgan’s curt rejection stunned her, creating a deep void, an emptiness inside her. Alyssa felt her dreams for a loving marriage crumbling as the hot, salty tears coursed down her face. Fumbling in the darkness she found the key in the latch and turned it, locking the door.
Morgan heard the click of the lock and felt a sharp pang of regret shoot through his chest. Furious, he turned and kicked his boots; knocking them across the room. He reached automatically for the half-empty decanter of brandy, but stopped before pouring the amber liquid into his glass. This would not have happened if he were completely sober. Alyssa had been so responsive, so passionate, almost beyond temptation, yet his weakness brought them both suffering.
Morgan sat in his chair, staring moodily at the dying embers in the fireplace. This marriage was off to an even more dismal start than the first. A rather sobering thought indeed. Morgan felt frustrated and sad, and then became angry, determined Alyssa would not slip away from him. Somehow he would find a way to gain her trust.
Morgan hoped to begin anew with Alyssa the next morning, but an urgent summons from Lord Castlereagh demanded he return to London immediately. There was no chance for a private good-bye with his wife, as she was breakfasting with his grandmother in the morning room when he made his announcement.
Alyssa’s face remained cool and remote, but inwardly she felt relieved. Perhaps if they put some time and distance between them, the horrible pain inside her would ease.
“What do you mean, you are off to London today, Morgan?” the dowager duchess said in annoyance. “You have only just arrived.”
“It cannot be helped, Grandmother,” Morgan replied in a neutral tone. He gave her a quelling look, and she understood he wished to be alone with his wife. The dowager duchess rose to quit the room, but Alyssa turned, her eyes flashing with such fear and panic that the older woman immediately sat back down in her chair.
Morgan’s eyes narrowed in anger at their sudden display of solidarity, his face set in harsh lines. It annoyed him that his grandmother felt the need to protect his wife, almost as much as it bothered him that his wife felt she needed protection. Casting them both a glacial stare, the duke strode from the room without another word.
“Morgan is certainly in a foul mood this morning,” the dowager duchess commented as soon as they were alone. Her keen eyes flickered speculatively at Alyssa, noticing the younger woman unconsciously twisted and untwisted her linen napkin. “I’m sure he is just distressed at having to leave you so abruptly, my dear.”
Alyssa looked at the dowager duchess in utter amazement, and then shocked them both by bursting into tears.
“Forgive me,” Alyssa sniffled, trying to cease her wrenching sobs. “I’m usually not such a watering pot. I feel very tired and my emotions are overset. I’m afraid I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
With a commanding wave of her hand, the dowager duchess cleared the room of servants. “There is no need for apologies, my dear,” the dowager duchess responded with sincere sympathy. “I imagine you have had a rather rough go of it these last few days.”
Alyssa gave her a wry smile, emphasizing how much of an understatement that comment was. “It has been difficult,” she admitted softly. “And it only continues to get worse, I fear.”
“Then we must change this unacceptable situation.” The dowager duchess spoke with such conviction, Alyssa felt a tiny flicker of hope bud within her heart.
“Is it possible?” Alyssa questioned, battling to keep that hope alive.
“Naturally. After all, ‘tis obvious my grandson is in love with you.”
Alyssa’s head whipped up at that preposterous statement. “I believe you are very much mistaken,” she responded incredulously.
The dowager duchess smiled wryly. “The same way I am mistaken that you care for him?”
Alyssa’s expression of disbelief changed into one of horror. “I had no idea my feelings were so conspicuous.”
“They aren’t,” the dowager duchess informed her. “I was merely acting on a theory where your feelings were concerned.” She patted Alyssa’s hand reassuringly. “It makes me very happy to know you love him, Alyssa. Morgan is a man much in need of a woman’s love.”
Alyssa shook her head, certain the dowager was wrong about the duke’s feelings. “Morgan has never made any pretense about the reasons for our marriage. He is an honorable man. For him, there was no other choice.”
“Nonsense,” the dowager duchess vehemently disagreed. “Of course he is a man of honor, but he would not have married solely for the sake of the child. I have watched my grandson closely through the years and there is nothing on this earth that can induce Morgan to act against his will. He might have persuaded himself the child was the basis for marrying you, but there is more to it. I am positive.”
“Whatever his reasons, he surely has regrets now. He can barely stand the sight of me,” Alyssa confessed, the feelings of pain and emptiness returning to torment her.
“Tell me why,” the dowager duchess requested softly. And because she asked with such kindness and compassion, Alyssa did. She started at the beginning when she had first met Morgan at Westgate Manor, and spoke of the dreadful misunderstanding about becoming his mistress, and his shock at discovering her pregnancy. Alyssa held nothing back, pouring her heart out, reliving every glorious and atrocious moment.
When Alyssa at last finished her long discourse, she felt oddly at peace with herself. She peeked over at the dowager duchess sitting silently next to her, suddenly nervous as to the older woman’s reaction.
To Alyssa’s total astonishment, the dowager duchess favored her with a genuine smile. “This is even better than I had hoped for.”
“Pardon me?”
“Don’t you understand, Alyssa? You have just described a most explosive and tempestuous relationship. Morgan is anything but indifferent toward you. Given time, he will come to understand his true feelings.” Another warm smile brightened the dowager’s face. “Finish eating your breakfast so we can begin making plans. There is much to do, and I am uncertain how long Morgan will be away. I suspect he won’t want to be gone from your side very long.”
The next few days passed quickly for Alyssa. She spent nearly every moment of her day listening to and learning from the dowager duchess on subjects as varied as the proper way to organize a dinner party for sixty to the best approach to enticing a wayward husband.
Significant physical changes were also made. Alyssa’s suite of rooms were completely remodeled, effectively removing all traces of Valerie. Next, a complete wardrobe of new dresses was ordered, and even though they were by necessity waistless, the dowager duchess chose both fabrics and colors that flattered Alyssa.
Mavis arrived, and Alyssa was bolstered by her calming presence. Mrs. Glyndon, the dowager duchess’s companion, appeared at Ramsgate Castle the following day. Alyssa thought she was a kindly woman, even though she blushed furiously and stammered nervously when first introduced to the duke’s pregnant bride.
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