by Gayle Eden
Sighing Alex asked, “So where does it leave you and the Viscount?”
“Where we started—nowhere. I’m going to pretend he doesn’t exist.”
Yes, Alex thought dryly, just as I pretend Edmund does not.
“I’ll be glad when the season is over and we are at Hawksmoor.”
“Me too.” Jo groaned. “No more riding habits, and formal clothes. We will be riding, hunting, walking, boating and—having our annual bonfire at the lake.”
“Are the cousins coming down this summer?”
“Yes. If anything can remind me I’m not some whimpering woman chasing after an impossible man, it’s them.”
Alex glanced over her shoulder, feeling a stare. She saw the men walking out of the card room towards the garden exit. Edmund’s eyes had been moving and found her. She shifted swiftly to Auvary and nodded with a smile. He nodded back with a wry quirk of his lips.
“I need me one of those.”
“What?” Alex regarded Jo.
“Perfectly wicked stand-ins.”
“I like him, Jo.”
Jo groaned and pushed to her feet, taking Alex’s arm. “Auvary is a dark, handsome, and enigmatic man. Like—is so telling, sister.”
Grunting before they joined the dancing, Alex muttered, “I really, really like him.”
Snorting again, Jo left her side, smiling rather too widely at the gent who hauled her out on the floor. Alex went over and sat down beside Val.
Those lavender eyes turned on her and she leaned over to whisper, “Want to wager which of Jo’s breasts pop out of that outrageous gown first?”
Val sniggered, hand to her nose as she had been taking a drink of punch.
Grinning, Alex murmured in her ear, “I’ll say the left one.”
Val elbowed her and cleared her throat; obviously trying to remain composed in front of the dowagers around them.
Alex was very good after that, but she and Val both burst into such laugher an hour later that they had to rush from their seats and head to the gardens.
It was not Jo’s breast per se, but rather a short and squat older male who was mesmerized by them whilst partnering Jo, that cracked them up. The man kept his eyes so fixed on her boobies that he did not turn in step, and as the woman to his right did, he took her arm to the back of his head. Had she not sidestepped, Jo would have fallen under him. As it was, half the room was snickering over it.
Alex looked over her shoulder and saw Jo sliding through the dancers and making her way towards them. She found them in the gardens holding their sides with hilarity.
“Here.” Val undraped her silk stole and put it on Jo. “Those things are going to get someone killed.”
Jo covered them modestly but insisted, “They’re nowhere near the size of yours.”
“Mine aren’t hanging out.”
Jo’s brow arched. “Only half, but since they’re so generous—”
Val chuckled and playfully covered her mouth. “Behave. You’ve been completely shocking tonight.”
“Yes. I have.” Jo sighed and rolled her head. “Gad. I cannot wait to go home to Hawksmoor.”
“Me either.”
Alex found a bench and pulled them for a sit. Several people were strolling and talking. More late arrivals had forced some outside to avoid the crush and noise.
Val sat between them, idly studying the sky. Jo, the wrap swaged over her shoulders, gazed at the toes of her slippers. Alex was watching the path Edmund and Auvary were strolling slowly up, her father and Sascha behind. Their cheroots glowed and it appeared to be a four-way conversation. There was a ruffle of male chuckles, and Alex stomach tightened.
What an impossible situation she had fallen into.
“There are my girls.” Her father looked very handsome in formal black, long knee length coat, his silver hair loose tonight. He stopped when close to the bench—the other men also. Those lavender eyes smiling, he chuckled and winked, seeing Jo’s altered appearance, the Marquis said, “I had wonderful taste in women.”
Alex grunted over the men’s laughter. “That sounds disgustingly shallow, father.”
“I meant brains of course.” The Marquis smiled playfully.
“Of course.” The daughters shared a look and laughed.
“Well, since Adam will see you home, Alex—” He offered his hands to Jo and Val. “If you are ready to leave, ladies?”
Val stood first and took his arm, murmuring, “I am fatigued simply from watching Jo.”
Taking his other, Jo uttered, “My feet need soaking.”
Alex heard Auttenburg growl something before Jo glanced over at him with a flash of jade fire and asked sweetly, “What was that, sir?”
“I said, have a pleasant evening,” Auttenburg’s own lime eyes held fire, his teeth nearly clenched.
He and Jo shared a narrow eyed glance before her father swept them off.
Alex found herself under both Adam and Edmund’s stare, as Sascha was turned, still observing Jo’s departure.
Feeling like squirming, she stood and took Adam’s arm. “I could use a stroll.”
He covered her hand and nodded to Edmund, before leading her down the path. Alex felt those tawny eyes following until they were well beyond shadows.
“Your father has invited me to Hawksmoor again.”
She paused with Adam by a row of hedges. “I look forward to it. Jo and I were just relishing the return to sanity.”
His lips curved, and intense eyes moved over her face. “I was not completely sure I should accept….”
Not even pretending ignorance why, Alex held his gaze. Her face heated a tad. “I like you, very much. I enjoy your company—”
He cut her off with a low and dry, “Oh dear, I sense a kind but gentle break in our relationship coming.”
Laughing softly at his wry tone, she shook her head. “Not at all. I was simply going to say I am not sure of myself, Adam. I am trying to be honest. I don’t know where I’m going sometimes.”
His hand came out, fingers stroking her cheek. “I have felt that myself.”
She took his hand, retaining it. “I don’t mean to keep you off balance.”
“It’s the nature of women,” he intoned sardonic.
She stepped forward, resting her forehead on his shoulder whilst he took her other hand, holding them both lightly and kissing her temple in a surprisingly sweet gesture.
There is everything here, strength, sensuality, even a promise of passion, Alex mused.
“I take it; I don’t intimidate you any longer?”
She rolled her head in a no and murmured, “You’re still a bit of a puzzle but that’s part of your appeal.” When he chuckled, low Alex lifted her head and met his gaze. “There’s a pain in you, Adam. A dark ache. I’m not sure I’m the woman who can reach it.”
His face stilled before he released her hands. Raising his own, he cupped her face and then gave her a crushing kiss.
Alex made a small sound and clutched his shoulders, feeling more his emotions than anything sexual. It was an act of desperate seeking that she could almost feel the desire in him to purge.
Abruptly he released her mouth, holding her to him a moment as he rasped, “Forgive me, Alex, that was—”
“Shuuu.” She held him back, her lips swelling and smarting, but something in her feeling a connection to his frustration and pain. “It’s all right, Adam. Truly. I understand.”
He shuddered and held her moments more, before sighing and taking her back to the path. Just before they reached light he said, “You are an amazing woman.”
Alex flexed her fingers on his arm. No, she thought, I am not the one. Nevertheless, you and I make sense—for now.
* * * *
Edmund told himself to go inside, back to Mel whom he had squired of late. Even after Sascha muttered a few curses and took off to find himself a whiskey, Edmund lingered with a cheroot he did not want, standing in the deeper shadows and watching Alex return.
They lo
oked good together, the petite and lithe Alex, and, Auvary with his dark hardness. Adam had kissed her—and not just a peck. Edmund’s gut hollowed as it had so many times these past weeks, watching Adam watch her, hearing him at the club or boxing, or in his study—talking about Alex.
It was impossible when they were with the Marquis that the daughters did not come up. Nevertheless, there were times he and Auvary were visiting usual haunts and going through their habits of ordinary friendship that Alex always came up.
After they had gone back into the ballroom, Edmund made himself leave. He went to Regent Street, to his sisters, finding her in the study at her books.
Dropping into a chair across from her ivory and gilt desk, Edmund removed his neck cloth and collar, eyeing her simply tied back hair and black and burgundy silk gown and robe. She had looked up when he came in and now set the pen aside. Chin in her hand, she let her gaze roam over him in that way that told him she knew more than she let on.
“Do you want advice?”
He shook his head and shoved a hand through his hair, then dropped it to his thigh. “There is none that suits. Alex is with Adam.”
Lady Sommerton pursed her lips and then set back. “Are they lovers?”
“Christ. I don’t know.” He shoved to his feet and paced over to the wall of windows. Edmund could hardly stand the expression on his face, in his eyes, so he turned back toward Sonja.
Elbows on the chair arms, she leaned her head slightly, peering at him so close Edmund shook his head and laughed roughly, “What do you want me to say? That I am a fool?”
“No. Edmund. I expect you are no different from any other man. Save that, you are too guarded and too careful sometimes. Your self-preservation works against you in this case…”
“This case…” He sighed and closed his eyes, then arched his neck to regard the ceiling as he muttered, “She does not want marriage. She wants passion. She doesn’t want an affair—an affair is too confining, too obligating…she wants passion.”
After several ticks of the clock and his head lowered the duchess murmured, “And you’ve offered?”
“Nothing. Promised, nothing. Implied—I don’t bloody know.”
“She has said all of that to you?”
“Four years ago, yes.”
“The last time—”
“Ah—” he cut her off and looked somewhere at the shelves across the room. “Mistakes. They are always mistakes. They start and end the same way.”
Sonja stood and came round to half sit on the edge of the desk. She folded her arms and gazed broodingly down at her slippers.
“I’ve never had that.”
“What?” Edmund eyed her profile.
“Passion,” she whispered. “Curiosity perhaps, lust, mildly, Passion…never.” She chewed her lip and added, “I imagine it as, when two people lose themselves to the world and are consumed by each other. I always thought it may be a bit frightening, and at the same time—glorious.”
Her dark eyes turned to his, and then slid away. “I suppose somewhere deep in the core of us, no matter how we act to the world, or what happens to us, what we think we want—somewhere there is a part that imagines another will touch us, look at us, and desire us—to the point we forget all else—that a world can be created in a moment, in a span of time, where only two people exist. It is a fantasy, I suppose….
Edmund was simply looking at her when her gaze turned back to his. He did not have to say anything. After her gaze moved over his face, lingered on his eyes, she smiled and shook her head, whispering with awe, “My, God, Edmund….”
He said simply, “She is not mine, Sonja.”
Sonja went to him and hugged him a moment, her head on his shoulder, she whispered, “Why not, Edmund. Why not?”
Chapter Seven
Hawksmoor
Two weeks, settled back into the stone manor house, and the guestrooms were already filling up. Alex got used to waking up to the noise of the “Campbell cousins” tromping down the stairs and halls, although not all of Jo’s kin had that last name—all however seemed to be above six feet, brawny—and when not yelling, were flinging insults to each other in Gaelic.
There was Megan, the sister, who was quiet, or seemed so, compared to the men. The twenty-year-old woman was handsome, blue eyes, and cinnamon hair. She and Jo were out riding most days, or the only two daft enough to compete with the men—who managed to turn lawn tennis into a blood sport.
Groaning this morning, Alex pulled the cover over her head, awaiting that smell of coffee that would come when the maid entered. Her body felt battered already from a rowing competition the day before, and she cursed herself for letting Jo provoke her into taking Craig Campbell on as a partner in lawn tennis. He may be the youngest but he’d plowed over her back, hauled her up by the arm and squeezed her so hard when they won she heard her spine crack.
Yawning, her plans for today were to sneak out with a book and find somewhere quiet. She figured to make it home sometime in the evening, after the men were done fishing at the lake and the picnic there commenced.
Alex heard the door click, a burst of noise and laughter, and then muffled again. The rattle of a tray had her pulling the cover down, sliding up in the bed as the maid placed the tray beside the bed.
Taking in poor Mary’s crooked cap and flushed face, she teased, “Is it safe to go out there yet?”
“Not till they’re at the table, I expect, milady.” The young woman laughed.
“Who was it this time, Mary?”
Cheeks afire, the maid poured her coffee and supplied, “I fair can’t keep them straight, milady. The blond haired one, it was.” She handed the filled cup over carefully. “At least he’s not a bum patter like the red headed fellow.”
Chuckling Alex murmured, “That would be Eric. And the red headed one is Craig.”
The maid righted her lace cap and grinned wryly. “I’m needed below. Can I get you anything else?”
“No. Thank you. I am going to finish this and dress, and sneak out after the rest are headed down the hill with their tackle. Think you can have Cook set me an apple or two outside the kitchens?”
The maid headed for the door. “I’ll have you a basket waiting on the back courtyard.”
“Thank you, Mary.”
“No trouble, milady.”
Whilst she was gone, Alex finished her coffee and then crawled out of the bed. She washed and tied her hair back, then slipping into trousers and boots, a linen shirt. She found her shoulder satchel and tucked two books inside.
Later, she crept to the door and looked up and down the hall. All clear, she headed down the back stairs, hearing a murmur of voices to the right in the kitchens, before she opened the back door.
The flagged courtyard spread out before the lawn and gardens. The woods beyond were her destination. A basket with napkin over it sat on one of the benches. She lifted it and dashed across the lawn, laughing when she heard Megan, Jo, and Val calling down from an upper window, teasing her for obviously running away for the day.
Slowing by the time she was on the packed path, Alex got her breath and saw the smoke from the woodcutters just through a strand of trees. She cut left and walked for some time, the echo of laughs and yelling making her wonder if any fish would be caught, considering the noise the group seemed to be making.
She finally got far enough away and settled in a clearing, her back to a jutting stone, sitting there a moment, simply reflecting on the past weeks.
Her father was enjoying himself, finding enough billiard, fishing and card partners. Even Van Wyc got into things—more than enthusiastic when competition came to sheep shearing, axe throwing or whatever the Scotsmen declared was a sport. She still laughed thinking of Val’s face the day Van Wyc had stripped to the waist like the Campbell brothers, and flung axes until sweat gleamed over every bulging muscle.
It was not that there weren’t plenty of brawny male bodies to admire—but Alex, in the middle of cheering and whistli
ng with Jo, had glanced over to see Val’s slightly rounded eyes fixated on Archard. Alex had to admit that she had flushed a bit. One had to give the man his due—his flexing and shifting slabs of honed flesh, those ropes of sinew and sculpted mounds were a thing of sheer primal beauty.
Sighing Alex tilted her head up to a soft spray of sun in an otherwise overcast sky. Other guests were expected soon, and the Campbell’s were leaving in two days. Those guests were friends of her father’s from London. Alex realized with a knot in her stomach that both Adam and Edward would show up.
She lowered her head and shook it. She had chanted repeatedly in her mind that whatever she and Edmund had, it was futile. She was not sure she was the right woman for Adam, but there was no real guessing with him. Adam might be the enigmatic one, but Edmund was the more distant. She often sifted back through time and compiled images of him in public, even when they were not touching, and she could not honestly say that she saw anything in that man that encouraged her to hope that intimate side would take over.
She was not even sure why she wanted him like that anyway. He would do the expected thing for the Earl of Sotherton, eventually. He would end up with a woman like the one she had seen him with often.
Alex grunted. She should be thinking of Adam, not Edmund. She took off her satchel and extracted a book. Grabbing an apple from the basket, she stretched out her legs, slumped her spine, and began to read the novel she had bought months ago and not had time for. Better to fill her head with something entertaining rather than chase around thoughts that led nowhere.
* * * *
Alex had been there perhaps two hours when the snap of twigs had her sitting up, startled. She turned, seeing Val walking toward her. Dressed in a comfortable summer gown, her hair tied at the nape, Val looked ever so much better with a bit of sun on her skin and less strain around her eyes.
“Sorry, did I startle you?”
“A bit. Is something wrong?”
Alex watched her come around and seat herself on the mossy ground, pulling her knees up and smoothing the dun skirt over them. She warped her arms around her knees and shook her head. “No. I was just wondering if you were well?”