A Collector's Item: Rowena's After Dark Regency Romance (The Arlingbys Book 1)

by Alicia Quigley

  "Is his lordship in the house?" she asked quickly.

  Lawson flushed and dropped her eyes. "Yes, my lady," she said. "He is still in his room."

  "Good," said Rowena. "Please leave word that I wish to see him as soon as he arises."

  Lawson’s eyes widened and she appeared about to say something, but she simply dropped a curtsey. "Yes, my lady," she murmured.

  Rowena waved away the chocolate and got out of bed. "I need to get dressed quickly. It’s obviously very late. I don’t wish to lie about in bed."

  "No, my lady," answered Lawson, trailing behind Rowena and scooping up her nightgown as she shed it. "What do you wish to wear today?"

  Rowena considered the question. She intended to take the bull firmly by the horns when she saw her husband. It would be important that she looked her very best.

  "The violet muslin," she said. "And hurry, Lawson. I don’t have all day."

  Rowena entered the dining room half an hour later, a look of mixed eagerness and trepidation on her face. She was dressed very becomingly in the violet muslin, its color reflecting her eyes and setting off her fair hair to great advantage. The room was lovely, with beautiful furniture and an exquisite Aubusson carpet, and a splendid repast was spread out on the sideboard. There was, however, no sign of Alaric.

  With a sigh, Rowena helped herself to toast and fruit and sat down at the table, disgruntled. It was absolutely impossible to discuss the situation with Alaric if he was going to avoid her night and day.

  A door opened and she spun about, but it was only Ferguson, carrying a steaming tray. Rowena sighed.

  "Eggs, my lady?" he asked her, but she shook her head.

  "No, thank you." There was a pause. "Ferguson, do you know when my husband will be coming down?"

  Ferguson hesitated. "His lordship is a trifle under the weather this morning, my lady. I believe that he intends to remain in bed."

  Rowena looked startled. Alaric had not appeared unwell earlier. He had spoken to her quite clearly.

  "What is wrong with him?" she asked, alarm in her voice.

  "Do not be concerned, my lady. His valet is attending to him."

  "His valet? Shouldn’t we summon a doctor?"

  Ferguson looked nervous. "It is nothing serious, my lady. His lordship begs that you will forgive him. He will see you later in the day."

  "But his valet? This makes no sense at all. I have some healing powders in my room. Perhaps they will help him." Rowena began to rise from her seat, her breakfast forgotten.

  "His lordship has no need of powders, my lady. Jameson will know what to do for him. He has been in his lordship’s service for many years." Ferguson attempted to make his voice reassuring.

  "Is this a recurring illness?" demanded Rowena, alarmed. "I had no idea his lordship was given to bouts of sickness."

  "No, my lady. His lordship is in excellent health. Please do not concern yourself with the matter."

  Rowena’s brows came together in a frown. "This makes no sense at all. If you will not tell me what is the matter, then I will go to see for myself."

  She headed towards the door, and Ferguson made one last brave attempt to halt her.

  "My lady, visitors will be arriving. You will want to receive them."

  "Tell them I am not available," said Rowena crossly. "I mean to get to the bottom of this."

  Ferguson watched helplessly as she swept out of the room and up the stairs. He closed his eyes for a moment. It seemed the new Countess of Brayleigh was a force to be reckoned with. He wondered how the master was going to handle her.

  Rowena went to her bedroom and dug about in her belongings until she located the package of powders she had brought with her from Yorkshire. Holding them before her like a shield, she went to the door that joined her room to Alaric’s. She took a deep breath, opened it and stepped into her husband’s bedroom.

  By daylight, the room was somewhat less fearsome than it had been the night before. The ominous dark furniture was revealed as beautifully carved mahogany, and the burgundy velvet cushions and curtains looked luxuriously soft. Her eye landed on the treacherous footstool for a moment, and she gave a slight smile. Then she directed her gaze to where Jameson hovered next to the bed, offering a glass with some evil looking concoction in it to her husband.

  "Take it away, Jameson. I cannot stomach it," she heard Alaric say.

  "But sir, you must drink it. You will feel much better when you do."

  Rowena took a step towards the bed. Both men suddenly became aware of her presence and turned startled eyes on her. She flushed slightly, but continued towards them. It was ridiculous to let them frighten her.

  "What are you doing here, Rowena?" asked Alaric. Despite the headache that pounded through his skull, the sight of her stirred his blood. She looked very enticing in the violet muslin, though it occurred to him suddenly that the neckline was cut a bit too low. The gentle curve of her breasts swelled up at him alluringly. He would have to keep a closer eye on the clothing she ordered, he noted groggily.

  Rowena realized that he looked exceedingly attractive, with his tousled hair curling wildly about his forehead. He was perhaps a bit paler than usual, but he was still very handsome, and his naked skin looked very touchable. She stared at his chest fixedly, her heart beginning to beat faster.

  "Rowena, I asked you a question."

  She pulled herself away from contemplation of her husband’s body. "I heard you were ill. I thought perhaps I could be of some help. I have some powders I brought from home that are most efficacious."

  Alaric scowled. "I told the servants not to tell you."

  "They tried their very best not to," she soothed. "But eventually they had to be honest with me. They could only prevaricate so long, after all. I am remarkably persistent."

  A small smile alighted on Alaric’s lips. That was an understatement if ever he had heard one. "I appreciate your concern. But Jameson is perfectly capable of caring for me."

  "What is wrong with you?" she asked, stepping closer. "Is this something I should be concerned about?"

  Alaric’s eyes closed for a moment and his hand went to his head. "Please, keep your voice down," he said. "I have a headache."

  "A headache!" Rowena sorted through her packages, producing one with a triumphant air. "This will be perfect. It always helps when my head throbs. Fetch his lordship a glass of water, Jameson."

  "My lady, I believe this mixture will benefit him the most," said Jameson, indicating the glass he still held. "It is a well-known cure."

  Rowena looked at it doubtfully. The potion looked unfamiliar to her. "What is it? I don’t believe I know that particular medicine."

  Jameson rolled an anguished eye at his master, and Alaric sighed. He took the glass from his valet.

  "Leave us, Jameson. I promise I will drink this."

  With a bow and a skeptical glance, the valet left the room. It was going to be difficult having a mistress if she intended to interfere with the managing of his lordship, he thought. And his lordship seemed inclined to indulge her. None of the other ladies in his lordship’s life had ever attempted to nurse him.

  When they were alone, Rowena felt a sudden shyness come over her. Alaric looked very large and imposing in the great bed, his splendid dark hair contrasting with the white linens. She dropped her eyes.

  Alaric sighed. "What do you want, Rowena?"

  "I thought I could perhaps be of some help," she said tartly, her spirit returning. "I am not unfamiliar with certain remedies. The nature of your illness seemed so mysterious that I felt I must see you to know what was wrong. And now that I have, I still have no idea."

  Alaric took a sip from the glass and made a face. "I will be fine, Rowena. This will pass quickly."

  "I gather you have had this illness before," said Rowena.

  "I have indeed," sighed Alaric. He took another sip, and then seemed to steel himself. Putting his head back, he drained the potion in one large gulp. He shuddered.

 
Rowena took the glass out of his hand and sniffed at it. "What was that, my lord?"

  "Some secret of Jameson’s. It works very well, but it tastes dreadful."

  "And what is it a cure for?" persisted Rowena.

  "You are altogether too curious," said Alaric. "It is none of your business."

  "I am your wife," said Rowena. "Though you seem to have forgotten that. Of course it is my business."

  "You seem to have very selective ideas about what being a wife means, Rowena." Alaric closed his eyes wearily, aware that he was in no state to conduct this conversation again. If he lost his temper, he was likely to ignore the agreement he had made with Rowena, headache or no headache. She was very alluring, leaning across the bed towards him, sparks lit in her brilliant violet eyes.

  "I only said that so that we might become better acquainted," said Rowena angrily. "I had no idea that you would abandon me completely, and make me a laughingstock in front of the servants. And when I came to you last night, you sent me away. I hardly think it is fair of you to throw my words back in my face when you were so unkind to me."

  Alaric’s eyes flew open. "What are you talking about?"

  Rowena started at the violence of his tone. "You know very well you left me all alone last night. I can only imagine where you were. Most probably with Lily."

  "You told me to go to her," said Alaric.

  "I didn’t think you would!" snapped Rowena. "You might have talked with me instead of storming out."

  "I left because I couldn’t think of another way to tolerate complying with your request," said Alaric frankly. He watched as Rowena flushed. "I am trying to do as you asked, Rowena."

  "I did not ask you to make a fool of me, or to publicly humiliate me. And now you have had your revenge. You sent me away last night."

  Alaric shook his head. Perhaps his hearing had been affected. "I have never sent you away, Rowena."

  Rowena gasped at his effrontery. "I came to you last night. You were asleep, but you woke up and told me to go away. Don’t try to deny it. I cannot believe you would try to trick me so."

  "You came into my room last night?" asked Alaric.

  Rowena stamped her foot. "Of course I did. You grabbed my wrist and told me to go away." She glanced down at her arm, wondering if the marks were still there. His grip had been very strong.

  He followed her gaze and saw the small bruises that appeared on her pale flesh. He gently reached over and stroked them.

  "Did I hurt you?" he asked.

  "Not really. But you were unkind." Rowena paused, wondering why he was asking her such questions. "What nonsense is this? You know what you said, my lord."

  Alaric swallowed. He continued to caress her wrist. Her skin was very soft, like rose petals. With a tremor he remembered the feeling of holding her in his arms in Lady Belmont’s garden, of her warmth and generous femininity.

  "I am afraid I don’t know what I said, Rowena. I don’t remember what happened last night."

  Rowena frowned. Alaric’s fingers on her arm had an almost hypnotic effect on her. "Of course you do," she asserted, trying to recall her anger. "Don’t try to bamboozle me, my lord."

  "Alaric," he said firmly, raising his eyes to meet hers. She saw a steely determination there.

  "Alaric," she repeated.

  "And I do not remember what happened last night. I must have been quite out of my head to send you away, however." His eyes floated over her, lingering on the neckline of her gown.

  "How can you not remember? You did not appear to be feverish. And I don’t believe you have a fever now." Rowena gave him an accusing glance. Alaric really looked quite well. His color was returning, and he no longer seemed to be bothered by the effects of his illness.

  "I don’t have a fever."

  "Then you must be lying. It is impossible that you could have forgotten my being here."

  Alaric sighed. It appeared that Rowena would have to be enlightened or she would remain angry with him. He could only hope that the truth would not make her more furious.

  "I do not remember, Rowena, because I was dead drunk. I have no recollection of anything that happened after I left Charles last night."

  Rowena stared at him, aghast. "You were drunk? You were drunk on our wedding night? How could you?"

  "I had been informed that there was to be no wedding night," explained Alaric. "It seemed at the time to be an excellent solution. I certainly did not suppose that you might find out about it, being determined to avoid my bed."

  "That doesn’t mean I intended for you to leave me alone and to get disgustingly drunk. I thought perhaps we could have a quiet dinner together and some rational conversation."

  "I was not in the mood for conversation," murmured Alaric.

  Rowena flushed. "It is too bad of you to behave so, my lord. I had no idea that my simple request would cause you so much difficulty. But I must say that I feel very little sympathy for your predicament. As a matter of fact, I am quite glad for it."

  Alaric nodded. "I thought you might be. I can only say that I regret it deeply, particularly as you seem to have relented yesterday. May I ask what caused you to change your mind?"

  Rowena bit her lip. She was embarrassed by her weakness of the early morning hours. It was apparent that Alaric had managed to amuse himself sufficiently, and she did not wish him to think that her pleasure depended on his company. She could not let him know how much she cared for him.

  "Doubtless it was the long hours alone that demoralized me," she said sharply. "But do not be concerned. I will endeavor to amuse myself independently in the future. There are plenty of activities in London at this time of year. I will arrange my own escort in the future, so you will not be obliged to attend to me. It is unfashionable to be seen with one’s husband, after all."

  Alaric sighed. His admission had apparently not softened Rowena’s heart. Instead, she seemed more determined than ever to stick to their bargain. The knowledge that she had had second thoughts the night before, however, gave him hope.

  "Rowena, we should discuss this when I am feeling better. You know I have no desire to see you go the way of other Society brides."

  "Of course you don’t. I must first give you an heir before I may entertain myself, is that not so?" Rowena tossed her head. "Well, it will be a month before you can begin sowing your seed, my lord. As I said, my weakness will not be repeated."

  Alaric sank back onto his pillows. He was in no shape to argue with Rowena. He would simply have to woo her once again. Her passions were so strong that it could not be hard to win her over. He would make her forget this unfortunate start to their marriage as soon as he got her into bed with him. The thought made him smile.

  "Rowena, we will talk about this tonight," he said.

  "Do you intend to dine here? Or shall I tell the cook to prepare for only one?"

  "Of course I will dine with you," he said testily.

  "And shall I order large quantities of brandy to be placed in the drawing room? Or will you simply sit over your port until you are quite foxed?"

  Alaric raised a hand to his head. "Not now, Rowena."

  "Very well. I will leave you to your illness, my lord. I only regret that I ever felt sorry for you."

  Chapter 17

  Rowena flounced out of the room, a great sense of injustice rising in her. There was no excuse for Alaric’s actions. True, she had precipitated them by her behavior, but how was she to know he would proceed to get disgustingly drunk? Perhaps Lily did not care if he was intoxicated, but it was not a situation she intended to tolerate.

  She stormed into the parlor a few minutes later to find her aunt awaiting her. Lady Belmont rose immediately when Rowena came through the door and clasped her to her bosom.

  "My darling girl! How are you today? My poor child, I hope all is well."

  Rowena pulled back slightly, a bit startled. "I am fine, Aunt Louisa. I am no different simply because I married Brayleigh."

  Lady Belmont looked at her searchi
ngly. "If you say so, child. I hope he was gentle with you."

  Rowena flushed as the significance of her aunt’s words struck home. She could hardly tell her aunt the truth of the matter.

  "Everything is fine," she said. "Please do not worry about me."

  Lady Belmont shrugged. "Very well then. Brayleigh is a man of the world, I am sure he knows all the delicacies. So tell me, darling, how do you like being a Countess?"

  Rowena moved her hands restlessly. The truth of her twenty-four hours as Countess of Brayleigh was too odd to recount. "You know that I was not eager for this marriage, Aunt Louisa. But Alaric has been most considerate."

  "Thank heavens. I didn’t know what to expect from the man. After all, he has hardly been a friend to our family. I feared that he might...well, that he might frighten you."

  Rowena struggled for words, and was unutterably relieved when Ferguson opened the door and announced another visitor. Her aunt could hardly discuss intimate matters in front of others.

  The next hour passed swiftly, as callers came and went. They all seemed very curious to see Brayleigh’s new bride and to judge for themselves the status of the marriage. Rowena began to feel rather like a caged animal on display. It was all she could do not to return rude answers to some of the excessively prying questions she was asked.

  Just as she was beginning to wonder if she could perhaps escape by complaining of a headache, the door opened once again. Lady Bingham swept in with Mrs. Macomber and Lord Voxley in attendance. Marguerite bore down on Rowena, a brilliant smile on her lips.

  "My felicitations, Lady Rowena. Or must I say Countess? I vow, it is very odd to think that poor Brayleigh is finally married. I always knew that his activities would get him into trouble some day!"

  Rowena recoiled slightly as the baroness tried to embrace her, and smiled vaguely at Voxley and Mrs. Macomber. Lord Voxley gave her an insolent grin in return, and Mrs. Macomber pressed forward, taking her hand and squeezing it.