Romance By The Book

by Jo Victor

  “Well, that’s certainly a relief. Come on, darling, I can’t wait to get you home.” Laughing, Rosamund took hold of Alex’s arm and began rushing along, not a great idea in darkness even on the sidewalk, and an even worse idea once they turned off onto the drive that led up to Highgate Hall. Fortunately, the steepness of the incline took its toll even on Rosamund’s high spirits, and they eventually settled down to a more sedate pace.

  As they made their way across the grounds, headed for the cottage that was one of the perks of Rosamund’s job, Alex tried to figure out what was wrong with her. She was strolling in the moonlight with a captivating, beautiful woman who gave every indication of being seriously interested in her, and not just platonically. Rosamund had been dropping not very subtle hints all evening, and now the woman was practically dragging her off to bed.

  Alex should have been happy—hell, she should have been ecstatic. So why did she have a lump of lead in the pit of her stomach? Maybe it was nerves. Rosamund was definitely out of her league.

  Much too soon to suit Alex, they arrived at their destination. Rosamund let go of Alex’s arm to get out her keys. She opened the door but didn’t switch on a light, taking Alex’s hand to draw her inside.

  “Wait, Rosamund.” Alex stayed where she was, standing on the threshold.

  “But, darling, I’ve been waiting.” She stepped close to Alex and touched the index finger of her free hand to Alex’s chin. “All evening,” she purred, drawing her finger slowly down the center of Alex’s throat, pausing at the notch in her collarbone to trace a small circle before slipping lower, stopping at the last spot of bare skin above the V where her shirt was buttoned. “Haven’t we both waited long enough?”

  Alex tried to say something, but all that came out was a very unsexy squeak, mostly because of what Rosamund was doing with her finger, slipping it just under the edge of her shirt and sliding it back and forth inside the fabric over the tops of her breasts.

  Alex put her hand over Rosamund’s and moved it away, holding it down by her side. “Rosamund, I’m sorry. I just don’t think this is a good idea. Not yet.”

  “Why ever not? We’re both adults, and it’s not as if either of us is involved with anybody else. We don’t have to think of anything but our own pleasure.”

  Alex didn’t answer, trying to think of a way to explain about Cam.

  “Right, darling?” Rosamund was gazing at her wide-eyed, her innocent expression tinged with just a hint of concern.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Alex realized there was no way she could say anything. She couldn’t talk about her concern for Cam without bringing up what she knew about Cam’s own feelings, and there was no way she would share any of that with Rosamund. It would be an enormous betrayal. But Rosamund deserved some sort of explanation. So she’d just have to tell her the other part of the truth, as embarrassing as it was.

  “I know it sounds stupid, but I’m scared. I don’t have a lot of, well, experience. I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

  Rosamund laughed. “Is that all that’s worrying you? I’ve got the perfect cure for that—a little champers, a bit of slow dancing. Soon you’ll be so relaxed you’ll just float. Leave everything else to me. I’ll be more than happy to take care of it, believe me.”

  “I don’t think champagne would be a good idea on top of the wine we had with dinner.”

  “Darling, you can’t be serious. You Americans can be so prim about the strangest things. There’s no harm in a glass of champagne. Or several glasses, for that matter.”

  “It’s not that—I just think I’ve had enough for one night. Any more will put me right to sleep. And that wouldn’t be fair to you. Anyway, I think it’s best if I go home.”

  “I can’t believe this. You’re really turning me down. I’m so disappointed.” Rosamund was pouting, but her eyes were dancing. “Say you’ll make it up to me, darling.”

  “Oh yes. Yes, I will. I promise. I just think I need a little time. Like I said, I’m pretty new at all this.”

  “Ooh—if there’s one thing I love, it’s a challenge.”

  She leaned over and kissed Alex, long and slow, her tongue probing languidly. Alex felt the heat of it all through her. Just as she was seriously considering changing her mind, Rosamund pulled away.

  “That’s to give you something to think about in the meanwhile. Until next time, darling.” She darted inside and closed the door. Alex heard her laughing.

  Well, that went well.

  Alex turned away and started trudging home.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Monday morning brought with it another breakdown at Dawson House—the washing machine this time. Cam walked round to the back entrance, tool case in hand and a false smile planted on her face, ready, she hoped, to face Alex. What she wanted was to whip in, do the job, and whip out again with a minimum of fuss. What she got when she stepped into the kitchen, however, was a good half a stone of furry body, paws, and tail coming down on her head from the shelf above the door.

  Fortunately, the wretched animal somehow had sense enough to keep its claws in during the rumpus that followed, so Cam came through without any major damage or important bits missing, and so did the cat—at least as far as she could tell before it ran off. Of course her case burst open when she dropped it to pull the beast off her, so her tools ended up all over the room, and Alex, who had been standing about in the kitchen talking Aunty Elspeth’s ear off instead of being off wherever it was she was supposed to be, doing whatever it was she was supposed to be doing, had insisted on helping pick them up.

  That would have been all right, probably, only Alex insisted on trying to put them away as well, which meant that the whole blasted process took twice as long as it should have, since Cam ended up having to undo most of Alex’s help. Aunty Elspeth meanwhile stood by pointing out items they had missed. For some reason, she seemed to find the whole thing vastly amusing. Especially when Cam and Alex managed to bump heads under the kitchen table.

  What with the delay and all, she wasn’t able to finish the repair before dinnertime—not that there was actually anything to repair, just as she had suspected. Aunty Elspeth insisted on feeding her along with Alex. Not that Cam didn’t appreciate her kindness—or her cooking—but the last thing she wanted was to sit across from Alex trying to make small talk, something she wasn’t much good for at the best of times. Fortunately, she was spared the worst of it when her aunt sat down with them for a cup of tea and a nice little chat, as she called it.

  Things were still rather awkward, though, since Cam really wasn’t up to making conversation and it seemed Alex wasn’t either. At least Aunty Elspeth had plenty to say about the weather and the harvest and the various ailments of assorted family members, so the meal didn’t suffer from long stretches of silence. Cam knew she really should be doing more to hold up her end of things, but she spent most of the time looking down at her food, stealing an occasional glance at Alex’s dark head bent over her own plate.

  Unfortunately, during one of those times Alex happened to look up, and before Cam could look away, their gazes locked. Those lovely blue eyes were clouded with concern, but Cam couldn’t properly read her expression before Alex glanced down again. At least Alex didn’t look like she was angry at her.

  When the meal was finally over, she gratefully escaped to finish her work. When she walked back into the kitchen, Aunty Elspeth wasn’t there, but Alex was, still sitting at the table, staring into space and turning her teacup round and round in its saucer. She looked sad.

  For a moment, Cam thought about trying to say something to her—not the desperate pleading she had almost given way to in the pub, but something—but then Aunty Elspeth came back and the moment was lost.

  She’d have a try some other time. After all, she could hardly mess things up between them worse than they already were, could she, and at least she’d not have given up without even trying. The thought made
her feel considerably better. And even if she made a right fool of herself in the process, well, Alex was worth it, wasn’t she?

  Cam realized she’d been staring at Alex for a while, and now Aunty Elspeth was staring at her. But instead of making any sort of comment, Aunty Elspeth said, “All quiet on the western front, is it?”

  “Aye. I reckon it should be fine now, just like the cooker. But if it’s not, or anything else gives you trouble, you’ll have to get on to Uncle Eric or one of the lads from Brewer’s, at least for the next few days. I’m off to Scarborough.”

  She looked at Alex, who was now staring at her intently, but it was Aunty Elspeth who responded.

  “Oh? Left it a bit late for a seaside holiday, haven’t you? Whole place will be nothing but tourists.”

  “I won’t be on holiday, just helping out a mate on a big job. Paying back a favor. I should be home Saturday, or perhaps Friday if it goes well. I’ll ring once I’m back, or I’ll drop round.”

  “See that you do. Our Eric’s all right for simple repairs, but I don’t fancy letting him muck about with anything complicated, let alone that gormless lot from Brewer’s.”

  Cam gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Cheers, Aunty.”

  Alex said, “Have a safe trip.” Her voice had regained a little of its usual sparkle, and her smile was as sweet as ever.

  Cam decided she wasn’t going to wait. She’d talk to Alex as soon as she got home from Scarborough. Hopefully by then she’d have figured out what on earth to say. She smiled back at Alex. “Ta, I’m off, then.”

  Alex watched the door close behind Cam, glad she had finally left. This had not been the most comfortable morning she had ever spent, having Cam here but not being able to talk to her. Not that Alex had any idea what she would have said to her. “I’m planning to sleep with the woman you love, so please accept my condolences”? Still, she wished she could have at least tried.

  That moment at the table when their eyes met, what she had seen in Cam’s face had been awful. It had made her want to go over and hug her—Mrs. Tate’s presence notwithstanding—and tell her how sorry she was, how she wished she could make everything all right between them, how much she cared about her. All of which would doubtless have done less than no good. Very likely it would have just made her angry.

  Of course, Cam had looked a bit more like her old self when she was talking about her trip. Even if it was for work and not a vacation, she seemed to be looking forward to it. Maybe being away would help her. At least there’d be no possibility of her bumping into Alex and Rosamund for a few days, and Alex wouldn’t have to worry about tormenting Cam.

  All in all, it was probably just as well that Cam was going to be gone for a while—and definitely good that she was going to be away over Thursday night. Rosamund, ever persistent, had talked her into another date and hadn’t been willing to wait for the weekend, so they had agreed on Thursday. Rosamund had also been pretty clear that she had her sights set on breakfast as well as dinner.

  Alex supposed she should find all this attention hugely flattering, but mostly she just found it puzzling. Women, let alone women like Rosamund, never pursued her. She couldn’t imagine what it was about her that drew Rosamund so intently. Well, she had said she liked a challenge, so maybe that was it.

  Besides, did it really matter? Rosamund wasn’t in love with her, any more than she was with Rosamund. This was a fling, not a romance, or even a grand passion. It was probably better that way anyway—fewer complications, and no heavy hearts when she and Rosamund inevitably went their separate ways, returning to the places where they really belonged. Back to reality, after a brief but pleasant dream.

  When she thought about it that way, it didn’t really make sense for her to keep taking things slowly with Rosamund. Besides, it wouldn’t make Cam feel any better if she waited a day, or a week, or a month. Cam probably thought they were already lovers, so really, what was the point?

  And who had any guarantee of the future anyway? Happiness postponed could easily turn into happiness missed—perhaps forever. She thought about Artemisia, bereft by Lady Melissa’s death, alone for all those years.

  She’d decided: after their dinner on Thursday, she would invite Rosamund to come back here to Dawson House. For the night. Then she got up and headed for the study. Time to get some actual work done.

  *

  It seemed to take a lot longer than four days to get there, but Thursday evening finally arrived. Alex had considered making dinner for Rosamund but ultimately decided against it. She was nervous enough to begin with, and had been having trouble concentrating for days. It certainly wouldn’t help matters if she made some major goof during the meal prep.

  On the other hand, going out to eat instead of cooking dinner would have its own drawbacks. Even if everything went reasonably well during the meal, Alex figured there was too much chance of her getting cold feet during the transition between the restaurant and home. Probably the best option would be to pick up something and bring it back to eat at Dawson House. Then if things went according to plan, it would be easy enough to just go upstairs.

  Only one small problem. Somehow she didn’t think champagne-loving Rosamund would respond well to a suggestion that they pop round to the takeaway. Well, if she was too offended, Alex would just have to think of something else.

  In the event, however, Rosamund surprised her. Perhaps it was the way Alex explained her idea, starting by stressing how much fun it could be for Rosamund to try something new for a change, something out of the ordinary for her. Fortunately Bramfell boasted several carryouts that were a step or two up from a basic chippy, so Alex was able to suggest something that wouldn’t unduly strain Rosamund’s refined sensibilities.

  Then she clinched things by mentioning how cozy it would be eating at Dawson House with just the two of them alone. If the look on Rosamund’s face was anything to go by, they might not even make it through dinner.

  As it happened, they made it to and from the restaurant in record time, but once they got back to Dawson House, things didn’t go quite so smoothly. For some reason, Alex couldn’t get her key to work on the front door, so she left a slightly less than pleased Rosamund standing there in the dark while she stumbled around to try the back door. This was a little tricky because she was carrying both their dinners, since Rosamund had made it clear that, while she might have to stand there waiting in the dark being attacked by insects, she certainly wasn’t going to do it while holding a hot, greasy sack.

  Of course, having both hands full made it somewhat harder for Alex to manage when she discovered that, despite the fact that the back door hardly ever shut properly and could usually be opened with a simple push, this time—naturally—it was firmly latched.

  Juggling two very full bags while trying to operate the key at the same time didn’t work very well, so Alex set the food down. However, her next attempts were no more successful, even though she turned the key slowly and carefully each time. She was starting to wonder whether she had the right key.

  There were all sorts of keys lying around Dawson House, the majority of which Alex had never seen used. Most of them looked pretty old, and she had no idea if any of them even matched an existing lock, rather than some ancient door that had been replaced back when England was still being ruled by the House of Hanover.

  Alex had a hard time seeing how she could have ended up with the wrong key, though, because hers was on a cord. Usually she wore it around her neck, and even when she didn’t, she was hardly likely to mistake it for some other random key. Besides, she had been wearing hers all day today and she was sure she hadn’t ever taken it off. Well, pretty sure. Today had been a little stressful.

  She tried again, still without success. In frustration, she pounded on the door with her fist. “Open up, damn you!”

  She heard something click. Maybe the door was actually unlocked but stuck. She tried rattling the door. “I said, open.”

  Finally she kicked it. “Will you ope
n already, for Pete’s sake?”

  There was another clicking sound and the door swung ajar, just a fraction but that was plenty. Alex hit the light switch, reached down, and grabbed the food. She dumped it on the kitchen table as she raced by, running down the hall to pull the front door wide open.

  Rosamund did not look happy. She didn’t say a single word, just stalked past Alex into the hall. As Alex closed the door, Rosamund turned around to face her.

  “Well?”

  “Uh, I’m sorry, Rosamund.”

  “Of course you are. What I meant was, are you just going to stand there staring at me, or are we going to eat? I’m starving.”

  “The food is in the kitchen.”

  “Well, fetch it then. Where’s the dining room?”

  “There isn’t one. We’re going to eat in the kitchen.”

  Rosamund rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. “Then where is the kitchen?”

  “This way, Rosamund.”

  Somewhere upstairs, a door slammed. “What the bloody hell was that? I thought you said we’d be alone.”

  “We are. That just happens sometimes. Doors slamming, or swinging open. It’s an old house.”

  “How simply marvelous.”

  When they reached the kitchen, Rosamund sat at the table and crossed her arms, making no attempt to help as Alex dished out the food. Alex suddenly realized she didn’t have anything to offer Rosamund to drink. Despite all her nervous planning, she had forgotten all about getting something special, like a bottle of wine. When she confessed her lack of foresight, Rosamund just shook her head. Alex got them both glasses of water and sat down.

  Of course by now the food was barely lukewarm. Alex offered to heat it up, but when Rosamund discovered that would mean twenty minutes in the oven rather than twenty seconds in the microwave, she stiffly declined.

  They ate in silence. Alex had absolutely no appetite and mostly pushed her food around on her plate. Finally Rosamund put down her fork.