The School for Heiresses

by Sabrina Jeffries

  “Really?” Alyssa started to lift her arms to practice, but Violet caught her hands.

  “Not now! I’m tying the bows on your sleeves!”

  Within seconds, Alyssa was transformed from a mermaid into an angel. There were no mirrors in the salon, but she didn’t need one. Despite all her misgivings about singing, she suddenly felt very festive and even a little brave.

  “You look lovely!” Violet applauded her handiwork. “Every eye will be on you!”

  “Oh!”

  “Just follow my lead and do what I do, and you’ll be brilliant!”

  Before Alyssa could voice her anxiety about the duet or point out that she’d never been a “brilliant” performer, Violet had propelled her back through the doorway and into the music room. Conversations sputtered to an appreciative halt as the pair found their way to the pianoforte.

  Alyssa nervously had time for one last regret that they’d hardly practiced, but then the music began and it was all she could do to follow Violet’s lead. Luckily, Violet went first, singing in a lively soprano that honored the melody and beauty of the carol. At Alyssa’s turn, she stepped forward, determined not to disappoint. Her voice was softer than her cousin’s, a duskier alto that was less tailored to a salon performance, but Alyssa knew she could at least carry a tune. As she sang, her confidence grew a bit and she relaxed into the magic of the moment.

  As she took a deep breath, that confidence wavered as she felt the unmistakable splitting of a seam. She only hoped it wasn’t too visible. But at the final chorus, when she raised her arms as Violet had suggested, the problem became more than evident. Both seams gave way easily under her arms, and her sleeves slid off. She tried to catch them, but the quick movement made the back of the costume disintegrate and one of the wings dangled comically behind her. Alyssa was not immune to the chuckles and open looks of amusement at her appearance. The sight of a girl in some kind of disappearing angel costume singing a Yule tune was too ridiculous, and the giggling swelled as she curtsied after the final chord.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she recognized the painfully handsome figure of Mr. Yates and steeled herself not to risk a single glance toward him, just in case he, too, was struggling to hide his mirth.

  Polite applause made her knees feel rubbery, but before she could ask Violet to untie the sash and free her from the torn fabric, her cousin was leading her toward her father in the heart of the gathering. “He’ll want to embrace you. Go on!”

  “I don’t—”

  Her father was red-faced from attempting not to laugh, and stepped forward to offer encouragement. “My dear! You were lovely.”

  “You’re too kind. It seems I grew more than Violet estimated since she saw me last.” She turned with the question, but a bit too quickly and struck her father and the gentleman next to him with afwap from one of her loose wings.

  At the jolting contact, she attempted to correct the error and instead struck another guest, Mrs. Colter, who squealed in amusement.

  Mrs. Wolfe approached to attempt a rescue and met with a similar fate. “Here, dear, let me get that.”

  But Alyssa’s composure had crumbled. Gasps and giggles were interspersed with outright laughter at the novel spectacle of a fallen angel in their midst and it was more than her taut nerves could manage. She caught sight of Mr. Yates moving toward her, and decided that she’d suffered enough embarrassment for one evening.

  “If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Wolfe, I’ll just change in the salon.” Alyssa finally made her way to the salon door, retreating with tears of humiliation in her eyes.

  She swallowed hard and leaned for a moment against the door as the sound of muffled laughter reached her through the thick door.Oh, God. Word of this will reach every corner of England before New Year’s…and to think I was worried about wearing the wrong color slippers!

  The battle against her tears was lost, and Alyssa just let them fall.

  “Oh, my!” Violet gasped, putting a hand over her lips to hide her smile. “I did promise everyone it would be a memorable performance.”

  A few guests laughed at the cutting comment, but quieted as Leland approached. “Miss Horner, that was unforgivable.”

  Her amusement gave way to an icy expression of disregard. “I’ve done nothing wrong!”

  Without a word, Reid Martin turned his back on her and headed to the salon. Leland went after him and caught his arm. Reid looked back, outraged at being restrained. “I must see to my daughter!”

  “Please, sir,” Leland said, loosening his grip. “I would ask for that honor.”

  Outrage gave way to curiosity. “Would you?”

  Leland held his gaze, praying that somehow Martin would see past the chaos of the moment and allow him to go to her. “I want nothing more.”

  The man’s glance moved briefly to the door, his concern and care for his only child evident. But then he looked back at Leland, this time more closely, as if truly taking stock of him for the first time. “You didn’t laugh, did you, Mr. Yates?”

  “Tonight? No, of course not, but—”

  “No. Not tonight. I meant at dinner, last night. When everyone else was enjoying themselves about the mud puddle and her kittens…you didn’t join in.”

  It was a statement, not a question. Leland could only nod in admission, before Reid went on. “Even that first day, when Mrs. Wolfe shared too freely regarding my daughter’s mishap in the vicar’s garden, I don’t recall your laughing.”

  “It was a sweet memory, but clearly not one I would have wanted to hear in jest.” Leland shifted his weight, unsure if he was about to be lectured or praised. In either case, he was painfully aware of every second that Alyssa suffered alone on the other side of that door. “Please, sir. I’m not sure I’m making sense of this. If you’d allow me to just—”

  Reid nodded and lowered his voice so that only Leland could hear him. “You remind me of myself at your age. And I shall tell you that Alyssa’s mother ruled me with smiles and silly feminine pursuits that mystify me to this very day—but I would not trade an instant of it for a more sensible choice.” The older man’s eyes misted with emotion. “Go to her.”

  Leland didn’t hesitate, not even to absorb the impact of Reid’s blessing. Instead, he moved quickly to the door. Relieved to find it unlocked, he let himself in. The cheerful noise of the party was shut out instantly, and he spotted her—a fallen angel in tears by the fireplace.

  “Miss Martin…” He knelt in front of her, tenderly assessing her state.

  “Th-the…knot…i-is…too t-tight,” she whispered, her breath hitching between sobs and making the loose wings bobble in chorus. “It w-won’t…come…o-off.”

  She was so vulnerable, and his chest ached to see her brought so low. “There, now. I’m sure it’s not permanently attached. I’ll help you.” He reached out to brush her cheek, unable to not touch her. “You’re too wonderful to cry.”

  Her breath hitched one last time, but her shock at his words seemed to help her steady herself. “Y-you’ve had too much punch, Mr. Yates.”

  He smiled. It was the last thing he’d have expected her to say. “I haven’t had a single glass, Miss Martin.”

  “Oh.” She risked a shy smile of her own. “Then you’re just saying nice things to keep me from molting any further.”

  She was too close and too funny and too impossible not to kiss. Pent-up desire was unleashed as he drew her into his arms and tasted her. Her response was an intoxicating ether that wrested away the last of his control. Her lips parted beneath his, allowing him the access he craved to tease and stroke every sensitive curve and texture of her sweet mouth. She mirrored his movements and when her tongue met his, the room spun. His cock tightened, a spasm of need rippled through his frame. The angel in his arms shivered when his teeth grazed her lips and he swallowed her soft sighs and moans and then released her mouth only to trail whisper-light kisses down her bare throat.What sounds would his angel make when she climaxed against his mouth?
r />   Every inch of her. Mine.

  “M-Mr. Yates?”

  Oh, God. No conversation. Please don’t…

  “Is something burning?”

  He lifted his head slowly and realized that the evening’s mischief wasn’t quite over—one of her wings had trailed too close to the fire. The flames were spreading quickly and within moments she could be in mortal danger. He reacted instantly. He pushed her over onto the carpet and beat at the organza wings with his sleeves; then, using his body to protect her, he rolled them over and over across the room to ensure that the flames were suffocated.

  The maneuver happened so fast, she simply clung to him in astonishment as he lay over her. “Well, that was more than I’d expected.”

  “Really? They didn’t cover this at school?”

  Then they were both laughing, at least until the intimate nature of their embrace sifted back into Leland’s awareness. She was nestled quite contentedly beneath him, his upper body supported by his arms, the rest of his length firmly between her thighs, his arousal throbbing. Her father had given his blessing to comfort her, but Leland was fairly sure this was a bit more than Reid Martin had had in mind.

  “Happy Christmas, Miss Martin.”

  “You say that to all the flaming angels, I’m sure, sir.”

  “I have a weakness for angels like you.”

  He began to shift his weight off of her, but the friction proved to be his undoing. His world narrowed to the pulse of his own heart and the need to kiss her again.

  Just one more kiss.

  He lowered his mouth to hers. A grazing touch at first, teasing and featherlight, he explored each corner of her mouth and sensitive ripe lips, until she was trembling underneath him. Her hands fluttered against his chest, then began to explore, slipping under his coat and roaming over his chest. His skin ached to be free of the barrier that kept her fingertips from gliding against him. He deepened his kiss, and a new fire overtook them both. Though new to passion, she was proving to be an apt student, driving him on and beginning to take the lead. Her hands slid down to his waist and hips, exploring and pleasuring; Leland caught her wrist before she innocently strayed too far and he relinquished his sanity altogether.

  This is very dangerous. The party was only yards away and—

  “Alyssa?” Violet’s voice was like a bucket of icy water on them both. Leland instinctively put his fingertips to her mouth to urge her to silence and they both froze in place—too paralyzed at the thought of discovery to move.

  “Are you in here, dearest?”

  At the question, they both risked a quick peek at where they’d landed. Apparently, for once, trouble had decided to allow Miss Martin a lucky circumstance; they’d ended up on the floor behind the settee—temporarily out of sight from the doorway.

  “Cousin?” Violet called again, halfheartedly this time, though her footsteps drew nearer.

  Hearts pounding, they could only wait as long seconds dragged by until at last, Violet’s footsteps retreated, the door shut and they were once again alone.

  He removed his fingers. “Are you all right?”

  She grinned at him, nodding. Once again, they were co-conspirators, and she looked entirely unrepentant. “Are you trying to take advantage of me, sir?”

  The question chilled him.God, yes! And if your father and an entire Christmas party weren’t on the other side of that door…

  He began to extricate himself. “No.”

  She sat up and caught his shoulder, her other hand gripping his coat to prevent his complete withdrawal. “That wasn’t the right answer, Mr. Yates.”

  “No?” He gently shook his head. “I—despite how this appears…”

  She pushed against him, until they were both on their knees, her body so close that when she took a breath her breasts brushed against his chest. “I already understand what you arenot interested in. Please, just tell me what youare interested in.”

  He obeyed the command without hesitation. “I am interested in attempting to discover exactly how that mind of yours works. I am interested in learning that there is more to life than my business. I am interested in your talent for making me laugh and I am very interested in spoiling the hopes of every other man in England who will want you and love you the instant he sees you.”

  “That was a much better answer, Mr. Yates,” she said with a satisfied smile as she brushed his mussedup hair off his forehead. “Is there any chance you might help me out of this dreadful costume?”

  “I beg your pardon?” He arched an eyebrow and gave her a telling look full of erotic promise. “Are you asking me to help you undress?”

  “The knots…if you could help me get this wretched thing off.” She started to stand so that he might oblige her. “It’s a bit uncomfortable.”

  “Of course.” He stood easily and turned her around to make quick work of the knots, indulging in a few light caresses of her bared neck and shoulders as he did so. “There! You are mortal again, Miss Martin.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Leland readjusted his coat. “Shall we return to the gathering?”

  “You’re not embarrassed to be seen with me after…everything?” She pointed to her charred and discarded wings.

  “Never.” Leland reached into his coat pocket and withdrew his handkerchief. Slowly and tenderly, he worked the cloth across the tip of her nose to remove a smudge of soot. “Never, my love.”

  Epilogue

  Dear Mrs. Harris,

  While I have applied myself with utmost concentration and great effort to my last holiday assignment, I confess I may have failed. I can assure you I did my best to mind my surroundings and behave at all times as a true lady. Though no serious public scandal or destruction occurred in my wake, I did, in retrospect, manage the following:

  —To become quite stuck in a carriage window;

  —To have a run-in with a pack of ravenous pugs, resulting in the loss of one shoe;

  —To trap myself in tree branches and ruin a perfectly good bonnet;

  —To receive a singular mud bath behind my father’s gardens;

  —To experience a minor brush with the combustibility of angel wings (truly I was only singed a bit);

  And finally,

  —To gladly accept a proposal of marriage from Mr. Leland Yates of London, a fine man of outstanding character and disposition whom I madly and absolutely adore.

  I hope you aren’t too disappointed, as I remain…

  Your affectionate student,

  Miss Alyssa Martin