You, and Only You

by Jennifer McNare

  Damn Melborne for stringing him along for so long, he fumed. In addition to his unremitting desire to help the children, the bloody land acquisition had become a sort of challenge between them, a contest to be won or lost. And truth be told, if there was one thing he hated, it was losing, especially to an unworthy opponent like William Marlowe. But to gamble his future on the mere turn of a card, it was insanity.

  He closed his eyes, sighing heavily. It was a mistake. For behind his lids the image of Tiffany lying beneath him as she had just hours ago, her beautiful face flushed with desire and awakening passion, invaded his thoughts without warning, feeling much like an unexpected punch to the gut. He heard a sound behind him then, Melborne rising from his chair. He needed to make a decision and he needed to make it now.

  Opening his eyes, he turned from the window and met the marquess’ inquiring gaze. “I agree to your terms,” he said after a long pause, his voice completely devoid of inflection.

  Having summoned one of the Leighton’s footmen to fetch a deck of cards, Alex and William had then moved to sit across from one another at a small, square table in the corner of the library. Now, as they awaited the man’s return, the silence between them grew increasingly uncomfortable.

  Alex tried to distract himself with the plans he had for the property he was about to acquire, for win or lose, the land would finally be his. However, as much as he tried, he couldn’t seem to keep thoughts of Tiffany from breaking into his silent ponderings. Within minutes his fate would be determined. Was Tiffany Marlowe destined to become his wife or would his exasperating dealings with William Marlowe finally come to an end with his bachelorhood intact? Though he understood what would happen if he lost, he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if William lost. What would Tiffany’s fate be then? Would William seek yet another way to use his daughter to bolster his bleak financial state of affairs? With her incredible beauty, grace and charm, Tiffany would surely be viewed as a worthy prize for any man. Would her father take her to London then? Parading her before all of the wealthy, single gentlemen, seeking to marry her off to the highest bidder without a thought to her wishes? Recalling William’s words from earlier, Tiffany will do exactly as she is told to do, just as she always has, he felt his stomach drop. Agitatedly, he began to drum his fingers atop the table.

  Minutes later, when the door finally opened, it was not the young footman who entered the room, but the Duke of Sethe.

  “I happened upon Owen in the hall,” Nicholas said in way of explanation, as he held up an unopened deck of cards. “The two of you didn’t get your fill of cards last night?”

  His friend’s expression was noticeably perplexed as he glanced back and forth between him and William. “We’ll only be playing one hand,” Alex informed him.

  Nicholas’ brow rose questioningly. “A wager?”

  Alex’s tone was impassive, his expression composed. “It’s a private matter, I’m afraid.”

  “I see,” Nicholas responded, though it was clear he had no idea as to what the two of them were about.

  “Since he’s here, perhaps we should ask His Grace to serve as witness, in addition to dealing the cards?” William suggested.

  They had agreed earlier to allow the footman to do both of those things, but Alex saw no reason that Nicholas could not perform the tasks. “Would you mind?” he asked.

  “Not at all.”

  Retrieving the written terms that he and Alex had both signed from his jacket pocket, William folded the single sheet of paper so that only their signatures at the bottom were visible. Laying it atop the table, he indicated the line directly above the word witness.

  Fetching a pen from the nearby writing desk, Nicholas signed his name dutifully atop the line. “One hand?” he asked, as William refolded the document and placed it within his pocket once again.

  Both men nodded.

  “The game?”

  “Bluff.”

  “I’ll fetch a chair.” Nicholas walked toward the two wingback chairs flanking the fireplace, dragging one of them across the carpet and positioning it between the two men. Breaking the seal on the cards, he then fanned them out face up across the table.

  After looking them over, Alex and William both nodded their approval.

  Gathering the cards into his hands, Nicholas expertly shuffled the deck and then dealt the cards one by one.

  Once all of the cards had been dealt, both Alex and William lifted them from the table and silently studied their hands.

  Though he made no outward indication, Alex was more than pleased with the cards he’d been dealt. Tossing two of his cards aside, he waited for William to make his decision. The marquess hesitated a moment, and then pitched three of his own cards to the side.

  After Nicholas had dealt the remaining cards, Alex watched William closely as he viewed his final hand. Unfortunately, he’d only played at the same table as the marquess a handful of times over the years, and therefore hadn’t developed a good read on the man. However, he was adept at picking up the smallest signals from his opponents and didn’t miss the brief, nearly indiscernible flicker of relief that glinted in William’s eyes. The marquess had a strong hand. Glancing at his own cards, he kept his features completely inscrutable as he evaluated his hand, giving nothing away, a talent he’d long-ago perfected.

  Staring fixedly at Alex’s face, William laid his cards face up upon the table. Though his expression was confident, Alex detected a hint of fear in the older man’s demeanor. The marquess wanted the win badly, perhaps even desperately. Alex looked down once again, staring blankly at the cards he held in his hand. This was it. His future would be foretold the moment he laid down his cards.

  “Alex?”

  He looked up, meeting Nick’s questioning gaze. He said nothing. Turning back to the marquess, he eyed the man silently for a moment, wondering if the contempt and loathing he felt for the man was evident on his face. Gathering his cards together, he placed the small stack upside down upon the table, conceding his defeat.

  William heaved an audible sigh of relief just before he allowed a wide, smug grin to spread across his face.

  “Congratulations, Melborne,” Alex said dispassionately.

  William dipped his head in acknowledgement, still grinning as he rose from his chair. “I’ll be traveling to London next week along with my daughter to attend to some business matters,” he began. “If you’ll be in the city, we can discuss the final arrangements then.”

  “As you wish,” Alex replied. Sitting back in his chair, he casually folded his hands in his lap. “And in regard to the other interested party?”

  Clearly the marquess understood what he was asking. “Until then, the nature of our business shall remain strictly between the two of us.”

  Alex nodded.

  “If you will excuse me, Your Grace, Chesterfield,” he said, nodding to each man in turn. “I should go and ready myself for the evening meal.”

  “Of course,” Nicholas said, rising from his chair.

  Alex said nothing, remaining seated as the marquess hastened from the room.

  Dropping back into his chair, Nicholas turned to Alex expectantly. “Well? Would you care to tell me what the hell that was all about?” he asked.

  Alex sighed heavily before answering. “No, actually I wouldn’t.”

  “Alex-?”

  Rising from his chair, Alex placed his hand briefly upon his friend’s shoulder. “I’ll see you at dinner.” With that, he walked unhurried from the room.

  Following Alex’s retreating figure with his eyes, Nicholas watched him until he was gone, a mixture of puzzlement and frustration evident upon his features. Turning back to the table, he glanced at Alex’s cards, still lying face down where he’d left them. Idly, he reached out and flipped them over. Glancing to the marquess’ cards and then back to Alex’s, he cocked his head to the side, his eyes widening in surprise and confusion.

  As Alex strode down the hall, moving in the direction of the fr
ont staircase, the full realization of what had just occurred pressed upon him like a load of bricks, crushing in its weight. Bloody hell! He was getting married.

  Chapter 8

  Having taken her seat amongst the other dinner guests at the Leighton’s massive dining table, Tiffany’s gaze bounced fleetingly from one person to another as she tried not to stare at the man seated directly across from her. With her father sitting next to her, the last thing she wanted was to draw his attention to the fact that she had more than a passing interest in the Earl of Chesterfield, especially after what had transpired between them earlier in the day. However, in all honesty she didn’t wish to draw his notice at all, for when the marquess chanced to pay attention to her, he tended to find fault more often than not. Fortunately, Lady Tisdale, a lovely, middle-aged widow was seated on her father’s other side and he seemed quite content to direct the majority of his attention to her.

  “Lady Tiffany, I heard your father mentioning earlier that the two of you would be traveling to London next week.”

  Tiffany turned to the man seated at her right, the handsome Duke of Rutherford, and tried to keep the surprise from showing on her face. Her father had said nothing to her regarding an upcoming trip to London, but of course he rarely felt the need to inform her of his plans, whether they involved her or not. “Did he?” she replied, smiling politely. She couldn’t help wondering why her father would wish for her to accompany him, for the official start of the Season wouldn’t commence for several more months.

  “As I too may be journeying to London later in the month, I was hoping that I might have the opportunity to call upon you.”

  “I would be honored if you did, Your Grace,” Tiffany replied courteously, questioning once again how it was that a man as good-looking, intelligent and charming as the duke, seemed to have so little effect upon her, whereas Alexander Warrene had only to be in the same room to make her heart beat faster.

  From his position across the table, Alex couldn’t help but overhear the exchange between Rutherford and his newly intended. Back off Rutherford, she’s mine! The unspoken assertion seemed to invade his thoughts without warning, the surprising intensity of it catching him off guard. Frowning, he reached for his wine glass, nearly draining the burgundy-colored liquid in a single swallow. His intended. The words reverberated throughout his head like the vibrations of a tuning fork, making him feel slightly off balance.

  Turning her head, Tiffany inadvertently caught Alex’s eyes upon her. He was frowning.

  “My lady.”

  Her attention redirected, Tiffany glanced upward. “Thank you,” she replied to the young, blonde-haired footman who carefully placed the first course in front of her. When she cast her gaze across the table once again, Alex had turned away, his eyes no longer fixed in her direction and his lips no longer drawn downward into a frown. They hadn’t spoken since their return to the house, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it was that he’d been thinking just then.

  Fortunately, the Duke of Rutherford did an admirable job of distracting her from her silent musings as the evening progressed. Over the course of the next two hours, Tiffany did her best to keep her attention focused away from Alex and upon the duke’s pleasant conversation as they dined upon a seemingly endless allotment of tantalizing fare. There was turbot with lobster and Dutch sauce, red mullet with Cardinal sauce, stewed beef, lamb cutlets with asparagus and peas, sweet-bread, plover’ eggs in aspic jelly, to name but a few of the delectable dishes, as well as fresh fruit and flavored ices for dessert. In addition, bottles of sherry, Madeira and champagne flowed freely throughout the meal. It was an impressive display of culinary expertise, and she, as well as everyone else at the table it seemed, was thoroughly appreciative of the talented chef’s labors.

  Though he managed to converse effortlessly with Nicholas, who was seated to his immediate left at the head of the table, and the widowed Duchess of Pembrooke, seated to his right, Alex wasn’t entirely able to keep his attention from drifting across the table, especially when he heard the unmistakable, melodic resonance of Tiffany’s laughter, as he did now. Glancing up he eyed Rutherford, making only a half-hearted effort to keep his annoyance from showing on his face. Oddly enough, he’d always admired Rutherford’s engaging personality and winning sense of humor. Until now that was. Now, he found it decidedly aggravating. Tiffany however, clearly didn’t share the same opinion. Observing the two of them, Alex felt his irritation intensify with each passing second. It was only hours ago that Tiffany had been lying beneath him, writhing in pleasure as he’d awakened her burgeoning passion. Had she forgotten him so quickly he contemplated, watching in aggravation as she smiled prettily at the duke.

  “Alex?”

  Hearing his name, he immediately rotated his head in Nicholas’ direction.

  “The duchess asked if you were partial to pineapple,” he said, repeating the question he’d obviously missed.

  Turning to the duchess, he offered her an apologetic smile. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I fear my mind wandered for a moment.” Glancing down at his dessert, he realized that he hadn’t taken a single bite of the pineapple cream ice that had been set before him.

  The duchess smiled understandingly. “No need to apologize, dear. I often find myself woolgathering at the most unfortunate moments.”

  Lifting up his spoon, he promptly inserted it into the frozen delicacy. “As to your question, I am quite fond of pineapple and have been since I was a lad.” Taking a bite, he savored the tangy sweetness. “Delicious.”

  “Their Graces had best be careful,” the duchess teased in an exaggerated whisper. “For now that we have all experienced the brilliance of Monsieur Rousseau’s culinary skills, they shall have to keep the man under lock and key to keep one of us from stealing him away.”

  Alex waggled his brows at Nicholas, for he had suggested that very same thing earlier in the afternoon.

  “I shall inform my wife to keep her guard up,” the duke responded good-humoredly.

  Once the dessert course had come to an end, the ladies excused themselves and withdrew to the drawing room, leaving the men at the table to enjoy their after-dinner port. As the duke and duchess had informed their guests, the evening’s entertainment would commence shortly thereafter.

  “So, Your Grace, what is it that you have planned for us this evening?” Lady Mayweather asked as she adjusted her position upon the rose-colored settee upon which she sat.

  “I’m afraid you must wait and see, Eleanor, for it is to be a surprise,” Ashleigh responded with a secretive smile.

  “Oh, I do love surprises,” the countess replied, clapping her hands together excitedly.

  As the footmen circulated throughout the room, serving both tea and coffee, the ladies discussed everything from the latest fashions plates newly arrived from Paris to the tending of their prize-winning rose gardens. While Tiffany tried to appear interested, it wasn’t easy, for she had only a passing interest in the latest fashions and cultivating award-winning roses was not something she particularly aspired to do. Listening with only half an ear, it wasn’t until she heard the name Chesterfield that her attention was brought entirely back into focus.

  “I’m sure the poor dear is praying night and day that someone will catch his eye this Season.”

  “If Cecelia had her way, the boy would be married and setting up house within a fortnight,” Lady Mayweather chortled.

  They were talking about Alex’s mother, Tiffany realized.

  “My granddaughter, Elizabeth, will be making her debut this Season,” the Countess of Hallsforth stated proudly. “Although, with Chesterfield’s reputation, I’m not entirely certain that I would encourage the match.

  “Oh don’t be silly Claudia,” the Duchess of Pembrooke scoffed. “Chesterfield would make a splendid catch and you would be over the moon if he took an interest in Elizabeth. Do not tell me you deny it.”

  “Well,” the countess hedged, “he does come from an impeccable family.
And I suppose one could surmise that marriage might in fact tame the boy’s roguish behavior, at least to an acceptable degree.”

  Would it? Tiffany wondered, biting down upon her lower lip as she pondered the question. Glancing up a moment later, she caught Ashleigh watching her.

  “How is Elizabeth?” Ashleigh asked. “I don’t believe I’ve seen her since the Matherton’s house party last month,” she said, purposefully redirecting the conversation.

  Approximately forty minutes later, as Alex and the rest of the guests made their way out onto the front lawn, there was a definite feeling of excitement and anticipation in the air. Two rows of wooden folding chairs had been placed in a wide semi-circle on the east side of the expansive, manicured lawn and several blazing torches had been staked here and there to add additional lighting as well as heat to the cool moonlit night. Rather than taking a seat in one of the chairs, Alex chose to hang back, content for the time being to watch the proceedings from the shadows of the house. Watching as Tiffany passed by on the arm of Brendon Leighton, his eyes narrowed in irritation. With two of London’s most eligible bachelors already vying for her attention, he could only imagine what it would be like once Tiffany arrived in London. Although the Season had yet to begin, there would still be a goodly number of single gentlemen about town. And once Tiffany’s presence was made known, the lot of them would be lining up at her doorstep and jockeying for position. How disappointed they would all be, he mused, when they discovered that she was already spoken for.

  Though he didn’t know as yet when Melborne intended to announce his and Tiffany’s engagement, he was confident that it would be sooner, rather than later. For, if he was right about the marquess’ financial situation, he would want his association with the Warrene family to be made public as quickly as possible. It was unfortunate that his mother and sisters were still on holiday. He would have liked to have given his mother the news in person, rather than by written correspondence, but either way, he knew that she would be thrilled beyond words when she found out that he intended to marry.