A Dream of Desire

by Nina Rowan

  But, God, she was lovely, with her pale gold hair and Madonna-like features. Blue eyes fringed with long, dark lashes. A rosebud mouth that he couldn’t stop staring at as she’d stood in the front office at Newhall and told him she was Peter’s sister.

  Not once since that day several months ago had William been able to stop thinking of her. He’d almost petitioned for the boy’s release himself just so that he could see Alice again when she came to fetch her brother. Instead he’d waited the interminable weeks until the day of Peter’s release…only to have his enjoyment over seeing Alice again blackened by the presence of that interfering Lady Talia Hall and her accomplice Fletcher.

  Under the guise of giving her a report about Peter’s condition, William had visited Alice twice at her family’s Bell Lane house. Her wretched father had been there both times, making it impossible for William to speak with Alice alone, but at least he’d been able to gaze at her and hear the sound of her voice.

  Now that Peter had been freed, William had to find another excuse to be in her company.

  When Alice turned the corner of King’s Street, William followed. His heart beat faster as he closed the distance between them.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Colston.”

  She startled, her head turning. “Oh, Mr. Lawford. What are you doing here?”

  “I’d thought to pay a visit on Lady Talia Hall when I saw you leaving.” He kept his tone politely inquisitive. “You had the same idea.”

  “Yes. Lady Talia has been very kind to my family, especially after Peter’s arrest.”

  “How did she come to know Peter?”

  “He helped her in some way, she once said.” Alice reached up to tighten her collar around her neck. “Though she’s been more of a help to us.”

  “And how is Peter faring after his release?” William asked.

  “He’s begun putting back the weight he’d lost, which is good, but he’s still…upset.”

  William clenched his jaw. Peter had been a problem since the moment he was brought to Newhall. Sullen and defiant in a way William hadn’t encountered before. He knew Peter was afraid of him—several floggings and confinement had ensured that—but the boy had a hard shell that William hadn’t been able to crack.

  After he’d met Alice, William had tried to make prison life easier for Peter. He’d given Peter extra food, which went uneaten, offered to let him outside in the prison yard longer than the other boys, released him from work duty, allowed him more time in the library.

  Peter refused all his efforts, which made William dislike the boy all the more. Not that he would ever let Alice see that.

  “Has Peter visited Lady Talia as well?” William asked, tensing as he awaited her response.

  “No.” Alice’s mouth twisted. “She has a place waiting for him at the Brick Street school, but Peter isn’t willing to even consider enrolling. I hope it’s because he simply needs some time to adjust. I suppose that’s one of the reasons Lady Talia thinks boys like Peter should not be sent to prison in the first place.”

  William smothered a rush of irritation. “Yet incarceration teaches them the ills of wrongdoing and ensures the safety of law-abiding citizens, does it not?”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “I’m sorry Peter served time at Newhall,” William said gently. “It’s a very run-down institution, likely should never have been reopened. The Shipton Fields prison that I am seeking to establish will be much more expansive, with a large yard, quarters for the warders and chaplain, storerooms, visitors’ rooms…and quite a grand lodge for the governor.”

  His pulse sped up as Alice glanced at him with those blue eyes like marbles. He’d been working on the Shipton Fields bill for more than a year, anticipating having management of his own prison and finally escaping life with his miserable uncle. He also wanted the approbation that would come with the governorship of a brand-new prison, the approval of Lord Thurlow and other peers that might one day lead to his own knighthood for service to the Crown. He wanted the salary that the position would earn, the income from his prisoners’ labor.

  But not until he met Alice did William realize why he wanted all that. He’d thought about it for himself, for the success and recognition he’d long deserved, especially after Elizabeth’s betrayal.

  Elizabeth. His gut clenched at the thought of her rejection. Her resistance. If she hadn’t resisted, he wouldn’t have had to force her. If only she’d accepted him, his love, his need for her…instead she’d been horrified by “what he did to her”—ignoring the fact that she had first let him touch her—and had refused to see him again.

  Then she’d told everyone that he was depraved and of course she could never marry him…well, that had smeared his name all over Lewes, and he’d moved to London shortly thereafter to get away from it.

  Elizabeth could rot in hell, for all he cared. The lying cow was nothing compared to the sweet-tempered Miss Alice Colston with her soft, blond hair and eyes the color of cornflowers.

  She was now the reason William craved the success of Shipton Fields. With the prison under his command, his newfound association with the peerage, the salary of the governorship…he could court and marry Miss Alice Colston with nothing to stand in his way.

  Except, perhaps, her brother, Peter.

  “Have you considered asking Lady Talia or Mr. Fletcher for their advice about a new prison for juveniles?” Alice asked.

  William choked back a laugh. “I’m afraid we are not in agreement for how best to manage criminals, Miss Colston. I believe in fair treatment, but also that one must pay when one commits a crime. Lady Talia has far too soft a heart when it comes to lawbreakers.”

  “I don’t know that it’s possible to have too soft a heart, Mr. Lawford,” Alice murmured.

  “Soft hearts are easily crushed, Miss Colston.”

  “They’re also resilient, aren’t they?” Faint amusement curved her lovely mouth. “Wouldn’t you rather have a heart like a pillow rather than one made of crystal?”

  William stared at her lips, not caring what material constituted his heart as long as he could give it to her.

  “Of course,” he murmured.

  Her smile faded a bit as she turned her face forward again and continued walking. William stepped closer to her, his arm brushing the sleeve of her coat. As much as he disliked the idea of using her, he thought it would be helpful if she were to say good things about him to Lady Talia and whatever other member of the ton she might happen to encounter.

  Alice would never be cruel enough to speak ill of another person—least of all William Lawford, who had been nothing but kind to her and her brother.

  He just had to ensure Peter Colston did nothing to ruin that impression.

  Chapter Five

  James smiled and nodded in response to whatever the chit beside him was saying. He took another swallow of champagne, his eyes narrowing as he tracked Talia’s progress across the ballroom. He’d been back in London for three days and had already determined Talia was definitely hiding something. Not only from her father and brothers, but now from James as well. He intended to find out what it was.

  “An elephant, he said,” the young woman went on, her eyes wide with amazement. “Is that true, my lord?”

  “It is, Miss Dunnett.” James forced his gaze away from Talia and smiled at Miss Dunnett. Wouldn’t do to have the woman feel slighted by his lack of attention. Wouldn’t do to have anyone think ill of him.

  Society had been scathingly critical of the Halls following Lady Rushton’s affair and the earl’s subsequent petition of divorce, so James had seen the vile nature of scandal. He also knew well how people could ignore what was right before their eyes. How they could pretend nothing bad was happening so they wouldn’t feel guilty for not trying to stop it.

  James would not be at society’s mercy the way the Halls had been. He would not be ignored the way his mother had been. He would court society with smiles and rollicking tales of adventure, never g
iving anyone reason to think he disliked them all. Never giving them reason to think he had anything to hide.

  “Do you know, my father was once nearly trampled to death by an elephant?” Miss Dunnett continued. “He was in India, the Deccan…oh, perhaps four years ago, and he accompanied several game hunters—shikarees, aren’t they called?—to hunt wild boars in the most treacherous jungle you can imagine. Oh, isn’t that silly of me to say, though? You’ve probably charted that very jungle, haven’t you?”

  James chuckled, hoping he looked attentive enough as he tried to find Talia in the crush again. Miss Dunnett’s musical voice drummed in his ears. He caught a glimpse of Talia’s chestnut hair, smooth as silk, her dark blue gown a contrast to the lacy dresses in shades of pink and green worn by other young women.

  She will listen to you. Northwood’s certain words rang like a ship’s bell in his mind. Even North knew of James’s influence over Talia. James had known her since she was a child, yet he was not her brother. That fact alone meant that Talia had at least always listened to his advice.

  Only now did he realize that her professed love had also likely contributed to her trust in him.

  Regret seized him. He hated remembering that afternoon at Floreston Manor. Hated remembering how he’d hurt Talia. How he’d reacted with uncontrollable pleasure to the press of her mouth and—

  His spine stiffened. Lord Margate, a young, insolent heir to a marquess, had approached Talia, his gaze on her face, a smile tugging at his mouth. She stopped as he spoke to her, but her posture was tense.

  “…then hunting tigers on foot,” Miss Dunnett was saying.

  “Do forgive me, Miss Dunnett,” James muttered, shoving through the crowd to Talia’s side.

  Just as he reached her, Margate put his hand on Talia’s arm. She jerked away.

  “There are you, Lady Talia.” James stepped slightly in front of her, putting himself between her and the younger man. He kept his tone pleasant, but narrowed his eyes. “Margate isn’t disturbing you, is he?”

  “Of course not.” Margate moved back, holding up a hand in defense. He glanced from Talia to James with a frown.

  “Good. My lady, your aunt is looking for you.” James extended his arm to Talia as the other man slunk away. “I’ll be pleased to take you to her.”

  “I don’t wish to be taken, my lord,” Talia replied.

  The chill in her voice did nothing to stop a blatantly provocative image from appearing in James’s mind. An image of him taking her. He inhaled a hard breath before turning to face her. Talia’s expression was set, her eyes lit with irritation.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped.

  “Helping you,” he retorted. “Margate is an insufferable rogue. You should not be speaking to him.”

  “You’ve no right to tell me what to do, James.” She retreated a few steps. “I was speaking with Lord Margate about a business matter.”

  “Then why did he try to touch you?”

  She didn’t respond, but he saw the pain flash in her green eyes.

  “Still?” James spoke through clenched teeth. “Men like him still treat you as if you’re no better than…”

  …your mother.

  He bit off the words when Talia paled. James despised Lady Rushton for what she’d done to her family, but the woman would always be Talia’s mother. James knew well how complex feelings toward one’s mother could be.

  He stepped closer to Talia and lowered his voice. “I’d understood the matter had been put to rest.”

  “The matter is not your concern, James,” Talia snapped. “Just as I am not.”

  Anger flared in his chest. “You will always be my concern, Talia.”

  “No. Your concern will always lie with responsibility, won’t it, James? With loyalty to my brothers? You wouldn’t have even come to see me if it hadn’t been for Alexander.” She paused, her mouth compressing. “True or false, James?”

  James fisted his hands, hating his cowardice. “It had nothing to do with you, Talia. I’m here for just a few weeks to—”

  His voice broke off. He stared at her, his heart thudding. He’d looked into her eyes countless times over the years, never failing to notice how they were composed of multiple shades of green—emerald, jade, viridian. Her eyelashes were black and glossy like the wings of a crow, a striking contrast to her pale skin.

  God, she was a beauty. How was it possible that no man had moved heaven and earth to marry her? To claim her as his own?

  Regret stabbed him. He couldn’t give her what she sought, couldn’t leave a wife behind while he explored the world. And he wouldn’t allow marriage to tie him to London either, this wretched city where bitter memories lingered like smoke.

  He’d given Talia an honest, honorable response, but he would forever hate himself for hurting her.

  “True or false, James?” she repeated.

  “False.” His throat nearly closed over the lie. “Of course I’d have paid you a visit, poppet.”

  A shadow crossed her expression. He cursed inwardly.

  “Talia, I don’t want this to be difficult.”

  “Then don’t lie to me! You said you wanted things to be as they were before, but you didn’t write me one letter, and you would not have come to visit me if Alexander hadn’t asked you to. I heard you say as much to Aunt Sally.”

  His heart sank. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know what you meant, James, so stop trying to convince me you’re here because you want to be.” She stepped away from him. “Stop trying to pretend nothing has changed.”

  “What would you have me do then, Talia?”

  “Go and find someone else to fulfill your responsibility,” she replied as she turned and walked away. “And leave me alone.”

  I can’t.

  James pushed through the crowd and found Margate heading toward a group of young women clustered by the terrace doors. He grabbed the other man’s arm.

  “What did Lady Talia speak with you about?” he asked.

  Margate tried to dislodge James’s grip. “Why don’t you ask her?”

  “She said it was a business matter. What did she mean?”

  “She wants a patron for her bloody school, of course.”

  “What school?”

  “For poor children or something like that,” Margate said. “She’s such a humanity-monger, always trying to pinch our pockets for one cause or another. Thinks she can escape her mother’s shadow, I expect.”

  James shoved Margate hard enough to send the other man back a few steps. He curled his hands into fists, wishing he could strike a blow as Margate smirked, straightened his collar, and continued on his way.

  Taking a breath to quell his anger, James followed the path Talia had woven through the crowd. He found her speaking to another man…only this time, she looked as if she wanted to engage in conversation. James eyed the man warily—tall with blond hair and a somewhat arrogant look about him.

  Suppressing the urge to intercede again, he grabbed a glass from a passing server just as Talia looked in his direction. Their gazes met, a sizzling glance that jolted a rush of heat through James’s entire body. He swallowed the champagne and tried to smother his desire, tried to remind himself that he had to leave her alone.

  James cursed inwardly. The problem was he didn’t want to leave her alone. Now that he was here, now that he’d seen her again…he remembered how much he’d always wanted her company.

  Talia had always been the one steady presence in his life as he’d moved from one place to the next as fast as he could, never able to settle in one place, but always knowing she was there. She didn’t even realize what a bright, pretty light she’d been in the darkness of his childhood and again in the days following his mother’s death.

  She didn’t know how much he’d always loved writing her those long, news-filled letters. Hunched in a tent on an African plain, pitching to and fro on a ship…he’d clutched a pencil and written My dear Talia countle
ss times, always picturing her curled in a chair beside the fire, her hair gleaming with gold light as she read about his adventures and mishaps.

  My dear Talia…you would love looking at the sky…I have never imagined it contained so many millions of stars…I walked today to the rocky summit of Notre-Dame de la Garde in Marseille…flags of all the nations flying, with the dark blue waves of the Mediterranean Sea in the distance…I met not a single person on the path to the castle of Jedin, only timid gazelles and partridges with whom I shared my lunch of bread and cheese…a lagoon surrounded by coral sand and coconut trees…

  How he’d missed writing to her this past year. Every day he’d thought of her as he reached for a pencil and his notebook.

  I must tell Talia about that…Talia will laugh when I tell her…Talia will never believe it when I…Talia would love this…I’ll save that pretty rock for Talia…

  Then he’d fought the urge to write her a letter and scribbled in his journal again, a damned coward afraid of what he’d inadvertently tell the woman who had fearlessly declared her love for him and then borne the brunt of his rejection.

  Not once had he thought his lack of correspondence would hurt her.

  What an idiot he was. He’d left Talia with the dictate that everything would be the same between them, yet he’d been the one to sever contact with her because he was scared. And that had just hurt her all over again.

  He had to set things right between them. Not just because of his promise to Alexander, but for the sake of his and Talia’s friendship. Because he had to fix what he’d broken.

  He had no idea how he’d do that while also determining what she was hiding, but he’d find a way.

  He stared at her. She blinked, her lips parting, her skin flushed with warmth from the overheated room.

  James wanted to kiss her again. Wanted to taste her, to strip that gown from her shoulders and expose the pale expanse of her skin and rosy-tipped breasts—