"I believe Harris is speaking to you"
"Oh, yes, of course. What is it, Harris?"
"You have a visitor, Your Grace"
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Rachel said. "Who is it, Harris, and what do they want?"
"A Mr. Alexander Prescott, Your Grace," the butler said to Leah, his voice slightly hesitant. "Shall I ask him to return this afternoon?"
Alexander? Leah pressed her hand to her stomach, a burning flush once again creeping up her neck. He had said such hateful things to her last night, what more could he possibly have to say? "No, thank you, Harris. I would like to see him now."
"Very well, Your Grace," he bowed and strode away.
Rachel's brows shot up, her vapid blue eyes wide and perplexed. "A gentleman calling at this time of day? On a newly married lady? And without your husband's permission to call? Not quite the thing, Leah. Not the thing, at all."
A flash of anger swung her gaze to Richard. Her jaw tightened. "Do I need your permission to see my friends?"
Richard could see the fire burning in her eyes, as if she dared him to deny her. He was half-tempted to tease her, but he was anxious to get her out of the room before he did something foolish, such as behave like a jealous lout and forbid her to see her friend. Such as drag her onto his lap, bury his hands beneath her fetching, frothy confection of a dress, and have his wicked way with her with Rachel sitting not two chairs away.
"Of course you do not," he murmured, trying to ignore the sudden leap of his pulse, the tightening muscles in his arms that if he didn't know better, he would swear was jealousy. "As long as you adhere to propriety."
Good God, he sounded like a prig and her cheeks were blushing with furious color. Her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed on him as if she would wound him with her glare.
She gave a stiff nod, then turned and strode away, her foolish skirts swishing flirtatiously over her backside, and it was all he could do not to follow her. He recognized the name of her caller from his conversation with Pierce. The boy was calf ears in love with Leah, and now he was here.
It bothered Richard and he could not even begin to say why.
How had he managed polite indifference, when he'd wanted nothing more than to drag her into his arms?
He'd thought he had himself under control, the foolish thoughts from the evening before banished to the darkest corners of his mind, where they belonged. Then, caught up in his worry over whether or not his brother was drinking again, Leah appeared before him when he had not yet schooled himself for her presence.
Now the blood rushing through his veins straight to his groin told him his rigid control was a lie. Warning bells were once again clamoring, but his lust studiously ignored them.
He did not recognize himself. It must come from some primitive, primal instincts blazing to life within him.
Male satisfaction at having been her first lover.
It certainly wasn't love. That foolish notion was best saved for poets and schoolgirls and green youths lost in their first carnal stirrings. Before the truth came crashing down around them. Love did not exist, but passion did.
No, this wasn't love. But what it was, he did not know.
She certainly wasn't important to him, or necessary for his happiness. That road led straight to hell and he had no inten tion of traveling it. But she was his wife. He would treat her with the respect and consideration she deserved.
Polite civility, those were the key words.
And wanton abandon, too, he thought with a rueful sigh, images of the previous night making him sweat.
He stifled a groan as he realized he was gaping after his wife like a feeble-minded fool and Rachel was watching him, her blue eyes narrowed in shrewd calculation.
Damn, he had forgotten she was in the room. "What plots are you hatching in that devious brain of yours?"
"Richard, you are a brute. Do you not know you hurt me when you speak to me in such a manner?"
He returned his attention to his paper.
"Are you not the least curious what the gentleman wants? Did you know he was at the ball last night?"
That grabbed his notice, and with it came a flare of unwelcome tension, a tightening in his chest. It was anger at Rachel, he told himself, disgust at her machinations.
It was not jealousy directed at his new wife.
"I understand they are friends," he said.
"Friends," Rachel said, running her thumb over her fingernails, her eyes wide in feigned innocence. "Yes. I suppose one could call it that. I saw them together on the terrace. They were having quite an intense conversation."
Richard slapped his newspaper on the table. "You were spying again? How many times do I have to tell you to tend to your own concerns?"
"Anything that happens in this house is my concern" Rachel ran her index finger around the rim of her teacup. "Do you want to know what I saw?"
Richard pushed to his feet. He had to get away before he said something he would regret. Or else he would throttle her.
"I saw him grab her arms and pull her close," she called after him. "Then he-"
Richard slammed the door and headed for the library.
If, on his way, he happened past the receiving room where Leah and her young buck were talking, well ... that wasn't exactly spying ... was it?
He rubbed his hands over his face.
Good God, now he sounded just like Geoffrey.
Chapter Ten
"Mr. Prescott," Harris announced from the salon door.
Before Leah had time to rise from her chair, Alexander rushed across the room, his frock coat and breeches wrinkled and stained, as if he had slept in them. His hair was damp and clung to his brow. He dropped to his knees at her feet.
He grabbed her hands. His warm breath fluttered over her fingertips, wet with his tears. "Leah, forgive me. I know I do not deserve it. My words were wicked and spiteful and cruel, but I hurt so much, I wanted to hurt you, too"
She could not stand to see his beloved face twisted in so much pain. She closed her eyes, her throat swelling, burning as she dragged in her breath. "Oh, Alexander. There is nothing to forgive." She tugged on his hands, helped him to his feet. "Ours would be a sad friendship, indeed, if it could not survive a few harsh words. Please, sit beside me and we will talk."
No fire burned in the grate, it was too lovely a day, but her skin felt hot, damp with sweat.
He collapsed on the settee. Elbows on knees, he propped his forehead against his hands. "I could not sleep. All I could hear were my vengeful words, over and over, until I thought I would go insane. I had to see you. I had to set things right."
"There is no need to say anything more. I would rather we forgot it ever happened"
A cloud must have passed over the sun, for the light shining in through the windows suddenly dimmed. Then it brightened again, hurting her eyes. She wrapped her arms around her waist, when all she wanted was to take his hand in hers and offer him the same comfort she had needed so desperately.
But she could not. She was married to another man.
He dragged his hand through his hair. "I have to say this, Leah. I cannot live with myself knowing I hurt you. I know you never lied to me, or fed me false words of love."
His shoulders shook as he dragged in his breath. He pulled a handkerchief from his frock coat pocket. "I should have told you how I felt, but I thought twenty-two too young to marry. I never dreamed anyone would steal you away from me. But when you came to Town, I knew as soon as the men got a look at you, they would want you as much as I did. But still, I waited too long." "
To give him time and privacy to compose himself, Leah rose and walked to the hearth, her gaze tracing the gold streaks swirling within the white marble. Twin vases filled with roses sweetened the air with the scent of summer.
She plucked off a few faded blooms, tossed them into the grate. If only she could as easily ease Alexander's pain, soothe her aching heart, punish her father for his treachery.
I truly w
ish you would stop apologizing," she said, tracing her shaking hand over the mantel. "All is forgiven. I understood your pain last night. I understand your grief today. I have felt them, too. When I thought I had lost your friendship and respect, it hurt unbearably."
He crushed the heels of his hands against his eyes, drew a deep shuddering breath. "Well, then, are you happy with this match?"
"It is too soon to tell," she said softly, trying not to cause him any more pain. "But the duke has been kind to me, his family cordial. I believe I shall be happy here"
He surged from his chair. "Leah, I love you. I cannot bear the thought of you with another man. Come away with me, please. We'll flee to Scotland."
"Oh, you do not know what you are saying" She raised her hands to stop his approach. "I am married to another man."
"He doesn't love you as I do"
"I am sure he doesn't love me at all. But that matters not. I am his wife."
"It doesn't matter." His voice dropped to a pleading whisper. "Come away with me, Leah. I'd gladly suffer the scandal if it meant we'd be together."
It happened so swiftly. One moment he was staring at her through red, hazy eyes. The next he was grabbing her arms, pulling her against his chest, kissing her with all the force of his passion and the depths of his despair.
She twisted out of his arms. Legs trembling, tears rising, she yanked the nearest chair until it stood between them. "Alex, please, stop this madness. I love you, yes. I always have. I always will. But I know, now, it is the love of a sister for a brother, a friend for a friend." She held out one shaking hand. "It is my turn to beg, Alex. Please, be my friend. Do not do this to me"
He stared at her hand. "Do you love him, then?"
"He needs me, Alex. I cannot explain it, but I feel it in the depths of my soul. We were meant to be together."
The steady tick of the mantel clock seemed hideously loud in the silence. His shoulders heaved as he blew out his breath. He tilted his lips in a wry, self-deprecating smile. "It seems I must ask your forgiveness once again. In my madness, my wits have gone begging. If they come knocking on your door, would you please send them back to me?"
As he had intended, his quip teased a watery giggle from Leah, despite her threatening tears and his attempt to ease himself back from madness, even as they both realized their friendship would never, could never, be the same.
Through the lingering silence, Leah heard a sound very much like footsteps out in the passage. A feeling of numbness crept over her skin. An odd sense of time standing still, her thoughts scattered and dazed, as she glanced over her shoulder at the shadows moving beyond the door.
Lady Montague scooped tea leaves from a wooden caddy, then tapped them into a Wedgwood pot. "I must say, I am surprised, no-I am shocked at your visit here today."
No more shocked than Rachel. Never would she have dreamed she would enter this house to call upon this woman.
She perched on the edge of her seat, her spine rigidly straight and away from the back of her chair, as her mother had taught her and as she had perfected through years of practice. No one entering the room would ever guess her pulse was beating as wildly as Alison's feet during a fit of temper.
Her gloved hands folded one atop the other on her lap, she adopted a serene expression, calm, poised, regal. Everything a duchess should be. Everything that girl was not.
"When my butler announced the Duchess of St. Austin, I assumed he meant Richard's wife." Margaret added boiling water to the teapot from a silver urn, then closed the cover to let it steep. "Although I could not imagine why she would call on me. Aren't you styled the dowager duchess now that he has wed?"
"Do not be catty, dear Margaret," Rachel said with a practiced smile, bland, indifferent, supremely confident. "I am here to offer you my assistance."
Using a strainer to catch the sopping leaves, Margaret poured out two cups, then held one out to Rachel. "I cannot imagine what sort of assistance you believe I need"
"Why, securing St. Austin's affections, of course"
Margaret laughed, a sound as irritating as the clanging horse hooves hitting the cobblestones outside the windows. "I hardly think I need your help to lure him back to my bed"
"If you are willing to settle for that, then we truly have nothing further to discuss." Rachel placed her teacup on a small, claw-footed table to her right. With graceful dignity, she rose, her silk skirts snagging on the worn crimson brocade upholstery.
The carpets were faded. The paper peeling back from the walls. The house might be shabby, but Margaret's gown, spring green and trimmed with flounces and buttons, was the first stare of fashion. In the hunt for a husband, the woman obviously knew where to spend her funds. Inwardly, Rachel shivered.
Outwardly, she donned a smile. "I simply thought you more interested in the position of wife over mistress. Would you be so kind as to ring for my carriage?"
Margaret sipped her tea. "St. Austin has already taken a wife-and tossed her amongst the ton, quite theatrically. Though she did handle herself rather well. More pity that"
"Do not play the naive henwit with me" Rachel resumed her seat, spreading her skirts around her seat. "Marriages can be dissolved and well you know it, given the right ... evidence."
"But the scandal-,'
"Is more damaging for the woman than for the man" Rachel let a moment pass, as if she found the topic distressing.
She was not worried about the scandal. Richard had power and position to ease the sting, and, as the wounded party, he would have everyone's sympathy. Especially the men, who all feared a bastard snuck in to inherit their precious lands.
As the women all wanted Richard in their beds, they, too, would be willing to look the other way. "And I have no doubt, he, himself, will be supremely grateful, after the fact, to have escaped such a degrading mesalliance"
Margaret's steady gaze held an intensity that would have made a lesser woman shift on her seat. Rachel simply lifted her chin and sipped her tea. Why had Richard found this woman attractive? Her hair was the color of weathered bricks, and she had freckles scattered across her cheeks.
No doubt it was her rather large bosom, accentuated by her overly tight stays. Men, such slaves to their passions.
Rachel thanked God every day that He had gifted her with luscious, gilt-colored hair and eyes so blue they shamed the summer sky. Not many women could compare with her beauty.
And not many men could resist her.
She pushed away her memories, lest they upset her carefully composed demeanor. For the first time in her life, she greatly feared she might lose everything, and years of scheming and maneuvering would have been for naught.
She could not let that happen.
Margaret stood and walked to the windows. "You have never considered me a suitable candidate for Richard's wife in the past. What has changed your position?"
"Nothing at all," Rachel said, following her across the room. "It is simply the lesser of two evils. Given the choice between you and that girl, I would greatly prefer you"
Margaret laughed again, squeaky wheels shuddering over the cobbles. "If that is supposed to be a compliment, it went wide of the mark"
"Do not be a goose" Rachel hid her grimace beneath a smile, though it was growing more difficult with each passing second. "We do not like each other, and we never will, but we could be allies in this." And Margaret would bear all the blame while Rachel reaped all the benefits. It was a deliciously wicked scheme. She nearly laughed aloud at her own cleverness.
Margaret pursed her lips. "What is wrong with the girl?"
"There is nothing wrong with her," Rachel said, pretending an inordinate interest in the pianoforte. She tapped on the keys. Grossly out of tune. "As far as I can tell, she is a sweet little thing. She simply is not one of us"
She leaned forward to whisper her confidence. "Her father is in trade. Cotton mills, of all things. Spinning, weaving and the like." She gave a delicate shudder. "What can St. Austin be thinking to bring
such a girl into my home? That he should expect me to associate with one of the lower classes is beyond all bounds. Not to mention, expose my daughter to all her bourgeois ways. Why, it is unspeakable."
"Still," Margaret said, staring out at the street, as if mesmerized by the carriages rattling by. "The man must be quite wealthy. Is it possible Richard married her for her dowry? Is he having financial difficulties? If he truly needs her fortune, he will not appreciate any interference on our part"
"Hardly," Rachel said, flicking the notion away with a twist of her hand. "St. Austin has more money than he could possibly spend in a dozen lifetimes. No, it is more likely that he compromised the chit and her father found out"
The room was stuffy, cloyingly thick with the smell of Margaret's perfume. A slow heat spread across Rachel's skin. Anger? Jealousy? Disgust? She did not know. She did not care.
Nothing would keep her from her dreams.
She pulled her fan from her reticule, waved it before her face. "He is so damn honorable, he would even wed someone of her station just to make amends. But I ask you, should the rest of us suffer her presence for life because of some minor indiscretion on his part?"
"Absolutely not," Margaret said, her broad smile making her appear almost pretty, her eyes alight with delicious, malicious glee. "And I want to be Richard's wife more than I've ever wanted anything in my life."
You and a thousand others, Rachel thought, but she smiled and looped her arm through Margaret's, as if they were the best of friends, as they strolled toward the settee. "I have a plan. You see, there is this young man"
Leah walked along the garden path, the gravel crunching beneath her shoes a grim reminder of the footsteps she'd heard echoing in the corridor outside the gold salon. Had someone stood there, listening to her conversation with Alexander?
A Dangerous Man Page 9