by Brenda Joyce
He held out a velvet-covered jeweler’s box. As he opened it, she glimpsed a diamond bracelet inside and, for one moment, thought it was the one he had tried to give her when they had first met, after the Harrington ball.
But then he lifted out the bracelet, and she saw it was far different—it was even more stunning and costly. She knew her eyes were huge.
“I want you to have this,” he said roughly, approaching, and began placing it on her wrist.
She came out of her shock. She had never seen so many large diamonds. “Stephen…how can I accept this?”
“You can—and you will,” he said firmly, fixing the clasp. His gaze met hers. “It is a token of my affection—my admiration—my respect.”
She inhaled—and tears flooded her eyes.
He tilted up her chin. “Remember, I never say what I do not mean.”
She trembled, crying. This was not a payment for services rendered—it was a token of his affection. And he admired her. He respected her. “I love it,” she whispered, thinking, I love you.
He slowly smiled, keeping her face tilted toward his, and slowly, his mouth feathered over hers. “I believe you are turning me into a shamelessly content man.”
She was so moved, she was speechless.
And then he glanced past her, at the window. Alexandra followed his gaze—and saw her old, tired carriage outside, with Ebony in the traces. “My sisters have finally come to visit!”
He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her on the mouth. “Make sure they stay for lunch. I’ll see you later.”
“No, wait.” She clasped his beautiful face in her hands and kissed him fiercely. “I do not deserve such jewels. But I love it!”
He smiled. “Go greet your sisters. And, Alexandra? Enjoy yourself.”
Alexandra barely heard him now. She tore free, lifting her skirts so she could run. She raced through the house as swiftly as she dared, and when she reached the front hall, Olivia and Corey were just handing off their coats. They cried out as she skidded into the front hall, and everyone embraced wildly. Tears of joy filled Alexandra’s eyes. “I have missed you so!”
“I have missed you, too,” Corey said, hugging her hard one more time. “You are so elegant! Look at that dress.” Then she saw the bracelet. “Oh, Alexandra!”
“He just gave it to me, as a token of his affection and respect,” she managed.
Olivia held her hands, clinging, her eyes wide. “It is gorgeous—and you are so beautiful. You are radiant—as never before.” Her gaze held Alexandra’s, and it was searching now.
“I have hardly changed,” Alexandra said, but she flushed as she spoke, her eyes still moist. She was an entirely different woman now—and they both knew it.
“He is good to you, isn’t he? You are so happy—I can see it in your eyes,” Olivia said softly.
Alexandra cupped her cheek, as Corey said, “He came to Edgemont Way. He set Father down and gave him a list of things he must never do again—including being rude to you!”
Alexandra gasped, stunned.
Olivia took her hand back. “He has given us a very generous monthly allowance. The pantry is full, as is the hay storage, and we have ordered three new gowns each.”
She reeled. Look at what Stephen had done for her family.
“He is a good man, isn’t he?” Corey asked, her gaze intent and searching. “He must love you very much, to take such good care of us, and to put Father down the way he did—and to give you that stunning bracelet.”
Alexandra froze. What if Stephen loved her? Was it possible? This is a token of my affection—my admiration—my respect. She thrilled. “He is generous by nature,” she managed. Then, swallowing, “I do believe he is fond of me.”
“Fond?” Corey echoed. And she looked at Olivia, who returned her glance. Instantly, Alexandra knew that they had a secret.
Olivia said softly, “Are you in love with him now?”
Alexandra met her sister’s searching gaze and knew that something was wrong. “What is it? What has happened? Something has happened, I am sure of it.”
Her sisters shared another glance, but for once Corey held her tongue.
Olivia broke the silence. “Owen is in town, Alexandra. He called yesterday—looking for you.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ALEXANDRA WAS SO SURPRISED that for one moment she thought she had misheard. But her sisters were staring expectantly at her. Owen was in town? Her heart skidded wildly.
She did not know what to think. He’d probably been to town many times in the past nine years—but he had never tried to call on her before. A month or so ago she might have been ecstatic, but now she was simply stunned.
Why had he appeared in her life again?
What could it mean?
Her heart lurched again as she fought for composure. Memories began flooding her, and in all of them Owen was as bright as the sun. He was smiling, and he was her best friend. But he was also her suitor, and she suddenly recalled being in his arms, in the heat of a passionate kiss. She tensed.
But even as she recalled his golden image, his smile, his dancing eyes turning dark with passion, Stephen’s image loomed. Her tension spiraled impossibly, and she glanced at the dazzling bracelet on her wrist and thought of how he’d made love to her that morning. She loved Stephen now—Owen had married someone else a long time ago.
“Why did he call on me—after all these years?” she managed.
Olivia took her arm. “Maybe we should sit down, Alexandra.”
She flinched, dread beginning to pool in her stomach. Olivia had further news—and it was not going to be good, she instantly decided. “Is he all right?”
Olivia smiled grimly, pulling her toward the closest open doors. “He is well enough, considering.”
What did that mean? Alexandra followed her sister into the Gold Room.
“You are upset,” Corey said, her tone odd, and she glanced again at Olivia.
Alexandra realized her breathing was shallow. “What aren’t you telling me? This is clearly ominous. And of course I am upset.” Owen had been the one true, great love of her life. She loved him still. Of course she did. She would always love him—and always consider him a dear friend—but that would not change her feelings for Stephen.
Olivia clasped her shoulder. “He is a widower now, Alexandra. He buried his wife six months ago.”
Alexandra heard herself gasp. Her knees felt weak. Olivia caught her elbow, saying, “Will you swoon?”
Her shock knew no bounds. His wife had died.
And he had called on her….
She went to a chair and sat down, breathless. Her temples felt about to explode, and because she knew Owen so well, she knew how filled with grief and mourning he must be, and her concern for him was boundless. But even as she thought that, Stephen’s image was there in her mind, dark, powerful and somehow accusatory.
She inhaled.
She was with Stephen now. She was carrying his child. There was no reason to suddenly feel caught between two very polar and powerful forces threatening to pull her in opposite directions. She loved Stephen, even if she didn’t dare admit it to him—even if she was only his mistress and would never be more. “Is he devastated? When did this happen?”
“I do not know if he is devastated, but he isn’t happy. He is not as I recalled him,” Olivia said somberly. “Was I wrong to remember him as being dashing and sunny, and always ready to smile or laugh? He was grim, Alexandra, and sad.”
“He was very sad,” Corey offered as soberly. “But he was eager to see you.”
Alexandra’s tension increased. “He is in mourning.” She was so concerned for him, and that put her on firmer footing, somehow. “He must need a shoulder,” she said. “He must certainly need a friend. No wonder he has sought me out.” This wasn’t about renewing their romance, she realized. Was she relieved? Dismayed? All she knew was that she had to see Owen and comfort him if she could. And Stephen would understand.
Olivia sat down beside her, staring. “He was very disappointed that you were not at home.”
Alexandra looked at her, because of the innuendos in her tone. What was Olivia thinking? That they would renew their grand love affair? “He did not come to town with romantic intentions.”
Olivia and Corey exchanged a new round of looks. “How do you know that?” Olivia asked carefully.
“Because it has been nine years, and he is mourning his wife’s passing.” She heard the sharp edge to her tone. And she wasn’t certain, even as the memories of the years they had shared kept flooding her now, but hadn’t he told her that he would never stop loving her—and that he would never forget her? She trembled, thinking of Stephen, distraught. She had the notion that he wouldn’t like Owen very much. And Owen would certainly disapprove of her living arrangements. He might even expect Stephen to marry her. “What did you tell him? How did you explain that I no longer live at home?”
“I told him that you were currently Clarewood’s guest. I don’t think he understood.” Olivia stared with significance.
Corey added, “He said he would call on you here. He will find out very shortly.”
Alexandra inhaled. “I never had secrets from Owen, and I do not intend to keep them now. In any case, he will realize that I am Stephen’s mistress soon enough.” Her mind was made up. He certainly needed her as a friend, but he had not come to town with any romantic intentions. And even if he had, it didn’t matter. “If he doesn’t call tomorrow, I will call on him—I intend to renew our friendship. Where is he staying?”
“He is staying with Lord and Lady Bludgeon in Greenwich,” Olivia said.
Alexandra did not know the couple. She rubbed her throbbing temples. She realized she was now eager to see Owen, and comfort and console him, if need be.
Olivia took her hand. “Are you really all right? You are as white as a sheet.”
“This is a shock,” Alexandra admitted. “And I am worried about Owen.”
“Of course you are,” Olivia said, her gaze searching.
She met Olivia’s kind, concerned eyes. And she did not like the question there. Olivia wanted to know if she had any romantic feelings for Owen.
“So what are you going to do?” Corey asked suddenly. “Once you see Owen again.”
Alexandra tensed. “I will offer him comfort, Corey.”
Corey and Olivia looked at one another again. “That isn’t what she meant,” Olivia said.
Alexandra leaped to her feet and began to pace. Her sisters did not know she was with child. Surely they would stop insinuating that something romantic might happen between her and Owen if they did. And they liked Stephen—they had made it clear how impressed they were with his generosity.
“You loved him so much once,” Corey said. “I remember your crying yourself to sleep.”
Alexandra came to a stop. “That is the past!” Olivia was one of the most sensible women she knew—she had always been Alexandra’s confidante, and Alexandra needed to speak with her privately now. “Corey, could you find Guillermo, who is the butler, and tell him that we are three for lunch today?”
Corey smiled. “Clarewood said we should come for lunch.”
When their sister was gone, Alexandra looked carefully at Olivia, who said, “You seem remarkably composed, considering that you have just had the shock of learning that the love of your life has been looking for you and that he is now available.”
“I am with Stephen now, and you know it as well as I do.”
It was a moment before Olivia spoke. “Will Stephen offer marriage?”
Alexandra tensed, dismayed. “Olivia, come. You know as well as I do that he would never consider me eligible to be his duchess.”
Olivia’s mouth tightened. “There are dukes—and princes and kings—who marry commoners, for goodness sake. You would make a wonderful duchess.”
Alexandra’s heart missed a beat. “Please don’t.” She took Olivia’s hand and exhaled. “Olivia, I sent Corey away because there is something I must discuss with you—desperately.”
Olivia started. “What is wrong?”
“I am with child. You are the first to know—I haven’t told anyone yet.”
Olivia gasped. “Alexandra!” Then, her eyes huge, “You haven’t told Clarewood?”
“No. I am afraid he will think my pregnancy a scheme to trap him into marriage.” She stared at her sister now and said nervously, “The first time we were together, he thought I meant to trap him into marriage because of my innocence.” Olivia had paled. “He was so very angry. I cannot bear such anger again.”
Olivia inhaled, standing. “He should marry you, Alexandra. It is the honorable thing to do. No wonder you keep insisting that you are with Clarewood.”
“That isn’t fair—and you like him. You know you do.”
“Yes, I do, but now that I know you are carrying his child, he must marry you. This changes everything! You are with child—this is actually joyous news! And surely he will marry you now. I cannot believe you have been afraid to tell him.” She had begun to smile, no doubt thinking about the niece or nephew she would have.
Alexandra trembled. “I…I love him, but he is frightening when he is angry.”
“Has he hurt you?” Olivia asked.
“No, of course not—not the way you mean. Olivia, I think he cares for me now, and that my news might even please him. But…I am so afraid I am wrong and that he will accuse me of scheming again—and then it will be over.”
Olivia clasped her arm, grim and angry. “Alexandra, he should adore you. He should be head over heels in love with you.”
“Stop!”
“The way Owen once was.”
Alexandra pulled away. “That isn’t fair. Owen has nothing to do with this.”
“Really? I feel certain of one thing—Owen still loves you, and if Clarewood walks out, I am certain he would never let you bear a child by yourself.”
“Stop! You can’t possibly know any such thing.” She hugged herself. “Please, you are being absurd. I care about Stephen, and this is hard enough as it is.”
Olivia actually scowled, shaking her head. “You must tell him about the child—immediately. Then we will see what happens.”
Alexandra could not believe Olivia expected Stephen to consider marriage to her—or that she actually considered Owen a knight in shining armor who would ride to her rescue if Stephen refused to marry her. But Owen was a knight in shining armor, she thought in despair. He had always been kind, caring and a man of honor. He would not care about the gossip—or her reputation.
Alexandra steeled herself not to feel the stabbing pain in her heart. “I have always known this affair was not meant to last forever.”
“Why not? Because you are not good enough for him?” Olivia asked. “Clarewood has been very generous with all of us. But if he won’t marry you, then you should rethink what you are doing.”
Alexandra was silent—because a child’s future was at stake, and maybe her sister was right.
Olivia barreled on. “I know you believe you love Clarewood, but do you really? Because I know how much you loved Owen. And I do not think a love like that ever dies.”
JEFFERSON HAD NOT RESPONDED immediately to her written invitation, which a servant had delivered. When several days had passed without a reply, Julia had begun to think he meant to reject her invitation—which was an obvious rejection of her very cautious advances. But then his reply had come, with an apology—he had been in the south of Scotland. And when she realized he had accepted her invitation to join her for a ride about the countryside, her relief knew no bounds. She was thrilled.
She stole a glance at him now. Her mouth was oddly dry, and she was breathless. They were both mounted and walking their horses away from the stables; he hadn’t said much since arriving, other than to greet her and offer some polite inquiries after her well-being. She’d tried to respond with her usual grace and a nonchalance she did not feel, but it had been a
lmost impossible. He seemed larger and more masculine, and even more attractive, than before. He seemed to dominate the space between them. She was more aware of him than ever before. The tension she’d felt the last time he’d called had somehow become magnified, until it was almost unbearable.
She looked carefully at him and caught him staring, his regard male and bold. Her heart leaped. “Did you enjoy Scotland?”
“Yes, I did. My mother came from Glasgow.”
She hadn’t known. “I believe I have an ancestor on my father’s side who was born in the western isles.”
“Then I suppose we have something in common.” And for one moment their gazes locked, before he glanced away.
She wondered if something was wrong. He was so unusually quiet. “Have you enjoyed your time here?” she asked, hoping that nothing was wrong.
“Yes.” He finally glanced at her, and his smile seemed forced. “I should have come to see my daughter’s grave decades ago.”
He had told her something terribly personal. She wished she could tell him more about her life—about Tom. She hesitated. “I’m glad you finally did. I hope it helped.”
He was silent for a moment. “It did.”
She heard herself say, “I decided years ago not to visit my husband’s tomb.”
He was staring intently now. “Why not, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“It’s been fifteen years, and I was tired of paying my respects.” She shrugged. “Or pretending to do so.”
“I heard it said he was a son of a gun.”
She bit her lip. “He was a cold, difficult man…and frequently cruel.”
“You deserved better. So why pay any respects, ever?”
She was surprised by the vehemence in his tone. “It was my duty, Mr. Jefferson.”
“Yeah, of course it was. Duty is everything over here.” He glanced ahead.
She stiffened, dismayed. Something was wrong, she sensed it. “Surely you believe in duty?”
“I don’t know, Duchess. Where I come from, a man needs pride, courage and ambition, not duty, in order to survive.”