by Ashley March
When the attendants lit the lamps again for the second intermission, Willa was the first to stand in their box. “I’ll meet you in the lobby,” she told Richard, then whirled and hurried to the ladies’ retiring room.
In the retiring room lay a basin and a pitcher of water upon a stand, and Willa poured water into the basin with shaking hands, then dipped a cloth into the water and patted her cheeks, her forehead, her throat.
Oh, God.
She’d touched him. There.
She’d been quite honest when she told A lex that she didn’t like it when he touched her. He made her feel . . . uncontrolled. Helpless.
Lost.
Which might be all well and good if he were a man she could find herself with, but he would one day marry a woman of the English aristocracy, and she would one day marry someone else. A nd she wanted intimacy with a man she could love, with someone who could love her in return.
A nd that man wasn’t A lex Laurie.
Willa turned and looked into the mirror on the wall. Her cheeks were still rosy but no longer felt like they were on fire. Soon she would need to speak to Richard. He deserved to court someone who could marry him and not think about another man’s private parts while Richard was sitting beside her, trying to make her laugh with ironic observations of the singers onstage.
Willa left the retiring room as a trio of other women entered.
When she neared the Byrne box, she found A lex standing there, leaning against the wall with his arms and ankles crossed.
Watching her, he drew back the curtain to the opera box and gestured inside.
She walked past him and sat in the empty box, in the seat she’d taken before, beside Richard. A lex sat in front of her again, though he twisted in the seat halfway to look at her. Those who remained in boxes nearby would see them talking, nothing more. No more dark alcoves, no more inappropriate touches or kisses.
A lex cleared his throat. “What is the number one complaint about your father’s A lex cleared his throat. “What is the number one complaint about your father’s dye, Miss Stratton?”
Willa hesitated. It was not at all what she’d expected him to say. “I don’t understand. Do you truly believe that I would expose such a weakness to his rival?”
“A llow me to phrase it another way, then. What is your favorite color?”
“Pink,” she answered immediately, then narrowed her gaze. “Why do you want to know my favorite color, Mr. Laurie?”
He shook his head as if clearing it. “For an example. If you were to wear a pink gown, what would happen to your chemise and petticoats and corset that touched the gown?”
“They would turn pink as well, of course . . .”
“A nd if you were to wear a pink chemise, what would happen to your skin?” Willa pursed her lips. “I don’t think I like this question. You’re not now imagining me dressed only in a pink chemise, are you?”
A lex grinned at her. “Perhaps. But answer the question, please.”
“If I were to wear a pink chemise, then I imagine my skin would turn pink.”
“A ha! Yes, that is the correct answer. Congratulations, Miss Stratton.”
“A nd this is important because—”
A lex leaned in, beckoning her to come close. She did—only out of curiosity, not because she was drawn to the way his eyes shone or the creases at the corners of his mouth when he smiled.
“Because, Miss Stratton,” he whispered, “at a certain mill in a certain town there is a new process being tested, one which I have invented wherein dye on one cloth will no longer stain another cloth or the skin it lies against.” Willa drew back. She knew her eyes went wide, saw how pleased he was at her astonished expression. She couldn’t help it. If his invention truly worked, he would be fabulously wealthy, ten times more so than her father. “No . . .”
“Yes, very much so.” His smile faded. “I’m leaving in a few days for another visit to the mill. I’d like for you to go with me.”
“With Lady Carlyle?”
“No. A lone.”
They stared at each other. Willa nodded. “I would be delighted to visit your mill.”
She stood from the seat. She’d promised to meet Richard in the lobby again, and the intermission was already halfway over. Something urged her to hold out her hand again, although she shouldn’t have. His hand was always too large, too strong. It made her wish he’d wrap his arms around her and never let go. “I look forward to it, A lex.”
He took her hand, and it was everything she feared. She wanted more.
Chapter 16
Four days later, the owner of Alex’s mill, Ronald MacFadden, scratched his chin.
A nd no wonder, Willa thought, focusing on the thick blond beard covering the man’s chin instead of on A lex, who stood right beside her. The beard was a monster, bristling and wiry. It probably tried to kill him in his sleep.
“Is it all right if we look around?” A lex asked.
“Look around all you like. Let me know if you want to change something. Just don’t get in the way of the girls.”
“Thank you. Good to see you again, Mr. MacFadden.”
The mill owner tipped his hat. “Mr. Laurie. Miss Laurie.” A lex stood still until he walked away, then turned to Willa. “Don’t say a word until we go outside.”
He took her elbow and guided her down the narrow stairs to the lower floor, away from the offices that overlooked the manufacturing lines.
He led her out the side doors, to the small, barren courtyard in between the main mill and the factory on the other side.
“I’d prefer if you didn’t touch me, Mr. Laurie. I believe I told you that earlier at the inn.”
A lex opened the door to the factory, then waited for her to step inside. “You’re supposed to be my sister,” he said behind her. “Try not to act so hostile.”
“I’m fairly certain Jo would act even worse,” she retorted, smiling at the women and girls who glanced quickly away from their stations as they walked past.
He caught up beside her. “Perhaps, but MacFadden has met Jo. He hasn’t met Kat, and Kat is much more amiable. Kat adores me.”
Willa looked up.
He shrugged. “It’s true.”
“Kat tolerates you better than most, Mr. Laurie. Besides, I’m too old to be Kat.
Perhaps we can pretend I’m another older sister they never met.”
“Impossible,” he said, shaking his head. “You clearly look too young to be my older sister. In fact, you look closer to Kat in age than you do to Jo. You’re beautiful. No wrinkles, no bitter skepticism showing in your eyes, no blemishes on your skin.”
Willa peered at him. She was usually quite good at reading him, but she couldn’t tell now if he was flirting with her or if he’d actually misunderstood. “Not your older sister, Mr. Laurie. A sister who’s older than Kat. I wouldn’t need to be older than you are. I could still be six and twenty.”
“A h.” He’d misunderstood. “Very well, then. But you should still act nice toward
“A h.” He’d misunderstood. “Very well, then. But you should still act nice toward me. Pretend you are Jo on a very, very good day.”
He’d misunderstood, and still he’d called her beautiful. Willa lifted her face without wrinkles, blemishes, or bitter skepticism and presented him with a bright, sunny smile. “Does Jo ever have a very, very good day? I must admit to being quite impressed with only her good days. A lthough I’m certain she acts much better around me than she does around you.”
A lex chuckled and came to a halt, his hand grasping her elbow again and turning her to the right.
“The door in front of you. It’s through there.”
A few minutes later, after they strode across the wide expanse of the open factory, where women and girls—some appeared as old as sixty or as young as twelve—sorted through the fabric spit out on the belts, Willa pushed through the far door he’d indicated.
A thick, pungent odor immediately assaulted
her nostrils. Willa took a deep breath, a sense of peace for the first time since she’d come to England filling her.
This she knew; with this she felt at home. The chemicals, the colors, the vats of boiling water.
Dye.
She could have stayed in this particular room for hours, strolling around each station and studying the processes of MacFadden’s workers. She could have observed what they did differently, how their stations were set up compared to those of her father’s workers. She could have reported back to him—
“This way, dear sister.” A lex blocked her vision. He didn’t touch her, but stood before her and angled his body toward the left, where he wanted her to go.
Willa turned toward the left, then followed him a short distance. Finally, they’d arrived at the stations testing his nonsaturation process.
A lex chatted and smiled with the women working there, charming them in less time than it took him to pick up a piece of dyed cloth and turn around to hand it to Willa. “Look at this,” he said. “What do you see that’s different?” She held the cloth—a dark blue wool—and turned it over in her hands.
“Nothing. I don’t see a difference from what it would usually look like.” He grinned at her. “Precisely. Thus far that is the achievement I’m proudest of.
It’s taken at least six months to figure out how add the glaze so thinly it wouldn’t leave any residue or crystals behind.”
“A re you only testing wool now?” she asked, glancing down the line. She noticed that the women watched her more closely than they did before, the young girls staring at her day dress and the others—the ones old enough to understand A lex’s flirtation—sending her little daggers with their eyes when they thought she didn’t see. She repeated herself loudly. “A re you only testing wool now, brother?” Though his profile was now to her, she saw the twitch of his lips before he turned back with a new cloth in his hands. This one was purple and shimmered even in the dull light.
“Here you are, sister. Satin. The very first time I’ve seen the product after it’s
“Here you are, sister. Satin. The very first time I’ve seen the product after it’s been tested.”
Willa studied the cloth, rubbed it between her fingertips. A lex had insisted she wear gloves before they left the inn, had said she needed to appear like a lady.
A fter hearing him speak of MacFadden and after meeting the manager, she now knew why. She started to roll her glove from her elbow, but he stayed her with a hand on her arm.
“No need to do that. It doesn’t work yet.”
When their eyes met he frowned and immediately removed his hand, as if he thought she wished him to do so but couldn’t in front of the other women. This time, however, she hadn’t tensed. She hadn’t noticed. A nd now that he’d removed his touch from her without her request, like the contrary creature she was she wished it was there again, his fingers warm even through the glove.
Willa gave the satin back to him. “Why doesn’t it work? It looks clean, and if it’s run through your glaze, or whatever you call it—”
He shrugged and turned away to hand both the wool and the satin to one of the women workers. “I don’t know.” He lifted his other hand and showed her the blue and purple stains on his fingers. “I’ll figure it out soon enough.” His eyes lit with frustration, but still he smiled again. A lways smiling, no matter how he truly felt. Just like she did. They were both charmers, she and A lex.
Smiling and charming the world, one person at a time. She wondered if he ever tired of it, too. Or, if they both laid down their facades for one day, what they would each find behind the smiles of the other.
“Thank you, ladies,” he said, bowing to the workers. They smiled and nodded—
some giggled and curtsied back—and then he gestured for Willa to precede him out of the factory. “Come, sister, I believe it’s well past noon and time to eat, and I’d very much like to try the mutton pie at the Boar’s Head.” Though the Boar’s Head inn was only a short distance away from the Three Crowns on the opposite side of the small village of A bysmount, the structure was far less hospitable and welcoming. A nd much more disgusting. The owner snatched a toothpick out of his mouth, then inserted it into a piece of mutton pie to see if it was done.
“Er, thank you,” A lex said, then carefully cut around the center of the pie with his fork and moved the acceptable pieces to one side.
He glanced at Willa, who just sat gaping at her piece, so he reached over and did the same for her pie, too. A lex smiled at the keeper, chef, and owner of the face which in fact resembled a boar’s head—a remarkable resemblance. Helped one to remember the inn, too. “I’m sure it’s delicious,” he said, and ate his first bite.
When Willa only stared at him, he gestured with his fork for her to eat, then turned his gaze back to the innkeeper. Merriman, the man’s name was—though at least in this there appeared no correlation between his name and his nature. That would simply have been cruel.
would simply have been cruel.
No, he was a mean, ugly, boar’s head of a man, and A lex ate another piece of pie to show him how much he liked it before speaking again. “Mmm. A better piece of mutton pie I’ve yet to taste. Don’t you agree, A lexandra?” She’d insisted that they be twins on the return to the village. Even though he’d pointed out that her fair coloring contrasted with his dark coloring to such a degree that everyone would question it. Still, her newly assumed role seemed to make her happy.
A lexandra née Willa agreed, nodding as she ate another forkful. Her eyes told him she felt differently. Perhaps he should have scooped her toothpick piece onto his plate.
The innkeeper stared down at them. He didn’t polish the counter with his apron
—of course, the state of the counter beneath their plates attested to the fact that this wasn’t surprising. He didn’t answer to another visitor’s request for an ale. He didn’t fawn over them because Willa wore the dress of a lady and A lex had changed into a fresh set of clothes before going to the mill this morning. He just stared down at them. “Glowered” might have been a better description.
Next to A lex, Willa cleared her throat delicately, then tilted her head and fluttered her eyelashes at Merriman.
That seemed to get his attention, the biased bastard. Not that A lex had ever tried to flutter his eyelashes, but he was fairly certain that even if he could achieve the exact same eyelash-fluttering frequency, it still wouldn’t have resulted in the same effect Willa seemed to have on the man.
Tipping his mug of ale back, A lex drank and watched the mistress of charm flaunt her assets. He also drew his legs up close to his chair, prepared to reach down for the knife tucked in his boot in case he needed to protect those assets.
“Mr. Merriman,” she began, stretching forward and leaning until the surface of the table pushed her breasts up to mouthwatering proportions. She touched the innkeeper’s arm—a light fluttering of a touch as quick and harmless as her eyelashes, no more substantial than the brush of a hummingbird’s wings. The innkeeper’s posture shifted, becoming taller and broader as he brought his legs together from his wide stance, straightened his spine, then squared his shoulders.
Oh, she was good. Very good.
A lex took another drink and let his other hand rest on his thigh, closer to his knife.
She and Mr. Boar’s Head Merriman had some sort of connection. They stared at each other, a little smile tucked into the corners of her mouth while the fist-sized indent centered in his chin softened to the size of a shilling.
She extended her gloved hand, palm down, like a lady’s. “Miss A lexandra Laurie.”
The innkeeper stared at the hand, his mouth parted, then shook his head.
“Thank you, Miss Laurie, but I wouldn’t want to sully your gloves with these big old washbasins here.” He tucked his own hands—and the polishing apron, unfortunately—out of sight behind the counter.
unfortunately—out of sight behind the counter.
&
nbsp; “Well it’s a pleasure to meet you all the same, Mr. Merriman. I must confess I’ve never liked mutton pie much before now, but you have a special recipe, don’t you?”
A lex smiled into his mug. Yes, it’s called saliva on a stick.
Her foot kicked his shin beneath the table. He jerked his gaze toward hers, saw her eyes cut back to Merriman’s as she smiled. A lex set his ale down and picked up another forkful. “I agree, Mr. Merriman. A lthough I would never tell my mother. I’m sure you understand, don’t you?” A lex winked.
Merriman beady little boar’s eyes twitched. “I’m sure I don’t, Mr. Laurie, as I don’t have a mother anymore to tell.”
Damn.
Willa kicked him again.
Very well. He’d just leave the talking to her and nod or shake his head as needed.
She reached forward to touch Merriman’s arm again—this time, for twice as long. A lex’s eyes narrowed. “How terrible. Mr. Merriman, I’m so sorry. We’re both sorry, aren’t we, A lex?”
A lex nodded.
“I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it, but you must know—” The innkeeper placed his hand over hers. His big washbasin of a hand that swallowed up hers and half her forearm as well. A lex’s fingers twitched for his knife.
“She was a good woman, Miss Laurie. A truly good woman.” Willa nodded. For good measure’s sake, A lex did, too.
“Would you like to hear about her?”
“Oh, only if you have time, Mr. Merriman. I don’t want to disrupt your business.”
Merriman swung his heavy jowls toward the other customers in the inn, scowling. Those watching the exchange between Beauty and the Boar’s Head flinched and stared down at their tables. “I have time.” Trundling around the bar, the innkeeper pulled out a stool and sat down beside her with a groan. “A s I was saying, Miss Laurie, my mother was a good woman, one of the finest women I’ve ever known—present company included, of course.”
Willa smiled shyly and twisted her back away from A lex, setting her chin on her folded hands. “I wish I’d had the chance to meet her.”