Midnight My Love

by Anne Marie Novark

  When Alexandra showed an interest in her father's work, Lord Turlington had been thrilled. Whenever Damien visited Willowmede, the three of them worked side by side until the wee hours of the night.

  Damien and Alexandra had been on the friendliest of terms, and he loved her like a little sister. He was eight years her senior, after all. Knowing Alex held him in considerable affection had given Damien a sense of security in his wild, unstable life. He could be away from Willowmede for months at a time, yet whenever he returned, it wasn't long before he and Alexandra fell back into their easy camaraderie.

  But something had changed on his last visit. Something dreadful. He'd been away for over a year. When he finally came back to Willowmede, Alexandra was a child no longer. She was out of school, and at seventeen, she had become a beautiful, desirable woman.

  Everything about her contributed to her loveliness. Her wavy chestnut hair, usually gathered with a ribbon to hang long down her back, was pinned up, with a few errant curls framing her oval face. Smooth, tawny skin invited a man's touch. The high cheekbones and straight little nose emphasized Alexandra's beauty. Eyes the color of glittering emeralds held a promise of passion, as did her slender supple body.

  On the narrow cot in Cavendish Square, Damien rolled to his side, trying to ignore the latent desire flowing through his veins as he thought of Alexandra.

  Yes, something had changed on that visit. Desire, a feeling he'd never associated with Alexandra, held him rigid when he first saw her again. And when she hesitated before approaching him instead of flinging her arms around his neck as was her habit, Damien silently cursed the conventions, knowing nothing would ever be the same between them again.

  Why had she grown up to be so damned beautiful?

  For reasons beyond his comprehension, some devil had prompted him to pursue her. He'd taken great pains to go gently with her as he began his subtle wooing. He told himself it was amusing when Alexandra rebuffed his practiced charms. Someone must have warned her about his reputation.

  Damien soon found there was nothing amusing about the overpowering sensations he experienced each time he was near Alexandra on that fateful visit. He hated what he was feeling for the young woman. He was beginning to almost hate her for growing up.

  Gone was the happy friendship they'd shared for so many years. Gone was the special place Alexandra held in his heart. He could never be friends with such a beautiful woman.

  The night he'd kissed Robert's sister, the moon had been bright over Willowmede, the black sky clear, the stars bright. Perfect conditions for observing the heavens.

  It had been late when he made his way to the observatory which held Lord Turlington's large telescope. Everyone else had gone to bed. He was slightly foxed, and he stumbled on the stairs, spilling some of his drink. Cursing his clumsiness, he opened the door and paused on the threshold when he heard a surprised intake of breath.

  Alexandra looked up from the cluttered workbench near the telescope where she stood making notes in a journal. The flickering lamplight cast a warm glow around her. Damien searched the dark corners of the room. Alexandra was alone.

  She froze as he advanced toward her, wariness creeping into her beautiful green eyes. Even in his befuddled state, he sensed her withdrawal as he set his glass on the workbench.

  "Please, go on with your work, Alexandra. Or perhaps I should say--Miss Turlington?" He couldn't keep the bitter sarcasm from his voice as he nodded toward the books and papers. "Don't let me disturb you, my dear."

  "I think I should leave," she said, her voice low and uncertain. She took a step backward.

  "Nonsense," he said. "Perhaps I can be of assistance. Just like old times." He smiled as he stepped around the table, close enough to smell her enticing clean scent of soap and lavender. "Which portion of the sky are you checking tonight, Miss Turlington?"

  She flinched at the formality and quickly turned to adjust the position of the telescope. Why did he persist in taunting her? Why couldn't he leave her alone?

  "The northern quadrant," she said, struggling with the stubborn mechanism. It sometimes stuck at the most inopportune times. "Papa believes there's a planet somewhere between Mars and Jupiter, as do most of the members of the Astronomers Association. I'm helping Papa in his search by making a sweep of the night skies."

  "Allow me," offered Damien. He stepped to the telescope and stood directly behind her. Chestnut hair gleamed in the moonlight, her head inches from his chin. Leaning forward, he reached over her shoulder to position the telescope and felt her stiffen.

  He pointed the metal cylinder toward the northern skies. When his arm brushed against her, Damien discovered she was trembling. His own hands were none too steady. He had become dangerously aware of Alexandra as a woman over the last fortnight. He should have left Willowmede days ago, but she drew him like a magnet. He'd put off leaving day after day.

  "I believe we have it positioned correctly now," Damien whispered in her ear.

  She turned her head toward his. "Thank you."

  Staring at her mouth, Damien stood spellbound. He bent his head and softly brushed her lips with his own. Her mouth was warm and velvety. Ignoring her widened eyes, he gathered her in his arms and kissed her thoroughly, as he had been longing to do for days.

  Damien lost himself in the embrace, drowning in her loveliness. His fingers twined themselves in Alexandra's magnificent hair, as he sought to bring her closer. He felt an unholy joy when she responded to him, her unpracticed kisses sweet in his mouth. Strange emotions engulfed him. He never wanted to let her go.

  Deepening the embrace, he gently caressed one soft breast. Immediately, Alexandra began to struggle free. Too fast, Damien thought. He'd gone too fast. He released her, stone-cold sober now. The look on her face would be etched in his memory forever. She stood before him, her long hair tumbling about her shoulders, and her emerald eyes blazing with anger, fear and hurt. She was panting heavily.

  "It was only a kiss," Damien said carelessly. Retrieving his brandy glass, he deliberately took a sip. His hand shook slightly and his heart pounded in his chest.

  "Only a kiss!" she repeated, furiously wiping her mouth. "I knew I should have left the observatory as soon as you came in! I thought I was safe because you're a guest in this house. I thought you were my friend. I was obviously wrong." She lifted her chin and looked at him with cold disdain. "You're a wicked man, Damien Avenall! Immoral and sinful, just as they said. And I was fool enough not to believe them. How could you make improper advances toward your best friend's sister? Toward me?"

  Choking back a sob, she pushed her hair back, away from her face. Tears glistened on the tips of her long lashes. She took a deep breath. "No wonder they call you 'Demon!' Satan would be more apt. No decent woman could ever want you!" She swept past without looking at him, leaving Damien alone with his brandy.

  ****

  In his London town house, Damien rose from the cot. How many times had he remembered and savored that kiss? So long ago, yet he could still taste Alexandra's lips as if it were yesterday.

  The clock in the hall struck six, and the servants were beginning to stir. He checked on Rob and found him still asleep.

  Damien stood by the bed and stared down at his injured friend. Robert needed him at Willowmede. Alexandra would be there. She believed he had betrayed their friendship. In a way, he had. But he felt betrayed also.

  He had always mistrusted females. Especially beautiful ones. His father had suffered at the hands of his beautiful heartless wife. Damien had vowed no woman would ever hold that kind of power over him.

  He laughed silently. He was fooling himself and knew it. For ten years, one woman had dominated his body, mind and soul: The beautiful Alexandra.

  He knew she despised him and his way of life. He despised himself for the way he felt about her. He wanted her. God knew he wanted her. But he would change for no woman. Not even Alexandra.

  CHAPTER TWO

  On Thursday evening, Alexandra sat
with her friend, Jenny Sedgewicke, on one of the sofas lining the walls of the New Assembly Rooms in Bath. She vigorously applied her fan as she surveyed the crowd. Bath patrons and visitors flocked to the weekly assemblies Mr. King provided for their entertainment--the Dress Balls on Mondays, Fancy Balls on Thursdays.

  Resting after taking part in a lively country dance, she and Jenny were waiting for their partners to return with the lemonade they'd gone to procure. The room was stifling from the heat of so many coifed and perfumed bodies.

  "I'm glad you invited me to Willowmede, Alex," Jenny said, fanning herself energetically. "I enjoy going to Town for the Season, but I much prefer the quieter country life."

  "So why, after only a fortnight at Willowmede, did we decide to remove to Bath?" Alexandra teased, a mischievous smile playing about her mouth.

  "We needed to replenish our supply of books for one thing," Jenny replied pragmatically. "I also wanted to match the thread I'm using for my embroidery and you needed new gloves."

  Alex smiled. "New gloves, indeed. We both know the real reason we left is because we're worried to death about Robert, and everything at Willowmede reminds us of him."

  Jenny laid her small hand over Alexandra's. "Surely, you'll receive news soon. They would have notified you if something was seriously wrong."

  "I know," Alex said. "Except I can't help worrying, and don't tell me you think I'm being foolish."

  "I think nothing of the sort. You have every right to feel worried," Jenny said in her deep, quiet voice. "But what will you do when Robert does come home? Will you stay at Willowmede after he weds Lady Felicia?"

  Alexandra adjusted the folds of her topaz-colored skirts. "No, I plan to live here in Bath. I'm used to being my own mistress, and I don't wish to hang on Robert's sleeve. Besides, Willowmede is only an hour's drive from here. I'll be close enough to continue my work in the observatory."

  Jenny folded her fan closed. "You know, I didn't realize how serious an astronomer you'd actually become. In your letters, you always mention your studies, but somehow I thought it merely an amusement."

  "I'm afraid it's become an obsession with me," Alex confessed. "Papa's dying wish was for me to continue his search for the cause of the seventh planet's irregular orbit. At first it was an onerous task, but now I'm convinced Papa was correct in his assumptions. Something is indeed causing the Georgium Sidus--as Mr. Herschel named the planet--to orbit erratically." A frown gathered on Alexandra's brow, as it always did when she pondered this mystery. She glanced at her friend and smiled. "For heaven's sake, don't get me started or I'll prose on and on and you'll be bored to tears."

  Miss Sedgewicke shook her head. "As if I could ever be bored in your company, my dear."

  "Well, of course you could, you goose! Especially if I start in on my favorite topic."

  "That's nonsense, and you know it," Jenny said. "Do you think Robert will allow you to set up household alone in Bath?"

  "Good God, Jenny!" Alex exclaimed. "I'm twenty-six years old and well able to set up and maintain an establishment of my own. As for being alone, Aunt Haygood will naturally continue to live with me."

  "And what about Sir Howard Carlisle?" Jenny asked. "He seems to be pursuing you in great earnest. He followed you to London this Season. If I remember correctly, Sir Howard rarely goes to Town."

  "Yes, he prefers the country, as do I." Alexandra fiddled with the strings of her reticule sitting in her lap. "I am considering his offer, Jenny. I've been weighing the advantages and disadvantages. I'm not getting any younger, and I want to have children someday. I like Carlisle well enough, and Bramble Court is only five miles from Willowmede. I could still continue my work at the observatory, even though Carlisle thinks it's all foolishness. His young son, Jonathan, is a dear. Yet somehow I find I can't appreciate Carlisle as I should."

  Jenny opened her fan again. "Most marriages start with respect and liking for one another. Love often comes later. Don't let something that happened long ago ruin your life forever, Alex. Sir Howard is worth ten Rochdales. It was only a kiss, after all."

  Alex gave Jenny's hand a grateful squeeze. "That is exactly what Rochdale said. Only a kiss. But why have other men's kisses been so lacking?"

  "Why, Alex! How many kisses have you received?" Jenny asked in mock horror.

  "I'll never tell," Alexandra replied demurely, her eyes dancing.

  Jenny spoke seriously. "I think you should give Sir Howard a chance. He's worth his weight in gold, you know." Looking around, she searched the throng. "I thought he would be here tonight. Ah, yes--I knew I could not have been mistaken! Here comes your persistent suitor now."

  Alexandra looked across the crowded Assembly Rooms to see her latest admirer making his way towards them. Sir Howard Carlisle was a good-looking man. His guinea gold hair was swept back from his broad forehead, his cheeks were rosy, and his eyes a clear blue. He was of medium height and stockily built. Sir Howard always dressed neat as a pin--a typical country squire. Alex wondered why she couldn't admire him more.

  Carlisle came up to them just as Mr. Nettleton and Mr. Bryant-Smythe arrived with the lemonade. Alexandra made the introductions. Another dance was starting.

  Sir Howard bowed low over her hand. "If you check your card, Miss Turlington, I believe you will find that this is my dance."

  "I believe you're right, Carlisle." Catching Jenny's eye, Alex tried not to smile. She was swept off onto the dance floor, leaving behind an amused Miss Sedgewicke.

  "You look ravishing as always, my dear," Sir Howard declared, casting a proprietary glance over her.

  "Thank you," replied Alex.

  He executed the steps of the dance with deliberate precision. "How long do you plan to continue in Bath?"

  "Only until the end of the week," she said. "The George is reaching its perihelion, and I must chart its course. I really should not have come to Bath at all, except we were feeling rather moped at home."

  "Yes, I should think you were," he said. "I must tell you that in my opinion, there are more important matters to concern your pretty head with than a silly star."

  Alex raised her chin slightly. "The George is not a star, Carlisle. It is a planet. The Georgian Planet. Papa called it the George for short, and so do I. But that's neither here nor there. Of course, there are more important matters that concern me. You know there are."

  The movements of the dance separated them, and when again they came together, Carlisle gently pressed her hand. "Still no word from your brother?"

  "No. It's been almost four months since his last letter. If I don't hear anything by next week, I'm going back to London to make more inquiries."

  "My dear Miss Turlington, I wish you would grant me the privilege of sharing this burden; indeed, I would like to share all of your burdens, as you well know," Sir Howard said, pressing his suit further along.

  "You're very kind, but I need more time to consider. I know you must think me a widgeon," Alex murmured.

  "Never that, my dear. I understand your indecision. Marriage is an important commitment and should not be rushed into. You must excuse me for seeming impatient. A man in love sometimes becomes overly eager."

  The blatant declaration made Alexandra feel squeamish and uncomfortable. "You've been wonderfully patient with me, Carlisle. I'll try to give you my answer before we leave Bath."

  When the dance ended, Sir Howard led her back to Jenny. Alex saw that Aunt Haygood had seated herself on the sofa next to her friend.

  Miss Rachel Haygood, a fifty-year-old spinster, lived with Alexandra at Willowmede. She was overly plump, honest to a fault, transparent in her emotions, and dressed in outrageously bright-colored clothes. Alex often wished her aunt had a more subdued taste in apparel. Tonight, she wore a purple satin gown with large pink ribbons. A monstrous turban of yellow silk perched precariously on top of her titian-colored hair.

  "I'm ready to go home, niece," Miss Haygood announced pugnaciously.

  Alexandra dared not meet Jenny's g
lance; they both knew Aunt Haygood considered Sir Howard a threat to her comfortable way of life. Alex was aware her aunt fondly believed they were both confirmed spinsters who would live contentedly together for the rest of their days.

  She sat beside her aunt. "But it's early yet, dear heart. I thought you were having a comfortable coze with your cronies. Is something wrong?"

  "My lumbago is acting up again," she complained loudly, eyeing Sir Howard with ill-concealed hostility. "I must get home and brew some chamomile tea."

  Alexandra bit her lip to keep from smiling. Aunt Haygood was not overly fond of men, and whenever any of her niece's suitors came around, her lumbago always flared up.

  "I'll send for the carriage immediately," Alex told her. "Jenny and I shall wait until the ball is over. It's almost eleven, so we won't be far behind. I'm sure Carlisle won't mind escorting us to Laura Place."

  "It would be an honor to perform such a pleasant service," Sir Howard replied promptly.

  "I'll stay," Miss Haygood said in martyred tones. "Never let it be said Rachel Haygood shirked her duty towards her family. Even if I am in considerable pain, I will not desert my post!"

  Alexandra smiled indulgently as her aunt continued.

  "You know I would never leave you alone, unchaperoned, in the midst of all these men!"

  The music started again. Sir Howard cleared his throat, glancing uneasily at Miss Haygood. "I believe this is our dance, Miss Turlington. Shall we?"

  "How many times do you plan to stand up with my niece tonight, sirrah?" demanded Miss Haygood.

  "You know I would never claim more than two dances with any lady of my acquaintance," Carlisle said, on the defensive.

  "I know nothing of the kind," she declared, fixing him with a haughty glare. Her turban swayed alarmingly as she shook her head at him.

  Carlisle bowed stiffly. "Shall we dance, Miss Turlington?"

  "I'd be delighted." Alex grabbed his arm and hurriedly led him away from her aunt, toward the set that was forming on the dance floor.