Ever My Love: The Lore of the Lucius Ring (The Legend of the Theodosia Sword Book 2)

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Alex was at first taken aback when the earl did not smile at him.

  “Where’s my Annie? I was told she’d drowned.” Lord Tolworth’s voice broke.

  “Thank God,” Alex said, “I was able to reach her in time. I expect a full recovery.”

  Lord Tolworth buried his head in hands for a few seconds, then looked up at Alex. “I am deeply in your debt. What in the bloody hell happened?”

  “All I know is that she jumped in the river to save her maid.”

  “But she can’t swim!”

  Alex nodded. “Your highly intelligent daughter has acknowledged her error.”

  “That does sound like my Annie.”

  Did Lord Tolworth ever refer to Lady Fannia as my Fanny? Alex could not remember him doing so.

  At dinner nearly an hour later, Alex sat at the head of the table where he had so carefully arranged the seating. He’d asked Lady Tolworth, as the highest ranking woman, to be his hostess and preside over the foot of the table. To make his lack of intentions clear, he’d seated her daughter Lady Fannia beside her. He had the highest ranking man, Lord Tolworth, on one side of him, and Lady Annia on his other side. That scoundrel Lord Crest was seated to Lady Tolworth’s other side. Let him press his attentions on the other twin!

  Alex started off by lifting his claret glass. “A toast of thanks that Lady Annia is still with us.” Their glasses clinked together. Lord Tolworth could not remove his eyes from Lady Annia. “You gave your mother and me a terrible fright.”

  “I have never had such a fright!” Annie exclaimed. Her gaze then softened and she peered at Alex. “If you’d not been outdoors and heard my cries, I daresay I’d be at the bottom of the Thames right now.”

  Her mother shrieked, her father winced.

  “It was a terrifying situation, to be sure,” Alex said.

  “I am deeply grateful to you and deeply apologetic that you had to plunge into the cold, murky water to save me.”

  “Don’t give it a second thought. I rather fancy being the rescuer of maidens in distress.”

  The three of them laughed.

  Mr. Swinnerton, who sat at Lady Annia’s right, said, “I shall be most vexed that the duke arrived at the river first, my lady, because I would have given my own life to save yours.”

  She turned to Swinnerton, all smiles and crinkly eyes. “You always say the sweetest things. How gallant you are!”

  As far as Alex was concerned, there was nothing gallant in saying one would lay down his life. Why had he not previously noticed how annoying that Swinnerton was? A pity Alex had invited him—him and that cocksure Lord Crest.

  Alex addressed her. “So, have you decided on Warren Hastings’ guilt?”

  “Seeing as how the gentleman’s offenses occurred in India, I am not in a position to judge him, nor would I wish to judge anyone without knowing all the facts.”

  His feelings exactly. “And you, your lordship?” he asked her father.

  Lord Tolworth directed a shimmering gaze on his daughter. “I taught my Annie well. I couldn’t agree more with her opinions. Though, as a Whig, I am inclined to align myself with those who will be attempting to prosecute him.”

  Alex shrugged. “There is that. I know I would hate to go up against Burke.”

  “It will be magnificent to watch the proceedings in the House of Lords,” Annie said. “I understand Fanny Burney’s to be in the galleries.”

  “I daresay people will be fighting to claim a seat there,” Alex acknowledged.

  “In Mr. Hastings’ behalf, I will mention that it’s obvious he never amassed in India the kind of vast wealth that Clive did,” she said. “Does that not point to his innocence on corruption charges?”

  “An astute observation, to be sure, my lady,” Alex said. “That’s the kind of evidence that Hastings’ counsel needs to introduce.”

  “Annie’s already beseeched me to procure a seat for her in the gallery,” Lord Tolworth said.

  Alex regarded her with an amused gaze.

  “It would be my honor, my lady,” Mr. Swinnerton said, “to escort you there.”

  Alex fumed. Why couldn’t that demmed Swinnerton be addressing his attentions to the other twin?

  Annie turned to Swinnerton. “How kind of you to ask. I should love it.”

  “Did you see the subscription in the paper for Lord Petersham?” Lord Tolworth asked no one in particular.

  Annie replied. “I did. Allow me to say I feel no remorse for a man who’s foolishly lost his fortune at the gaming tables. I wouldn’t lift a finger to help such a man.”

  “While you and I normally see eye to eye,” her father said to her, “I can’t agree with your harsh sentiments. The man was only doing what all his contemporaries are doing.”

  “I think it’s a weak man who falls prey to high-stakes gaming and loses all that his illustrious family has built over centuries. How is that man seeing to the well-being of his own family?”

  Alex was inclined to agree with her.

  Lord Tolworth shrugged. “Well, of course, when that man has a family . . .”

  “Which Lord Petersham has,” she added.

  “Then, my dear daughter, you are right.”

  Was this young woman always right? He could not remove his eyes from the loveliness of her flawless face. The candlelight flickered in her pale eyes. How lovely she was. Quite naturally, his eye traveled from that remarkable face down her graceful neck to her ivory chest where the promise of a woman’s breasts dipped beneath the red velvet.

  His breath grew short. He experienced an overwhelming urge to remove that velvet gown and luxuriate in the feel of her, to settle his lips on hers, to . . .

  He could not allow his thoughts to go there. This young woman was a friend. Only a friend. And she was the daughter of a great friend. One did not debauch such maidens.

  “Your grace?”

  His gaze met Lady Fannia’s on the opposite end of the table.

  “We have been discussing the greatest writers. Do you agree that Shakespeare has no equal?”

  “I do.”

  “I adore his works,” Lady Fannia said. “Did you know that Romeo and Juliet was originally to be titled Harry and Jane?”

  It sounded preposterously erroneous to him.

  Her father glared down the table at his other daughter. “You mustn’t propagate such drivel, girl! Everyone knows Shakespeare used Italian names for his plays set in that country. Though how a humble man from Stratford-upon-Avon came to be so brilliant is a mystery to me.”

  Alex did not want to overtly stare at the now-humiliated twin, but he could not help but to notice how she had finally—for the first time since he’d known her—clammed up. It was remarkable how two ladies with identical appearances could be so dissimilar in intelligence. “So,” Lord Tolworth said to the smart twin, “why were you bringing your maid today when you were traveling with your mother and sister?”

  “I was not traveling with my mother and sister,” she said solemnly, her eyelids downcast. “They forgot to tell me of his grace’s invitation.”

  Lord Tolworth shot an angry glare down the table to his other twin daughter.

  “I cannot tell you how gratified I am, my lady,” Alex said, trying to smooth over the sudden awkwardness, “that you found out about my planned picnic and contrived your own means of transport. This gathering would have been sadly flat without you.”

  Her face coloured.

  Was she embarrassed over the potato boat?

  “I was vastly interested in seeing Ripley Hall. It is widely praised,” she said.

  His eyes danced. “Permit me to take you on a private tour of it after dinner.”

  * * *

  After the men finished their port and joined the ladies in the drawing room, the duke said, “Since Lady Annia went to such great lengths today to see Ripley, I shall give her an exclusive tour now.” He eyed Lady Fannia, who was just about to open her mouth. “The rest of you, if you so desire, can have my hous
ekeeper show you around the old pile in the morning.”

  He moved to Annie and offered his arm. Fanny was glaring at her. Annie felt like the wallflower who’d just been tapped to stand up with the prince. Only this was a thousand times better. For as much as she loved her sister, Annie confessed to gloating over Fanny’s disappointment.

  The duke started his tour at the front door. “Unlike most houses, where the entrance faces the carriage drive, this opens to the river,” he said.

  Even though they had entered the house earlier in the day through the dinner room, she had caught a glimpse of the entry hall while he carried her in his arms, but she had not seen much. She’d been too busy burying her face into his shoulders so no one could see how hideous she looked with those great masses of wet hair.

  Now her gaze swung from the door along the checkered marble entry which soared up to a domed roof. The wide staircase was every bit as opulent as the hallway.

  From the hall, several rooms gave off. The first was a pale green morning room, sparsely furnished but with rich silken draperies embellished with gold cording and tassels.

  “Here’s the family’s parlor,” he said when they entered the second chamber. “We take breakfast here when Mama and my sisters are in residence.” He sighed. “My brother, too, before he was posted to Paris as ambassador.”

  “It sounds as if you miss him.”

  “I do.”

  “It’s a lovely room, and so intimate.” Her gaze circled the chamber. A round table, large enough for four or five people, was placed near the tall casement. “East facing. You must get the morning light here. In the daylight I expect you’ve a lovely vista of green lawns and trees.”

  “Yes, we do. It’s a welcome respite from London’s nasty air.”

  She sighed. “How fortunate you are to have such a haven so close to the capital.”

  “Do not think me unappreciative.”

  The next chamber was the library. “This is my domain,” he said. It looked like him. So solid with the dark woods and crimson upholstery. A fire blazed in the hearth. Like the other rooms at Ripley, it was not overly large. It was even more intimate than the family’s morning room.

  He walked to the fireplace and stood before it. She could not remove her gaze from him. No man had ever been as handsome, as appealing. It wasn’t just his height. It certainly wasn’t because he was a duke. It was just him. Everything about this dark paragon ignited something in her. Something alien, something she had never before experienced.

  His brows lowered. “Why do you stare? Is something wrong?”

  She shook her head. “No, nothing. I was just . . . thinking how well this chamber suits you.” She had gone and embarrassed herself again. To divert his attention, she strolled to the books and began reading titles.

  “Did you select the books, or were these inherited?”

  “About half and half.” He moved to her and pointed to the very shelf she was peering at. “These are mine.”

  She had scanned the titles on two long shelves. “I see no poetry here. How singular.”

  “I should be ashamed to admit it, but I’m not a lover of poems.”

  A little laugh broke from her. “It’s the same with me.”

  “Has it struck you that we a very much alike, Annie?”

  Her heartbeat pounded. He had called her by her Christian name! No man other than her father had ever addressed her by that name. She dare not allow herself to peer into his eyes for he would know what a hopeless fool she was to adore him.

  Her gaze latched onto Gibbon’s Roman history, and she pulled it out. “I’m eagerly looking forward to the release of the second volume. Are you, your grace?” She opened the book and flipped through the pages. She hoped he did not notice her hands were trembling—because he had called her Annie. And because he was so close. Still she refrained from looking up at him. She was not certain she wouldn’t make a cake of herself by launching herself into his arms. He was so near she could smell his sandalwood scent.

  He braced himself with one arm on the bookcase as he leaned even closer and spoke in a husky voice. “I am.” His head began to lower. “But I’m more eagerly looking forward to this.” His lips touched hers softly.

  She drew in her breath but could not have pulled away had the roof collapsed around them. The kiss intensified. She put her arms around him, sighing as she continued the intoxicating kiss.

  He drew her into his arms and held her tightly, as if he were afraid she would flee.

  Finally he pulled away and stiffened. “Forgive me.” Then he turned and left the chamber.

  Chapter Five

  Even if it meant being a shameful host, he was far too rattled to return to the drawing room. He stormed out the front door and began to pace the lawns, careful to keep out of view from the windows. What the devil had come over him? Alex had never in his life acted so rashly. Always before he’d been the one to consider every decision from every angle—particularly on how it would impact others. That came from being the firstborn, the one responsible for his younger siblings.

  But not tonight. Ever since he’d met Lady Annia Childe, he’d been surprising himself with uncharacteristic behavior. That first night he’d met her, right out of the blue, he had announced his intention of paying a morning call at Tolworth House. He never paid morning calls! He couldn’t even remember contemplating calling on Lady Annia, but it just blurted out of his mouth as if he’d been possessed by someone else.

  That same alien force must have been responsible for the picnic. He’d never hosted a picnic. Until he met Annie.

  And the kiss, that scorching kiss! A man of honor simply did not go about stealing kisses from well-born maidens, especially from a well-born maiden whose father was exceedingly well respected. Such a maiden was sure to take it in her head the kiss meant more than it did. And that was the last thing he wanted.

  Besides marriage. He’d been well satisfied with his bachelor life.

  His heartbeat hitched. He’d also been well satisfied with Annie’s kiss. The very memory of it flowed to his aching groin. He’d been so pleased when her arms had come around him that he’d actually groaned his pleasure.

  Even as he stood there in the moonlight, his gaze traveling down to the shimmering Thames, he wanted more of Annie’s kisses. But he did not want to offer her false hope. He had no intentions of marrying. And Annie wasn’t one to be misused.

  She was far too precious. He realized now she was somewhat more than a friend. He had many friends, many good friends, but he’d never wanted to kiss any of them.

  Good Lord, what had he done? He could not blame his contrariness on an alien force. He and he alone was responsible for all these uncharacteristic actions. An incalculable change had come over him since making the acquaintance of one very lovely, amusing young woman who just happened to kiss exceedingly well.

  * * *

  She continued to stand in the library, dazed by the effect his magical kiss had on her. Her entire body quivered. During those moments of The Kiss, an indefinable sense of well-being had come over her. And when his arms came around her, she could have swooned from pure joy. Nothing in her life had ever felt so good, so right. In his arms was where she was meant to be.

  Now she knew she had truly fallen in love with Alex Halsey, the Duke of Axminster. Alex.

  But he obviously did not feel the same.

  When he fled, she’d felt more bereft than a deposed queen. Had the inadequacy of her kiss repelled him? She had no experience in such matters. She’d never before been kissed. And kissed in return. He must have been dissatisfied with her lack of kissing skill. How she wanted to tell him she would learn! Oh, how she would enjoy practicing with him—her tall, dark lover.

  The very fact that he’d crossed the library to initiate the kiss must confirm that he was attracted to her. Didn’t the fiery look in his black eyes or the huskiness of his voice as he lowered his head to touch her lips indicate a desired intimacy? She’d felt womanly an
d desirable for the first time in her life.

  For those few moments of the kiss she’d even felt cherished.

  Then he’d left abruptly with no explanation. Except his Forgive me. Could it be it wasn’t the inadequacy of her kisses that drove him away? Could it be he was ashamed of his own impetuousness?

  She sighed. Knowing him as she did, she thought the last explanation correct, but that only made her feel more dejected. A man in love would not regret kissing his future wife. Only an honorable man who had no honorable intentions would feel such remorse. Alex was an honorable man.

  Who had no honorable intentions toward her.

  Annie had never been one to give up, and she wasn’t about to give up now. The stakes were too high. Alex would be her perfect mate, and she knew he could search the kingdom and never find another who was more compatible.

  Her obstacle was his obvious opposition to marriage. Her ally was his affection for her. In spite of his abandonment tonight, she knew he cared deeply for her. He had insured that she sat by him at dinner. He had excluded everyone in order to take her on a private tour of Ripley. And he had not been able to suppress his desire to kiss her. Her heartbeat fluttered at the memory.

  He needed a push in order to realize his feelings. He needed to think he was about to lose her.

  * * *

  When she was walking to her bedchamber, she heard muffled cries outside Fanny’s chamber. Oh, dear. Fanny must be upset because the duke showed favoritism to her. She drew in a breath and knocked. “Fanny, it’s me, Annie.”

  Handkerchief in hand, Fanny came and swept open the door.

  Annie hugged her. “Pray, dearest, what is wrong?” She hated asking. She hated being the source of her sister’s misery, but she would begrudgingly become estranged from Fanny rather than give up Alex. It didn’t bear contemplation. Part of her would die if she were lost to Fanny.

  “Papa has just left my chamber.” Sniff. “He told me how wicked I was to exclude you from today’s picnic.” Fanny began to sob—gut-wrenching sobs that racked her body as she flung herself on her bed.