You, and Only You (20 page)

“See that you do,” Nicholas admonished.
 
“For after an evening spent in
your
company, he might very well pitch
straight into the Thames if you don’t.”

“Are you suggesting that I am a poor influence?” Alex asked
with mock affront.

“I believe you’re present condition speaks for itself,’ Nick
replied with a teasing grin.

“Point taken.”
 
His head
was still throbbing.

Alex would be in
London next week.
Hearing that, Tiffany’s spirits lifted at once.
 
Although there was certainly no guarantee
that their paths would cross, the mere possibility provided her with a measure
of hope nonetheless.

Aside from the continuous clomping of the horses’ hooves and
the incessant rattling of the coach, the hour long journey to London passed in
relative silence as Tiffany spent the majority of her time gazing out the open
window, while her father occupied himself with the latest edition of
The Times
.
 
Though she still hadn’t the faintest notion
as to why her father had wished her to accompany him to the city, she was
looking forward to it all the same, for she rarely got the opportunity to
travel more than a few miles from home.
 
However, in truth, it was the possibility of seeing Alex again that had
her in a near fevered state of nervous anticipation.
 
Regrettably, in her father’s haste to return
home, she had been unable to seek a private moment with Alex before leaving
Sethe Manor.
 
In turn, all of her
questions and uncertainties had lamentably been left unanswered.
 

As they neared the city, Tiffany’s restless excitement
continued to grow.
 
Craning her head to
the side, she could just make out the glinting spires of St Paul’s Cathedral as
they rounded a bend in the road, its dome barely visible through the
ever-present haze that hung over the city like a dark, heavy shroud.
 

A short while later, as their coach traversed the busy
London streets en route to the West End residential neighborhood of Mayfair;
her father finally lowered the paper to his lap and glanced out the
window.
 
“Damnable stench,” he muttered
after a moment, and then promptly went back to reading his paper.

Though she could hardly disagree, for between the constant
flow of foul-smelling sewage being dumped into the Thames and the unremitting
stench of horse manure that coated the city streets, the odor certainly wasn’t
pleasant.
 
However, for her the thrill of
being in the city with all of its many enjoyments, far outweighed the trifling
affront to her sense of smell.

When they finally pulled to a stop in front of their
elegant, three-story townhouse, Tiffany breathed an inaudible sigh of
relief.
 
Being enclosed within the
confines of the coach for the past hour with her father had begun to set her
already frayed nerves on edge.
 
Once the
steps had been lowered and the footman had opened the door, her father hastily
disembarked from the vehicle, leaving it to the uniformed servant to assist her
from the coach.
 
Taking his gloved hand,
she grasped her skirt so as not to trip as she stepped down onto the paved
walk.
 
Thanking the young man politely,
she then followed her father up the walk and into the house, leaving the
attending footmen to see to their bags.

“Good afternoon, my lord, my lady,” the silver-haired butler
greeted in a practiced monotone as they entered the expansive foyer.

“Hello, Penrose,” Tiffany replied.

Turning his back, the marquess stood so that Penrose could
assist him with the removal of his coat.
 
“Have a brandy and one of my cigars prepared and sent to my study,” he
instructed, shrugging free of the outer garment.

“Of course, my lord.”

“I’ll see you at dinner,” the marquess said, nodding
summarily to Tiffany as he turned toward the long hall that led to his
study.
 

And with that parting comment, she was abruptly left to her
own devices.
 
Fortunately, she was quite
accustomed to such circumstances.
 
Quickly divesting herself of her own outer garments, she handed her coat
and hat to the tall, stony-faced servant.
 
“Penrose, would you please inform Mrs. Wright that I will meet with her
shortly to go over the upcoming week’s menu.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“And if you could have my trunks delivered to my room as
soon as possible, I would be most obliged.”

“I’ll have them sent up at once,” he replied decorously.

“Thank you, Penrose.”
 
With that, she moved to the staircase and ascended to the second floor,
making her way to the room she’d occupied on her two previous trips to London.

Later that evening and little more than a block away from
the Marquess of Melborne’s London home, Alex was seated in the library of his
own Mayfair residence.
  

“Excuse me, my lord, but this just arrived for you.”

Setting aside the book he’d been reading, Alex reached for
the envelope, eyeing the imprint in the wax seal.
 
It was from Melborne.
 
“Thank you, Timothy,” he said, dismissing the
young footman.
 
Well, that certainly
hadn’t taken long he noted as he slipped his finger beneath the flap of the
envelope, breaking the seal.
 
Extracting
the single sheet of paper, he scanned the brief missive.
 
It was as he’d expected.
 
Melborne wanted to meet with him to discuss
the terms of their arrangement at his earliest possible convenience.

Drawing in a long, deep breath, he rose from his seat and
moved to the exquisitely-crafted Chippendale writing desk that sat against the
opposite wall.
 
There was no sense in
delaying the inevitable, he fathomed as he pulled out the small desk
chair.
 
Reaching for pen and paper, he
quickly drafted his reply.
 

For Tiffany, the morning that followed her and her father’s
arrival in London proved to be an uneventful one.
 
After finishing their breakfast her father
had immediately closeted himself away in his study, leaving her to her own
devices, just as he had the night before.
 
As he’d made no mention of any upcoming engagements or planned outings,
she was left to wonder yet again why he’d brought her to the city.
 

Alone in the quiet of her bedchamber, she tried to focus
upon the book she’d brought up from the library the night before, but in spite
of her best efforts her attention seemed determined to wander.
 
Glancing up at the small mantle clock resting
above the hearth, she was surprised to see that nearly two hours had passed
since she’d first settled herself upon the cream-colored chaise that sat before
the tall bank of windows overlooking the rear of the house.
 
And in that time she’d only managed to read
the first three chapters of Jane Austen’s
Northanger
Abbey
.
 
Setting it aside, she rose to
her feet and moved to stand at one of the windows.
 
Looking out at the neatly-tended garden, she
decided that a walk might help to clear her thoughts and alleviate the tedium
of the morning.

Downstairs, Alex and his London solicitor, Mr. Albert
Hatton, had been seated in the Marquess of Melborne’s study for the past thirty
minutes, going over the contracts that had been laid out before them.
 

“Everything appears to be in order, my lord,” Mr. Hatton
stated, nodding his approval in regard to the specified terms.
 
“You need only to affix your signature to
finalize the agreement,” he continued, holding out a silver pen for Alex to
take.

Looking to where William sat behind his desk, Alex fixed him
with his pointed gaze for one long, drawn-out moment.
 
Then, dropping it to the two sets of
documents that would seal his fate; he took the pen and signed his name upon
each one, directly beneath William Marlowe’s.
 

“Well then,” Mr. Hatton said a bit uncertainly, glancing between
Alex and William.

“Thank you, Mr. Hatton,” Alex said, rising from his
seat.
 
“That will be all for now.”

William and Mr. Hatton immediately followed suit, rising
from their chairs.

“Of course, my lord,” Mr. Hatton replied, collecting his
things.

Coming around the side of his desk, William rang for the
butler.
 
Within seconds there was a soft
knock, and a moment later the door swung open.
 
“Penrose will see you out,” William said to the solicitor.

With a polite nod, Mr. Hatton followed the butler from the
room.

Closing the door firmly behind them, William then turned to
face Alex, his expression pleased.
 
“Well, I’d say this calls for a drink, wouldn’t you?”
 
Without waiting for a reply, he spun around,
moving to the side table.

Alex was hardly in the mood to celebrate, but there were
things that still needed to be discussed.
 
Resuming his seat, he waited silently as William poured them each a
drink.

“Here you are,” William said, handing him a snifter of
brandy.

Taking a small sip, he waited for William to regain his own
seat.

“What do you intend to tell her?” he asked, once William was
seated.

Lowering his glass to the desk, William eyed him blankly.

Alex felt his contempt for Melborne rising yet again.
 
“Your daughter,” he clarified.
 
“What
exactly
do you intend to tell her?”

William shrugged.
 
“Does it matter?”
 

Alex’s jaw tightened, his teeth clenching in
frustration.
 
He took several deep,
calming breaths before answering.
 
“
Yes
, it matters,” he said simply.
 
There was absolutely no reason for Tiffany to
have any knowledge of the wager, or all that it entailed.
 
It would only cause her undue pain, and he
had no intention of allowing that to happen.

“So, what do you propose?”

Regarding William with an expression that countenanced no
argument, he began to outline their course of action.
 
Within minutes, they were agreed.

Getting up from his seat, William went to reach for the bell
pull that would summon the butler.

“Don’t bother,” Alex said, rising to his feet.
 
“I’ll see myself out.”
 
He had no desire to remain in Melborne’s
company for a single second longer.

Walking toward the rear of the house, Tiffany trod softly
upon the marble floor as she neared her father’s study, hoping to pass by
unnoticed.
 
It proved unnecessary though,
for as she drew near she could see that the door was closed.
 
Relieved, she quickened her step, eager to be
outside.
 
Unfortunately however, her
relief was short lived.
 
Watching in
consternation as the door to her father’s study suddenly opened, she mentally
cursed her rotten luck.
 
Expecting to see
her father, she couldn’t have been more surprised when she saw that it was Alex
who exited the room.
  

Stepping into the hall, Alex stopped dead in his tracks as
he unexpectedly came face to face with Tiffany.
 
Aware that William was but a few steps behind him, he offered her a
polite greeting.
 
“Good morning, Lady
Tiffany.
 
It’s nice to see you again.”
  

“Tiffany,” William said, noting her presence as he emerged
from his study behind Alex.
 
“Was there
something you needed?” he asked, eyeing her in apparent irritation.

“No father.
 
I was
merely making my way to the rear garden,” she explained, gesturing to the far
end of the hall.
 
“I was feeling a bit
restless and thought to take a walk.
 

“I see.”
 
William nodded,
seeming to accept her explanation.

“I’m sorry to have disturbed you.
 
I didn’t realize that you had a visitor.”

“You’re acquainted with the Earl of Chesterfield,” he said,
motioning to Alex.

“Yes, of course.
 
It’s
a pleasure to see you again, my lord.

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Tiffany, I assure you,” Alex
replied courteously.
 
“In fact, I had
intended to pay a call upon you in the very near future.”

“You did?” Tiffany felt her heart lurch within her chest.

“Indeed, I was just speaking with your father about that
very thing,” he said.
 
“However, as I am
here now, I wonder if I might be so bold as to request a few minutes of your
time.”

Tiffany glanced hesitantly at her father.
 

“Perhaps I could accompany you on your walk?” he suggested,
looking to William for approval.

“By all means,” William replied.
 
“You two go on ahead.”
 

Tiffany had to fight to keep her mouth from falling open in
astonishment as her father immediately offered his consent.