by Syrie James
He suddenly remembered that Mary sometimes went out early to buy fish and produce at the street market a few blocks away. It was worth a try.
Alexandra sighed heavily as she and Mrs. Gill moved through the crowds at Euston Station, her thoughts drifting to the last time she’d been here, intending to make this same journey.
That morning, so many weeks ago, she’d been alone, relieved to be leaving London, worried that there might not be a room available aboard the ship, and filled with anxiety lest something else should go wrong. Today, circumstances couldn’t be more different. She already had her steamship ticket in her possession, which she was ready to guard with her life. She had Mrs. Gill to see her safely off. And she wasn’t exactly relieved to be leaving.
“What is that sigh for?” asked Mrs. Gill as they headed toward the platform for the Liverpool train. “I thought you were happy to be going home.”
“I am happy. But I’m sad, too, at the thought of leaving England. And saying good-bye to you.” Alexandra managed a smile for her friend, as she touched her bonnet. “Thank you again, Mrs. Gill, for letting me keep the hat. It’s a long way to New York, and I’ll feel better with something on my head.”
“You’re most welcome, dearie. Anyway, it looks better on you than it ever did on me.” Mrs. Gill cast her a sidelong glance then, commenting, “You know, when you told me about your time in Cornwall, you said a great deal about the girls you cared for, but nary a word about Mr. Carlyle.”
“Didn’t I?” Alexandra felt herself blush as an errant tear infiltrated her eye. She quickly wiped it away.
Mrs. Gill tucked one of her arms beneath Alexandra’s and drew her close as they walked. “Did you lose your heart to him, dearie?”
A little sound escaped Alexandra’s lips, halfway between a laugh and a sob. “I fear I did, Mrs. Gill. But he didn’t want it.”
“Ah, child. The ways of love are never easy. I suppose he thought you were too good for him, rich as you are, and him just a country painter.”
Alexandra shook her head, her voice cracking as she replied: “I don’t think that was the problem.”
“Well, dearie. It seems to me that a young lady in your position will have dozens of worthy men to choose from. And I always say, if something is meant to be, it will be.”
The street market was a noisy, dirty affair with red-faced vendors hawking everything from fruits and vegetables to live poultry and sides of beef. Thomas moved quickly through the throngs, straw and grime from the cobblestones sticking to his boots as he searched every face for the one he sought.
At last, he spotted Mrs. Gill’s kitchen maid, Mary, looking over the turnips and potatoes at a nearby stall. “Mary?”
The maid turned to him in surprise and dipped a quick curtsy. “Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning. Mary: I have only just arrived in town, and I . . .” If Miss Atherton had gone to Mrs. Gill’s, he was uncertain what name she would have used. “Can you tell me, Has Miss Watson been to the house of late?”
“Miss Watson?” Mary’s eyebrows raised. “Did ye not know then, Mr. Carlyle, sir? Her name’s nay Miss Watson, but Miss Atherton.” Confidentially, she added, “She’s an heiress.”
So she had been there. And she had told them who she was. But apparently, she had not divulged his own true identity. “Yes. Just so, has Miss Atherton been staying at Mrs. Gill’s?”
“She has, sir. Came to us three nights ago.”
“It is vital that I see her, but I found no one at home. Do you know where she might be?”
“I do, sir. She and Mrs. Gill left over an hour ago for Euston Station.”
“Euston Station!”
Mary nodded. “Miss Atherton’s on her way back to New York, sir, on the first boat train.”
Bloody hell. There truly was not a moment to lose. Thomas thanked the girl, dashed back through the marketplace, and hailed a cab.
As the vehicle crawled along through the London streets, Thomas cursed the morning traffic. The journey seemed to take forever. Upon arrival, he paid the cabbie and dashed through the grand portal into the station, then checked the board to learn from which platform the Liverpool train was embarking. It was due to leave in ten minutes.
Ten minutes!
Thomas’s heart pounded as he raced the full length of one platform, then another, pushing his way through the crowd, heedless of the grunts of complaint from the people he was affronting. At last, he reached his destination. The crowds were immense, couples embracing by the waiting locomotive, from whose smokestack a gray plume was already shooting upward. He rushed toward the train, dashing around piles of luggage, then paused, gasping, frantically searching for a glimpse of Miss Atherton.
And then he saw her.
She was standing by the door to a waiting third-class passenger car, wearing the same black dress she had worn when he’d first found her, and she was in the arms of another woman. Mrs. Gill. They were hugging good-bye.
Thomas broke into a run. The embrace between the two women ended. Mrs. Gill waved and disappeared into the crowd, unaware of his approach. Miss Atherton turned and climbed up the steps into the waiting car.
“Wait!” he gasped. “Miss Atherton! Wait!”
She whirled around on the landing of the passenger car doorway, her face registering her astonishment upon seeing him. He hurried over and stopped immediately below the car’s steps, struggling to catch his breath as he gazed up at her. He had prepared a speech in the cab, but now that they stood nearly face to face, he could not recall a single word of it.
“Please. You cannot leave,” is what came out of his mouth.
Her brow furrowed as she looked down at him. “As you see, I am.”
“I pray that you will change your mind. Please, Miss Atherton. Please get off that train.”
“Why?”
“Because I have been a fool.”
She went still at that. He didn’t wait for her reply, but rushed on:
“When I learned who you really are, I should have embraced it. I should have understood that only extraordinary circumstances could have propelled you to act as you did. Instead, all I could see was my own hurt and wounded pride. But how can I blame you, when you did nothing I had not already done myself, many times over? I am so sorry. So deeply, deeply sorry.”
“I appreciate your apology.” She seemed to be struggling for calm. The train whistle blew, signaling its imminent departure. “But you still haven’t given me a reason to get off this train.”
“I give you this reason: you cannot go because it will take you away from me. I love you, Miss Atherton. I love you with all my heart. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I cannot imagine my life without you in it. I want to spend the rest of my days with you, if you will have me. Will you marry me? Will you do me the honor of returning to Cornwall with me, and be my wife?”
To the end of his days, Thomas knew he would never forget the surge of relief and joy he felt when Miss Atherton’s mouth curved into a smile, and she stepped down from the train.
Her blue eyes sparkled with emotion as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yes,” she said firmly, as their lips met in a fiery kiss. “Yes, I will marry you. You big fool.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The wedding took place two months later at St. Perran’s Church in Longford Parish. Alexandra wore a spectacular gown of white Belgian lace created for her, of course, by Worth in Paris. Her four bridesmaids, the sisters of the bride and groom, looked beautiful in their own white lace dresses. The Earl of Longford and his best man, the Earl of Saunders, were resplendent in their morning coats.
“Alexandra,” her father said, before he walked her down the aisle, “I’m so proud of you.”
“Are you, Father?”
“How can you doubt it? I still shudder to think of all you went through. I would never have disowned you, my dear, no matter what your mother might say.”
Moisture gathered in Alexandra’s eye
s. “Thank you, Father.”
When the service was over, Alexandra was delighted by the welcome she received from the community, and particularly satisfied by the humble curtsy offered by Mrs. Gordon.
Mrs. Gill, beaming with pride and happiness, gave her an especially warm hug. “To think I had an earl living under my roof for months, and had no idea! I’m so happy for you both, dearie.”
“I can never thank you enough, Mrs. Gill. For everything.”
Kathryn was thrilled to be in England again, and happy to see her sister marry a man of whom she had immediately approved.
“He is so divinely handsome,” Kathryn whispered in Alexandra’s ear when the service was over, and family and friends were gathered in the long gallery at Polperran House for an elaborate afternoon tea reception. “It’s no wonder you fell for him like a ton of bricks. If only he had a brother.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” Alexandra warned her sister. “You know that this has only inflamed Mother’s plans for you and Maddie.”
They both glanced across the room, to where their middle sister was laughing with Lillie and Julia. Madeleine was still unattached, having pronounced herself to be incompatible with the man who’d briefly attracted her interest earlier in town. She’d formed an immediate bond, however, with Julia and Lillie, who were thrilled when their favorite governess became their brother’s bride.
“I am aware,” replied Kathryn with a smile. “But I’m on my guard. After what you’ve been through, there’s not a chance on earth I’d let Mother pick out my husband.”
Mrs. Atherton was all delight that her daughter had married an earl. Although she’d tried without success to push Madeleine into the arms of several eligible men that season, Mrs. Atherton hadn’t dared to repeat her histrionics or try to force the issue, not with Lord Longford looking over her shoulder.
“Now that Alexandra is a countess, I fully expect an invitation to Mrs. Astor’s next winter ball,” Alexandra overheard her mother saying with satisfaction to her father some time later, as the guests began to disperse. With a smile she added, “Isn’t this a grand old house?”
“Very grand indeed,” Colis Atherton replied, curling his handlebar mustache with his fingertips as he glanced around the room, which was festooned with flowers paid for out of his own pocket. “But I must say, Alexandra and her new husband will need every penny of her fortune to get this place into shape.”
“When they’re through, it will be a showplace, my dear,” his wife answered. “A delightful country retreat, suitable for entertaining other peers of the realm. You understand that this is just the beginning. This season may be over, but there is always next year—and we will be back. I can hardly wait to see Mrs. Astor’s face the day she learns that all my daughters have married men with titles.”
“Well,” Colis Atherton responded with a nod, “you have certainly made a good start.”
Alexandra turned to Longford, who was seizing two glasses of champagne from a passing tray. “Did you hear that?”
Her husband nodded, handing her a glass with a smile. “I did, my love. But I do not mind. I have come to admire your mother.”
“Admire her? Why?”
“For her quest that you marry a titled man. Because it brought you to me.”
Alexandra smiled up at him. “I could not agree more.” They clinked glasses and drank. “In the same vein, I hope you’ll look more kindly on your father.”
“My father?” he repeated, surprised.
“I don’t blame you for being angry with him. But he paid for your education in Italy, which he couldn’t afford. And far more than that: he took in Lillie, which was a kind and generous thing to do.”
Thomas nodded slowly as he gazed down at her. “You are a wise woman. No wonder I fell in love with you.” Setting aside their glasses, he took her in his embrace and kissed her. “Thank you for marrying me.”
“Thank you for asking.”
“There’s something I feel bad about, though. I keep thinking about what you had to give up to be with me.”
“What did I give up?”
“Your return to Vassar. Your college degree. I know how much your studies mattered to you.”
“I’m not at all sorry,” Alexandra replied, gazing into the eyes of the man she adored. “I learned a great deal in college. But if I’ve learned anything in life, it’s to know when it’s time to accept that you’ve achieved enough in one arena, and be willing to move on to the next. What matters to me now is the man standing before me, and the life we’re going to build together.”
Later that night, when Alexandra and Thomas were at last alone together in his bedroom, she felt shy in his presence for the first time in weeks. Since their engagement, they’d kissed at length and spent many long evenings in the library, talking about the future. But they’d never again repeated the intimacies they’d shared that afternoon at the pond.
Now they were married. She stood before him in a white silk nightdress that clung to her body, accentuating her curves. Her hair, relieved of its pins, cascaded around her shoulders. A fire burned in the grate, infusing the room with warmth. Thomas came to her, naked from the waist up.
“My love,” he whispered. “You are a vision. I cannot tell you how long I have dreamed of this moment.”
“So have I,” she admitted. “I just hope I’ll know what to do. We only got so far before.”
He kissed her, his gentleness conveying both reassurance and the depth of his affection. “Fear not, my lovely wife. Whatever happens, it is just you and me now, expressing our love for each other.”
He pulled her against him until their lips and bodies met and clung. She loved the feel of his male torso, the way it fit so perfectly against her own. Her hands slid around him, exploring the length of his back, curling into his silky hair as they kissed. Then, drawing back slightly, he lifted her nightgown over her head.
She trembled slightly, self-conscious in her nudity, but his warm brown eyes gleamed with appreciation as he took her in. She could see that he found her beautiful. In one swift movement, he divested himself of his trousers and took her in his arms again. She felt his naked manhood, pressed hard and insistent against her. The kiss that followed was every bit as thrilling and sensuous as their very first kiss, yet now it was even more wondrous and meaningful, for it was infused with the deep love they felt for each other.
Moving to the bed, they melted into each other’s embrace again, hands everywhere, mouths meeting with such passion, it left them both breathless.
His lips and tongue paid tribute to the sensitive tips of her breasts, until she heard herself moan. Hot desire curled in her belly as he traveled lower, covering her stomach with kisses, and then lower still, until he reached the V between her legs and parted them with his hands.
She hadn’t expected this. “What . . . are you doing?” she asked softly.
“Hoping to bring you bliss,” was his reply.
She inhaled sharply as his mouth and tongue began lapping at her most private of places. She wanted to voice her consternation and surprise, but was suddenly incapable of thought, much less speech. His ministrations continued until she felt a tide of yearning rising inside her, as it had once before when he’d touched her there with his fingers. This time the feelings were even more intense, wrapping her in a sensation that built and built inside her womb until she thought she might die from the pleasure of it, until finally her body ignited with white-hot sensation, as if flying off a precipice into pure joy.
It took a long moment to find her voice. “Dear God,” she said breathily, her legs still reverberating as he made his way up her body again with moist kisses.
He settled himself atop her, and she felt the hard length of his desire once again trapped between their bodies. Cupping her face tenderly with one hand, he whispered, “Did you like that, Lady Longford?”
“I more than liked it, my lord. I loved it.” She smiled, smoothing one hand down the length of his back.
“And now, it’s your turn. I want—”
“Wait.” He readjusted himself so that he lay beside her, then took one of her hands in his. “Will you touch me first?” he whispered.
He placed her hand around his naked male member. It felt hard as steel. He silently guided her to move her hand up and down along its length. She loved the way it felt, the way her touch affected him, the way his stomach contracted and his respiration altered, as if he were working hard to control himself. Finally, he stayed her hand with his own and kissed her fervently.
Reaching down, he pleasured her again with his hand, in that place which was now hot and wet, but felt empty somehow. Soon, the sweet tension built inside her again and she was aching once more for release.
“Please,” was all she could think to say.
Moving back atop her, he brushed his lips against hers and said, “This might hurt at first, my darling, as it is your first time. But I hope the pain will be fleeting.” With gentle slowness, he guided himself inside her. It did hurt a bit, and at her intake of breath he paused, gazing down at her questioningly. “My love?”
“I’m all right. Keep going.”
He nestled further, until the space that had felt void and wanting was suddenly filled. He began to move, and as she instinctively moved with him, the initial pain began to fade, until it was overtaken by a sensation that redefined the very word pleasure.
Her hands gripped him, holding him close. She wanted to tell him how wonderful it felt to be in his arms with their bodies joined, as close as two people possibly could be. But words failed her; her mind spun. With each rocking thrust, she felt her own body tensing and coiling again as it reached for the now-familiar precipice.