"James," she said, quickly before her nerve deserted her. "Tess thinks I'll grow up to be beautiful."
He smiled down at her. "You know how I feel about that, brat. You're the prettiest female in the entire family."
"No, James." Lizzie refused to be taken lightly. "I'm not pretty now, but someday soon, I shall be beautiful."
"Is that so?" His mouth was serious but his eyes were amused. "What makes you say that?"
"Tess told me. She said I'm not pretty now, but someday I'll look exactly like Mama."
An arrested look appeared on his face as he carefully studied his youngest sister's features. "She may have something there, Lizzie," he replied slowly. "Heaven help me if I have that to contend with."
Tess's musical laugh interrupted their conversation. "I don't envy you, James," she said. "A young lady with the fortune of Midas and the face of an angel. You'll not have an easy time of it."
He groaned. Kissing the top of Lizzie's head, he pulled her back into his arms. "At least I've a few years respite before that happens and I intend to enjoy them. Judith is already too sophisticated for my taste. I'd hate to see that happen to you."
Lizzie sighed contentedly. "Oh, James. I'll never be too old to go fishing with you." She smiled. "Even Tess likes to fish. She caught most of the ones in my basket."
"Tess," he said, winking at the blond woman beside him, "is most unusual. In addition to fishing, she can ride like a dream and compute mathematical figures that would make your head spin. If you want to be like her you'll need to spend more time with your books and less roaming the countryside."
Resting against the warmth of her brother's chest, Lizzie closed her eyes. "It isn't any use. I'm sure there's no one in all of England like Tess."
"God help me, if you're right," he muttered under his breath.
Chapter 6
Leonie Devereaux felt a headache coming on. The attractive picture of her children conversing in the sitting room with Teresa Bradford didn't help. She wasn't normally a harsh parent but she felt a sudden and irrational anger toward Georgiana. Why hadn't the wretched girl told her Teresa was a diamond of the first water?
Calling upon the iron control carefully cultivated over a lifetime, she stifled her resentment and forced a charming smile to her lips.
"The handicap was unnecessary," the duke admonished Tess as she threatened his queen. "I can't remember when I've played with a more formidable opponent."
She looked at him through lowered lashes. "I'm a poor loser and I couldn't be sure you wouldn't win."
He countered with a knight. "Wherever did you learn to play?"
Tess opened her mouth to answer when he held up his hand.
"Wait," he said, "let me guess. Your estimable father is the culprit."
"Actually, no," she replied, her eyes brimming with laughter. "My husband taught me. Daniel is the finest chess player in Annapolis."
"How fortunate for him." James was no longer smiling. He concentrated on the game, determined to best the ghost of Daniel Bradford.
A slight smile appeared on Leonie's lips. "Tell us about your husband, my dear. He sounds like a delightful young man."
"Mama!" Georgiana's shocked voice emerged from behind her embroidery. "How could you? Any mention of Daniel must be excessively painful for Tess."
"Not really." Tess smiled warmly at her champion. "I've known Daniel all my life. It's actually quite comforting to speak of him."
"Not now, if you don't mind," Devereaux's dry voice cut in. "We've a game to finish and unless you intend to lose badly, you had better pay attention."
"Don't be overly confident, sir," Tess mocked him, removing his queen. "You are in no position to cry victory."
"Ah, but I am," replied the duke moving his rook into position. "Check."
"I should win this," Tess muttered to herself. "I've both my knights and you've only one." She moved her knight and promptly lost her queen.
"My game, I think," said Devereaux, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "You are easily distracted, a flaw I'll have to keep in mind."
"Shame on you," she scolded. "A gentleman should never point out a lady's imperfections."
The tea tray arrived, putting an end to their banter. Soon after, Lizzie and Judith were sent to bed and Georgiana followed. The duchess was very tired but she resigned herself to stay as long as necessary. Nothing, short of her own demise, would allow her to leave James and the all-too-charming American, alone together.
"I've decided to have a house party," she announced suddenly, uncomfortable with the proximity of the two heads, one dark and one light, so close to one another.
James looked up from the tower design Tess had advised him to reinforce. "Is that really necessary, Mother?" he asked. "In a few short weeks, we'll be in London."
"It will serve to prepare Tess for the ton." Leonie explained. "She will find it difficult enough attending parties and balls in London after living in Annapolis all of her life."
Tess's lips twitched but she remained silent.
"Don't be absurd," James sighed in exasperation. "Annapolis is a thriving metropolis very close to the capital. It may not be as crowded as London but it has its own grace and elegance. Good God, think of Thomas Jefferson and William Curtis. The ladies and gentlemen of America are not provincials, Mother."
"I never thought they were," Leonie protested, visibly upset. "I merely thought introducing our guest to some influential people ahead of time might make her more comfortable."
She looked at the lovely face illuminated by candlelight. No one would ever take this girl for a backwoods provincial. Her gown was of palest cream over a white satin underskirt and the pearls at her ears and throat were worth a fortune. She was the epitome of taste, from the loosely knotted hair at the back of her head, to the sloping shoulders rising from the bodice of her gown. The delicate rose of her cheeks and the clear grey eyes were the only colors about her.
"I didn't mean to offend you, my dear," Leonie apologized.
"A party sounds lovely, m'lady," Tess reassured her. "It really is a very thoughtful gesture. Don't you think so, James?" She looked directly at Devereaux.
He met her look. Something primitive and intimate blazed between them.
Leonie closed her eyes briefly, admitting defeat. She hadn't missed the familiar address. Few people, other than family, were invited to call the Duke of Langley by his first name. This young beauty, this foreigner, had accomplished the impossible. In only two days she had broken through the reserve and captured the interest of England's most eligible bachelor. Whatever happened now was up to fate. She would have to rely on the character and integrity of her son.
She looked again at Tess. There was something reassuring and implacable in the straight shoulders and lovely tilt of her chin, as if she could only be coerced so far.
Leonie smiled. Her skin felt very tight. "It's late," she said, rising to her feet. "I think I'll retire."
"I'll go up with you," Tess said unexpectedly. "It's been a long day." She linked her arm through Leonie's and smiled enchantingly. "We can lean on each other."
The duchess's blue eyes softened. She patted the small hand tucked beneath her arm. "Thank you, my dear," she whispered. "Thank you, very much."
Tess couldn't sleep. With a curse only her father would recognize, she pulled on her dressing gown and walked downstairs to the library. After selecting a book she curled up in an armchair warmed by the smoldering embers of the fire.
It was there, several hours later, that Devereaux found her. He stood in the doorway watching her. The silvery mane of hair fell past her waist, partly concealing her profile. Her skin looked luminous and very pale against the dark velvet chair. He made no sound, but after a moment she looked around and saw him.
"What are you doing here, at this hour?" she asked.
"I might ask the same of you?"
"I couldn't sleep," she replied. "There is so much on my mind. I can't explain it." Her voice was low and sli
ghtly husky. "What about you? Perhaps you heard a noise and began believing in your own ghost stories?"
His lips turned up in a smile. When he spoke, his voice seemed to come from someone else. "Like you, I couldn't sleep." He absorbed every detail of the woman seated so gracefully in his chair. He felt a strange tingling sensation, like a nervous energy, beneath his skin. He ached to touch her. A year ago he would have consigned her husband to the devil and used the considerable charm he was born with to seduce her. In his world it was commonplace for married women to have affairs. But that was a year ago. Now, the hideously scarred stump that served as his left leg stopped him.
Before Badajos, he had never considered the physical appearance of his body. Women had always found him attractive. Now, a newly acquired self-consciousness held him in its grip. He hadn't sought out a woman in over a year.
Recovering from his wound, learning to balance and walk on his wooden leg without a noticeable limp, getting used to the strap and the feel of the uneven weight in his boots, had taken up all of his time. Sex was not a priority. But now he felt it all over again, the wanting, the sense of delicious anticipation, the slow, hot slide into the willing scented body of a woman.
Tess knew something was wrong. James appeared detached, almost angry. Then she saw the tense jaw and grim set of his mouth.
Smiling sympathetically, she stood, holding her place in the book with her finger. Her gown fell in soft folds to the floor. "I'll be going now. Good night, James," she said gently.
The smile devastated him. He heard her speak but the words meant nothing. A startling revelation swept through his consciousness. This was no fleeting passion. She wasn't just one more beautiful woman he desired for an evening's pleasure. This was Tess, a woman whose quick intelligence and lively wit were unparalleled, a woman whose sensitivity and warmth endeared her to everyone she met, a woman whose eyes and skin and hair were the loveliest he'd ever seen, a woman whose loyalty was destroying his sanity and eating out his heart.
She moved toward the door.
He barred the way.
She stopped and looked at him inquiringly.
"Tess," he said softly, his eyes gleaming a deep blue in his dark face.
Her throat tightened and her heart slammed against her ribs. "No," she whispered to his unspoken question.
He closed the distance between them. No power on earth could stop him now. "You don't mean that," he muttered. "I'll show you that you don't." With the inevitability of tomorrow he drew her, unresisting, into his arms. Bending his head he kissed her, gently at first, then with deepening intensity. It seemed, to James, that he had waited all of his life for this moment, this feeling, this woman.
She lifted her hand to push him away. His lips moved from her mouth to the hollow of her throat and back to her mouth. She stood very still fighting the weakness within her. He parted her lips to meet the driving force of his tongue.
The passion and repressed longing of the last several weeks came to a head. She could bear it no longer. Her control snapped and she moaned against his mouth, meeting the slow, heart-stopping kisses with her own frenzied desire. The hand she had raised to push him away, curled around his neck. The other slid under his shirt to rake his back with her nails.
Devereaux, filled with his own mounting need, began lowering her to the floor. Outside, rain drummed against the windows. The wind howled, snapped a tree branch and flung it against a diamond-shaped pane. It shattered with a loud pop. She tensed in his arms. Desperate to be free of him, she pushed against his chest.
With enormous effort he released her and moved away, breathing raggedly. "What is it?" he demanded, his voice hoarse, his eyes coal black with desire.
Her face was haunted, her skin flushed. "I can't," she replied brokenly.
All at once it came to him. Georgiana had told her. She found him repulsive. He smiled bitterly. "Of course. Forgive me."
"I must leave here immediately."
"Don't go. I apologize." His eyes were guarded once again, his breathing even. "This was entirely my fault. You came here for a reason that has not yet been resolved. I won't embarrass you again. You have my word." He drew a deep sustaining breath and smiled. "Georgiana would never forgive me if I chased you away."
"I don't know." Her voice betrayed her confusion.
"Think about it," James coaxed her. "Tomorrow this will all be a bad dream."
She laughed shakily. "You underrate yourself, m'lord. I'm sure the right woman would find you extremely charming."
"You needn't patronize me, Tess."
She looked confused. "What—?"
His smile did not reach his eyes. "Good night."
She hurried past him, through the door he held open for her.
For the rest of that night Tess fought a battle with her conscience. She was honest enough to admit the truth. James Devereaux was like no one she'd ever known before. She was terribly attracted to him. Nothing in her nineteen years had prepared her for the overpowering emotions she experienced when he touched her. Her marriage to Daniel seemed unreal and very far away. It was this man, this English duke, who occupied her mind.
She knew he wanted her. Tess was no stranger to the attentions of men. From the time she was fourteen years old, their eyes had followed her admiringly through the shops and streets of Annapolis. Only a healthy respect for Nathanial Harrington had kept their actions within the bounds of propriety. And, of course, there was always Daniel, her childhood companion and dearest friend. They had pledged to marry when Tess was fifteen and Daniel three years older, a children's pledge neither cared to break.
An affair was always a possibility. But Tess had been raised in a strict colonial family. Adultery was wrong and nothing could make it otherwise. Her situation was impossible. How could she remain in this house feeling as she did? But, for Daniel's sake, and Adam Bradford's, how could she do otherwise?
Tess forced herself to go down to the breakfast parlor as usual the following morning. She found Devereaux reading his paper. Her sleepless night had left her dull and out of sorts and the picture of him sitting at the table as coolly as if nothing had happened between them irritated her. Rubbing her aching temples she sat down at the table.
"Good morning, Lord Langley," she said, forcing herself to remain detached.
He looked up from the newspaper, his face completely devoid of expression. "I thought we had progressed beyond Lord Langley and Mrs. Bradford?"
Grey fire flashed from her eyes. "Your manners are dreadful, you know."
"Are you changing the subject?"
"Yes."
"Please answer the question, Mrs. Bradford."
She reached for a cup and bit her lip. He looked polite and faintly bored, not at all dangerous. Perhaps she was being foolish. She smiled tentatively. "You're quite aggravating, you know," she said at last.
Something flickered in his eyes but it was gone too quickly. Saying nothing, he went back to his paper feeling very pleased with himself. After a moment he finished the section he was reading and offered it to her. They passed the rest of the meal in amiable silence.
Tess was about to excuse herself when James folded his paper and announced, "I leave for London directly after Mother's dinner party. Parliament meets on Thursday. I'm to speak on impressment." He waited for her reply. There was none. He hesitated. "If there had been any new developments regarding the matter of your husband, I would have heard, but I'll check once again."
"Thank you, James," she said formally, and left the room.
Devereaux watched her graceful exit with hungry eyes.
Chapter 7
Georgiana yawned and closed her book. "We've been reading for hours," she complained. "I'm going inside to help Mother with the invitations."
"Will there be many?" Tess asked, with a guilty glance at her book.
"Not enough to worry about." Georgiana smiled at her. "You know how it is. If one person is invited, then another must be also. It would never do to offend an
yone. Don't worry, Tess," she reassured her. "Finish your novel and I'll help Mother. After all, you're our guest."
"If you're sure."
"Very sure." Georgiana rose from her chair. The soft blue muslin of her gown swirled gracefully around her legs as she walked through the gate to the house.
With a grateful sigh, Tess returned to Jane Austen.
Less than a quarter of an hour later, Georgiana returned to the garden.
"I'm afraid Mama is beside herself. The gowns we ordered won't be ready for our party. Madame Rochelle is ill with influenza. She sent a note this afternoon along with the fabric Mama and I selected." She sighed regretfully. "Poor woman. I'm sorry she's ill but I did so want to wear something new. I suppose it can't be helped."
Tess sat up giving Georgiana her full attention. "Isn't there anyone else in her shop who can sew?"
"That's what my mother is so angry about. Madame had our order for nearly three weeks which means she left it until the final hour. I'm sure we won't be using her again, which is a shame because her creations are truly lovely and so original."
Tess frowned. "All of my gowns, with the exception of my trousseau, were made at home. I suppose it's natural, with so many girls in the family, that we all learned to sew." She looked thoughtfully at Georgiana. "Maybe I can help."
"How?"
Tess closed her book. "Show me your fabric. If I can't do it, I'll tell you, and nothing will be lost."
Georgiana stared at her friend in wonder. "Can you really sew well enough to design an evening gown?"
"I don't know," Tess replied truthfully, "but I'm an American, remember? We are extremely resourceful."
"Where did you learn?" Georgiana asked. "At home you had servants. I remember them."
"My mother taught my sisters and they taught me. We don't actually have help," Tess reminded her. "There is only Clara who has been with us since before Mother died. She's really more a member of the family than anything else. If you recall, there aren't nearly as many servants in America as you have here."
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