You, and Only You (19 page)

“Alex,” Tiffany moaned, tightening her arms, trying to draw
him back.

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers as he
drew in a ragged breath, fighting for control.
 
“Not here, not now,” he said, breathing heavily.
 
“Not like this.”
 
Holding her tenderly as she slowly awakened
from her sensual haze, Alex waited patiently until she stood steadily upon her
own two feet and then determinedly pulled her gown up onto her shoulders.

Though she didn’t want him to stop, slowly her head was
clearing.
 
Not here?
 
Not now?
Was that
what he’d said?
 
Was he implying that
there
would
be a time, a time when it
was
right?
 
Her heart skipped a beat.
 
She tried to see the expression on his face,
but the darkness hid it from her.
 

“Go Tiffany,” he said, turning about and pushing her gently
away from him with sheer determination of will.
 
“Go now, before I lose what remaining sanity I have left and take you
right here.”

She could almost feel the internal battle waging within
him.
 
Lifting her hand, she pressed it
softly against his cheek.
 
She didn’t
want to go.
 
“Alex-”

“Go!” he uttered roughly, though it sounded more like a plea
than a command.

Dropping her hand, she hesitated for one brief moment, then
turned and reluctantly walked away, hugging the shadows until she neared the
front of the house.

Hastening from the house a few minutes later, her wrap
draped securely around her shoulders, Tiffany hurried back to her seat near the
fire.

“You were gone for rather a long time,” Brendon noted as she
sank onto her chair.
 
“Is everything
alright?”

“Unfortunately, my wrap wasn’t where I thought I’d left it,”
she dissembled, smiling sheepishly, “so I had to do a bit of searching.”

“Well, I’m sorry to say that you missed the jugglers,” he
informed her.
 
“But you are just in time
for the grand finale,” he continued, excitement glinting in his blue eyes and
enlivening his handsome features.

She smiled brightly, doing her best to appear excited, but
her thoughts were still centered upon Alex as she settled back into her seat.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when a large,
barrel-chested man with a bald pate and a wicked-looking eye-patch began to
flick two long, fiery whips wildly about his head and chest, while two other
men walking upon tall wooden stilts, breathed massive plumes of fire from their
mouths, that her attention was effectively redirected.

“Wasn’t that the most remarkable performance?” Miss Banning
asked animatedly, as she and Lady Cranbrooke walked alongside Tiffany toward
the house.
 

“It was indeed,” Tiffany readily agreed.
 
She’d heard tales of gypsy performers, but
until tonight she’d never seen an actual gypsy in person.
 
Nor had she ever seen anyone perform such
spectacular, death-defying stunts.
 
It
had truly been a fantastic and remarkable experience and a night she would
never forget, for more reasons than one.

“Bravo to the duke and duchess for arranging for such marvelous
entertainment,” Lady Cranbrooke exclaimed.
 
“I simply cannot wait to tell everyone all about it.”

As Miss Banning and Lady Cranbrooke prattled on, Tiffany
cast her searching gaze this way and that as they crossed the front lawn, but
she saw no sign of Alex.
 
Not now, not like this.
 
The words played themselves over and over in
her mind as she walked.
 
Knowing that
they would both be leaving the next morning, along with the Leighton’s other
remaining houseguests; she struggled to put meaning to his words.
 
Did he intend to see her again?
 
And if so, how and when?
 
Was it possible that he might be rethinking
his views regarding marriage?
 
No, surely
that was just wishful thinking on her part, her inner voice cautioned.
 
But what
did
he mean then?
 
The fact that she simply
had no idea as to what Alex’s intentions were, was frustrating beyond
words.
 
But then again, she reasoned, it
was quite possible that what he’d said had meant nothing of consequence at all.
 
He
had
been drinking, she reminded herself.
 

Regrettably, the following morning at breakfast Tiffany was
no closer to ascertaining Alex’s intentions than she had been the night
before.
 
Seated across the table from one
another once again, he’d bid her a polite good morning and had then promptly
turned his attention to the fully-laden plate that had been placed before him.

Looking down, the heaping plate of kippers and eggs that
would have customarily whetted his appetite, instead had Alex’s stomach
rolling.
 
Swallowing the vile, bitter
taste in his mouth, he reached for a piece of buttered toast and took a small
bite off the end.
 
His head was pounding
in a ceaseless rhythm and he felt as if he’d just gone ten rounds with one of
London’s famed prizefighters.
 
Unfortunately however, despite the copious amount of alcohol he
consumed, he still recalled each and every detail of the previous evening’s
events, including the fact that he’d very nearly relieved the lovely Tiffany
Marlowe of her innocence on Nicholas and Ashleigh’s front lawn.
 
Bloody hell, whatever had he been
thinking?
 
Blast it, he
hadn’t
been thinking, and that was the
very crux of the problem.
 
When it came
to Tiffany, he somehow managed to lose the ability to think rationally.
 
It was as uncharacteristic as it was vexing,
and it was beginning to make him question his own mind.
 

Glancing upward, he took another bite of his toast, watching
as the Duke of Rutherford sat down upon the empty seat next to Tiffany.

“Good morning, Lady Tiffany.
 
May I say that you are looking as fetching as ever this morning,” he
greeted warmly.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Tiffany replied, smiling
sweetly.
 
“You’re very kind to say so.”

Alex’s eyes traveled from the top of Tiffany’s upswept curls
to the cream-colored, rose-sprigged bodice of her fashionably-cut day
gown.
 
He had to agree with Rutherford’s
assessment.
 
She most definitely made a
fetching sight.

“I assure you, my lady, that
kindness
has nothing at all to do with it.”

“Silver-tongued as ever, Rutherford, even at this ungodly
hour of the day,” Alex commented with a derisive snort, his tone bordering on
acerbic.
 
Both Tiffany and the duke
glanced up at him in surprise.
 

Giving him a quick once over with his sweeping gaze,
Rutherford grinned knowingly.
 
“Late
night?”

Alex dropped the toast back onto his plate, pointedly
ignoring the question.

“You
are
looking a
bit worse for wear this morning, Chesterfield,” he continued, clearly taking no
offense to Alex’s boorish greeting.
 
“Did
you perchance partake in a few too many glasses of port after dinner last
night, or did you find something else to your liking in His Grace’s liquor
cabinet?”

Alex merely grimaced.

“Ah, so it was
you
who drained that entire bottle of brandy,” Nicholas Leighton said
good-naturedly, overhearing the last bit of their conversation.
 
Joining them at the table, he eyed Alex with
obvious interest as he took his seat.

“As you might surmise, I am paying dearly for the
transgression,” Alex replied dolefully.

“Yes, I can see that you are,” the duke chuckled.

Hell, did he really
look that bad?
 
Reaching for the
steaming cup of coffee that had mercifully been placed alongside his breakfast
plate, he took a long swallow of the dark, aromatic liquid.
 
Glancing at Tiffany over the rim of his cup,
he wasn’t surprised to find her watching him.
 
Their eyes locked, and for a second it seemed
as if it was just the two of them in the room.

“So, Lady Tiffany, what did you think of last night’s
entertainment?” Nicholas asked, unwittingly shattering the moment.

Turning to the duke, Tiffany smiled brightly.
 
“It was a brilliant surprise, Your Grace,”
she replied truthfully.
 
“And the
performers were simply magnificent.”

The duke returned her smile.
 
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Indeed I did.
 
It was
an evening I shall never forget.”
 
Turning from the duke, she glanced briefly at Alex before lowering her
gaze.

Alex noted the fleeting, telltale glance and struggled to
keep his own features impassive.
 
Despite
having drunk nearly an entire bottle of brandy, he’d laid awake half the night,
combatting the contemptible urge to seek out Tiffany’s chamber and finish what
they’d started.
 
It was maddening!

“You and your lovely duchess certainly know how to entertain
a crowd,” Rutherford proclaimed appreciatively.

Alex struggled to refocus his attention on the conversation
at hand.

“I’ve no doubt that the evening’s events will be the talk of
the town for weeks to come,” the duke continued.

“I have to agree.” Nodding, Alex seconded Rutherford’s
assertion.
 
“It was quite an extraordinary
spectacle.”

“I’m sure my wife will be delighted to hear it.”

Though Tiffany knew that Ashleigh didn’t give a fig about
being
the talk of the town
, she was
delighted with her friend’s success all the same.
 
She had taken on the role of duchess effortlessly
and she couldn’t have been prouder of her.
 
Directing her gaze to the opposite end of the table, she watched for a
moment as Ashleigh chatted animatedly with Mr. and Mrs. Rigsby and their
daughter Helen.
 
Thinking of her own
life, she couldn’t help but wonder what lay ahead for her own future.
 
Would it involve the man sitting across from
her?
 
Peeking from beneath her lashes she
turned her gaze once again upon the man who’d stolen her heart; and with every
fiber of her being she hoped that it did.

As the men’s conversation eventually moved on to the topic
of fox-hunting, Tiffany’s interest waned and she was soon listening with only
half an ear as she ate her sausage and eggs.
 
She was almost finished when her father arrived at the table and took the
vacant seat next to her.
 

“Good morning, Melborne,” Nicholas said in a polite,
welcoming tone.
 

“Good morning, father,” Tiffany echoed with a hesitant
smile, wondering what his mood would be that morning.

“Good morning, Your Grace.
 
Gentlemen,” he greeted, acknowledging both Alex and Rutherford with the
tipping of his head.
 
“And to you as
well, my dear,” he continued, turning his attention to Tiffany.
 
“How are you this morning?”

Tiffany did her best to hide her surprise at her father’s
unusually chipper disposition.
 
“I’m
fine, father, thank you.”

“Excellent.
 
I shall
be ready to depart for Melborne Hall as soon as we’ve finished our meal,” he
said as he settled his napkin upon his lap.
 
“Have you readied your things?”

“Yes, father.”

“Very good.”
 
Picking
up his fork, he eyed the plate the footman had just set before him, and then
promptly scooped up a mound of eggs.

While Tiffany finished the remainder of her breakfast in
silence, the conversation continued around her.
 
Knowing that she would soon be leaving Sethe Manor, and therefore Alex
as well, her heart seemed to tighten in her chest.
 
When
would she see him again?
 
It was the
very same question that had kept her lying awake in her bed for most of the
night, for it was still months before the Season was set to begin.
 

“You’re brother mentioned that he would be setting sail for
Boston next week,” Alex said a short while later, directing the comment to
Nicholas.
 
For years, Brendon Leighton
had captained his own merchant vessel, and had amassed a small fortune in the
process.

“He is indeed,” Nicholas affirmed.
 
“Though we’ve tried, I am afraid that we
haven’t yet managed to curtail Brendon’s unquenchable lust for adventure.
 
In truth, it has only been with my wife’s
cajoling and the fact that he is delighting in his new status as uncle, that we
have kept him home these past months.”

“Well, as I too will be traveling to London next week, I
shall personally see to it that he receives a proper send off before he sets
sail.”

“Proper?” Nicholas quirked his brow, his expression dubious.

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled.
 
“I will see to it that he can walk a straight line, before allowing him
up the gangplank.”