Lady Alexandra's Lover (13 page)

“Very well, then. You do not have to go to dinner. However, if you do not accompany me, I will place you under house arrest for the remainder of the evening, including the ball later. And don’t think you can pay any of these servants off. They have been in the Brighton employ for decades, and they are not so easily swayed. Besides, I have instructed Woods that you are not to be trusted.”

The nerve! She clenched her hands, grabbing fistfuls of her satin gown. “Does it make you feel like more than a second son to exercise such control over another human being?”

“Alexandra, none of this gives me any pleasure. If I had it my way, I would still be in Wiltshire at the estate, passing a pleasant and relaxing evening reading a good book in my bedchamber after having dealt with my business issues, which I’ve had to neglect due to your insolence. I have no use for the season or its balls. And I have no use for dining with the Earl of St. Clair and his wife this evening. However, his daughter is betrothed to my brother, and it would be bad form not to accept their invitation. As you are now the daughter of my father’s new countess, it would also be bad form for you not to attend when you are in town.”

“Well goodness, we would never want to have bad form, would we?”

“May I remind you that none of this is of my doing? It is because you ran off to London that I was forced to follow.”

“No one forced you to follow me. I would be perfectly happy being here alone.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Visiting with your friend Lady Hortense, if she indeed exists.”

“Who in the hell is Lady Hortense?” The man was obviously losing his mind.

“Whatever the name is you gave to your fictitious friend. I am not such a complete dolt that I didn’t see through that.”

“Oh.” Ally laughed nervously. “You are speaking of Miss Prudence Spofford. Of course, I plan to see her tomorrow.”

“Prudence, Hortense, whoever. I don’t for a moment believe that this person exists. However, if you insist upon keeping up the charade, fine. I would love to make Miss Spofford’s acquaintance tomorrow.”

“Absolutely. Perhaps you will find her to your liking. She’s rather stiff and conventional.” Now she had done it. She’d have to find someone to masquerade as Miss Spofford. Or she would just say that Miss Spofford had taken ill and couldn’t receive anyone. Yes, that would work.

“I look forward to it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must continue to prepare for dinner.” He looked her over. “Is that what you’re planning to wear?”

Ally looked down at her pale yellow satin gown. Not exactly appropriate for dinner. It was more of an afternoon dress. Pale yellow was not the best for any type of eating. She would have to change again for the ball later. Why should she change now? Just because Evan didn’t find her dress appropriate was no reason in her mind. “Yes, what of it?”

Evan nodded. “It is lovely and quite becoming. Please be waiting for me in the parlor in half an hour. We will take a coach to the St. Clair London residence.”

Ally’s cheeks heated, and the top of her breasts were rosy pink when she looked down. How his words affected her. She tingled all over and suppressed a shudder. Before she could respond, Evan dismissed her by closing his door.

E
van slacked
against his door and loosened his cravat, which suddenly seemed to be cutting off the air in his throat. This woman would surely send him to an early grave. He was certain there was no such person as Miss Spofford, and tomorrow he would set out to prove that. Tonight he had to go to the St. Clair residence and make nice with his brother’s future in-laws. They were perfectly fine people, and he didn’t mind their company, but he was not in the mood to socialize. Perhaps it was best that he was not the heir to the Brighton estate. His brother, Jacob, was good at this sort of thing and even enjoyed it. But not Evan. He was happy tending to his businesses, or riding Leopold, or writing poetry in his journal, or reading a good book.

If Alexandra hadn’t run away to London, none of this would be happening. And he still needed to talk to her about her behavior yesterday. He did not truly think she would accuse him of rape. He believed she had spoken in haste and on impulse. However, her words had been cruel, and he needed to resolve the issue with her.

He let out a sigh, and then jerked away from the door when a knock vibrated through him. He turned and opened the door. Woods stood before him.

“Yes?” Evan said.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, my lord, but we have a bit of an…issue.”

P
oor Lars’s
face was red as a ripe tomato. He covered his eyes with his hand. “I beg your pardon, my lady. Please forgive my intrusion.”

I ambled toward Lars and shut the door to the parlor, locking it. I gently removed his hand from his eyes and squeezed it. “No need to apologize. And no need to cover your eyes. Please, look upon me.”

If possible, he reddened even further.

“Does the sight of me naked please you?”

“I… Er…” Lars’s voice cracked.

“Oh, how rude of me. May I present my art instructor, Monsieur Christophe Bertrand.”

Lars shifted his gaze to Christophe, who was still fully clothed. “Sir, please let me apologize…”

“If Lady Prudence is not upset by your presence, far be it for me to take offense,” Christophe said.

“I am far from offended,” said I. “In fact, I would take it as a great compliment if you would see fit to join us.”

“Oh… I…”

I thrust my hand outward and grasped the bulge in his trousers. “I see the sight of me does please you. Come, please suck on my nipples while Christophe fucks me.”

“My lady, I am new in your aunt’s employ. I cannot take the chance of losing my post.”

“Whatever makes you think you will lose your post? Would it not be more likely that you would lose your post if you did not please me, her niece?” I held up my breasts. “Tell me, Lars, do you like my pretty titties? Do you not want to nibble on them?”

“My lady, they are quite…beautiful, and I would be lying if I said you were not enticing.”

I grasped the back of his head, weaving my fingers through his silky copper hair, and pulled him downward to my breast. “Then kiss my nipple, Lars. Please.”

He bent to obey. His firm lips clamped around the tight bud, and shudders ripped through me.

“Christophe, please come and suck the other one. Never before have I experienced two sets of lips pleasuring my diddeys.”

Oh, Amelia, I can hardly describe the sensation! Christophe’s lips were firm and demanding while Lars’s were soft and timid. It was wonderful, and I nearly thought I might reach climax from the stimulation alone. Before I could, though, Christophe reached to my pussy and started stroking my tight button. Oh, I must have been dripping wet with cream! What euphoria! His fingers circled my opening, and as they both tugged on my nipples, my climax built within me. Just when I thought I would burst, Christophe removed his hand.

“Christophe! Please! I was ready to come.”

“Yes, my lady, I know. But I thought it only polite to give our newcomer a chance to taste the glory that is you first.”

A
n issue
? Evan rubbed his jawline. Was it Alexandra? Had something befallen her? His heart stampeded at the thought of her being in any type of peril. But of course not. She had left him only a moment ago. “What type of issue, Woods?”

Woods cleared his throat. “Somewhat of a delicate nature, I’m afraid.”

“Is anyone hurt?”

“No. Everyone is fine. It’s just that…”

“Out with it, Woods. What is going on?”

“We found some…er…
literature
…outside the front door. I am wondering if it belongs to you. Perhaps it fell out of your valise?”

“I don’t recall bringing any literature with me,” Evan said.

“I can’t imagine that it belongs to Lady Alexandra.”

“What exactly is this literature of which you are speaking?”

Woods cleared his throat again. “It is of an…
erotic
nature.” He pulled some crumpled papers out of his pocket and handed them to Evan. “I found these right outside the front door.”

Evan held back his gasp.
The Ruby
. And there, of course, was the seal of his business. Well, these couldn’t possibly belong to Alexandra. “Has anyone else been by today?”

“Not that I’m aware of. The house has been closed as you know.”

“I doubt this is anything to worry about. They probably fell out of someone’s pocket, and the wind blew them onto our property. Just dispose of them.”

Evan readied to hand the papers back to Woods when a something caught his eye.

“Lady Prudence, this is my good friend, Mr. Joshua Peck. Josh, Lady Prudence Spofford.”

Lady Prudence Spofford. Wasn’t that the name of Alexandra’s friend? This was too similar to be a coincidence. Yes, he’d known that her “friend” never existed. However, he’d never imagined that the name had come from an underground erotic paper printed at his own printing house, no less.

The papers must belong to Alexandra. Where on earth could she have found them? And why would she bring them to London? And why would she have them in the first place? Questions flooded his mind—questions that both confounded and excited him.

Clearly, much existed that he did not know about her. Damn it all. Tonight they had to dine with the St. Clairs. And then later, the ball.

Alexandra was too much for him to handle. He would marry her off, and soon.

He folded the papers and laid them on a table next to the door. “On second thought,” he said to Woods, “I will deal with this myself.”

“I understand completely, my lord,” Woods said with a glint in his eye.

“Oh, I didn’t mean—”

Woods chuckled as he closed the door.

T
he St. Clair
townhome was a bit bigger than the Brighton townhome, but not by much. Vladimir Brooks, the Earl of St. Clair, was a jovial gentleman short of stature but long on humor. His wife, Paula, the countess, was nearly a foot taller than he. She was reserved and quiet, but perfectly friendly. And quite pretty. The St. Clairs’ height difference was even vaster than the difference between Ally’s own parents. Ally had inherited her mother’s height, while Sophie was a bit shorter, clearly inheriting her height from their father’s side.

Marvella Brooks, the daughter of the Earl and Countess of St. Clair, was betrothed to Evan’s older brother, Jacob. She was pretty but also reserved and quiet like her mother. No doubt she would make a good Countess of Brighton, a title currently held by Ally’s own mother.

Jacob looked like an older and slightly smaller version of Evan himself. Though he was fair of face, he did not have Evan’s incredible physique. Ally had only met Jacob and Marvella once, at the wedding, and hadn’t spoken to either of them for any length of time. They were both quiet and reserved, possessing genteel natures.

Also joining them was John Brooks, the earl’s son and heir. Thankfully, he too had inherited his mother’s height. He was dark of hair and eyes, and had the jovial personality of his father.

They were all very friendly and made Ally feel welcome in their home. Oddly, at dinner, Ally was seated next to John Brooks rather than next to Evan. He was very attentive, keeping her wine glass filled and engaging her in conversation.

“I do hope you’ll save me a dance at the ball this evening, Lady Alexandra.”

“Indeed, I would be delighted.”

It wasn’t totally an untruth. Viscount Brooks was handsome—not Evan handsome, but who was?—and she might enjoy a dance with him. But she couldn’t take her eyes off of her goal. Dances with too many others, and she would lose her focus on Mr. Landon. She had to find a way to get him alone so he could compromise her. On top of that, she had to arrange for someone to see them.

“Tell me,” Brooks said, “why have you not been around this whole season?”

“My sister, Sophie, and I decided to skip the season this year. When our mother became betrothed to the Earl of Brighton, we stayed at the estate in Wiltshire to help her plan the small wedding.”

“And your sister? Why did she not accompany you to London this trip?”

“Oh, London is of not much interest to her.”

“Is she as lovely as you are?”

Alexandra caught her breath. Brooks was flirting with her. She had not expected such. But why not? He was unmarried, and so was she. And he did have a title. But Alexandra knew little about the monetary values of titles. Many of England’s aristocrats were actually penniless, as her own father had been. They looked to find wives with healthy dowries for that very reason. Thanks to her new stepfather, Ally now had a dowry.

She looked around the informal dining room. It was elegantly decorated in cherry with gilt-edged wallpaper and dark cherry crown molding. The china from which they took the repast was bone white with silver trim. Their tablecloth was fine tatted lace.

No, the St. Clairs did not appear to be in any type of financial straits. Still, Ally had her sights set on Mr. Landon. Very few peers were as wealthy as he, and she had already put a lot of time into her conquest. Starting over now would be a waste of her valuable time.

Evan, who sat across the table from her, hardly looked her way. He talked estate business with his brother and the earl. Ally found it odd that Brooks did not join in, but he seemed content to engage in small talk with her. However, she was finding it tiring. By the time the cheese tray arrived, she was uncomfortable and really wanted to leave.

When the dreaded meal finally ended, she looked forward to a few moments to chat with the ladies while the men retired for cigars and port. However, Brooks came up behind her and touched her on the elbow.

She turned. “Yes?”

“Lady Alexandra, I would be most pleased if you would accompany me to the back terrace.”

“Don’t you intend to join the gentlemen for a cigar?”

“Honestly, I never did develop the taste for tobacco. And I find port far too sweet. I do enjoy a good cognac, but frankly, I would relish the chance to talk to you a bit more and get to know you better.”

Ally fidgeted. Really, she should not accompany him. They would be unchaperoned, although this was his residence. Of course, when had she let the lack of a chaperone stop her?

“I’m afraid it would not be proper, my lord. Lord Evan would never allow it.” At least that was the truth.

“My lady, it was Lord Evan’s idea.”

“What?” Ally clenched her fists at her side, her breathing coming faster. Evan? Stiff and conventional Evan? And then it hit her like an anvil punching her in the stomach.

He had been serious. He meant to marry her off. So that was why Brooks had been so attentive at dinner.

“Why, yes. He suggested that I show you the terrace. In fact, he insisted upon it.”

“Oh, he did, did he?” Ally smiled sweetly. “Then we mustn’t disappoint him.” She tucked her arm in his. “Please, my lord, I would love to accompany you to the terrace. I’m sure it will be most enchanting.”

E
van’s insides twisted as
, out of the corner of his eye, he saw John Brooks leading Alexandra to the back terrace. Why had he thought for a moment that she would refuse him? Of course she wouldn’t. He was a first son, heir to a title and to the money and estate the title commanded.

Evan hadn’t had a chance to peruse
The Ruby
yet, and he couldn’t be sure the papers did belong to Alexandra. But where else would she have gotten the name Prudence Spofford? It was hardly a common name. Damn it all to hell. She did seem to know a lot about the pleasures of the flesh. Yet she had been a virgin when they coupled. She had bled, and she had gasped upon his entrance. Although he had never deflowered a virgin before, he was very experienced in the act itself, and he had felt the difference, a slight hesitation, when he entered her for the first time.

So how could a virgin learn about such acts? Her two cousins, both of whom she was very close to, had recently married. They could have told her everything.

Or she could have learned it from this type of literature. Underground papers were more common than the average person might realize. Being in the printing and publishing business, Evan had come across his share of them. None, of course, that had been printed at his own house but for this one.

His guts twisted again. And he had sent her outside to be mauled by John Brooks.

He willed his stomach to settle. Brooks was an honorable man. Evan had no reason to believe he would act improperly. He truly wanted to be free of the albatross around his neck that was Alexandra. Marrying her off was the easiest and best way to accomplish this. So why did the idea make him want to punch every suitor that came near her into oblivion?

He should have resisted her. He shouldn’t have made love to her when they were stranded. He’d fooled himself into thinking that he was only doing it because they were alone, facing starvation, trapped in a foggy storm.

But that had been a lie. He had wanted to make love to her, plain and simple. She touched a part of him that no woman had. Several months ago, when he was courting Lady Rose Jameson, Rose had attempted to seduce him. He had been tempted, yes. He was human, after all, and Rose was a beautiful woman. But he had resisted.

He hadn’t been able to resist Alexandra.

He must find her a husband and quickly. If he did not, he had no idea what might happen between them.

And there was still the chance that he might have gotten her with child. If that were the case, they would have to marry.

Part of him hoped he had gotten her with child. Part of him wanted to marry Alexandra.

And that part scared the hell out of him.

“Are you coming, Xavier?” St. Clair slapped him on the back.

Evan looked down at the shorter man. “In a moment, perhaps. I’d like to get a little fresh air first.”

“Of course, of course. Just join us when you’re ready.” St. Clair retired to the cigar room.

Evan made haste toward the doors leading to the back terrace. Whatever was starting between Alexandra and Brooks, he was going to stop it. If Brooks was going to marry his stepsister, he would do so as a gentleman. Evan would not allow any liberties.

He walked out onto the terrace, inhaling the London night air. He wrinkled his nose. How he’d much rather be back in Wiltshire on the estate where the air was fresh and clean. He looked around. Where were Alexandra and Brooks? Had they descended onto the lawn? His heart thrummed wildly. Had he dragged her into a dark corner? Was he compromising her at this very moment?

His skin tightened around him and his muscles tensed. This would not happen. He marched across the terrace and down the stairs. “Alexandra!” he called.

Nothing.

He walked around the yard, his pulse racing, looking for any clue. Where in God’s name was she? What had he done with her? His gut tightened. If that rake had done anything to her, by God, Evan would see him in hell.

When he had searched every crevice of the lawn, he doubled around to the front of the house, searching there. He finally gave up and went back inside. The butler showed him to the smoking room.

“St. Clair, where in hell is that son of yours?”

“Xavier, I’m glad you decided to join us. John is right here.”

Evan looked farther into the room, and there sat John Brooks, puffing on a cigar.

“I thought you were with Lady Alexandra.” Evan calmed his rapid breathing.

“Only for a moment,” Brooks said. “She decided to join the ladies. But I must tell you, Xavier, she is an absolute delight. Thank you for introducing me to her.”

Evan breathed a huge sigh of relief. “You’re quite welcome. Now, it would be my pleasure to take you up on that glass of port.”

A
lly smiled to herself
. John Brooks was a gentleman—too much of a gentleman for her taste really. Their short walk had been pleasant, but then she had decided to join the ladies. After a grueling hour of trying to make small talk with Marvella and the countess—nice women but not gifted in the art of conversation—she was exhausted. Now, back at the Brighton townhome, Ally lay on her bed relaxing for a few blissful moments before getting ready for the ball.

Brooks was handsome, but his presence did not stir her. In fact, Mr. Landon’s presence had failed to stir her the last time they had met. It seemed she was only stirred by one man these days—Evan.

Still, her sights were set on Mr. Landon. His fortune was greater than most peers in England, and he had businesses all over the world. With him, she could travel, see everything the world had to offer, experience life to its fullest. The title meant nothing to her. Her mother had possessed a title—the Countess of Longarry—and what had that title gotten her? A life of abuse and near poverty. No, Ally cared not about title.

For a moment, she considered the fate of her cousin Rose. Rose had fallen in love with a commoner, Cameron Price, and had been ready to live with him as his peasant wife. However, fate had intervened when Cameron found out that he was the grandson of the Marquess of Denbigh. Now the Earl of Thornton and heir to the Denbigh Marquessate, Cameron, while by far not the richest peer in England, was well enough to do, and Rose would never have to live as a peasant.