Intimate Betrayal (3 page)

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Authors: Adrienne Basso

BOOK: Intimate Betrayal
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“Start at the beginning, Miss Carrington,” he commanded softly.
“Beginning of what, Your Grace?”
That remark brought Morgan swiftly into the room and up to the edge of the desk. The dark scowl on his handsome face told Alyssa she had pushed him too far.
“Do not play games with me, Miss Carrington. I warn you, I am in no mood for them,” he threatened softly.
Alyssa’s composure slipped slightly as the duke leaned menacingly across the desk to emphasize his point. He was so close she could feel his warm breath on her face. Her heart thumped wildly. Wisely, she decided to comply with his demands for answers.
“Lord Carrington, as you have already discovered, is not in residence at the moment. In his absence I take responsibility for these . . . umm . . . matters of business. I assume he owes you a sum of money?”
The duke’s scowl darkened and Alyssa hurriedly continued.
“I have inventoried and cataloged the various items in this room. As you can plainly see, all are of great value: some are considered priceless. You may select any item or items that are equal in value to the sum owed you by Lord Carrington. If you prefer your debt to be settled in coin, I respectfully request you grant me 24 hours to procure the necessary funds. May I inquire how much you are owed?”
“A well-rehearsed speech. I can only surmise you have done this before.”
Alyssa glanced at Morgan sternly but refused to answer his taunt. “May I have the marker, Your Grace?” she asked, extending her hand gracefully.
For a split second Morgan was tempted to give her the deed of ownership in his possession, but even he could not be so cruel. Clearly Alyssa Carrington did not have any idea what her father had done. Glancing at her thoughtfully, it struck him suddenly what an absurd picture she made, standing amid the glitter and splendor of this room in her drab gown.
“Is there something you do not understand, Your Grace?”
No, he thought, it is all perfectly clear. Characteristically deciding that straight-out was the only way both to dispense and receive bad news, Morgan spoke.
“I regret having to be the one to inform you, Miss Carrington, but I am now the owner of Westgate Manor.”
Chapter Two
Alyssa stared at Morgan in shock, her face void of color. A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed hard, attempting to dislodge it.
“May I see the marker?” she repeated in a quiet voice.
Morgan reached into his breast pocket and withdrew the property deed. Wordlessly he handed it to her. He watched her carefully, not really certain what to expect. His vast experience with women had taught him they were emotional creatures. In times of crisis they usually fainted or became hysterical.
Alyssa Carrington did neither. She accepted the paper with steady hands and read it thoroughly. The entire estate; the manor house and its furnishings, the stables, the tenant farms, and all surrounding properties.
Raising confused eyes to the duke, Alyssa again stated her request. “I want to see Lord Carrington’s marker, Your Grace. Not the property deed.”
Morgan understood. “I did not win the estate in a card game, Miss Carrington. I purchased the property at auction.”
“Auction? I read no notice in the newspaper.”
The duke shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Her quiet pain stirred strong feelings of guilt. “I don’t believe a notice was printed.”
“I see,” Alyssa replied vaguely. “May I be so bold as to inquire the price you paid?”
The duke reluctantly named a figure Alyssa knew was more than fair. She nodded her head slowly, trying desperately to assimilate the information. Deep within her heart she always knew this day would arrive, but that did not lesson the shock. She felt a warm numbness engulf her body and allowed herself to succumb to it. Off in the distance she heard a deep, rich voice.
“Are you all right, Miss Carrington?”
She looked up at the duke and saw the concerned expression on his handsome features.
“I am perfectly fine,” Alyssa responded slowly, her voice sounding strangely far away to her ears. She gave a small, high-pitched laugh. “I guess this means you will be staying for dinner. I must inform Mrs. Stratton.”
Alyssa methodically removed her glasses and arranged the papers on her desk before walking toward the drawing room doors. Upon reaching her destination, she straightened her back, squared her shoulders, and turned to face the duke.
“Perkins will show you to your rooms and offer any assistance you need.” Alyssa stumbled slightly over the word
your
but retained her composure. “If you will please excuse me, I must speak with the cook. I shall see you at dinner.” She offered him a deep curtsy and quit the room.
Perkins appeared immediately, leaving Morgan to wonder if he was eavesdropping. One look at the butler’s distressed expression confirmed that he had been.
Lead on, Perkins,” Morgan drawled. “And be sure to bring a full decanter of brandy along.” Morgan had a feeling he was going to need it before the night was over.
 
Alyssa headed directly for the kitchen to speak with Mrs. Stratton. Dinner arrangements had to be made, but more important, the staff had to be told the devastating news.
When she arrived, the small staff was beginning the evening meal. Hawkins, the groundskeeper, was slicing a large loaf of bread while the maids, Lucy and Molly, filled the glasses and brought the rest of the meal to the table. Young Ned, who took care of the horses, was flirting outrageously with the maids, causing them to simper and giggle. Mavis, the old nanny who raised Alyssa and her mother before her, was scolding Ned to stop pestering the girls, which only increased his efforts to gain their attention. Mrs. Stratton was serving soup from a large tureen as she supervised the group, calling her commands loudly over the cheerful chatter.
Alyssa paused, drinking in all the sights, sounds, and smells that were so familiar. These people represented the only family she had ever known, and now they would be separated. Her eyes filled suddenly with tears, and her body was held motionless by the enormity of what her father had done. Her heart was beating with such force she felt it rising into her throat, and she was overcome with a feeling of total helplessness.
I will be strong, Alyssa admonished herself. Swallowing her tears, she cleared her throat loudly to gain everyone’s attention. Weighing her words carefully she spoke.
“The Duke of Gillingham has informed me that he is now the owner of Westgate Manor.” Mrs. Stratton gasped and nearly dropped the hot soup in Ned’s lap. Molly began to whimper. The others remained silent.
“I know this is a terrible blow for us all, but the duke seems a fair man, and I shall do everything in my power to secure your positions at the manor before I take my leave. Can you serve dinner in an hour, Mrs. Stratton?”
Mrs. Stratton, speechless with emotion, nodded her head.
“I shall tell Perkins to set the table in the main dining room. Ned can help him serve.”
Alyssa anxiously searched the servants’ grave faces. So many thoughts and emotions rushed through her mind, but she could barely formulate a coherent sentence. “I shall miss you so very much,” she finally uttered in a soft whisper.
With that said, Alyssa quickly withdrew, leaving the stunned group to stare at each other in shocked silence.
 
Alyssa was waiting in the dining room when the duke arrived. Upon his arrival they were seated and dinner began. Morgan felt strange sitting at the head of the table, but he made no comment. Alyssa sat on his right, and he was curious but not displeased by the intimate arrangement.
He noticed she was wearing a different gown, and although the soft gray color was a slight improvement over the hideous brown, it fit just as poorly. He caught himself wondering what her figure was like beneath the loose garment, and was amazed at the direction of his thoughts.
His relationships with women since the death of his wife had been limited to brief, mutually satisfactory liaisons that seldom lasted more than a few months. Morgan was a handsome, titled, wealthy man with a reputation for being a generous lover, and he attracted more than his share of female admiration.
Some women were intimidated by his haughty demeanor, but most found him a fascinating challenge and went to great lengths to capture his attention. He found their efforts flattering and occasionally amusing. Yet he never felt any interest in a female until she had made it abundantly clear she would welcome his advances. Until now.
Morgan glanced speculatively around the dining room as Perkins served the soup. The evening shadows were reflected in the soft glow of the numerous candles strategically placed on the mahogany dining table and sideboard. He surmised the candlelight hid a multitude of sins, yet even in the dim light Morgan could see the faded wallpaper was sporadically brighter in spots where a painting or wall adornment had obviously been removed.
The starkness of the room seemed to emphasize the grandeur of the table setting of cream-colored porcelain dishes, delicate gold-and-silver filigree flatware, and fine diamond-cut crystal goblets. The duke grinned as he pictured the very proper Perkins raiding the drawing room in order to produce the lovely tableware. He doubted Alyssa often dined this way.
Perkins majestically served dinner, hesitantly assisted by a young man. The meal was simple, yet surprisingly good. It included a tangy mulligatawny soup, followed by glazed duck, buttery new potatoes, fresh greens, and pear torte for dessert. Morgan ate heartily while noticing Alyssa pushing her food around on the plate.
The dinner conversation was limited to safe, mundane topics such as the excellently prepared food and the weather. As the table was being cleared of the final course, Perkins placed several bottles of spirits on the table within easy reach. “Do you require anything else, Your Grace?”
“No, Perkins. Please convey my compliments to the cook,” the duke replied, dismissing the butler. He saw Perkins hesitate momentarily, but at a nod from Alyssa he left the room.
“Sherry, Miss Carrington?” the duke asked politely, filling her glass when she agreed. It felt strange sharing a drink after dinner with a lady. Custom always dictated the women withdraw after the meal, leaving the men alone with their brandy and cigars. A small smile tugged his lips. Nothing about Alyssa Carrington or Westgate Manor remotely resembled the rigid order of society to which Morgan was accustomed.
“I’m glad you enjoyed the meal, Your Grace,” Alyssa said. “Mrs. Stratton was rather nervous about dinner, since she had little time to prepare. You will find she is excellent at her job, as are all those who work here.”
A dark eyebrow lifted over a silver-gray eye. Morgan heard the anxiety in her voice and was instantly on his guard. Thus far Alyssa had impressively retained control of her emotions, but Morgan was convinced she would eventually loose her iron grip.
“Can you tell me, Miss Carrington, why your father is not here?” Morgan asked, deliberately shifting the subject.
Alyssa eyed him cautiously. “Lord Carrington is very seldom at the estate. He has never liked the country, and much prefers the many diversions of London.”
“You were not informed of my impending visit?”
“Hardly,” Alyssa replied with a taut smile. “I imagine there wasn’t sufficient time.”
“Nonsense.” The duke shook his head. “It has been nearly a week since Lord Carrington signed the deed over to me.”
“That long,” she remarked dryly. “You certainly exhibited great restraint by allowing so much time to pass, Your Grace.”
Morgan slanted her a cool glance but held his tongue. Few people, especially women, possessed the audacity to display their irritation with him. The majority of them were too impressed by his title and wealth. Clearly Alyssa Carrington was made of sterner stuff.
“Do you also prefer the diversions of London, Miss Carrington?”
Alyssa turned sharply toward the duke, fearing he was mocking her, but his handsome face appeared sincere.
Her chin jutted out defiantly. “I have never been to London.”
His gray eyes narrowed in surprise. Suddenly she looked very vulnerable and alone to him. For the first time Morgan wondered what kind of life she had led.
“You have no cause to repine,” the duke replied solicitously. “I often find the social crush in London a great bore, and the majority of individuals unworthy of acquaintance.”
Alyssa flashed him a wan smile. “I can assure you, sir, I am hardly the sort of woman who would repine over anything as inconsequential as the activities of London society,” she retorted with a tinge of sarcasm.
Her lack of pretense was a refreshing change. Feeling himself inexplicably drawn to the fire burning in her deep green eyes, Morgan inquired softly, “What activities do you prefer, Miss Carrington?”
“Riding,” she answered readily. “I greatly enjoy being out-of-doors. Needlework can be relaxing in the evenings, and reading for pleasure is always a treat, though I seldom have time to pursue any avenues of personal interest.”
“Do you manage the estate entirely on your own?”
“I employ few retainers,” Alyssa admitted. “I work better alone, and Lord Carrington has no objections.”
“Lord Carrington? Why are you always so formal when referring to your father?”
Alyssa stared at the duke with a lack of comprehension. “I never think of him in any other context. He has always been Lord Carrington, even when I was a small child.”
Morgan wondered at the strangeness of a father insisting on such formality from a young girl. “He seems to have provided a genteel upbringing. You are hardly lacking in the social graces.”
“Well, I don’t slurp my soup or eat with my hands,” Alyssa responded with a laugh. “My nurse, Mavis, has been a steadying influence. And a succession of governesses managed to polish most of my rough edges.”
“A succession? Were you a difficult child?” Morgan could just imagine her as a willful little girl, bright, inquisitive, and opinionated.
“High-spirited is the polite term, Your Grace,” Alyssa responded. “Truthfully, I was usually well behaved. An intense desire to please my many different governesses moderated my behavior.”
“Then why were there so many of them?”
“Lord Carrington had an annoying habit of neglecting to pay their salaries. Eventually each was forced to move on to a more stable position. Some left more quickly than others.”
Morgan refilled his glass and gave her an inquisitive appraisal. The more he learned about Alyssa, the more enticing she became to him. She appeared to be an uncomplicated woman. A country-bred girl, possessing honesty and intelligence. And the prettiest green eyes he had ever seen.
“So you enjoy the quaint society of country life, Miss Carrington?”
“I do not participate in the social gatherings of this small community, Your Grace. Lord Carrington’s reputation as a spendthrift and a gambler placed me in a tenuous position among the local gentry years ago. Unfortunately I have gone far beyond the traditional role of spinster by running the estate. I am not received by the noble households of the county.”
“It is not so unusual for a woman to be involved with her own finances,” the duke insisted, his handsome expression growing conciliatory. “My grandmother, the dowager duchess, takes an active interest in all her affairs.”

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