At first, she had feared being accepted. A lady with a small scandal in her past. A poor relation, forgotten by her relatives. And many of the people there knew of Lord Brookstone’s exclamation that anyone who showed her favor would suffer his wrath.
Of course, Nathanial had laughed at such silly fears. Repeatedly assuring her that she would be treated with respect or he would ruin half the men of the ton.
And to her surprise, he had been correct. Of course, once Bradford’s mother had been so welcoming to both her and Olivia, a great deal of the tension in her body had begun to wick away. But when the Duchess of Hampton had welcomed her as if she were a long-lost friend, and when the Duke himself had asked her to dance, she had finally accepted that she would survive the night.
Once again Alice went over the entire evening in her mind. She’d worn her new blue silk. And been rewarded with a look of hunger in Mr. Caldwell’s eyes. A look that she could hug to herself for weeks.
She thought of the dozen other dresses waiting for her at home. The hats and gloves. All of it provided for her by Mr. Caldwell. She thought of the servants waiting to take care of herself and her mother. Of the beautiful people tonight. All the color and pomp.
Everything, because of Mr. Caldwell. How would she ever repay him? Forcing herself not to look at him, she let her mind wander to his wide shoulders and the way …
“You are very quiet,” Nathanial said to her, raising an eyebrow.
“It has been a rather eventful evening,” she managed to reply.
“I’ll say,” Olivia interjected. “Lord Eastbrook want’s to take me for a ride in the park tomorrow.”
“No,” Nathanial said with a sneer.
Olivia laughed and Alice realized the girl loved to tease her brother.
Holding a finger to her chin, the young girl paused for effect then said, “Oh yes, Mr. Warren asked me to save a dance for him at Lady Sinclair’s ball next week.”
“We will not be going to Lady Sinclair’s gala,” Nathanial said as he stared out the window into the darkness.
“But everyone will be there,” Olivia said with a frown. “If we don’t go, people will talk.”
Nathanial snorted and shook his head. “Not everyone will be there. I am positive the Duke of Hampton won’t be.”
Alice frowned. Why was that important? And how did he know that His Grace wouldn’t be there?
“Sir …” she began.
“No,” he said to her, silently staring at her. His eyes letting her know this was a subject not open to discussion.
Alice nodded. Obviously, there was a history there. Something that she was not allowed to know. What is more, for some reason the thought of the beautiful widow Lady Sinclair and Nathanial together bothered her much more than she wanted to admit.
Chapter Ten
Nathanial stared at Johnson’s report and tried to read it for the third time, but his mind refused to focus. Instead, he was repeatedly drawn to thinking about the woman sitting alone in his parlor.
He could well imagine Lady Alice quietly reading a book. The soft yellow firelight highlighting her flawless complexion. Her long fingers slowly turning the page. It was enough to pull any man’s mind away from what was important.
Both Lady Weston and Olivia had retired early for the night. This was the first night in three where they were not attending a ball. Olivia had not yet become accustomed to these late nights and constant activity. The excitement and anticipation took much more of a toll than she realized.
Lady Weston on the other hand. Was just old. And if he read the signs right. Weaker than she let people see. He had offered to bring in a doctor. But the woman had flatly refused. Saying, no doctor was going to tell her anything she didn’t already know.
That left Lady Alice alone. Silently resting in his parlor. Alone.
Nathanial sighed. His life was becoming complicated. Not least, because of the woman who kept drawing his attention and refused to let it go.
He’d watched her this past week. How she had guided and worked with Olivia. Subtly suggesting, never demanding, never forcing Olivia to admit she had been wrong. The woman would make a good mother, he realized.
He’d also come to admire the way Lady Alice Weston conducted herself amongst her peers. Always kind, always knowing just the right thing to say.
Smiling to himself, he remembered how she’d spent half of last night making the Duchess of Kent laugh and giggle like a little girl instead of the aging dowager she was. The rest of the evening, she had spent dancing with the Lords and charming the Ladies. All the while, singing the praise of her good friend Miss Olivia Caldwell.
Oh, there had been a few cuts. People who had turned their backs on her and Olivia. A few, but not many.
Nathanial had made a mental note each time. Added a name to a list. People who would regret the day they had treated Lady Alice Weston and his sister with disrespect.
Maybe not tomorrow, but someday, these people would need something. An investment partner, a shipment expedited, a tidbit of knowledge or advice. At that time, they would find themselves on the outside and wonder why. It would be an immense pleasure watching them as they learned of his displeasure.
Even the presence of Lord Brookstone hadn’t made her falter, he thought with pride.
No, not his Lady Alice. The woman had caught sight of the tall Lord staring at her from the other side of the ballroom. Shooting her an evil smile. He saw her color fade for just a moment, then she pulled herself up straight and shrugged it off as she simply turned her back as if the man didn’t exist.
Nathanial smiled to himself. It seemed Lady Alice could provide a cut as well as any woman of the ton. Feeling a great sense of pride, he had stepped up next to her and smiled. Trying to assure her that if the man made any move towards her, he would soon find himself dissuaded. Under no circumstance would he be allowed to upset Lady Alice.
She had smiled back at him, silently thanking him.
Nathanial thought it a smile of an angel. A smile that could make a man completely rethink his philosophy in life. Such beauty should never need fear such a man as Brookstone. No, Nathanial swore to himself. This woman would never need to worry about Brookstone again. Not once he was done with him.
The thought of what needed to be done pulled him back to the present. No, he thought, he would not focus on the delectable Lady across his hall. He would focus on business he reminded himself. He had spent too much time away, too many nights not going over reports and correspondence. Business he reminded himself, as once again his mind drifted away, thinking of the prettiest face in England and hips that could drive a man mad.
“Damn,” he said as he slammed the report down and stormed out of his study. Some things could not be avoided.
His footsteps echoed off the marble floor as he marched across the entranceway, his mind kept telling him to stop. To think things through. But his body refused to listen. It was as if another being inside of him had taken control.
Opening the parlor door, he stepped inside before he could change his mind.
The woman that haunted his thoughts was standing by the fire, the fire iron in her hand, the dancing yellow light casting her in a soft glow just as he had imagined. His heart paused its beating as he took in what had to be one of the most beautiful sights in all of Britain.
“Mr. Caldwell?” she said, obviously surprised to see him there.
Suddenly, it was as if he had forgotten how to talk to a beautiful woman. Every thought left his mind, every proven method had been forgotten. Frantically searching for something to say, he began casting about, then asked, “Have you seen my book? the one by Emery. I thought I left it in here.”
She frowned, that pretty forehead of hers crinkling into delicious lines of concentration.
“No, I don’t think so. I do believe I saw you take it into your study, yesterday evening.”
He nodded slowly as he examined her, once again, his mind failing him. As always, she was impecca
ble. Her dress conservative, chase, yet unable to hide her feminine form. It was her eyes that trapped him though. Looking at him as if desperate to learn something important.
“Here, let me help you with that,” he said as he took the fire poker from her hand. Desperate to do something for her. Desperate to prove himself of value.
Their fingers briefly touched and a shock of pure energy traveled up his arm and to his heart. This woman turned his world upside down, he thought. A simple touch and he was lost. This was ridiculous. He was a rake. He knew a dozen women almost as beautiful, but, nowhere near as desirable. No woman had ever impacted him this way.
Pulling himself together, he poked the fire, shifting a log to draw more air. The wood caught as he replaced the iron in its stand. Turning to Lady Alice, he noticed that she had not moved away. Instead, she stood there, staring up at him. Her eyes questioning, beckoning, tantalizing him with a thousand unasked questions.
He returned her stare, becoming lost in her eyes. Lost in the thought of this woman. Then, as if unable to stop themselves, his hands rose to gently cup her face. He could no more deny himself than to have stopped breathing. Raising one eyebrow he silently asked if she found him acceptable. Then, before she could tell him no, he leaned down and gently took her lips with his.
Sweet honey wine, he thought. She tastes of heaven he marveled, as her perfume of soft jasmine engulfed him.
They came together, their lips locked in passion as she melted into him. Yes, he thought. She had not pulled away, instead, she hungered for him the way he needed her. His soul soared with gratitude at the universe as his arm slipped around her, pulling her close.
She reached up to hold him in place while she sought and searched with her lips until a soft moan rumbled in the back of her throat.
It took every bit of his will not to smile. Knowing that a woman like this wanted him could make a man want to yell from the rooftops. But instead, he concentrated on pushing her higher. As his lips caressed hers, his hands slowly lowered to cup that beautiful backside. Squeezing, kneading, starting her on the path to the ultimate pleasure.
“Nathanial,” she whispered as her lips took more and more from him.
“Alice,” he answered as his mind raced. This was the parlor. Any of a dozen servants could come in at any moment. Even Olivia might return. No, not here, not now, he thought. Yet he could not pull away.
Still, they continued to devour each other, the heat between them rising, the passion becoming uncontrollable.
Without thinking, his hand rose to take her breasts. Caressing, squeezing, his thumb running over a nipple. Alice moaned again as her knees grew weak and she faltered.
Nathanial’s arm instinctively held her in place. Keeping her next to him as his touch roamed over her body. As his lips caressed and nipped.
Yes, he thought, she was his for the taking. He need merely press and she would surrender, he thought. She would willingly become his.
But what then? Here on the parlor settee? What if they were discovered. No, this woman deserved so much more.
The jarring thought sent a cold shiver washing over him like a wave in the North Sea. What then? She would be ruined, the only solution, marriage or mistress. And a Lady such as this would never lower herself to marry a man such as himself.
And what of Olivia? He could not have his mistress guiding his sister. The ton would never allow it. Doors would be closed and all his wealth would never open them again.
“See,” they would say. “What do you expect from a common merchant?”
“No,” he said as he drew away from Lady Alice. “We can’t. Not now, not here.”
Her eyes remained closed as her lips followed him, seeking more.
As he watched, he could see the realization settle over her. The understanding that he had pulled away and would not be returning to her embrace.
“We can’t,” he said again.
She frowned for a moment, her lips turning down in an adorable pout. But then, the realization of how close they had come turned her cheeks a bright pink. As he continued to watch her, he saw the realization wash over her as she remembered where his hands had been and what they had done to her. Suddenly her cheeks became even redder as she looked away, unable to meet his gaze.
“Of course,” she said as she stepped back. Her hands running down her dress, putting it once more into the proper fit. Somehow it had become twisted and bunched.
“I am sorry, Lady Weston, despite what you might think of me and my reputation. I do think propriety demand that we restrain our passions.”
“No, of course not,” she said with a hurt look in her eyes that tore at his soul. The woman was ashamed, he realized. Why? She wasn’t some young innocent school girl. She was a woman of twenty-four. Surely …
“I should be going,” she said as she quickly gathered her book and a needlepoint she had been working on.
“Wait,” he said as he reached out to stop her from leaving.
She froze, unable to move, yet unable to look at him.
“I do apologize,” he tried again, his stomach sick with worry that he had offended the woman. “I know that saying your beauty overwhelmed me is trite and meaningless to a Lady such as yourself. But it is true. There is something about you Lady Weston that pulls at me. Something that calls to me. But, I assure you. I will endeavor to keep myself in check. I will not bother you again like this.”
Sighing, he released her arm. He knew the words were inadequate. But it was all he could say.
She held for a moment, continuing to stare at the door, then turned and met his gaze.
“Do not trouble yourself, Mr. Caldwell. I have been dreaming of such a kiss with a man such as yourself for my entire life. You have given me a memory that I will treasure forever.”
Nathanial’s insides tensed up as he prepared for the rest of the statement.
“But,” she continued, “you are correct. It can go no further. Too many people would be hurt.”
Nathanial noticed a small tear forming in the corner of her eye as she turned quickly and scampered from the room. Leaving him there alone, bewildered, and extremely frustrated.
Shaking his head, he followed her out of the parlor, catching a quick glimpse of those mesmerizing hips as she ran up the staircase to her rooms.
He stood there, staring after her, lost in a thousand thoughts of what could have happened. What should have happened.
Sighing heavily, he returned to his study, perfectly aware that he would get very little accomplished that night. He knew that he would spend the majority of the evening thinking about the woman upstairs. The woman who had captured a large part of his soul.
.o0o.
Alice Weston threw herself onto her bed and cried like she had never cried before. Even the death of her father had not brought on such tears.
No, this was so different, so much worse. She had lost her heart.
Biting her lip, she tried to stop the tears. What did she expect? she wondered. For a man such as Mr. Caldwell to rescue her once again? To fall madly in love with her? Such a silly thought, she realized. The man could have almost any woman in England. Why would he want her?
Turning onto her back she stared up at the ceiling and remembered that kiss. A memory locked in her mind forever. The heat, the passion between them. Surely, it had been real. Surely, he had felt something.
Yes, Alice, she thought. He had felt desire, of that she was sure. She had felt his hardness pressed against her. Had seen the fire burning inside his eyes. But it had not been enough. No, it would never be enough for a man like him.
All he would ever see was a conquest. And because of his sister and the shame any scandal would bring her, he had withdrawn. Once again, she had been ready to give herself to him, and once again he had withdrawn.
Yes, she would never be enough for a man like Nathanial Caldwell. He would never fall in love with her and sweep her off to a life of bliss and beauty. No, to think so was silly. Yet, if tru
th be told. Forever was not what she regretted. No, it was the thought of not being with him at all. Of not having him make love to her just once.
She cringed inside thinking of the loss. To have Nathanial Caldwell in her bed was what she wanted. It might be wrong. But it was the truth.
The thought of what would not happen brought on more tears as she sank into a deep darkness that she feared she would never escape.
The next morning, after a restless night, she spent an extra hour with wet towels trying to erase the sign of her tears. Eventually, however, she realized that the task was impossible and her red eyes would announce to the world that she had spent the night crying. The thought of him seeing her and knowing that she had cried because of him, sent a cold fear through her.
No, that could not be allowed to happen. Besides. What would she say to Nathanial? How could she be in the same room with him and not let her feelings show?
Instead, she sent word that she wasn’t feeling well and would have her breakfast in her room. Perhaps if she worked at it all day, she could hide the evidence of her suffering until the evening meal. It had to work, for Olivia would never allow her to miss tonight’s ball at Lord Eastbrook’s.
When it came time for dinner, Alice examined herself closely in the mirror. Yes, it had worked. To all the world she looked like a woman without a care in the world. A woman who had not spent the previous night crying into her pillow.
Running her hands down her dress, she slowly descended the stairs. With each step, she felt the fear and anxiety rising inside of her. Each step taking her closer to confronting Nathanial.
Swallowing hard, she approached the dining room. The savory smell of roast wafted up from the kitchen making her stomach gurgle.
This was it, she thought. The moment she had feared the most. If she could get through the next few minutes, she knew she could make it through the evening.
Opening the door, she stepped inside, her attention drawn immediately to the head of the table. The place setting was absent. Mr. Caldwell would not be joining them for dinner. A sigh of relief passed through her to be quickly followed by a small hurt. Was he avoiding her? Did he regret last night so much that he couldn’t be around her anymore?
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