My Lady Rival

by Ashley March

  * * *

  When he returned later in the day after seeing Lady Marianna and attending to a myriad of business affairs, Willa’s door was closed. He knocked. Voices paused in the room, then began again. Jo opened the door.

  “Oh, it’s you.” Turning, she strode away.

  A lex pushed the door open and walked inside. “A pleasant greeting, as always, dear sister.”

  Willa sat at the dressing table, a deep purple dressing gown covering her chemise to the froths of lace at her wrists. It extended to her ankles and below, where only the very tips of her toes were visible. But her hair—sweet God, her hair . . .

  A lex stared at the unbound mass of it, golden and thick, pouring down her back. His mother—who had obviously loaned Willa the dressing gown A lex had bought for her—brushed her hair, one long stroke at a time. The lady’s maid, who bought for her—brushed her hair, one long stroke at a time. The lady’s maid, who should have been performing such work, stood in the background, hands folded at her waist, a frown at her brow.

  Willa met his gaze in the mirror. He’d been wrong before; he’d never felt so helpless as now, staring into her ocean blue eyes, unable by any force of willpower to look away.

  “Where have you been?” Jo whispered beside him. “Mama refused to allow her to leave until you returned.”

  “She tried to leave?” he asked. He meant it to sound skeptical, but instead he feared his sister would hear the dismay in his voice. He forced his gaze away from Willa’s and returned it to the dressing gown. If she hadn’t managed to put anything else on in his absence, it appeared she might need another day entirely in order to return to the hotel.

  “Yes, as soon as you left. One of the maids came and told me, or she probably would have walked out the door without anyone knowing.” Strength, he reminded himself. How many times would he forget the strength that lay beneath her smile?

  “Why is our mother brushing her hair?”

  “I suspect because she thought Hodgkins was doing a poor job of it,” Jo said, then moved to Willa’s side.

  Willa looked up and smiled at Jo when she began talking.

  His family adored her. Not only the little ones, who didn’t understand what it had been like before they were born and the Lauries went a day or more without food, when they’d never stepped inside a school and no such thing as separate bedrooms or a nanny had existed; the older ones liked her, too. A nne, Kat, Jo, his mother—they knew who she was, and yet they allowed her to disarm them with her smile and her charming manner. Jude probably would have liked her, too, had he not been away at Eton.

  It had been nearly two decades ago, but A lex could still remember her father, Daniel Stratton. A s a boy A lex had passed many nights underfoot while Stratton and Joseph Laurie plotted out calculations and strategies for their new business as dye makers. Both had lived in poverty for most of their lives, and both had little schooling. But what his father lacked in learning he made up for in ambition and determination, and once he had a purpose in mind, he found people to teach him what he needed to know. The first investment for their new company had been a nice sum from a middle-class merchant, who then went on to influence other tradesmen to invest, too. The company had just begun to take shape beyond that of a dream when Stratton’s A merican wife had fallen ill and they moved across the ocean so she could be with her family.

  A lex remembered the anger and bitterness and resignation between the two men those last few weeks. They’d worked so hard to try to build something worthwhile—and God knew most members of the working class didn’t often have a chance to become their own masters—only to see it slip away due to fate’s circumstance. But though they were forced to give up their shared dream, neither circumstance. But though they were forced to give up their shared dream, neither would give up their hope for it entirely. Instead of remaining partners, once the Strattons left England for A merica, they became rivals.

  Perhaps A lex’s family didn’t care that Willa was Daniel Stratton’s daughter. But that wasn’t their burden to shoulder: it was his.

  She was A lex’s enemy, and his only thought of her should be in regards to the Madonna dye and any other potential investors. There shouldn’t be anything more

  —not a desire to protect her and certainly not this damned possessiveness, which he noticed hadn’t abated even though she was no longer in the bed.

  He knew she was beautiful and that he desired her, yet any man would have also—this wasn’t a weakness. A nd if he studied her closely, it was because he needed to understand the workings of her mind to try to discover her motives—he could use this knowledge against her. But he wasn’t supposed to care about who she was beneath the exquisite surface. She was never supposed to play any other part in his life but that of rival. Even in Italy, even when he’d been drawn to her and kissed her then, this had been clear. Willa Stratton did not fit into his plans for either his family or his business. He could not trust her loyalty. She could not gain him the connections he desired among the aristocracy.

  “She cannot be anything more.” He murmured it to himself as Willa turned in her seat as she spoke and looked up at Jo and his mother. The three of them laughed together.

  If he had any regrets, they were for bringing her back to Holcombe House instead of returning her to Mivart’s Hotel.

  He would send a note to Woolstone to arrange for a new meeting—one he hoped would take place before Willa was well enough again to follow him to the appointment. A s he’d told her before, he intended to win this time. A nd if he had to use her recovery to his advantage, he would do so.

  A lex’s gaze caught on her smile, on the golden hair streaming down her back, on the picture of her in his house engaged in laughter and conversation with his family. With Jo and his mother, two people who he knew didn’t surrender their affections easily.

  Then he turned and quietly slipped out of the room.

  She was his rival. She would never be anything more.

  Chapter 12

  Alex nodded to Thomas, the second footman, as he slipped outside into the cool A pril drizzle. Tucking the brim of his hat lower over his head and turning up the collar of his overcoat, he slipped his hands into his pockets and made his way through the shadows of Belgrave Square.

  Woolstone had chosen a different location this time: a meetinghouse where the Grand Botany Society convened to discuss, presumably, plants. A nd A lex knew from the first traumatic visit with Willa that Woolstone had an extreme fondness for any item with fronds, leaves, or petals.

  A lex shivered as rain slipped inside his collar, trickling cold and wet down his neck. He could have taken a carriage, of course, but the short distance to the meetinghouse meant that he was saved the awful stench of the vehicle. He would rather be drenched than sit inside the carriage for even one more minute. Once the Madonna dye was secured, his next item of business would be the immediate procurement of a new enclosed vehicle.

  A smile trespassed on his face as he remembered Willa’s reaction to the theories for the smell in the carriage and how Lord Holcombe had died. It fell, however, when A lex realized he was being followed.

  It was easy enough to pause and wait for a coach to pass, watching out of the corner of his eye as the familiar figure in black trousers and black coat ducked into the shadows created by the eaves of the nearest house.

  A lex gave a small sigh and crossed the street to the meetinghouse. The black, she executed well again. The men’s clothes cloaked her womanly form as they had before, though this time he found it more difficult to keep his imagination from straying to the curves hidden beneath. But her hair?

  Even tucked inside the little hat she wore, her golden hair stood out like the sun in the darkness, catching the reflection of the lamps and the wetness of the rain.

  But her presence didn’t matter. Yes, he was annoyed that she must have been sneaking about the house and spying on him again, but if Woolstone’s reaction at their first introduction was any indication, he
was the first man Willa had met whom she wouldn’t be able to charm.

  Indeed, the only thing A lex had to worry about was the mysterious warning at the end of Woolstone’s answering note.

  I wish I’d never created it. I wish someone else the greatest of successes.

  Meet me on Tuesday, following the 9 o’clock conclusion of the Grand Botany Society’s meeting. But beware: they will come after you next once they realize Society’s meeting. But beware: they will come after you next once they realize you also know the secret.

  Who pursued Woolstone, and what danger did they pose that they had made him go into hiding? Were they other botanists, perhaps, who wished to claim the same fame that had come upon Woolstone when the public discovered the Madonna portrait? Were they painters obsessed with the portrait who wished to use the dye for their own works? Were they possibly other dye makers—perhaps Stratton’s A merican competitor?

  Scowling, A lex waited deep in the corner by the side door of the meetinghouse where Woolstone had indicated. If the man felt the need to leave through other than the front door, then he must not feel he was safe.

  Suddenly A lex wished he had a knife. He was fairly certain the person following him had been Willa; even now he could see her tucked against a statue ten feet away, her blond hair still shouting her presence to the world. But what if she wasn’t the only one there? What if someone had been following Woolstone and now they would start following him?

  A lex glanced at Willa again. They might think she was with him, too, might consider her their rival. That thought disturbed him even more. Tensing, he flicked his hand. Come here.

  She didn’t move, pretending he couldn’t see her.

  Silently cursing, he removed his hat and pointed at her, then beckoned toward his chest. Shaking the hat, he pretended he was trying to remove the raindrops collected on the brim. He returned the hat to his head.

  A nd still she didn’t come, although she did shift, her face accidentally leaving the shadow of the statue. He could see her eyes, dark and wide as she watched him.

  “Pssst!”

  Her shoulders jerked.

  “Yes, I can see you there,” he whispered furiously. “Come here.” She frowned and shook her head, then sank back into the statue’s shadow.

  “Obstinate plague of a woman,” he muttered to himself as he ran the ten or so feet toward her and ducked down beside her. “What are you doing?” he asked—

  or, rather, shouted in a whisper, if one could very well shout in a whisper.

  “I’m watching you,” she said calmly, in a normal level of voice, as if danger weren’t lurking everywhere. She crossed her arms. “When Woolstone comes out, I’d like to speak to him before he gives you anything. If you’ll recall, I didn’t get a chance to do so before.”

  “He doesn’t want to speak to you! A nd you’re supposed to still be recovering!” He wanted to hail a hansom cab and have her whisked away to safety. No, he wanted to bundle her up and escort her himself, see to it that she was securely ensconced in her guest chamber back at Holcombe House. Or, better yet, at her hotel. But now was not the time to have this argument. Besides, he knew she was too stubborn; he would never convince her to leave until one of them received the too stubborn; he would never convince her to leave until one of them received the Madonna dye from Woolstone. “I think someone is watching us. Do you have a weapon?”

  She stared at him as if he’d spent too much time with his head in a vat of dye.

  “No, A lex,” she said slowly, “I don’t have a weapon.” Her head turned as she peered around him, then from side to side. “A nd what do you mean, someone’s watching us? Who?”

  “I don’t know,” he said irritably, then paused. She glistened with raindrops: her lashes, lips, and skin. The moisture was beginning to soak into her clothes, the material clinging to her curves. A n odd desire to nuzzle the side of her neck and lick the wetness from her throat suddenly consumed him. “I thought it would be better if you stayed close by me, just in case something happens.” She looked up at him, only the slightest hint of blue showing in her dark eyes.

  Her lips curved, a small half-wondering, half-mocking smile brightening the shadows. “You intend to protect me. From the thief or murderer or drunkard, whoever he might be?”

  “A gainst my better judgment, yes.” He wrapped his hand around her arm.

  “Now, let’s go. Back to the door.”

  Thankfully, when he rose from the crouch she followed, and together they scurried the few feet back to the deep corner beside the side door.

  Though it had been only a very small distance, they both panted as if they’d crawled a hundred yards. “What now?” she asked, gasping.

  “We wait for Woolstone.” Woolstone was a Goliath. What need had they of weapons when they had him?

  “A nd if he doesn’t come?”

  A lex fumbled as he tried to retrieve his pocket watch from his coat. A n unsatisfactory endeavor, of course—it was impossible to read the time in the darkness. He snapped it shut. “He’ll come. But if he doesn’t, then we’ll return to Holcombe House and I’ll send you to Mivart’s in my carriage.” She wrinkled her nose. “No, thank you. I’ll hire a cab.” A lex nearly laughed. “A s you wish.”

  They peered out into the night together, the steady A pril drizzle blurring the shadows. Minutes passed as they waited, tense and wary of the unknown. The longer she stood beside him, the greater his awareness of the woman huddled against him became. His attention strayed. Though they were out of the rain, droplets continued trickling from her hat into her hair and down her neck. From her temple down the smooth curve of her cheek. He watched one particular raindrop trail to the corner of her mouth, then hover there for a moment before sliding along the edge of her lower lip.

  A lex’s breath shuddered as he inhaled. “You should have stayed at Holcombe House.”

  “He’s not coming,” Willa whispered.

  The door swung open with a loud shriek of its hinges, and Willa screamed. A lex jumped and raised the hand holding his pocket watch—because a pocket watch jumped and raised the hand holding his pocket watch—because a pocket watch would surely incapacitate any would-be attacker.

  But of course it was Woolstone. He frowned down at them, then leaned forward and peered in both directions. “You brought her again? Very well. Come.” A lex gestured for Willa to precede him. Even while she walked, she tortured him with possibilities: the elegant line of her spine offered the perfect path for his hands to follow; he imagined plucking off her hat and spinning her around, tucking his fingers deep inside the waist of her trousers—

  She stumbled and pitched forward. A lex lunged to catch her.

  “I’m all right,” she said, breathing heavily. She smiled up at him, and something pierced A lex’s lungs.

  Woolstone half turned to see why they were delayed. He frowned. “A re you coming?”

  A lex waited until Willa straightened, then released her. His hands acted oddly, though. A s soon as he stopped touching her, they lifted again, stretching out toward her.

  She’s not the one.

  They dropped to his side.

  “Mr. Woolstone,” Willa said, hurrying after their host, “who is following you?” He stopped and whirled. “You saw someone following me?”

  “No,” A lex answered, “but I assumed from your note—”

  Woolstone slashed his hand through the air. “Once they learn I no longer have it, they will leave me alone. Dear God, I pray they leave me alone.”

  “But who are they?” Willa demanded.

  Woolstone’s A dam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and leaned forward, his thick brows lowering. “The women,” he whispered.

  The women.

  For the first time since A lex told her someone was watching them outside, Willa’s muscles relaxed, and she breathed a sigh.

  “The women” didn’t sound very dangerous. A fter all, she was a woman and the best she could do was jab someone with a hairpin
or knee someone in the groin.

  “The women” didn’t have quite the ring to it that “the Black Raven” or “One-Eyed Georgie” did at all . . .

  “They’re everywhere I go,” Woolstone muttered darkly. “A ccosting me in the street, knocking at my door in the middle of the night. One crawled through my window and offered herself to me if I would help her dressmaker create a gown for her.”

  Willa laughed. “You can’t mean women in general? Because they’re interested in wearing the same color as the Queen?”

  Woolstone glared at her, obviously categorizing her as one of them. No wonder he’d taken an immediate dislike to her; he never would have been susceptible to her charms if every woman in England was trying to charm him out of the dye. “It is like a plague.”

  is like a plague.”

  Willa turned to A lex and grinned. “Still think someone was watching us tonight, Mr. Laurie?” He’d tried to protect her, even if the monsters had been imaginary.

  She wouldn’t forget it.

  His lips thinned and he ignored her, instead addressing Woolstone. “Thank you for being willing to meet with me again. You have the dye information?” Woolstone folded his arms and shifted—looking, to Willa’s mind, distinctly uncomfortable. Hope soared within her breast. “My apologies, Mr. Laurie, but I could not keep my word. She needed my help.”

  A lex flinched at the same time Willa’s breath hitched.

  “You gave it to someone else?” he asked.

  She stepped forward. “Who? Who did you give it to?”

  “My sister now has the dye information, to do with as she pleases.” Willa’s shoulders tried to slump, but she wouldn’t allow it. Simply because Lady Marianna had the dye didn’t mean that she would give it to A lex. They weren’t yet betrothed, either. It might never be his. But she also couldn’t see a reason why Lady Marianna would give it to her.