Alex held her pliant body close as she strained against him. The logical conclusion to her enthusiastic response was to lay her down, to satisfy them both as they had done before, but her rejection of his offer of marriage, her resolve to put an end to this madness that consumed them both whenever they were together, resurrected his sanity. As quickly as he had swept her into his arms, he released her, thrusting her away from him with an abruptness that left her senses reeling, her eyes unfocused from the pleasure her flesh still felt.
After their intimate contact, Alex was almost overwhelmed with a mixture of pain and pleasure, finding her supple young body more than capable of arousing him, her mouth moist and warm, her breath so sweet that it drove him beyond all thought. His strategic attempt to weaken her into submission had rebounded on him with a vengeance. He had only succeeded in driving himself almost insane as he came close to losing the battle for control.
‘I apologise for my barbaric behaviour, but when you remember during your long, lonely nights how it felt to have me hold you—to kiss you—and how willing your body was to respond, I am certain your desire will be sharpened with remorse. You may deny me all you like, but the speed with which your body is aroused whenever I touch you proclaims stronger than any words how much you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you.’
Helplessly Lydia stared at him, her cheeks flushed and her lips soft and trembling, feeling an unfulfilled need inside her that made it impossible for her to deny that what he said was true.
‘This is not the end of us, Lydia,’ Alex said, his voice low and determined in the silence that surrounded them. ‘You cannot put me from your life so easily. I will not let you.’
‘You have to,’ she said quietly, her voice quivering slightly as she tried to bring her body under control. ‘I have made up my mind. Do not make it more difficult for me than it is already. Please don’t think badly of me, Alex. Let us part as friends.’
‘Friends? What we have goes beyond that. I could fall in love with you,’ he said. ‘But I don’t think we can be friends.’
‘Then it seems we cannot agree.’
‘Damn it, Lydia. Don’t do this. Believe me, I am not a man to beg and if—’
‘Don’t threaten me, Alex.’
‘I’m not,’ he bit back, white-lipped with anger, his eyes glittering across at her. ‘To hell with it, then. When I decide to marry I’ll find someone more amenable to a proper offer of marriage. Someone who will—’
‘I’m sure you won’t have any difficulty doing so.’
Alex’s face was expressionless. His eyes were blank, a glacial blue emptiness that told her nothing of what he felt. He spoke only seven words.
‘I think you have said quite enough.’
She stared at him across the distance that separated them, memorising his face. She never wanted to forget the light blue of his eyes, his dark hair and the rebellious lock that drooped over his forehead, the hard curve of his jaw and the firm line of his lips. His eyes clouded and she saw in their depths the same churning conflict she felt in her heart.
‘Then there is nothing more to be discussed. Goodbye, Alex.’
Without another word she left him, picking up her coat and leaving the house, her eyes blind with unhappiness, so she did not see Irene Hilton melt into the shadows.
In tight-lipped, rigid silence, biting back his fury, Alex watched her go, his gaze lingering on the sway of her hips, the proud tilt of her head. She was lovely, no mistake, and he couldn’t believe she had refused him. He had looked into her green eyes and seen something proud and stubborn—and something wounded.
He was tempted to go after her and demand further explanation as to why she had refused his offer of marriage—an offer not made lightly. He had taken himself by surprise, for had he not sworn to himself that after one disastrous marriage he was unwilling to repeat the experience? But he decided against going after her. Setting his jaw, he turned on his heel and went to his desk. He’d be damned if he would plead with her further.
Chapter Eight
Seeing Lydia leave the house looking extremely upset, both curious and concerned as to why she had not come to say goodbye, Miranda sought out her brother. He was not in his study but in the garden. He stood with his hands behind his back, looking at the garden but seeing nothing. His expression was hard, his stance like that of a man being stretched beyond endurance by an internal struggle. It was plain that what had occurred between him and Lydia had not gone well. She went and stood beside him.
‘What happened, Alex? It is obvious that your meeting with Miss Brook did not go well. Does it have anything to do with the loan you have given her?’
‘You might say that. She told me that the agreement we made in the beginning no longer stands.’
‘Oh—I see. Does she not need it any more?’
‘No. Her father has suddenly reappeared in her life and offered to invest in her enterprise.’
‘And you are upset by that? Why, Alex? Is it because she will no longer be beholden to you?’ Miranda watched the face of the man she had known the whole of her life—a brother she adored. Apart from a muscle clamping in his jaw, it didn’t flinch.
‘The last thing I want is for her to feel beholden to me in any way.’
‘Then why did she leave looking so wretched? I don’t understand, Alex.’
Alex looked at his sister’s face with dispassion. ‘How can you? In truth, Miranda, I don’t understand it myself. She has gone. I doubt our paths will cross in the future.’
‘But it is plain to me that you care for her. How can you discard her so completely?’
‘I haven’t discarded her. Lydia has discarded me.’
‘Clearly this has upset you. Perhaps you should go and see her...’
‘I strongly suspect I am the last person she would want to see.
‘There’s something else, isn’t there? Something you are not telling me. Whatever happened that has upset the two of you has nothing to do with her returning the loan, has it?’
‘Forget it, Miranda. It is not your concern.’
By no means done, Miranda placed her hand on his arm, looking up at his granite features, seeing a muscle move spasmodically on the side of his jaw. ‘I am your sister. No one knows you better. I have not seen you look at a woman the way you look at Lydia Brook in a long time. If your feelings are of an...an affectionate nature, then you should do something about it. That Golding pride and quick temper of yours is a bad combination—you are bringing a lot of grief upon your own head. That is something you should consider.’
Alex’s body went rigid and he stared at her in disbelief. ‘Miranda! How can you tell me to go and see her when she rejected my proposal of marriage? Yes,’ he said fiercely when he saw surprise and shock enter her eyes, ‘I asked her to be my wife. She turned me down. I will not go and see her with a begging bowl in my hand. It is over.’
Miranda returned to the house, leaving Alex in a tormented silence.
* * *
Lydia had had a particularly busy day and she was feeling unusually tired. Her head ached and her back ached and she couldn’t wait to take the weight off her feet. Writing down the day’s sales and fresh orders in a large ledger on the counter, she was alone in the salon and about to close for the day when the door opened and a woman entered. Her stomach plummeted on seeing Irene Hilton. Her wide dark blue taffeta skirts rustled like a gentle breeze as she swept in.
Lydia inclined her head slightly in greeting. Irene looked at her for a moment in silence, a smug, superior smile on her face, her eyes settling on her with deadly coldness before doing a slow sweep of the salon and the racks of clothes, her expression one of distaste.
‘Miss Hilton,’ Lydia said calmly. ‘You take me by surprise. I did not expect a visit from you. Please—look around. I will be happy to assist you should you need any help or a
dvice. You might learn something.’
Irene smiled thinly. ‘I doubt seriously there is anything I could learn from you, Miss Brook,’ she replied, casting another casual glance around her.
It was open warfare. Both of them knew it.
‘If I ever need advice,’ Irene continued to drive her point home, ‘you would be the last person I would seek out to ask for it.’
‘Then please do not insult me with insincere smiles. If it won’t pain you too much, I would be obliged if you would tell me why you have come here. I do not think you can have anything to say to me that I want to listen to—unless you wish to purchase a new gown, or a hat, perhaps.’
Irene’s eyes glittered, growing steady with anger. ‘No, it will not pain me to tell you why I have come here and believe me, Miss Brook, there is nothing in this establishment that I could possibly want.’
Lydia’s eyes opened in mock surprise. ‘No, I didn’t think there would be.’ Instinctively, with that feminine intuition that recognises what is in another woman’s mind, she knew Irene Hilton had her own agenda where Alex was concerned and was about to tell Lydia, who she saw as a threat, to keep away from him.
‘I’ve come here to stop you making a fool of yourself.’
Lydia looked at her with distaste. The sheer gall of the woman made her draw in her breath. How dare she come here, trying to undermine all Lydia’s confidence? ‘Really? And how am I likely to do that?’
‘With Alex.’
His name came between them like an axe falling. Lydia raised her brows in mock surprise. ‘Alex? Really? If I have intentions where he is concerned, do I have to be wary of you, Miss Hilton?’
‘Something like that.’
‘What has Alex said?’
Her eyes gleaming with calculated malice, Irene studied her with unhidden scorn and when she spoke her voice was low and intense.
‘Nothing—not to me, anyway. It’s what I overheard.’
Lydia stared at her, sensing she was about to impart something unpleasant. She was right.
Irene looked at her squarely, smugly. ‘It’s about you—and Henry.’
Lydia tried hard not to show her alarm, but she was horrified that Irene Hilton had somehow found out about Scotland—and her relationship with Alex. ‘Henry?’
‘Come now, Miss Brook. You do know Henry—Alex’s brother-in-law—Miranda’s husband and soon-to-be father of her child.’
‘I know there would be no point in denying it.’
‘None whatsoever. You see, I overheard you speaking of it with Alex—how you were willing to marry Henry, and run off with him to America. How you and Alex became lovers—and I found your father’s transgression particularly interesting.’
Apart from a hardening of Lydia’s eyes, her expression remained unchanged. ‘Goodness! It’s amazing what one hears when one listens at keyholes.’
‘Isn’t it just.’
‘I do not deny any of it—I had no idea Henry was a married man when he made overtures to me.’
‘What concerns me is what Miranda will make of it—should she find out, of course.’
‘I understand what you are saying. But you are her friend. Why would you want to hurt her?’
‘I don’t. If you swear to keep away from Alex, Miranda will be none the wiser—although she does have a right to know what her husband gets up to during his time away from her.’
Lydia looked at her, stunned. It wasn’t so much the threat that appalled her, it was the hatred and terrible malevolence behind the words. ‘You really are contemptible. I am not the kind of person to be either threatened or cowed.’
Irene glared at her. ‘If you don’t heed my warning, I will see to it that the scandal of what you did with Henry will ruin you and your business before it has hardly got off the ground. I will do all in my power to make things unpleasant for you. Do I make myself clear? Keep your hands off, if you know what’s good for you. Alex Golding belongs to me. I make no secret of the fact that I would do anything for him and I will not see it all ruined just because you briefly titillated his senses.’
Lydia felt the cruelty of it all. She understood then just how possessive Irene Hilton was over Alex. Because Alex did not reciprocate her feelings, Irene was blaming her.
‘Since you eavesdropped on our conversation, you will know that I have no intention of going anywhere near Alex—not now or in the future, Miss Hilton. But I cannot stop him seeking me out if he has a mind to.’
‘If he does, then you will send him on his way—otherwise...’
‘Don’t threaten me,’ Lydia breathed, trying to control the anger in her heart, which was soaring by the minute, threatening to overwhelm her. ‘If Alex doesn’t want you, then I am sure you have brought his rejection on yourself.’ She went to the door and opened it. ‘Now please leave. I have work to do.’
With her arrogant nose elevated to a lofty angle, Irene swept past her. She turned back and shot Lydia a venomous glance before she could close the door. ‘I hate you for this,’ she spat.
‘Hate me all you like, Miss Hilton. I cannot say that I care one way or another—and it will not change a thing.’
Through the glass, Lydia watched her walk away, feeling sick inside and more than a little confused by the bitter altercation. But she also felt a worrying disturbance of something she didn’t fully understand.
* * *
Lydia was to have Alex’s child. Her world was about to fall apart. How could she have let it happen?
She knew she had been feeling unwell of late. She had put it down to all the hard work she had put into opening the shop, but when she became plagued by bouts of nausea and dizziness, especially early in the morning, she had reason to suspect the worst—that she might be with child.
Disbelieving and shocked, she was completely unprepared for this sudden explosion into her life. It was a nightmare, one she would wake up from soon, but it soon dawned on her that it was no nightmare. It was tenacious, terrifying reality and when her suspicions were duly confirmed she was devastated.
Her face became pale and drawn, her mouth tense. Consumed with pain, fear and confusion, she could not sleep, her predicament and how it would affect her future causing her to lie awake night after night worrying, pondering over what she should do—and whether or not she should tell Alex.
Isolated in her private misery, adamantly she refused to think about him, but despite herself a tremor of remembered passion and bittersweet memories sometimes coursed through her. Despite the unfortunate condition she found herself to be in, the continuation of that desire he had awoken in her still confounded her.
* * *
Over the following days she threw herself into her work—it helped to distract her mind from the self-loathing that tasted so bitter in her mouth. Whenever she thought of Alex, sadness threatened to overwhelm her and she became prey to a terrible depression. Fate was against her and nothing and nobody was going to help her. She had to help herself. But what could she do?
The one consolation to her at this time was that business was good and she had much to do. Emily took charge of the customers and the two girls in the workroom had plenty of work. Fortunately, they were efficient and could turn their hands to any task. Extra work was let out to workers who came each morning to bring finished garments and to see what was required that day. Lydia oversaw everything. She spent a great deal of her time at her desk creating new designs and assisting Emily in the shop when required.
Emily, never one to hold back, having noted Lydia’s pallor and the dark shadows beneath her eyes, asked her what was wrong when the shop was quiet.
Standing in front of the counter sorting a box of beautifully embroidered handkerchiefs, swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, Lydia told her.
Emily was visibly shocked. ‘Goodness! I knew there was something going on between the two of you.’
‘But it isn’t,’ Lydia was quick to reply. She sighed when Emily gave her a ‘I don’t believe you’ look. ‘Well—twice. But I have told him I won’t see him again—although that was before I knew...’
‘What will you do, Lydia? What are you going to do?’
‘In truth, Emily, I really don’t know.’
Emily was all sympathy. ‘Don’t be downhearted. You made the same mistake thousands of other women have.’
‘And now I will have to live with my mistake just as they did. What is done cannot be undone.’
Silence fell between them. Lydia stared down at the counter, resting her hands on the box of handkerchiefs. A lump clogged her throat in the way it did when she was going to cry. She did not, but when she looked up suddenly her eyes were dark with pain.
‘It’s so unfair, Emily. Everything was going so well.’
‘Will you tell Mr Golding?’
‘I don’t know. When I told him everything was over between us he—he asked me to marry him.’ If Emily was surprised, she didn’t show it.
‘And? What did you say?’
‘No. I said no. How could I possibly accept? Look at me—what I am. And look at him. He’s way above me in social class. He inhabits a world that is so very different to mine, with friends and colleagues I could never feel equal to. I have never dared to reach above myself and never aspired to be a lady. No, Emily, marriage to me would be hard on him. It would do him no good at all.’
‘That’s silly. You could adapt. I imagine you would be good at that. But you have to think of yourself—and the baby now.’
‘But how can I continue working with a baby to care for? The business is bound to suffer. No one will want to purchase clothes or anything else from a fallen woman. Cruel censure is always directed at a woman alone with an illegitimate child. The shame and the stigma would be hard to bear. Society can be pitiless and it is always the woman who is to blame for being in the condition they will say she brought on herself.’
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