“It was more than what Lord Rutland modestly allows,” said Samuel. “Thugs tried to kill Alexandra and Lord Rutland took care of them in the first order.”
“He’s handy with his fists.” Anthony grinned. “Been awhile since we’ve had a serious bout, brother. Are you still in shape?”
Nicholas snorted. “Try me.”
Samuel spoke up. “I can confirm the condition of those two thugs if you’re worried about his competence. I was grieving in the cemetery and did not notice the two toughs following Alexandra. Lord Nicholas’s arrival at that time was by pure providence or she would have been cast over the cliff.”
“When I get done questioning them, I will release them to the magistrate. But enough of that controversy for now. This is Alexandra’s introduction to the family and I don’t want to spoil the occasion,” Nicholas said, his undisguised pride showing in his dark gaze.
“How did you survive that horrid Portuguese slaver? Hurricane? What did you eat?”
Amid the firestorm of questions, Rachel asked, “Tell us about your adventures.” Everyone quieted, awaiting her response.
Alexandra answered to the best of her ability, leaving out certain details. They were spellbound as she described how Nicholas had saved her from Damiano and how he hunted on the island for food and piped in water so they wouldn’t have to carry the water so far.
Alexandra glanced to the elderly woman unfolding from her chair and hobbling forward on her cane. “You are far too modest, Lady Sutherland, reciting what Nicholas has accomplished.”
She took Alexandra’s elbow and ushered her to a settee. “Am I the only one with civility? Sit and rest from your journey.” The old woman skewered Anthony. “Where’s Samuel’s chair?”
“This is Aunt Margaret,” Nicholas put in, placing a kiss on the elderly woman’s cheek as she sat next to Alexandra. “Don’t let her kindly manner deceive you. She is a hawk among canaries.”
Aunt Margaret brushed him aside. “Lady Sutherland, I want to hear about how you dove into the ocean in the middle of a hurricane and cut Nicholas away from the sinking rigging. How you had fed Nicholas through the hole in the wall. How you grew your food? Made medicine?”
Alexandra smiled at Nicholas. He had cast her in a positive light.
“Slow down, you are making her dizzy, Aunt Margaret. Alexandra is the true hero. Without her, I would not be here.”
Alexandra protested. “Nicholas is far too humble. Without him, I would not have survived.” She abbreviated answers to many of Aunt Margaret’s questions.
“So, when are the nuptials?” Aunt Margaret directed her steely gaze toward Nicholas.
He cleared his throat. “We married each other on the island and as far as I’m concerned, it is a real marriage.”
Alexandra dug the toe of her slipper into the soft Aubusson, waiting for scandalous gasps of disproval. To dive beneath the carpet and hide for the next decade had merit. She glanced about. There was no censure from anyone about the occurrences on the island other than Samuel’s loud ‘ahem’ that spoke volumes. When she had returned to Deconshire, she had kept the wedding part and its implications from her father.
Nicholas planted his feet in a wide stance. “None the less, I want it legal. We will be married as soon as a special license is procured and preparations are made. We’ll have the nuptials take place at the church in Bottesford and a wedding celebration at Belvoir. I don’t want to take any longer than necessary.”
“Done,” said his father.
Aunt Margaret stamped her cane on the floor. “You must court her in a short coming out. It is only proper.”
Duke Richard walked to an ornate liquor cabinet. “Aunt Margaret is right.”
“I take that as a compliment, Richard,” said Aunt Margaret.
Duke Richard poured himself a drink, swirled his glass. “I must have said it wrong.”
Rachel clapped her hands together. “So, romantic. But we must have a formal wedding. And... we must have Alexandra outfitted.”
Aunt Margaret turned to face Duke Richard. “And don’t forget the gowns for all the social engagements she’ll be invited to. Of course, Duke Richard, you will secure the invites?”
“Of course, Aunt Margaret,” The Duke said, bowing. “My secretary has already made the arrangements and ordered the dressmakers.”
Aunt Margaret glanced sideways at the room’s occupants. “Did I have any doubt?”
“Any more commands, Aunt Margaret?” The Duke raised his chin.
Alexandra covered her smile with her hand. Samuel coughed. Rachel giggled.
Aunt Margaret fluttered her fingers through the air. “To think you are as resourceful as that George Washington fellow in the Colonies with his revolution.”
“I thank you for the compliment, Aunt Margaret.”
“It wasn’t meant to compliment. That rascal has maneuvered the most powerful country in the world to licking his dust.”
Aunt Margaret leaned over and patted Alexandra on the knee. “I think that God, in creating man, somewhat overrated His ability. In your married life, you will understand why God invented women to make sure things are in order.”
Sudden tears hovered on Alexandra’s eyelashes, and she couldn’t seem to hold them back. Nicholas’s family accepted her.
Chapter 22
Soaking in the deliciously rose scented water and frothy bubbles up to her neck, Alexandra sighed. The remains of a scrumptious meal sat on the table by the vanity. Never had hot rolls dripping with cinnamon and butter or sweet cherries smothered in a liqueur tasted so wonderful. The eggs had been poached perfectly with a creamy béarnaise sauce, the sausages browned to perfection, and the tea steaming hot. She ate well, unused to such fine fare.
Nicholas had truly missed her, had gone nearly crazy hunting her, and that thought made her feel treasured. Her gaze roved over the stately room, taking in the blue, gold and pink rose themed wallpaper, the damask royal blue silken draperies, and the ornate rosewood furnishings.
Persian rugs in the same hues as the walls adorned the floors, and six matching embroidered pillows were strewn across a love seat that overlooked a side garden. It was a lovely room, and her mind whirled with enlightened and joyful emotions that tumbled chaotically over and around one another.
The thugs who had attempted to throw her off the cliffs. She dropped her sponge and pulled her knees up tight, willing the shaking to go away. She was safe now. Nicholas would protect her.
A knock at the door broke her out of her reverie. Rachel sailed into the room, followed by a maid with a stack of gowns in her arms. “I’m guessing we are about the same size. I’ve chosen gowns from my wardrobe until your gowns are made.” She asked the maid to hang the dresses in a massive armoire.
Rachel plucked a blue linen gown from the pile and held it up in front of her. “I think the coloring of this would look lovely on you. Scandalous, but a new style started by Queen Marie Antoinette. The chemise a’ la’ reine is incredibly light and simple, consisting of layers of blue, thin muslin with a low-laced bodice, belted at the waist and no panniers. Comfortable for when I’m working in the laboratory with Anthony, but scandalous.”
Alexandra smiled. What would Rachel think of her attire on the island where she gallivanted in nothing but her chemise and no undergarments?
“When we arrive at Belvior, I want to show you the bathtub I invented.”
“Invented? How does it work?” The woman was a wonder.
“Nicholas’s father was very generous in allowing me to tinker with my project. Water is heated and stored in a cistern behind the fireplace in the kitchen, and then pumped by pumps I had installed to a second-floor chamber. The apparatus cuts down on the need to haul buckets of water up and down the stairs.”
“You are a fascinating woman, Rachel. I can’t wait to see your bathing chamber.”
Rachel held up a towel. “No more than you, Alexandra. To survive what you did…why, you are extraordinary. You must dry off. The
dressmakers are downstairs and ready to measure you.”
Alexandra stood abruptly, sloshing water over the floor. “So soon?”
“The Rutland men work quickly and demand service in a fastidious manner. There is the matter of having a dress ready for the opera this evening.”
Alexandra wrapped the towel around her. “Opera! I’ve always wanted to attend an opera.”
“That is what Nicholas said. I told him to wait, that you needed your rest from your travels. He has ordered carte blanche on your new wardrobe and we must not disappoint.”
Like a swarm of locusts, a team of seamstresses flooded into the room. Inspecting Alexandra, the head dressmaker made clucking sounds with her tongue, inserting a “oui” intermittently to demonstrate her approval. Alexandra stood on a stool while a rich array of silks, satins and brocades were ushered forward for her perusal.
Overemphasizing her French accent, the dressmaker postured. Not because she was French but because it was deemed fashionable and no doubt more profitable. “I will make magnificent clothing. Your figure and coloring are glorious.” She clapped her hands and a seamstress handed her a tape measure.
The pin-sticking dressmaker draped fabric over her, measuring and re-measuring. Laces, bombazines, undergarments, silk stockings, were flashed before her and decided upon, everything to outfit a queen. The dressmaker fussed and her seamstresses nodded in agreement. Alexandra started to protest the expense but Rachel shook her head.
Rachel sampled a pastry from a tea tray a maid had brought in. “I can’t resist anything but temptation, including cream puffs.” She licked the cream from her lips. “Most importantly, I am tempted to share proud news…my husband, Lord Anthony has been invited to be a member to the Royal Society of Science for a discovery he made.”
Alexandra’s eyes widened. Nicholas had informed her that his brother had a scientific passion and the Royal Society of Science was greatly esteemed. “What did he discover?”
“He has developed a battery that retains electricity longer than normal.”
“I would love to see his device.”
“I’m sure he’d love to show you for the sole reason he’d use any excuse to be back in his laboratory. Only the fact that his brother was alive and returning on a ship were we able to tear him away. I enjoy the entertainments London has to offer so it is going to be a splendid time showing you around.”
Hours passed. A sudden wave of vertigo befell her and she had to step down. Her stomach flip-flopped. The illness she contracted on the ship was making an untimely entrance. “I need some time to myself.”
She begged Rachel with her eyes. Now.
Rachel sprang from her chair and clapped her hands. “Everyone out. Lady Sutherland needs her rest. You have enough measurements to go on.”
The dressmaker raised an eyebrow, picked up the bolts of materials and accoutrements and huffed out, her seamstresses following in her wake.
Alexandra sagged against the mahogany bedpost as she struggled not to retch. Pressing her handkerchief to her lips, she closed her eyes and willed her unruly stomach not to rebel. Her head pounded. Never had she felt this miserable in her life.
Her eyes snapped open in distress. Rachel had miraculously produced a commode and Alexandra wrapped her arms around her abdomen and leaned forward to retch.
A few tears were squeezed from her tightly shut eyes as she bowed and retched again. The muscles in her abdomen continued to spasm until her stomach felt like a fist. A few minutes later, she straightened and flopped on the bed.
Rachel pulled a gold brocade comforter over her. “Does Nicholas know he is to be a father?”
Alexandra tightened her fingers on the bedding. Never. The doctor told her she could never have a baby. Could she? Her breasts were fuller and ached. She’d been so terribly ill over the last weeks, but it usually went away by the end of midmorning. She had been a bundle of nerves, blaming her emotional state leaving Nicholas.
“Your assumption is ridiculous, Lady Rutland.”
“Really? My mother was the same way with my younger brother, Thomas. I have been around enough women who have suffered the same characteristic symptoms.”
“Whatever do you mean? I can’t get pregnant. I fell from a tree when I was a child. The doctor told me so.”
“Rubbish. An illogical notion. I’m expecting, so I know the signs firsthand. My doctor comes this afternoon. I’ll let him slip in and examine you.”
Alexandra clasped her hands under her chin. Her greatest sorrow was her barrenness, and Rachel had pulled her from a box of darkness into light. The miraculous possibility of having a child radiated through her chest and arms and legs. And not just any child, Nicholas’s child.
Her hands splayed across her abdomen. To hold her baby in her arms? It was the beginning of all things, of wonder, of hope, a dream of possibilities.
“Rachel, do you think it is possible that I could be a mother?”
Rachel slanted her head. “I assume you were not working at survival with all that time spent on the island.”
Alexandra wanted to die of mortification.
Rachel smiled. “For now, we’ll keep it a secret until it is confirmed.”
Chapter 23
The opera house was a cacophony of sound. Alexandra entered the box unable to conceal her delight. Great chandeliers hung from a vaulted ceiling, and below in the gallery, and like so many blossoms, women dressed in rainbows of color gathered in the tiers of elegant and spacious boxes.
Alexandra pulled her gaze from Nicholas and glanced around at the young dandies in their bright satin waistcoats in the mezzanine below, trying to gain the interests of the young ladies. Instead of admiring the compliments of their nearby suitors, the young ladies stared at Nicholas. Like a painting created with an eye for drama, the lighting revealed his ruggedly chiseled face, underscored by impeccably tailored midnight black attire, his air of smooth refinement, making the ladies gawk and practically swoon from their seats.
Except for one woman in the box opposite them. Alexandra reared back. The woman in the beautiful gown, surrounded by anxious suitors and staring daggers at her, was Nicholas’s former fiancée. Had he noticed her?
Nicholas took Alexandra’s cape from her shoulders and a slow admiring gaze swept across his features. The dressmaker had promised a marvelous creation and had produced a sensation out of a dress that had been promised to another customer but readied for Alexandra instead. She wanted to twirl around for his inspection. Her gown of emerald satin accentuated her narrow waist and clung provocatively to her full breasts, and then fell gracefully to the floor.
“I dreamed of you on the island in such a gown,” he said leaning over to whisper in her ear, “…just so I could remove the garment later.”
Alexandra blushed. “I did not realize the dress would produce such vice and depravity.”
“Exactly.” A lazy grin swept across his tanned face. “I have a fond memory of long sultry nights beneath undulating palm trees. You cannot, Lady Sutherland, begin to imagine the wickedness I’m entertaining.” His voice rich and deep, so dear and familiar to her, wiped away any uncertainty she had of his feelings for his former fiancée.
“You must stop, my Lord. All the women watching you will guess your thoughts. My reputation will be in ruins,” Alexandra teased in a laughter-tinged voice.
Nicholas’s smile vanished. “I am jealous, Lady Sutherland. Those young bucks are staring at you, the most beautiful woman in the room.”
Nicholas had paid her the highest compliment. She glanced at her audience. He was right. They were staring at her.
Alexandra smiled but Nicholas was not pleased. He passed an impassive glance over her male admirers until they were forced to look away.
“I do not agree with the coming out period nor the idea of sharing you at all,” he said, bluntly. “I should dispense with this charade and haul you off to Gretna Green.”
Alexandra angled her head to the melee below. “Are yo
u telling me there is not one suitable companion?” she teased.
“Not one. And if one of those vipers has more than one dance with you at balls we are to attend, I shall heave them out on a doorstep.”
His blunt answer made her laugh. He eyed her breasts with a bold, speculative gleam that left her breathless. “What a perfectly unchivalrous thing to say!”
“Chivalry is for callow youths and old men,” Nicholas informed her with a serious inflection in his voice. “However, I shan’t put up with this inconvenience for long. You sitting next to me will be a statement sent to all of London that you are mine.”
“Don’t be a boor and keep this enchanting lady all to yourself,” chastised Anthony. He bowed to Alexandra, made apologies for being late, and then seated his wife. “I don’t know why you dragged me here this evening, Rachel,” he said over Nicholas’s head. “To listen to a bunch of Italian eunuchs squawl like a bunch of cats.”
Rachel shushed her husband and Alexandra placed her fan over her mouth to hide her smile. To sit through an opera must be difficult for a man with Anthony’s prodigious and scientific mind.
A tall man entered their box. He possessed an unblinking eye, black as obsidian and made of glass. Alexandra did a double take and remembered Nicholas’s story of his uncle that he told her on the island.
Nicholas stood and said, “Alexandra, this is my Uncle Cornelius, the Duke of Westbrook.”
The man’s elegant clothing fit well, his wig perfectly brushed and powdered, yet there was an expression of forced civility in his comportment.
He took Alexandra’s proffered hand, bent over and kissed it. His touch owned the infiltrating cold of a serpent. She shivered. She drew her fingers back, but he held fast, scrutinizing her like she was a misplaced ghost. Countless emotions flashed across his face. Adoration? Resentment? Why? He held her overlong for what was appropriate. She tugged her hand.
At her movement, the Duke of Westbrook came to life and, eye refocusing, he released her fingers, and then turned, clapped Nicholas on the back. “Been trying to catch up with you since your return, but you’ve been on the run. Know that I’m always available to help you, Nicholas, and I understand there is to be a wedding.”
Only You: Duke of Rutland Series III Page 19