by Gayle Eden
“Yes. I hear they’d give Jo’s Campbell cousins some competition in the beer drinking department, too.” Val chuckled.
Her sister turned back to facing the room, her hand dropping. “Leland was furious at his mother for telling me anything about the family. He was rather jealous of family bonds I think…or else he simply didn’t want me to get close to any of them.”
As her sister sighed from those reflections, Alex thought—he isolated you because he thought you had none. Were we there in those years, he would have never dared what he did to you—
She said aloud, “Forget him. Perhaps someday Van Wyc will invite us all, father too, to his country?”
“Yes—perhaps. Oh—there is Edmund De Forrest, the Earl of Sotherton. You really must go and greet him since father is in the card room,” Val urged her.
Alexandria mentally groaned. She followed the nod of Val’s head and spied the Earl of Sotherton. He stood at the top of the entry stairs. Tall, graceful, sensual, the thirty-year-old Earl had deep coal black hair and jasper eyes. He was six feet and three inches tall, with the kind of frame that would look too good perspiring, after a game of cricket in his shirtsleeves, or done in formal black and white—as he was tonight.
Although she noticed, he wore a ruffled shirt, no neck cloth, Alex had a perfectly good image of him in her mind— sprawled on a parlor rug—necked and swarthy, firelight playing over his skin...
Even as she obeyed Val’s direction, Alex mused that in all of her independent and self-assured life, there had never been a man who could twist her emotions up in knots the way De Forrest did.
She had not let on that night, at the duchess, that she knew very well who he was. She had seen him, not only on the streets, but her aunt’s house was close to his. She had viewed him every morning on his balcony too. Alexandria never, wanted any man, with kind of ache she had for him.
He was to become her father’s friend. She reminded herself—firmly in that category.
Her father had gone over the guest list and they had discussed every one he had chosen. Alex nearly chewed her tongue off to not ask the questions she had wanted to. She had half wanted this meeting, half dreaded it… after discovering more about the Earl.
Edmund, she had observed, even four years ago, never openly wavered from his cool and polite manner—the rather accessing arrogance that likely came because he had everything other men wished they did. He was, from her first glimpse, a man who held himself aloof and contained.
She had heard, via talk, that he played and sported; tennis and chess, enjoyed hunting—whatever else house parties got up to. A frequent and much in demand guest, for some of the best families.
Alex considered herself in no hurry to wed, and was certainly satisfied if she never did. Yet she had admitted, from the first, that the man with a sensual mouth and high cheekbones, those cattish eyes, unquestionably, very strongly, nearly obsessively, attracted her. Observing him unobserved, when she had been in town with her cousin, he’d become the fixation of hers that season. He was fascinating—in all the wrong ways.
Edmund was the only man, of any age and rank—, there were plenty she had met that year— who made her legs a bit weak, and her body all tingly and flushed. He exuded sensual grace. He had that bloody undeniable, inborn sophistication, mingled with sexual charisma.
For a woman like, Alex, that intense attraction was not easily handled. Somewhere in her mind she added, nor tolerated. Heaven knew, she wrestled against any sort of feelings she was not in control of. She had been rather bookish growing up, not at all dreamy or silly. It was not girlish feelings at all when she had spied him coming out of one of the gun clubs, slipping on his jacket. He had been without cravat, his collar off, and black mane mussed; a buggy had nearly hit her, observing him until he had climbed into his coach.
What she had done, how far she had gone, Alex was shocked at herself, although still….not repentant. She simply regretted that even her father confirmed him as deliberately aloof and cool. Her father liked him. From what she read in the papers, despite his sister’s more sophisticated friends and lifestyle; Edmund De Forrest was a distant, lofty, lord, embraced in the highest circles. In other words, he was likely to wed some pureblood deb, and breed his heirs upon her, wed for blood, titles, old and undiluted lineage, like the rest of the ton.
Alex had drawn from her resolve by the time she reached him and curtsied. Affecting a polite and relaxed manner, she said, “Hullo. My lord, Edmund. Welcome. Father is just in the card room.”
Those cat-like eyes went over her face, a bit too searching. Then, he bowed over her hand, kissing it, the visual touch moving down and up her once more, slower, while he straightened.
Alex was pleased she had worn the chocolate silk with diamond straps and plunging neckline. She may be petite. She may not have full breasts like Val, but she knew the gown hugged her body in all the right places. So much for being respected for my brains, she thought with a snort. Two seconds back in Edmund’s company… and I have turned into a shallow twit.
“Thank you…Alex,” he returned. “You look—matured.”
She arched her brow to cover a flush, remembering she had only given him that name. Alex pulled her hand free, feeling the tingle of attraction already. “I have some crow’s feet I’m unaware of?” She went for humor.
“That’s hardly what I meant,” he murmured and stepped down and turned. By then, however, her sister Jo and Val had come up to her side and curtsied.
Lord…Alex thought. She was completely thrown by seeing him in the flesh. She really must do better to appear more blasé.
“Allow me to introduce my friend, Sascha Auttenburg, Viscount Whitford,” the Earl spoke.
Alex eyed the handsome man with thick oak brown hair and lime green eyes—that were glued to Jo—even after they’d all had their hands kissed.
She murmured in return, “My sisters, Lady Valerie and Lady Johanna.”
Alex saw her father heading toward them out the corner of her eye. Thank God. She really needed to gather her wits.
Valerie, surprisingly, filled in a small silence as both Alex and Jo were caught in a surprise crosscurrent of tense attraction. She was saying something about the weather, and there was an exchange regarding their journey and arrival with the Viscount, something about a crotchety neighbor who was due to arrive or some such….
Her father reached the group, greeted them, and took Alex’s arm, murmuring, “I’ve left Lord Auvary without a partner. Would you do me the favor?”
“I’d love to.” Alex passed one more glance over Edmund’s watchful eyes, before she turned to stride away and to the card room.
Auvary was a handsome man, in a hard way. A tall and well-built lord, whom Alex met when he’d come to Hawksmoor to hunt with her father last year. A bit of a rake in his own way, he did not smile often, or say much, but Alex liked something about him.
“Father sent me to stand in for him.” She took the vacant chair and scooped up the cards. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Auvary shook his head, a dark curl falling over his brow. Somewhere in the sinew of his face were the makings of a smile. “I remember your skill from back in the summer.”
She laughed, realizing why she liked him. He had a sense of humor. She met his black eyes as she dealt. “You shamed me at chess, and I’ll have you know I cut my teeth on that game. So ‘tis nice to know I can hold my own at the card table with you.”
It was all a tease, since Auvary was thirty and five and had gambled with her father in the best hells for years. Alex did well just to win a few hands with him.
They played steady for an hour, Alex sometimes seeing that crack of a smile when she scooped up her winnings. The card room was smoky.
Though she had had two glasses of Madeira, she was feeling the kinks of sitting still so long, when he sat back and slid the cards to the center of the table.
“I’m for some air. Will you join me?”
“Love to. But let
’s visit that refreshment cart first.”
Alex was taking the chilled wine he handed her, before turning to the garden doors, and met a pair of tawny eyes. Several men, including her father and Van Wyc were standing by open windows, talking. Facing her, Edmund had apparently been watching her for some time.
His gaze shifted to Auvary and back.
Alex merely nodded and let Auvary take her elbow, leading her outside.
The earl lit a cheroot and sipped his brandy, leaning his hips against one of the high back stone benches.
Sipping her wine, Alex studied him in moonlight.
His black eyes caught her at it. He murmured, “Half the men invited here, have hopes where you and Lady Jo are concerned.”
“Really?” That surprised her.
He nodded. “Several stopped by the table and spoke to your father.”
“And what did he say?” Alex leaned her hips against a bench facing his.
“That you were all grown women. You would decide that for yourselves. He also said—he didn’t care if any of you ever wed.”
Alex swallowed a sip and laughed softly. “Good for father.”
Auvary released smoke from his nostrils and sipped his brandy before holding her gaze again. “I’m interested.”
“In me?” Alex blinked. That—was a surprise.
“Yes.”
She scraped her teeth over her lip, careful how she replied. “I’m not exactly keen on marriage, my lord. Not the sort society calls marriages.”
“Call me Adam.” His rare grin formed, but his black eyes were intense.
There were things she could not deny about Auvary; he was mature, enigmatic, and handsome in that hard way, and yes, just a little bit dangerous. Alex had to admit that she was shocked it would be her—instead of Jo or even Val. Nevertheless, she was also flattered, because Auvary was considered un-catchable.
“Would it sound rude, if I asked you, why—me?”
He chewed the inside of his cheek, and then murmured, whilst still holding her gaze. “You are intelligent, competitive, in some ways. Though, Ramsey, thinks Jo the spirited one, I have observed that you also, ride hell for leather, hunt, swim, and give everything your all at Hawksmoor. You are beautiful enough not to need brains, as bad as that sounds coming from a male. However, you have both. You’re passionate—and it’s attractive.”
She smiled slightly and held back a genuine flush. “I’m flattered.”
He raised his glass slightly and then sipped from it. Coming over, he put out the cheroot, but stood closer to her, idly swirling the brandy whilst he studied her face. “Do I intimidate you, Alex?”
“Yes, slightly.” She winced admitting that. “You’re…a lot of attractive things yourself, but almost more than any woman can handle.”
He nearly flushed himself but laughed huskily. “Alexander said you were blunt speaking.”
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t an insult.”
“No. I know that.” His hand raised, finger touched her chin, and then brushed there lightly whilst he looked down into her eyes. “We’ll work on the not being intimidated part. Is that fair enough?”
“Yes.” She swallowed, thinking him quite potent, wondering if he was going to kiss her. She had kissed a few men in her life, a few even since Edmund turned her bones to fire.
He was leaning and tilting up her chin at the same time. Alex’s eyes were half closed, when someone called his name from the French doors.
“Edmund.” Auvary dropped his hand and turned. “Good to see you, old man.”
Alex breathed in and out deeply, thinking…bloody hell, as the men met and clasp hands. Not—missing the look Edmund threw her way either, before attending Auvary.
She gulped several drinks of wine whilst gleaning from their conversation that they were old friends. They boxed together, went to the same clubs, shooting galleries and races. They were in fact, very good friends apparently.
Bloody, bloody hell. Of all the rotten luck.
Alex had herself composed by the time the men turned and after Alex did the “Yes, we’ve met,” bit towards Edmund. She excused herself and headed inside.
She drank another glass of wine, too fast, feeling every drop of it—and aware the moment Edmund found her in the private spot she had chosen.
Standing in the main room, having a view of the others but private enough, she breathed his scent the moment he reached her. Alex felt that blasted crackle of tension in the air and between them, she had since he had arrived.
He murmured, “You have that wide eyed beauty Alex, that makes a man feel perversely guilty even enjoying viewing you—despite knowing your age.”
“I’m twenty and two.”
“Yes. I know.”
She shot him a side-glance, which also afforded her a chance to look up and down him. “You look the same. Still very handsome.”
“Thank you.” He turned those eyes on her, seemingly surprised she said that—and at the same time trying to retain his cool and aloof expression.
“My father likes you.”
“I like him, too.”
She arched her brow and looked down at her glass, sipping, before murmuring, “I’ve heard a lot about you since I was in London years ago.”
“Interesting I hope.”
He had said that dryly, so Alex smiled. “In some respects. You’re called arrogant, coldly aloof, always in control, among other things.”
“I don’t consider those bad traits.”
“I didn’t say they were.”
There was a moment of silence, the talk in the other part of the room filtering over it.
“Have you known Auvary long?” he asked.
“Um, yes. We met over the summer. Last year he spent three months at Hawksmoor. You?”
“Most of my life. We have estates near each other.”
Alex turned slightly toward him and considered his profile. He looked distant despite his naturally sensual features. Nevertheless, she thought he was perhaps trying too hard. “Are you worried I’m going to presume on something that happened years ago and chase you? Do not. I am here because father asked us to come, and because of Val, who needs to enjoy her life again.”
His glance flickered to her. “I don’t recall accusing you of—”
“You don’t have to.” She held his stare. “I assume it is the only reason you’d seek me out now and speak to me. To feel me out, so to speak. I do not for a moment think you would do so at another house or ball. It’s fairly safe for you to be a friend of my fathers—but I think it would make you uncomfortable—if I were to act—shall we say, familiar towards you.”
Those nostrils flared. He turned to fully face her.
Before he could speak, she whispered, “I— seduced you.”
Drinking half the brandy he held, Edmund rolled his damp lips afterwards whilst locking her gaze in a manner Alex thought was rather like a watchful cat. “Elaborate....”
Here, comes the honesty at last.
“I saw you, several times. Although I did not know, the duchess was your sister for quite some time. I saw you, watched you, wanted you—and I set about finding a way to be with you before I left London.”
“At my sister’s house?”
“Yes.” She admitted, “I actually was invited earlier and had tea with her. I lingered in hopes, and there you were.”
“I see.”
Alex looked him over and met his gaze again. “I didn’t tell anyone then, and I wouldn’t now.” She took a step away and glanced back at him. “You need not be on guard around me, Edmund. Just because my real father is a Marquis—doesn’t change anything.”
She left the spot and found Jo—who was watching a card game and sipping wine.
“I think Auvary wants to court me.”
Her sister’s jade eyes found that gentleman, now playing a hand with Van Wyc. “He’s rather delicious… in a dark, brooding way.”
“Jo.” Alex laughed.
Jo winked and glance
d around. They both watched Edmund come by and enter the card room. “Now that’s an interesting man. His looks scream sexual prowess, some sort of lion like sensuality. His character one hears—is just the opposite.”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know.” Alex lied.
Jo slanted a glance at her. “I saw you two talking.”
Alex grunted. “Okay. But, do not ask. It’s—nothing.”
Jo laughed this time. “If you insist.”
“His friend keeps looking over at you.” Alex nudged her and nodded toward the Viscount.
“Um. His looks would set a woman’s drawers on fire, but so far he’s not spoken to me beyond the introduction.”
“He’s handsome.”
“Very. But I’ve heard a few things.”
Alex glanced at her sister’s profile. “Share?”
“Not now.” Jo was sharing another look with Sascha Auttenburg. She murmured, “He wants me.”
Alex snorted. “I saw that the moment he clapped eyes on you.”
Jo pulled her eyes away. They turned to walk back into the room and join Val. Her sister said low, “I’d like to have a lover before I wed.”
“So, you want to wed, then?” Alex had not known that about Jo. Jo was so…free spirited.
“Yes. Someday.” Jo shrugged and smiled. “After I’ve lived a bit.”
“Father doesn’t care if we wed or not.”
“Good.” Jo laughed softly. “Which means he won’t care if wed a title or not. And I—certainly am not tying myself to any man who thinks women should look pretty, wave fans, and pretend to be stupid.”
“Hear, hear.”
“Bloody hell ….” Jo stopped a moment and peeked over her shoulder then back. “I’m attracted to him. Really, attracted.”
Alex knew she meant the Viscount. “That’s perfectly understandable. He’s got that…something…”
A tall shadow passed by her. Alex watched Van Wyc progress across the room. She saw him put himself in Val’s vision and nod before he took up a casual stance near the wall some feet behind Val. It struck her as a kind of guarding gesture though she was not sure what to make of it beyond it being his apparent protective nature.