The School for Heiresses

by Sabrina Jeffries

  Regret or restraint. I seem to be in short supply of both when it comes to this woman.

  Her eyelids lowered, and he gave in to the primal impulse to possess her. He leaned in to kiss her, anticipation stoking the fire as his blood surged and his cock hardened. Desire dictated his actions, and Leland drew her into his arms for a hungry kiss. Her mouth parted at the onslaught, and her sighs whipped him on as he savored the soft sweetness of her lips and tongue, devouring and tasting, exploring each texture of her until he lost track of where he ended and she began. He’d called her a siren, but it was his own body that seemed to sing with every breath she took. Feminine curves beckoned, and his hands moved of their own volition down her back to her tiny waist, then to the firm mound of her bottom. Fingers splayed, he lifted her up against him, deliberately pressing his hardened length against her, relishing the friction of the clothes that constrained them and all too aware of the luxurious heat between her legs.

  “Leland?” she managed breathlessly, her lips grazing the sensitive shell of his ear and sending shock waves down his spine. “The mud…you’ll ruin your coat…”

  He smiled, reveling in the odd twists of logic in that beautiful head of hers. He bent over to release her briefly only to sweep her off her feet, lifting her into his arms to cradle her against his chest. “I’m not sure that’s the ruin we should be worrying about, sweetling.”

  “Oh,” she whispered, and he savored the heated and dazed look in her eyes as she struggled for composure in the wake of his attentions.

  “Alyssa!” Violet squealed as she came around the path, her eyes wide in shock.

  Leland froze instantly, loathing the intrusion and the change in Alyssa’s countenance, the horror and shame that flooded her eyes, but there was no doubt the damage was done.

  Unless…He decided to brazen it out.

  “I’ve got you,” he whispered, making no move to put her down. Alyssa squeaked in surprise, and he went on more loudly to Miss Horner before the performance was spoiled, “She fell and was unsteady on her feet. Thank goodness you arrived when you did, Miss Horner.”

  “I…I came to tell you that we found Binkley in the garden…” She gave the pair an assessing look, but clearly felt more comfortable focusing on her cousin. “You’re filthy!”

  “I hardly think that matters,” he interjected sternly. “She may be hurt!”

  “N-no!” Alyssa protested, but her confusion and flushed color only gave his lie more momentum. “I’m fine, really!”

  “Here, let’s set you down and make sure.” He gently rested her back on her stone perch, risking a small conspiratorial wink once his back was turned to Violet. He knelt in front of Alyssa. “Feeling better?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Alyssa replied. “I feel so foolish for slipping.”

  Violet’s cheeks colored, her vexation apparent. She stepped forward, her eyes narrowing with displeasure. She reached inside her coat pocket and withdrew a handkerchief. Violet used it to wipe the dirt off of her cousin’s nose, then turned the cloth to be sure that Alyssa could see the results.

  Leland clenched his jaw in frustration as the last hint of confidence in Alyssa’s eyes vanished.

  Alyssa shook her head, snatching the telltale cloth from Violet’s fingers, “I should go back to the house and change out of these clothes. Mr. Yates, thank you for your assistance.”

  She turned swiftly, Violet following, and he was left to watch the two women head up the path. In the winter sunlight, his gaze was drawn to Alyssa. She walked slightly ahead of her cousin, a queen unaffected by the scolding creature in her wake. Leland suspected that her feelings were not as untouched by Violet’s censure as she pretended. Nor by anyone else’s censure, he was sure.

  What a tangle she presented. It shouldn’t matter to him, none of it. She would have her debut and marry some crusty blueblood, and the thought of it made his stomach churn. In rooms where using the wrong fork meant banishment, how would such a sweet sprite fare? How long before the mischievous light in her eyes gave way to miserable quiet?

  He had never envisioned Alyssa Martin when conjuring his ideal. She was none of the things he had listed as necessary in a wife. Instead, every moment with her was an adventure and every conversation was unpredictable and entertaining. She defied convention, but he could think of nothing unladylike about her. Every time he touched her, she was like a living flame in his arms and he lost all control.

  Compared to her, all other women were pale, demure shadows.

  It shouldn’t matter.

  But God help him, he was actually beginning to accept that she mattered to him more than he wished. And there was nothing he could do about it.

  “You were practically throwing yourself at him!” Violet spat out the words.

  Alyssa kept her pace up until she reached her rooms, unwilling to have this quarrel in the public rooms of her father’s home. “Your unexpected arrival gave you the wrong impression, cousin. I was hardly throwing—”

  “He was holding you and it looked very much as if you were going to kiss him!”

  Alyssa’s cheeks colored furiously. Still, she could hardly let Violet know the worst. “I’d slipped, as you can plainly see”—she pointed to her muddied skirts—“and he had thought to steady me. Mr. Yates is a gentleman and was only being courteous. You are confusing, I suspect, my actions with your own feelings in this instance.”

  Violet pursed her lips. “Perhaps.”

  “There, you see?” Alyssa turned to her mirror, her dismay renewed as the impact of her appearance hit home. Oh, God, he’d been about to kiss her again—and they’d come dangerous seconds away from total disgrace. She’d been a breath away from ruin and hadn’t cared a whit.My goodness, I look like a mud rat. How in the world could he possibly wish to kiss a mud rat?

  Violet stood next to her, and the contrast between them was painfully obvious. Violet was the ultimate vision of beauty and the feminine arts while she looked like a dirty child. Alyssa abandoned the mirror, and allowed Violet to make her own judgments.

  Violet was silent for the briefest span, then she sighed. “It’s just that…he’s always so serious. And when I saw him smiling at you…”

  “It’s hard to keep a sober expression around girls in mud puddles, cousin. I would hardly blame the man.”

  “And I can barely get ten words out of him, yet there he is apparently comfortable enough with you.” Violet’s pout was more evident now, and Alyssa gritted her teeth in frustration.

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that…you should be more careful. Anyone less understanding might read things into your behavior and misinterpret your actions. I mean, for a girl who has declared little interest in landing a husband, one might wonder what exactly you are after in your attentions to Mr. Yates.”

  “You can’t be serious!”

  “You aren’t out yet. Perhaps you don’t understand the rules.”

  “I know the rules!”

  “Good.” Violet’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You are dear to me, cousin. And I should hate to see you unknowingly disgrace yourself or your father.”

  Alyssa found it difficult to breathe, she was so furious.

  “I thank you for the advice,” she replied before she could think better of it. “Especially from someone who has openly declared her desire to land a husband at any price. A few weeks more, and I’m sure I’ll think more of my prized dancing slippers than anything else. Not even how ignorant and desperate I look chasing after a man simply because he is the only openly eligible one within reach! You care nothing for him, Violet! You only care that you win him!”

  “How dare you!” Her cousin stomped her foot.

  “Well, you’ve won! There’s no competition for you to destroy or outwit here! Wrangle the man, as you wish! Out or not, I can assure you that I am the last woman on earth Mr. Yates would choose.”

  Violet’s mouth fell open and closed, a shocked imitation of a fish out of wate
r.

  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have my maid draw a hot bath and help me change clothes before supper.” Alyssa watched her cousin storm from the room, and instantly her bravado and fury wilted. It had been a petty catfight and now she feared she’d lost more than her cousin’s friendship.

  Nothing Violet had accused her of had been unwarranted, even if she had been less than gracious in her tone. Alyssa had been caught up once again in Mr. Yates’s hypnotic gaze and warm embrace, eager to experience the pleasure he gave her. Her behavior had been beyond thoughtless and undeniably wanton.

  She yanked on the bellpull, and sat on a wooden trunk with a sodden plop. If there was a line to be crossed, she couldn’t remember seeing it in the wake of his heavenly caresses, but she knew she was well beyond the pale. Leland Yates was a force to be reckoned with, and nothing Mrs. Harris had mentioned had even come close to arming Alyssa against his kisses. Only one thing was not in doubt. She was in terrible danger of forming an attachment that had no hope of success and would only break her heart. How was that for an “incident”?

  Six

  Violet?” Alyssa knocked softly on the door again. The hot bath and change of clothes had settled her nerves considerably. If only she could manage an apology to Violet before dinner…She needed an ally, not a rival, and the argument had been entirely her fault. No matter what effect Mr. Yates had on her senses, she had no right to lash out at Violet. Her cousin had always been a loyal confidante and quick with sage advice. She longed to tell Violet of her father’s invitation to Mrs. Wolfe, and receive some friendly sympathy to bolster her courage.

  Instead there was no response to her knock.

  “Beg pardon, Miss Martin, but she’s already gone downstairs,” one of the maids said as she passed her in the hall, and Alyssa conceded defeat.

  “Thank you, Betsy. I’ll be sure to join her.”

  Betsy curtsied and disappeared quickly back down the corridor, and Alyssa was left to make her own way downstairs. Perhaps she might still find Violet alone for an opportune moment to repair some of the damage. She composed a speech as she went, but lost her train of thought just outside of the sitting room. She was brought to an abrupt standstill as she realized that the door had been left ajar. Mrs. Wolfe’s voice was unmistakable.

  “I tell you in sincere confidence, Mrs. Cunningham, that no man should be left to raise a daughter alone! Oh, he has done his best and been forced to turn to strangers and tutors, but where is the help there?”

  “Oh, I’m sure it is not so dire. She is—”

  Mrs. Wolfe interrupted, having paused only for breath. “What are strangers compared to a mother’s loving guidance? Miss Martin has been overindulged and, I fear, overeducated, as any only child might be. It is only natural for poor Mr. Martin to do so, without a woman’s wisdom and restraint to temper his generosity.”

  “Oh!” Mrs. Cunningham exclaimed.

  From Alyssa’s vantage point on the other side of the door, it sounded as if Mrs. Cunningham had wisely decided not to reply. Eavesdropping was a terrible act, but Alyssa couldn’t bring herself to move.

  “At least I can offer him assistance now with her debut.” She lowered her voice slightly, and Alyssa blushed to realize she was leaning forward to catch her next words. “It’s an important time in a young woman’s life. I’d be honored to help Re—Mr. Martin steer his daughter toward matrimonial happiness.”

  It’s hopeless. Four weeks of her company and I’ll be willing to marry the first man who asks me—just to escape her!

  “Miss Martin!” Mr. Cunningham hailed her cheerfully as he came up behind her. “Are the ladies not yet within?”

  “Yes, of course. I was just…wondering if I should have brought my wrap.”

  “The hall is far draftier than the sitting and dining rooms, I can assure you! Come, my dear, I’m sure everyone is waiting for us. Myself, I am notoriously late, so this is a happy chance for me to find you.”

  She was guided across the threshold, directly into the line of fire.

  “Ah, there is my dearest girl!” Mrs. Wolfe stood to greet her with her usual effusive embrace. “I understand you made quite an effort this afternoon to find my lost Binkley. I want to thank you.”

  “No thanks are needed. I understand he was ultimately found in the garden.”

  “Can you imagine? All that running about and it was our timid Mrs. Cunningham who managed the feat! And by simply sitting very still!” Mrs. Wolfe marveled merrily, returning to her seat.

  “I…I had the cook’s help,” Mrs. Cunningham confessed with a blush. “A bit of last night’s squab wrapped in a napkin did most of the work.”

  “At least you accomplished his rescue without resorting to a swimming lesson,” Violet added as she came into the room. She smiled as she went on. “But how clever of you to think of bait, Mrs. Cunningham.”

  “Yes, how clever,” Alyssa echoed softly, conceding that there was no chance for a truce or apologies. She’d earned a miserable evening by misbehaving earlier.

  “Our own dogs used to favor squab,” Mrs. Cunningham supplied, “so it was just a guess.”

  “We had larger dogs, of course!” Mr. Cunningham chimed in, looking pleased that the topic was familiar to him. “Fit to hunt, but disciplined enough for the house.”

  Luckily, the conversation momentarily veered away from Violet’s hint at Alyssa’s earlier mishap to the subject of hounds and their preferences. Alyssa tried to catch her cousin’s gaze, but without success. Then, upon the arrival of a very dashing Mr. Yates alongside her father, dinner was announced and they proceeded into the dining hall with minimal ceremony.

  She did her best to ignore the livelier end of the table. It was hard to tell if Violet’s charms were having any effect on Mr. Yates, but apparently there was no shortage of female merriment between Mrs. Wolfe and Violet. It was even harder to concentrate on Mr. Cunningham’s discourse on the workings of his new mill when she realized that the subject of mud puddles was once again being broached.

  “Now what was that earlier about swimming lessons?” Mrs. Wolfe asked.

  “I’m afraid Alyssa tumbled into a mud puddle, poor thing!” Violet confided. “It’s a wonder she didn’t catch her death of cold.”

  “It was hardly a tumble,” Mr. Yates countered, his expression stern with displeasure.

  “Mr. Yates is being kind. He is too sweet a man to tell you that she was muddy from head to toe.” Violet sighed. “She must have ruined your coat, Mr. Yates.”

  “Oh, my!” Mrs. Wolfe burst into laughter.

  “I came upon them and was quite cross,” Violet admitted, her brown eyes fastened on her quarry. “I owe Mr. Yates an apology. It’s just that seeing my dear cousin in such a state—I was mortified on her behalf. I hope I didn’t overstep, sir.”

  “How could you not be distressed?” Mrs. Wolfe said quickly. “But what a scene! I warrant it was richer even than that time our Miss Martin attempted to paint her kittens!” Across the length of the table, Mr. Martin cleared his throat and Mrs. Wolfe gave him a contrite smile. “But we can leave tales for another time…”

  Violet brightened, and leaned toward Mr. Yates. “Has Mrs. Wolfe told you about our plans for the Christmas Eve party tomorrow night, sir?”

  He shook his head. “She has not.”

  “I haven’t had the chance!” Mrs. Wolfe spoke between bites. “You are most elusive, sir!”“I’m sure he is simply occupied with his manly pursuits! You mustn’t tease him, Mrs. Wolfe. Mr. Yates has better things to do than bother with our schemes.” Violet brushed her arm against his as she reached for her glass. “But tomorrow night, we may yet win his attention.”

  He arched an eyebrow warily. “And how is this to be achieved?”

  “Alyssa and I are going to perform a song. A carol for the season, and I guarantee you won’t be able to take your eyes off of her!” Violet grinned. “It will be nothing short of memorable.”

  He looked down the table and caug
ht Alyssa’s gaze. Her last hope of escaping her musical performance was extinguished as the rest of the table added their endorsements.

  “What a pleasure that will be!” Mrs. Cunningham said.

  “Better our lovely Miss Martin and Miss Horner than myself,” Mr. Cunningham jested. “My singing has been known to set dogs to howling!”

  Everyone laughed, with one or two exceptions. Alyssa knew why she wasn’t giggling, but why Mr. Yates missed the joke, she wasn’t sure.

  At last dinner was over, and the guests were dispersing to their own rooms and pursuits. Alyssa lingered to walk her father to his study, where his usual evening’s routine dictated port and a cigar. At the door, she hesitated while she debated how to broach a new and delicate subject that had troubled her as she watched him at dinner. “Father, you…you’re quite fond of Mrs. Wolfe, aren’t you?”

  He colored, his eyes dropping for a telltale second, and Alyssa was sure she had her answer. “She has been a good friend through the years and I won’t deny that I admire her lively nature.”

  “I’m happy for you, then.”

  He shook his head. “You are as transparent as crystal, dearest. You cannot see how I can compromise after loving your mother as I did.”

  “No…well, perhaps. You always swore that no one could take her place, and while I’m not adverse to it, Mrs. Wolfe is just not…whom I’d imagined for you.”

  He laughed. “You sound like a perfect mother hen worrying over me as if I am a fledgling chick! I am not a young man and without experience, Alyssa. I shall leave great love to your generation. My happiness doesn’t demand the same wonderful heights it once did.”

  “Are you sure?” She leaned forward, more worried now that he’d admitted his feelings were so tame. “Perhaps when we go to London, it will be you who will find a true match.”