Punish Me With Roses - a Victorian Historical Romance (18 page)

In reality, she'd be going home alone. She'd have a huge empty house all to herself and a poor reputation to keep away all eligible suitors. In a way, fate had thrown Alex in her path and he had become her only chance for the kind of future she wanted.

She was also falling in love with him.

She tried to distract herself by weeding the garden. Then she tried some needlework. She playing a little Patience and tinkled on the piano.

All for naught.

She was too at war with her conflicting feelings to be able to pay attention to anything but the issue at hand. So she gave in.

Alexander had nearly begged her to speak to him again. He had to care for her too! Why else would he have chased her through Coverack? She'd lost all her anger for him somewhere between his beseeching words and his vow that he would never hurt her. How could she possibly be angry with him when all she was hoping for was a kiss?

She pursed her lips in thought.
Would he ever make such a bold advance again? Did she even deserve it?
Therein lay her confused, jumbled emotions. She didn't know if it was normal that she desired him. She didn't know if it was moral to take every step to ensure he never found out about Hugh and Blackmoore. Lastly, she didn't know if they had a chance of having an honest relationship. But after the way she'd behaved, she didn't know if any honest man would ever consider her for a wife!

She'd realized that deceiving him had never really been an option. He was right when he'd said it was all about trust.

His rant about the law had come at the absolute worst time. She was going to tell all because in her heart she'd already known that was the only way. But he'd scared her with his harsh opinions and way he viewed the world. It was all black and white to him...right or wrong.

She loved him though, with a painful quickening that coursed through her body at any thought of him. And as her heart had known what to do before, it knew what to do right then.

Confess.

She'd risk all that they'd had so far, and possibly her well-being as well, but it would be worth it. Her love for him was not weak, so neither should her actions be. Her leap of faith was as strong as what she could gain.

A love that would last a lifetime, a man that would always keep her safe, and no longer vulnerable to roses.

"Alexander, you're wanted at home."

How had he found him?
Alex sat with the midwife, wondering what else he could possibly do to avoid his family. But Michael had found him and it was time to face the music. Not going back now that he'd been specifically asked was far worse than just not being available. They'd immediately know that something was up.

Alexander ignored his brother, riding to the estate at a breakneck pace. He knew the kind of questions that would be waiting for him when he got home. He hadn't any progress to report and he couldn't exactly say as much to his father. Truthfully, he hadn't thought much about his true objective unless Michael and Charles were pushing it into his face. Now he had to think of a way to avoid all inquiries while remaining unperturbed. But he found that highly unlikely.

The next words he said to his brother were in response to the request that he should enter the drawing room. "Drawing room? What is he doing in there?"

Michael smiled in an all too unwelcome way. "You have a visitor."

He still thought that the business might have been better taken in the study, but when he opened the door, he understood all.

Jane Winston rose from the ottoman with unnatural grace. "Alex! What a lovely surprise. I thought I would have missed you."

He casually looked around the room. "You came alone? Where's your brother?"

She was unable to hide the vexed expression that sprung onto her face, but his father saved her from answering.

He laughed heartily. "You know Miss Winston has never been known to obey conventions."

"Yes. If she had, she'd be under a husband's watchful eye at this very moment." He knew the comment was unkind, but the woman really had no one to blame but herself for not winning a husband.

"As if that would stop me," she replied with ease. He could see a smidgen of what his father must see in her. Although she hadn't much class, it wasn't as though Charles expected them to marry. He only thought that his son might have a little fun and, as irritating as Jane could be, she
was
good enough for that.

Jane realized that he wasn't going to strike up a conversation when he turned his back to her to pour a few fingers of brandy into a heavy crystal glass. He ignored the bland conversation that carried on behind him and almost wished he could please his father. A fling with the woman would restore his father's faith in him and would distract him from asking too many questions about the subject that preyed most on Alex's mind.

But he almost crushed the glass to shards when he realized that he just couldn't do it. It was absurd that Victoria would have him acting like a schoolboy, afraid of winning her displeasure. How well did he really know her?

He turned when he heard his father cough discreetly and saw the man rise to his feet.

"Going somewhere?"

"I thought Michael and I might attend to some business before dinner."

"Is it really that urgent?"

"Most pressing."

Jane sidled closer to him, smiling with feline grace. "I'm starting to get the impression that you don't wish to be with me."

He looked at his father, ignoring the woman that was draping herself over his arm. "Isn't it a little improper for an unmarried woman to be alone with an unrelated male?"

Michael grinned. "That didn't seem bother you last week, brother."

His father had been about to walk out, but then turned to look at his son. "Oh, what about last week?"

"Nothing," he said with a pointed look at his brother. How in the world did they come to be related?

Charles looked at his sons for only a moment more before giving up. He was too conceited to believe they were keeping anything from him. If he hadn't been told about something already, it couldn't be very interesting. He left and Michael was close at his heels.

Jane made a pouting face. "Are you going to pretend that you truly thought it would be better if they stayed? That's a little hurtful."

"As I said, I was only thinking of propriety. You wouldn't want me to consider you anything less than a lady, would you?"

She seemed to have to think about that question. Her expression became thoughtful. Then she shrugged in an unfeminine manner and replied, "We're far from London, my mother is dead, and I'm nearly a spinster. I couldn't give a damn about propriety."

"Apparently not."

"Oh, but that's not the kind of conversation I wanted to have with you," she said with a purr, her eyes slanting at the corners. "We're old friends, are we not?"

He nodded, as if there was anything else he could do.

"Good, good." She moved closer to him. "I had heard that you were sniffing around that Clavering bitch. I couldn't understand what interest you'd have in her and, in fact, I would warn you about her."

He walked from the mantle to the ottoman, paused, then retraced his steps. "I don't need to be warned about anything." He almost played innocent and claimed not to know her real name, but he figured it would be lost on her.

"I know I'm not the sort to worry about propriety--as we discussed earlier--but the woman's cousin was killed not three weeks ago. And she just up and disappeared!" She stood beside him and when he moved, she moved with him. "What a shock it was to discover that she'd been here all along!"

He tested her. "Do they think she killed him?"

"It seems pretty obvious to me. But what can they do? There was an inquest...she wasn't there to defend herself. I know a couple of people in Blackmoore who would love to know where she's been hiding."

He walked the length of the room again, pausing only to refill his glass. "Do you plan to, eh, turn her in?"

She laughed. "I don't exactly plan on writing a letter."

"But when you return?"

She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. "If they haven't figured it out by the time I return, I most certainly will. I owe the woman nothing."

Was his glass empty again? "When do you return?"

She placed her hands on her hips and replied, "Are you so anxious to be rid of me?"

He walked back to the ottoman. "Of course not. Our conversation only reminded me that I have limited time in which to enjoy your company. From that, it was natural that I should want to know exactly how long that enjoyable excursion will be."

Her beaming expression revealed her trust. "Then, my dear Alex, how long I stay depends on how long you want me."

He groaned inwardly. Why him? Why couldn't she be interested in Michael?
They
were the truly compatible pair. But no, it had to be him. He was the one who had to make sure she was entertained enough to stay in Coverack. Otherwise, she would ruin everything.

"Would you like to take a walk, Miss Winston?"

"Please, call me Jane." She sidled to his side with frank immediacy and placed her arm in his.

He thought perhaps he could keep it public. Then there wouldn't arise any situation where he'd have to do something he definitely did not want to do. He didn't trust his father that deeply.

"Have I ever told you about the finishing school I attended in Germany?" She made a show of breathing in the fresh air the moment they stepped outside, as if it was a glorious thing to alive and in his presence. When he nodded to her question, she continued, "Well then, perhaps I didn't tell you everything about it. It was very exclusive..."

As she went on about her wonderful years at Schloss Dankeshane--or something like that...it was amazing to him that she could have attended a school like that at all and still turn out the way she did--he thought of the situation he'd been thrust into unknowingly and reluctantly. Jane's recent involvement in it made him think of a few things, things that didn't make sense when taken against the senior Trevelyn's claims of justice. Alex knew that Jane couldn't be allowed to return to Blackmoore to reveal Victoria. The question was, why? If Charles really wanted justice served, why all the secrecy?

It was starting to bother him more than ever--the strange way he insisted his son conduct the secret investigation--especially now that his own emotions had come into play. He knew that he couldn't let Jane go for his own reasons. While he couldn't exactly figure them out right then, he had to act first. He couldn't let her return to Blackmoore and
then
realize the meaning behind all of his feelings. It would be too late.

But looking at the woman that walked at his side and listening to her as well, filled him with horrific scenes of the time they would have to spend together. If there had ever been a better time for Michael to charm a woman away from his brother, he was hard pressed to remember it. Even more irritating, how would he see Victoria if he had such a tenacious woman vying for his affections?

He tried to get back into the conversation and realized that she was still speaking of her wonderful years in Germany. He'd be interested to hear about the things she'd left out. An affair with a dancing instructor, a flirtation in a nearby town, and how she managed to not get herself sent home. "Would you like to go for a ride?"

"I didn't know how to ride until I went to the Schloss, did you know that?"

He crushed the impulse to ask her why he would find it necessary to know such information. Instead, he followed his own line of thought. "We have some beautiful sights in Cornwall."

She smiled and didn't reply.

He kept walking toward the stable.

She pursed her lips and shook her head. "I was waiting for you to tell me that although the sights in this fine country are beautiful, they couldn't possibly match the one walking beside you." She moved ahead. "Maybe I should leave early if you're going to be so ungallant."

Behind her back he made a face that had she seen, she would have known the true meaning of "ungentlemanly." He gritted his teeth and hurried to catch up to her. "I would have said such a thing, Mis--Jane, but I feel you are too intelligent for such old clichés to work on. I wouldn't insult you by offering such easy flattery."

To this, she warmed. Her skirt rubbed against his legs; she was walking so close, and she giggled beneath her breath. He thought then they he may have underestimated her. It was very likely that she understood exactly what was going on, and that he was only paying attention to her so that she wouldn't turn Victoria. He supposed it was the kind of thing she'd assume even if it were not true. She had that kind of devious mind.

They entered the stable.

"I'm telling you, Alex, there must be some sort of law against what Victoria did. She just up and left, in the middle of everything!"

"Yes, there must be," he said simply, unable to point out her ignorance for various reasons.

"What excuse does she make for being here?"

Quite close to his boiling point, he still could not give her the answer he wanted to give her. Never had he been forced to put up with such inanity! To pretend that what she had to say was of any importance to him whatsoever was insane.

Although a real storm seemed to be brewing in the late afternoon sky, the one a passionate temper could create was far more damaging indeed.

Probably for the first time in her young life, Victoria decided that there was
no time like the present
. She needed to tell Alex everything. Immediately.

Perhaps it was more impatience than philosophy that made her walk to his house right then, but whatever it was, she obeyed. Once she'd decided to do it, she didn't want to wait around and let it prey on her mind until she no longer knew left from right. Nope, the time was now.

On the way there, she imagined all of his potential reactions, but there was one she favored most.

She would ask for him at the front door and the butler would give her a disdainful look for visiting a single man all by herself. But inwardly, she would smile, because nothing would be able to dampen her spirits.