by Olivia Drake
“Your aunt was delighted to be home again,” she said, the pencil in her fingers flying across the paper. “Of course, it wasn’t that she was unhappy living here with us, only that she prefers her own familiar surroundings.”
“I told you she likes all that clutter. The reminders of my uncle Charles are everywhere.” Alex tilted himself forward, straining to see over the edge of the pad. “Aren’t you finished yet?”
“In ten minutes? Hardly! Lie still now or you’ll spoil the image.”
He pulled a disgruntled face as he resumed his pose. “At least I’ll have a reward for this degradation of my pride.” His gaze dropped to her bosom where, she realized, the dressing gown gaped open to give him a glimpse of her bare breasts. “A long, enjoyable, and gratifying reward.”
Laura’s insides curled with desire. “So you shall, my lord. Your wish will be my command.”
She flashed a brief smile at him while working on the illustration, adding shading to his arms and chest to enhance the contour of his muscles. She always loved seeing an image come to life with the stroke of a pencil or paintbrush. But tonight, her mind dwelled on the matter that had been haunting her since she’d left his aunt’s house. “By the by, Lady Josephine said something rather odd to me today. She begged me not run off as Blanche had done.”
Had Laura not been watching him closely, she might have missed the almost imperceptible tensing of his jaw. He gave a dismissive chuckle. “She says a lot of odd things lately. Now, I really do think you should let me see that drawing. For all I know, you’re depicting me with a forked tail and horns.”
He made a grab for the sketch pad, and she scrambled backward to evade his reach. When he wouldn’t give up, she rolled off the bed with the notebook clutched behind her back.
“Alex, for pity’s sake! I’ll show it to you when I’m done and not a moment sooner. You agreed to pose for half an hour. Otherwise, your reward can go to perdition.”
His gaze fixed on her breasts again. “You have five more minutes.”
“Twenty,” she corrected with a glance at the ormolu clock that ticked on a wall shelf. “And since you are being unmanageable, I believe you need a prop to hold.”
“I’ll be pleased to hold you.” He patted the sheets invitingly. “Why don’t you just remove that robe and join me here?”
Laura ached to do so. She also ached to find answers to questions that had been left too long unanswered. Questions that might lead her to a better understanding of him.
“Patience is a virtue,” she said tartly.
“Patience is for milksops. And I’m certainly not feeling very virtuous tonight.”
“You’ll have to be—or you won’t have your reward.”
Heading barefoot to the writing desk, she set down her pad and pencil, then opened the single drawer and fished around in the back of it. She grasped the oval miniature that she’d discovered on their wedding night. Her fingertip traced the fractures in the glass.
Laura clutched the miniature for a moment before turning toward him. She hesitated at the sight of his cocky smile. A part of her didn’t want to spoil his relaxed mood by bringing up the past. But it had to be done or Alex’s thoughts and feelings would forever remain a mystery to her.
She walked to the bed. “I’d like you to hold this.”
With a wry grin, Alex accepted the miniature. “What am I supposed to do with…?” His words ground to a halt as he glanced down at the small likeness of his father. A scowl wiped away all trace of the contented lover. Sitting up abruptly, he snapped, “What the devil? Where did you find this?”
Laura sat down on the edge of the mattress. “It was in the back of the desk drawer. I presume your mother placed it there a long time ago.”
He held the miniature between his fingers as if it were a piece of excrement. “This bedchamber was supposed to be cleaned from top to bottom. Mrs. Mayhew will hear about this in the morning.”
His angry reaction drew her sympathies. Laura yearned to share the burden of his past so that it would not weigh so heavily upon him.
“You will not scold the housekeeper. Anyone could have missed something so small.” Laura leaned closer to peer at the painting. “That’s your father, isn’t it? Why not have the glass replaced and put the miniature on display?”
Alex gazed at her with impenetrable eyes. “Fine. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
He turned away, tossing the little oval frame onto the bedside table. The negligence of his action caused the piece to slide off and fall to the carpet, though he made no attempt to retrieve it.
Laura scooped up the miniature and returned it to the desk. She wanted to reproach him for his carelessness. But perhaps the pain of his childhood lay behind the coldness of his manner.
Rejoining him in bed, she grabbed a feather pillow and hugged it to her bosom as she studied his chiseled features. “I suspect you’ve no intention of repairing the glass,” she said. “You’ll toss the portrait into the rubbish. The question is … why?”
His mouth formed a cool, mocking smile, the one he used to ward off bothersome inquiries. “I’ve no use for damaged items. Now finish your drawing. I’ll want to see it in precisely”—his gaze flicked to the clock—“fifteen minutes.”
Laura made no move to fetch her sketchpad and pencil. “You’ve a habit of deflecting attention from any questions about your past. Did you realize that? Consequently, I know very little about your youth.”
“There’s little to tell—”
“Then you may start with why your mother ran away. Or shall I be reduced to seeking a garbled version of events from Lady Josephine?” Seeing his closed expression, Laura softened her tone. “Won’t you please tell me, Alex? I’m your wife. I should know about your past.”
Grimacing, he sat stiffly against the pillows, crooking up one leg and resting his arm on his knee. He looked distinctly ill at ease, and she knew it had nothing to do with his nakedness. Alex was comfortable in his own skin—but his childhood memories put him on edge.
He glanced away into the shadows of the bedchamber. He rubbed his brow as if searching for an excuse not to talk. Then he scowled at her, took a deep breath, and blew it out in a huff. “If you insist upon knowing, my mother did leave my father. It happened when I was thirteen years old. I arrived home on summer holiday from Eton only to discover that she was gone.”
“Oh, Alex … I’m so sorry. Had your father been cruel to her? Was she fleeing for her life?”
He released a harsh laugh. “For her life? Hardly. She ran off with another man.”
Expecting an indictment of the old earl, Laura stared at Alex in shock. “Another man!”
“Yes,” he said, his eyes chilly. “My mother had always had affairs for as far back as I can remember. And my father was always threatening to divorce her. But he never did.”
He went on in an emotionless voice to describe the noisy quarrels between his parents, and the picture that emerged sickened Laura. She wanted to comfort him, but he appeared lost in memory and she feared that any interruption might silence him. So she clutched the pillow and just listened as he depicted a fickle mother who would lavish gifts on him and his older sister, then ignore them for months on end while she conducted her illicit dalliances. He also spoke of a harsh father who tried vainly to curb his wife’s excesses and stop her endless flirtations.
Laura had been prepared to despise the old earl. It had been a vile act of brutality for him to knock Alex’s puppy down the stairs. However, now she could see that both parents had been at fault. Blanche had known that her husband didn’t like pets yet she had given one to Alex anyway. She had habitually provoked her husband with her own irresponsible behavior.
And Alex had been caught in the middle of it all.
What was it Lady Josephine had said about his parents? It was quite shocking the way the two of them would scream at each other! I daresay poor Alexander witnessed far too many quarrels in his time …
Laura wante
He flicked a glance at Laura. “My father went chasing after her and her lover, of course. But he never caught them. They’d had too much of a head start to Dover, where they purchased passage to the Continent.” He paused, his face grim. “As fate would have it, the ship went down in a storm. My mother—and her lover—drowned.”
Tears sprang to Laura’s eyes. Not for his mother, but for Alex, whose view of marriage had been tainted by the foibles of his parents. Was it any surprise that he would marry for lust instead of love?
His gaze focused beyond her, he went on. “Somehow, my father was able to cover up the scandal. He put forth a story that she’d been traveling to Italy on a holiday. I doubt that anyone in society really believed it, but they went along out of respect for his rank.”
“What about her lover?” Laura murmured. “Surely his death would have raised eyebrows. For a gentleman and a lady to be on board the same ship—”
“I never said he was a gentleman. He’d been employed at a gaming hell on the fringes of society.” His mouth twisted. “Yes, the Countess of Copley threw away her life, her husband, her family, to elope with a common knave.”
His bleak, bitter expression tore at her heart. No wonder he’d kept a part of himself distant. The source of his possessiveness of her became clear, too. She could see just how raw a nerve she’d touched by requiring that he purchase a house for her as a condition of bearing his heir. He feared that she, too, would run off and leave him.
Given the circumstance of his mother’s abandonment, Laura found it amazing that Alex had signed the legal document at all. Surely his doing so must indicate that he had deep feelings for her …
Abandoning the pillow, she scooted across the bed and slid her arms around his neck. “Oh, darling. I wish I could erase all of those memories and replace them with happy ones.”
He gripped her waist, his eyes intense on her. Then he shifted his gaze away, as if to maintain an aura of detachment. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “It’s over with and done.”
But it wasn’t over, she knew. The past had shaped him, made him guarded and cold whenever anyone attempted to probe too deeply into his emotions. It had given him that ironic outlook with which he viewed the world. And it explained why he found it difficult to trust anyone enough to open his heart.
Laura cupped his cheek, tracing the scar she’d inflicted all those years ago. He hadn’t believed her judgment in regard to her own father, either. Because he had never known honor in a parent.
She turned his face back toward her. “Your past will always be a part of you, though you mustn’t let it rule you. And may I add that I adore the fine man you’ve become.”
A cool smile lifted one corner of his mouth. He untied the cord of the dressing gown, and his hand delved inside to touch her intimately. “You adore what I do to you.”
Laura drew a shaky breath under the onrush of desire. She caught his wrist to halt the delightful caress. “Yes, you’re absolutely right. But it’s more than that. And pray don’t distract me when I’m trying to tell you something important.”
His finger performed a lazy swirl that had her gasping. “Nothing could be more important than this.”
“One thing is. Love.” His hand stilled and his dark eyes fixed on her. Now that she had captured his full attention, she leaned closer and murmured against his lips, “I love you, Alex. That’s what is truly important. I love you with all my heart and soul.”
The aloofness vanished from his eyes. In its place, a deep river of emotion flowed there, stark and needy. She caught only a glimpse of it before he pulled her into his lap and subjected her to a deep, ravenous kiss. He pushed the dressing gown from her shoulders, stroking her silken skin all over as if learning her curves for the first time.
Love, she discovered, enhanced the richness of desire. With caresses and whispered words, she let Alex know just how much he meant to her. Straddling his lap, she took him deeply into her body, gazing into his eyes as she became one flesh with him. The sheer pleasure of moving with him in perfect accord made her moan. Under a flood of irresistible sensations, their passion flourished until it became too much to bear, and they clung to each other during the exhilarating plummet into bliss.
Lying against him afterward, her head tucked in the crook of his shoulder, Laura came to an awareness that Alex had never returned her words of love. How she longed to hear such an ardent declaration from him. And yet … she could feel his devotion in the tenderness of his touch. At the moment, his fingers reached beneath the curtain of her unbound hair to gently massage the nape of her neck. He pressed a soft kiss to her brow, his breath warm against her skin.
A rush of happiness brought a wistful smile to her lips. If he couldn’t avow love for her, then she must be content with him exactly as he was. But perhaps someday he might … if only she could convince him to lower the wall around his heart.
Tilting her head to look up at him, she idly traced the hard line of his jaw. “I hope you know you’ve been terribly unfair to me.”
“Have I? How is that?”
“You’ve collected your reward. Yet I never did finish my sketch of you.”
He chuckled deep in his chest. “Just as well, darling. I can’t imagine what you were planning to do with it, anyway.”
Laura ran an admiring hand over the muscles of his shoulders and down his arm. “Oh, it’s merely a preliminary drawing. I thought I might paint a larger version in oils and hang it over the mantel in the drawing room.”
He drew back to stare at her. A thunderous frown crossed his features; then the storm cleared as he noticed Laura’s impish smile. Grinning, he gave a light slap to her bare bottom. “Wicked jade. You had me fooled there for a moment.”
“Well, I ought to do it,” she declared, “if only to thumb my nose at those who consider me beyond the pale. After all, I am the notorious Laura Falkner.”
A sober expression descended over his face, and he caught hold of her shoulders. “You’re my countess. By God, society will accept you.”
The fervency of his avowal thrilled her. But she was pragmatic enough to face reality. The upper crust might invite her into their homes out of respect for his rank. But they would still view her with disdain.
And when she exposed Lord Haversham as the real thief? Laura felt skeptical that revealing the truth about the theft of the Blue Moon diamond would alter their prejudice against her. Some might even blame her for causing the downfall of a venerated member of their ranks.
She stroked his cheek. “It doesn’t matter so long as I have you. If a few snooty people refuse to acknowledge me, then so be it.”
“But it matters to me.” A shrewd look entering his eyes, he added, “And it’s time that you and I entered the lion’s den together.”
Chapter 26
Carrying a basket of cut roses, Laura left the garden and went into the coolness of the house. She had spent an enjoyable morning out in the sunshine chatting with the gardener, a leathery old man with an encyclopedic knowledge of rose hybrids. She had clipped a generous sampling of her favorites. As she headed toward the front of the house, her mind was full of poetic names like Damask and Provence and Gallica. She intended to use her fragrant bounty to fill the cloisonné vase beneath the stairs.
The sound of male voices echoed down the long corridor with its arched ceiling. Her heart leaped, and she increased her pace toward the entrance hall, her soft leather slippers tapping on the marble floor. Had Alex returned? The prospect brought a smile to her lips.
He had been assigned an official role in Queen Victoria’s coronation ceremony on the morrow. A last-minute meeting at Westminster Abbey had required his presence this morning. It was one of the few times they’d been separated in the three weeks since their wedding.
She hurried in anticipation of his kiss on her cheek, his arm around her waist, the tenderness in his dark brown eyes. Their marriage had been an idyll beyond compare. By day, they’d visited art galleries and museums, shopped on Bond Street and visited the zoo, often taking Lady Josephine with them. By night, they attended the theater, dinner parties, and balls in honor of the upcoming coronation. Though she’d assured him it wasn’t necessary, he’d stayed close at her side to guard against anyone who might dare to scorn her.
His campaign to restore Laura’s reputation had resulted in considerable success, despite her doubts to the contrary. He also had persuaded Lady Milford to host a small reception to celebrate their nuptials. It had been the most sought-after invitation of the pre-coronation events. Only the cream of society had been present, and the gathering had proven to be a victory against the naysayers. Even Lord Oliver, her father’s former friend, had been civil toward Laura, though she had detected a lingering judgmental stiffness in his manner.
All in all, though, the ton had begun to accept her. There had been a significant decline in the derisive looks and sly innuendos. It had made her appreciate the scope of Lady Milford’s influence.
Laura could only marvel at the twist of fate that had caused her to hide in her ladyship’s coach all those weeks ago. If not for that chance encounter, she would never have had the opportunity to renew her relationship with Alex. She would never have realized that his inability to believe in her father’s exemplary character stemmed from Alex’s own youth, when he had learned only cynicism and mistrust. Alone and lonely, she would have gone on despising him, never knowing the bliss of being his wife. And she would never have learned the joys of love.
A brief pang touched her heart. Of course, Alex had never spoken of love. He remained as reticent as ever in regard to voicing his innermost feelings. At times, he even reverted to coolness if she probed too deeply into his emotions.
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