Turning onto her side so that she was facing the window, she could just make out the faint twinkle of stars through the hazy night sky. Focusing upon the brightest of the lot, she closed her eyes and made a wish, for now she knew with absolute certainty that sometimes wishes really did come true. With that pleasant notion drifting through her thoughts, it wasn’t long until she fell into a blissful slumber.
Descending the front staircase the following morning, Tiffany observed an older gentleman carrying a small black satchel exiting through the front door. Curious, she wondered who it could have been, for surely it was far too early in the morning for social calls. “Penrose, who was that?” she asked, once she’d reached the foyer’s marble floor.
“That was Dr. Patton, my lady, your father’s physician.”
His physician? “Has my father taken ill?”
“Not that I have been made aware of,” Penrose replied. “I believe that it was a scheduled visit.”
“I see,” Tiffany replied. “Thank you, Penrose.” A scheduled visit? What on earth did that mean? In fact, until that very moment, she hadn’t even been aware that her father had a regular physician. Oh well, she mused, he was getting on in years. Perhaps he was simply becoming more mindful of his health.
Turning away, Tiffany started toward the breakfast room, but the sound of the door knocker halted her before she’d made it halfway down the hall. Curious, she turned back around, watching as Penrose moved to answer the door. She couldn’t hear what was said, nor could she see who it was, but within a few short moments Penrose closed the door and turned in her direction. In his hands he held a large crystal vase filled with one of the most beautiful flower arrangements she had ever seen.
“A delivery for you, my lady” he said. Setting the vase onto one of the narrow marble-topped tables that flanked the large foyer, Penrose pulled a small envelope from amidst the flowers, holding it out to her as she approached.
Taking it from the butler’s hand, Tiffany glanced down at the cream-colored envelope bearing her name. Waiting until Penrose had stepped away; she then opened the envelope and withdrew the small card from within. It read, Thinking of you, Alex.
Clutching the card to her chest, she gazed at the beautiful vase and brightly-hued flowers in utter delight. She could have stared at the dazzling display for hours, but it was the sound of approaching footsteps that finally drew her attention from the stunning bouquet. Spinning about, she saw her father coming towards her. “Good morning, father.”
Glancing briefly at the flowers, the marquess made no mention of them as he turned his dispassionate gaze to Tiffany. “I’m going out,” he said.
“I’ve had the coach brought around as you requested, my lord,” Penrose said, reentering the foyer.
The marquess merely nodded in acknowledgement. “You may inform the kitchen that I won’t be home for luncheon,” he said, holding out his hand as Penrose handed him his hat.
“Yes, my lord.”
Waiting as Penrose pulled open the door; William once again turned his attention briefly to Tiffany. “Until this evening,” was all that he said. Then, tipping his head in farewell, he made his way out the front door.
Settling into her seat at the breakfast table a short time later, Tiffany contemplated her father’s reaction to Alex’s proposal. Thinking back to the previous afternoon, when Alex had officially asked her father for her hand, she recalled that the marquess hadn’t seemed the least bit surprised by the request. He’d given his blessing almost immediately, with virtually no amount of thought or consideration, and oddly enough, he’d seemed inordinately pleased with their decision to keep their engagement period brief and their wedding a small, intimate affair.
Lifting a piece of toast from her plate, she absently nibbled on the end as she continued to ponder the matter. No doubt he was simply relieved to be getting rid of her, she reasoned. And of course, as he would be paying for the wedding, a small, private service would ease his financial burden significantly. Surely that was it. But even as she tried to rationalize his behavior, she couldn’t help wondering if there was something more to it, something she was missing. Oh well, it hardly mattered, she supposed, and certainly wasn’t worth stewing about. She had far more pleasant things to focus upon, she decided, glancing at her engagement ring. Her spirits lifting at once, she turned her attention to her plate and the delicious breakfast that sat before her.
Over the course of the next several days, Tiffany spent the majority of her time at the Chesterfield residence in the company of Alex’s mother and sisters. Fortunately, Amelia and Lizzie had welcomed her with open arms, and in turn, she had taken an instant liking to them as well. They were also genuinely excited about her and Alex’s upcoming wedding, and were eager to help out with the preparations. However, with Tiffany’s blessing, Cecelia had taken charge of the bulk of the arrangements. Despite the wedding’s small, intimate setting, they’d agreed upon the family chapel at Chesterfield, Alex’s mother was determined to make the event as memorable as she possibly could.
Regrettably though, as much as she enjoyed spending time with Alex’s mother and sisters, it had become nearly impossible to enjoy even a moment alone with her fiancé. Yesterday, when Alex had invited her to take a carriage ride through the park, Amelia and Lizzie had all but begged to accompany them. And the day before, when he’d suggested they visit the new exhibit at the National Gallery, Cecelia had immediately claimed that she’d been longing to see the exhibit herself. It was only when Cecelia had requested to join them on this evening’s planned outing to the opera, that Alex had finally put his foot down, insisting that as an engaged couple, they were no longer in need of a chaperone to watch their every move.
Now, as Tiffany stood in the middle of her bedchamber preparing for the evening ahead, she could hardly wait until the appointed hour arrived.
“There you are, my lady,” Betsy, the young maid who’d been attending her since her arrival in London, said as she secured the final button on the back of Tiffany’s gown.
“Thank you Betsy,” Tiffany said appreciatively as she spun to face the cheery housemaid. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.” With her own lady’s maid still at Melborne Hall, Betsy had been a godsend.
“I’m honored to help, my lady.”
Smiling, Tiffany turned and walked toward the full-length mirror that stood in the far corner of the room. Smoothing the skirt of her gown, she eyed the gold silk creation with a critical eye. Not knowing why her father had requested she accompany him to London, she was extremely thankful that she’d had the elegant gown packed at the last minute; in the unlikely event she might have need of it.
“Oh, my lady, you look so beautiful.” Betsy’s expression was awe-struck as she came to stand behind Tiffany, gazing at her reflection in the mirror.
“It is pretty, isn’t it,” Tiffany replied, feeling slightly awe-struck herself as her eyes traveled over the elegant Parisian gown. The stylish, off-the-shoulder evening gown had been custom made for her the year before, when she and her father had gone to visit her late grandmother in France, but until now she’d never had the occasion to wear it. Aside from the gown she’d worn to her birthday ball, it was by far the most beautiful thing she’d ever put on. With stunningly detailed embroidery stitched all along the hem, the rest of the gown was purposefully devoid of embellishment, for it was the flawless cut of the gown, combined with the remarkable color of the sumptuous fabric that made it so extraordinary.
“His Lordship won’t be able to take his eyes off of you,” Betsy proclaimed earnestly.
Feeling a tingle of anticipation, Tiffany could only hope that Betsy was right.
Descending the front staircase several minutes later, Tiffany saw Alex waiting for her in the foyer below. As she’d hoped, his gaze was blatantly admiring as it swept slowly from her head to her toes.
Spellbound, Alex watched as Tiffany made her way down the stairs, his eyes widening in appreciation. With her blonde h
air caught up in a profusion of curls atop her head, the style of her gown left her neck and the tops of her smooth white shoulders deliciously bare, and the gown’s daringly low-cut bodice was designed so that it pushed her breasts upward; giving him a tantalizing glimpse of the lush mounds it covered. Once again he was caught off-guard, for Tiffany Marlowe was simply too beautiful to be believed. Over the years he’d seen scores of attractive women, but he knew without a doubt that very few of them could have even come close to rivaling Tiffany’s extraordinary beauty.
“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting,” she said as she reached the landing.
“For you, I would have waited all night,” Alex responded with absolute sincerity as he walked toward her. “But as it happens, I have only just arrived.”
For Tiffany, his words combined with his entrancing smile made the expression weak at the knees feel all too real. Fortunately however, Penrose’s stoic presence at the side of the hall kept her from falling straight into Alex’s arms. “I’m sorry my father isn’t here to greet you,” she said, needing to say something, anything to redirect her focus. “He had a prior engagement.” In truth, she wasn’t sure where he’d gone. He’d left shortly after dinner, mumbling something about a meeting with someone or other when she’d reminded him that Alex was taking her to the opera.
Alex nodded understandingly. “Well then, if you’re ready, I suppose we should be off.”
Slipping her arm through his, Tiffany bid goodnight to Penrose as they exited out into the night.
Stepping into the Chesterfield coach a few seconds later, Tiffany was almost giddy with excitement as she settled onto the velvet-covered seat cushion. This was the first time that she and Alex had been alone together since their afternoon in the gazebo and she intended to relish every single moment.
Standing behind Tiffany as she’d entered the coach, Alex’s eyes had immediately fastened upon the row of silk covered buttons that ran down the back of her gown, his hand twitching at his side as he imagined himself unbuttoning every last one of them. Mentally cautioning himself as he stepped up into the vehicle behind her, he knew that he was going to have to keep his head about him if he had any chance at all of keeping his hands off of her during the ride to the Covent Garden.
Watching as he took the seat across from her; Tiffany’s gaze roved leisurely over Alex’s stylish appearance. Dressed as he was in his elegant, finely-tailored evening clothes, he cut an incredibly dashing figure.
Looking up, Alex inadvertently caught Tiffany’s admiring gaze upon him. Smiling rakishly, he cocked his head to the side. “Do I meet with your approval, my lady?”
“You do indeed, my lord,” Tiffany replied with uncharacteristic boldness. He was so devilishly attractive that even in a crowd Alex would stand out, no matter what he wore. Undoubtedly, every female head would turn in his direction the moment they walked into the opera house.
“And you, my dear, most definitely meet with mine,” he said in a husky timbre, as his appreciative gaze once again swept her from top to bottom. Careful, he reminded himself, though the warning did little good. He was becoming aroused just looking at her, his rebellious cock already hardening within his trousers.
Noting the smoldering look that had entered Alex’s eyes, Tiffany felt another delicious shiver of excitement race throughout her body. How was it, she mused, that he had only to look at her to make her heart beat faster and send her pulse racing?
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Alex asked in a raspy whisper as his gaze dropped to her delectable mouth. They’d been alone for less than five minutes and he was already burning with the desire to strip her naked and lay her out atop the coach’s plush velvet squabs.
Knowing that Alex desired her was a heady feeling, and one that she would never tire of. “Is it the same thing you do to me?” she asked suggestively, staring unabashedly into the depths of his smoky, silver gaze.
“God I hope so,” he breathed. As the coach rolled away from the curb and into the street, Alex moved across the aisle to the seat next to Tiffany, his eyes never leaving hers. So much for caution he mused uncaringly, dragging her into his arms.
Tiffany went willingly, wrapping her arms around Alex’s neck as he pulled her toward him, his lips descending upon hers as she eagerly welcomed his kiss. Surprisingly it wasn’t forceful and intense, but long and unhurried, the skillful manipulation of his lips and tongue sending shiver after shiver rippling through her as she clung to him in absolute bliss.
Fighting the desire to tangle his fingers in her hair and ravage her lips in a soul-searing kiss, Alex exercised what little self-control he had left, kissing her with a gentle languor that soon had Tiffany melting in his arms. With his hands holding her upright, he eventually pulled his lips from hers, trailing them across her cheek and along the line of her jaw, nipping lightly at the delicate curve of her chin. As her head fell back, he moved to the exposed column of her throat, using both his lips and tongue to caress her petal-soft skin as his head dipped lower and lower.
When Tiffany felt the heat of Alex’s breath against the tops of her breasts, she couldn’t contain the low moan of pleasure that slipped from her lips.
Hearing the unmistakable sound of Tiffany’s desire, Alex longed to pull down her bodice and feast upon her magnificent bosom, while subsequently tossing up her skirt so that he could gain access to her moist, feminine heat. Unfortunately though, in spite of the fierce, almost painful throbbing of his manhood, he knew he couldn’t allow himself to surrender to his body’s demands. Tiffany was going to be his wife, and she deserved far better than to walk into the Royal Opera House looking as though she’d just been ravaged in the back of his coach. So, contenting himself with a few nibbling kisses upon the tops of her magnificent breasts, he kept himself firmly in check.
While Alex placed hot little kisses along her décolletage, Tiffany felt a now familiar heat building within her loins. “Alex,” she uttered softly, as always, wanting more.
Recognizing the sound of her increasing need, Alex silently cursed himself. He never should have touched her, for now they were both going to be left tragically unfulfilled. “Shh,” he whispered calmingly, as he made his way back up along her neck to the softness of her lips. “If we don’t stop now, we’re going to wrinkle this very pretty dress of yours,” he said in between kisses, interjecting a deliberate lightness into his tone.
In that moment Tiffany couldn’t have cared less about her gown, but as Alex’s words gradually sunk in and the carriage continued on its way to Covent Garden, her sanity slowly returned. He was right. She couldn’t very well attend the opera with her gown a wrinkled mess, looking as if… well… looking as if she’d been doing exactly what she wished they’d been doing. Resting her head against Alex’s chest, she sighed in resignation as he ran his fingers lightly up and down her back in a light, comforting motion.
Soon, Alex thought. Soon.
Entering the crowded opera house on Alex’s arm was both exhilarating and slightly daunting at the same time. With this being their first outing since becoming engaged, the enormous diamond ring upon her finger was certain to draw a great deal of attention. And although she was thrilled beyond measure with her impending marriage, she could only imagine the reactions she was likely to receive from her female counterparts when they realized that she had officially taken the much sought-after Earl of Chesterfield off the market. However, considering Cecelia’s elation over her son’s impending marriage, the news had most likely already begun to circulate.
Much as she’d feared, within moments of their entrance into the opulent front lobby, she could literally feel the envious stares falling upon her from all directions. “Everyone is looking at us,” she whispered under her breath.
“Yes,” Alex acknowledged, “they are. And each and every one of them is most certainly wondering how it is that I managed to snare the most beautiful woman in all of England,” he added with a playful wink.
Tiffany grinned and rol
led her eyes. How was it that he knew just what to say to put her at ease? “Yes, I’m sure that is exactly what they are all wondering. How you managed to snare me?” she said cheekily.
“My dear, you have only to look around to see that every gentleman here has turned pea green with envy,” Alex said truthfully.
“Yoo hoo, Lord Chesterfield,” a loud, feminine voice called, drawing his and Tiffany’s attention from each other to a small group of people standing off to the left.
“Uh oh,” Alex said. “Prepare yourself.”
Tiffany raised her eyebrows inquiringly.
“Millicent Danbury,” he began, nodding courteously to the woman in question. “Indisputably the biggest gossip in all of England,” he continued under his breath. “Oh hell, here she comes.”
“Lord Chesterfield, what a surprise to see you in town this time of year,” she exclaimed as she purposefully made her way toward them.
“Lady Danbury,” he greeted as she approached, noting that the insufferable woman had somehow managed to stuff her sausage-like frame into a plum-colored gown that was at least two sizes too small.
Lady Danbury’s eyes went directly to Tiffany as she came upon them, her expression expectant.
“Lady Tiffany, please allow me to introduce you to Lady Millicent Danbury, Marchioness Lilifield,” Alex began.
“How do you do?” Tiffany addressed the middle-aged woman with a polite smile.
“Lady Danbury, may I present Lady Tiffany Marlowe.”
“So, if the rumors are to be believed, you’re the girl who’s finally convinced Chesterfield to give up his bachelorhood,” she replied, her piercing gaze sweeping Tiffany from top to bottom, focusing intently for a moment upon her flat midsection.
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