Intimate Betrayal

  After rereading the same line three times, he gave up the attempt.

  Resting his head against the soft, cushioned back, he fell asleep.

  When Alyssa woke several hours later, she was alone in the room. She looked automatically toward the empty side of the bed, searching for confirmation that Morgan had indeed shared the large bed for the night. The indentation of his head was visible on the pillow, and Alyssa ran her hand caressingly over the spot. Vague, sensual feelings entered her body and she shook her head sharply, chasing away the most erotic dream. Morgan touching her, caressing her. Her sexual daydreaming was abruptly interrupted by a loud knock on the bedchamber door.

  “Oh good, you’re awake,” Mavis said with a smile, answering Alyssa’s bid to enter. The older woman set a small breakfast tray with warm toast, fresh fruit, and a steaming pot of hot chocolate on the bedside table next to Alyssa. “The duke told me I was not to awaken you, but it was getting late, and I thought you might need my help.” Mavis gave Alyssa a sly smile. “Of course the duke said you needed your rest. I imagine you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  Alyssa blushed hotly, wanting very much to throw the covers over her head and hide. If only Mavis knew the truth.

  “Did the duke say what time we are leaving this morning?” Alyssa inquired, biting into the toast Mavis had brought.

  “No. He said it wasn’t a long journey, and he hoped to leave before noon, if possible. I believe he was waiting until you were up. Very considerate of him, don’t you agree?”

  “Mmmmmm . . . that certainly describes my husband accurately,” Alyssa responded sarcastically. She brushed the crumbs from her meager breakfast off her hands and set the empty tray on the coverlet next to her. “Come and show me what wonderful new traveling costume you picked out for me, Mavis. We don’t want to keep the good duke waiting, now do we?”

  An hour later, Alyssa strolled into the morning room, interrupting Morgan at his breakfast. The small dining table was scattered with papers from the folders she had given him yesterday, and he was intently studying each page as he absently chewed his food. Alyssa cleared her throat loudly to gain his attention.

  Morgan stood up instantly, pleased to note his lovely bride was dressed for traveling. Lack of sleep had left him in no mood to argue with Alyssa if she had changed her mind about leaving with him today.

  “Good morning,” he said courteously, holding out the chair on his right. “Have you breakfasted yet?”

  “Mavis brought me some toast,” Alyssa answered, looking with longing at the remains of his hearty meal.

  Morgan smiled at her expression, quickly gathered the papers up from the table, and rang for Perkins.

  “The duchess is ready for her breakfast now, Perkins. And please bring in another fresh pot of coffee,” Morgan instructed the butler.

  Alyssa sat quietly at the table, her eyes downcast. Morgan noticed she nervously twisted her wedding ring around on her finger. “Did you sleep well?” she blurted out.

  Morgan raised an eyebrow in question over her sudden outburst. No, Alyssa, he wanted to tell her, I did not sleep well. My body was hard and throbbing and aching for release. Instead, he politely lied. “Very well. And you, my dear?”

  “Just fine,” Alyssa responded, her voice trailing off. Except for a most erotic dream, she mentally added.

  They were relieved of the burden of further strained conversation by the arrival of Perkins with a large tray full of steaming hot food. Alyssa concentrated on consuming every last bite of the marvelous breakfast, while Morgan watched in amazed silence as she devoured the meal. She glanced up as she finished the last of her eggs and caught his eye. Embarrassed, she slowly lowered her fork.

  “I guess I was hungrier than I thought,” she said, her cheeks reddening.

  Morgan grinned broadly. “Do you want me to have Perkins bring you another plate?”

  She paused for a moment before answering, knowing he was teasing her. “That depends,” Alyssa responded thoughtfully. “How long do you think it will be before we can have luncheon?”

  Morgan chuckled. “I shall tell Mavis to pack an enormously large basket of treats so you may indulge yourself on the drive whenever the mood strikes.”

  “That would be delightful.” She eyed him shyly. “When do you wish to depart?”

  Morgan shrugged his shoulders. “Anytime you are ready. I shall tell Perkins to have Ned hitch up the phaeton.”

  “We are taking Tristan’s new carriage with us?”

  “Merely borrowing,” Morgan corrected. “I shall have one of my servants return it tomorrow. It is the only carriage here, and I think it is preferable to having you mounted on horseback for the entire journey.”

  “But what about Mavis? There is only room in the phaeton for the two of us.”

  “I shall send a coach to bring Mavis and the remainder of your belongings to Ramsgate Castle tomorrow. I’ve already told Mavis about these arrangements.”

  “I see,” Alyssa responded slowly. She rose from her chair and stood by the large bay window, looking out onto the lawn. “Is there anything else?”

  “Well, I did instruct Mavis to pack a small overnight satchel for you. There is very little space in the phaeton for luggage.”

  Morgan watched her rigid back, knowing she was upset and not certain as to the cause. “Is something wrong, Alyssa?”

  She turned around to face him. “No . . . not exactly. I have always been the one who makes all the decisions, all the arrangements. I am unaccustomed to someone else giving the orders.”

  “You are my wife now, Alyssa. It is my responsibility to see to your welfare,” Morgan stated firmly. “And that of our child.”

  His responsibility. It was the most depressing thing Alyssa could imagine. She felt the tears well up in her eyes and turned away from him again. It was hardly a secret why they had married, yet hearing him state it so plainly hurt, especially after his distant behavior last night in their bedchamber.

  “I shall be ready to leave shortly,” she said, walking sedately past him, moving steadily toward the door. She hoped desperately he would reach out and stop her, longing for some degree of physical contact between them, but he did not.

  Morgan resisted the impulse to hold her, not certain if his gesture would further upset her. He was puzzled by her attitude, which was nothing new, but he did not want to unwittingly cause her additional grief.

  Alyssa stood in the large entrance hall, flanked by Mavis and Perkins. She bid a hasty good-bye to Mavis, and then faced Perkins. She spoke to the butler for a long time before reaching out and hugging him tightly. Morgan glanced away, feeling like a voyeur witnessing this intimate moment. He realized for the first time how difficult it must be for Alyssa to be separated from the only people she cared about.

  “Ready?” she asked in a breathless voice. They all walked out into the bright sunlight. Morgan assisted Alyssa into the carriage, and then turned to take her satchel from Perkins. The butler looked him squarely in the eyes.

  “You’ll take proper care of her, Your Grace.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “I will, Perkins,” Morgan promised solemnly. He climbed into the carriage as Alyssa made her farewells to Ned. With a final wave to the small group, Morgan and Alyssa departed.

  “We will come to visit Tristan and Caroline often,” Morgan remarked kindly. “You shall have many opportunities to see Perkins and the others again.”

  “I know.” Alyssa sniffled. “Please forgive my foolishness. Perkins has always been very special to me.” She gave a small laugh and wiped her eyes. “When I was a young girl, I used to lie in my bed at night wishing Perkins were my father. A little odd, don’t you agree, for the daughter of the viscount to long to be the child of the butler?”

  Alyssa paused a moment as the deeply buried childhood feelings of vulnerability and abandonment surfaced. “Perkins always tried to make me feel special—wanted. I shall never forget him for his kindness,” she whispered. />
  Morgan reached over and squeezed her hand reassuringly, marveling over how she had emerged from such a neglected childhood to become a fine, determined woman.

  They remained quiet for the majority of the journey to Portsmouth, with only an occasional comment about the fine weather. Morgan drove at a sedate pace, in no hurry, and the gentle rocking motion of the finely sprung carriage made Alyssa sleepy. She dozed fitfully, and was awakened when Morgan announced they had reached the grounds of Ramsgate.

  Alyssa caught her breath as she looked through the tall oak trees and saw the castle. Its huge stone walls glistened in the autumn sun, and the ornately decorated Gothic spires disappeared majestically into the sky. As they drove down the gravel drive, Alyssa felt her heart beat faster with each turn of the wheel. She was not sure she was ready for this. The castle was enormous, stretching on endlessly. Alyssa felt overwhelmed.

  Morgan pulled up in front of the elegant Ionic portico at the front entrance of the castle, and Alyssa craned her neck heavenward to gain a full view of the medallion crest of a lion’s head carved in stone above the doorway.

  “My grandmother’s family coat of arms,” Morgan told her. “Tristan and I have long suspected it was her reward for putting up with my grandfather.”

  Alyssa had only a moment to mumble an unintelligible remark before three footmen, splendidly garbed in crimson and gold livery, raced down the steps to assist them out of the carriage. They were quickly followed by a stout, formally garbed man who Morgan introduced as Burke, butler of the castle.

  “I am honored, Your Grace,” Burke said ceremonially, bowing to Alyssa in welcome. “We were all very pleased when the duke sent word he was bringing the new duchess here to Ramsgate.”

  Alyssa smiled in greeting, uncertain what to do. Was it proper etiquette for a duchess to shake the hand of one’s butler when meeting him for the first time? She didn’t have much time to dwell on that problem, because Morgan clasped her elbow and was propelling her through the large, ornate doors and into the gigantic entrance hall.

  Alyssa swallowed hard when she saw the reception awaiting her. Double rows of servants lined the hall, crisply attired in various uniforms that proclaimed their positions within the household. They were standing in an almost military fashion, their expressions blank, yet all eyes Were turned expectantly toward her.

  “I should like to introduce select members of the staff,” Burke began, but he halted in midsentence when he got his first full-figured look at Alyssa and realized her pregnant condition. She was impressed with the way he regained his composure, stumbling only slightly as he introduced the housekeeper, Mrs. Keenly.

  Alyssa took hold of Mrs. Keenly’s hand, graciously greeting the older woman. “I should like to meet all of the staff please, Mrs. Keenly,” Alyssa requested with as much dignity as she could muster. To hell with proper etiquette, Alyssa recklessly decided. She would give the staff enough gossip to keep them buzzing for a week.

  It took almost an hour for Alyssa to greet each of the servants, and Morgan watched with growing admiration as they were captivated by her quiet dignity. By the time she finished, Alyssa had succeeded in impressing them all. Morgan felt very proud.

  “The dowager duchess awaits you in the sitting room, Your Grace,” Burke whispered to Morgan when Alyssa began her long walk back toward her husband.

  “Very good, Burke. We shall join her directly.”

  Alyssa smiled triumphantly at Morgan as she reached his side. She felt as though she had just survived a baptism of fire.

  “Come along, my dear,” Morgan requested. “There is someone else I want you to meet.” He squashed the momentary pang of guilt he felt as Alyssa trustingly complied. He knocked briefly on the sitting room doors to announce their presence before entering.

  Alyssa walked into the room blissfully unaware of who awaited them, still reeling from her encounter with the staff. She stopped short when she saw a small, very dignified elderly lady seated on the settee. Morgan left Alyssa’s side, crossed the room, and bent down to kiss the woman’s cheek. Alyssa clearly saw the love Morgan held for this person reflected in his handsome face, and she realized at once the woman must be his grandmother. Alyssa felt a momentary rush of panic, and she brought her hands instinctively down in front of her waist, uncertain of her reception.

  All too soon Morgan returned to Alyssa’s side. Tugging her by the hand, he brought her forward to be presented to the duchess. Alyssa felt her cheeks flush hotly and wondered what sort of impression she, and her protruding belly, were making on this extremely dignified lady.

  “My dear,” the dowager duchess said softly. She stood up and clasped Alyssa’s hand firmly. “How delightful to finally meet you.”

  Alyssa was relieved to see the kindness in the older woman’s eyes as she tactfully looked up into Alyssa’s face, instead of down to her expanded waistline. Alyssa made an awkward curtsy, but the dowager duchess pulled her upright.

  “No need for such formality, Alyssa,” the dowager duchess insisted. “We are family. Come, you must sit down and rest. I am sure that you are weary from your journey.”

  Alyssa was relieved to hear no censure in the older woman’s voice and relaxed a bit, although she was still nervous. She did not know the dowager duchess was in residence at the castle. Alyssa sat down on the settee, startled when Morgan sat unusually close beside her. The dowager duchess sat in a small gold-leaf chair on Morgan’s right.

  They were prevented from making additional conversation by the arrival of Burke and several footmen bringing in tea. Alyssa’s stomach rumbled at the sight of the delicious food, and Morgan chuckled. “Better bring in another tray of pastries, Burke. The new duchess has a voracious appetite.”

  Alyssa stared at Morgan in mortification. “Well, no thanks to you, sir, I am eating for two,” she hissed at him, low enough so the servants would not overhear. But the dowager duchess caught Alyssa’s words and she discreetly coughed behind her hand to conceal her smile.

  “Morgan, you mustn’t tease your wife so,” the dowager duchess admonished, secretly delighted at his behavior. She could feel the tension between her grandson and his pretty new wife, but there was something else there, just below the surface. The dowager duchess felt a spark of hope for the success of this very unconventional marriage.

  She had been more than a little shocked to receive an urgent note from Morgan informing her of his hasty marriage, his pregnant bride, and requesting she travel to Ramsgate Castle at once. She had many unanswered questions for her grandson, but she fully intended to form her own opinion about his new bride.

  “Would you do the honors, Alyssa?” the dowager duchess requested, inclining her head toward the tea service. “I take mine with cream and one spoon of sugar.”

  Alyssa nodded, moving closer to the heavy silver tea service the footman had placed on the elegant mahogany tea table. Her hand trembled slightly as she handed the dowager duchess a brimming cup of tea. She next poured a cup for Morgan and lastly one for herself. The dowager duchess was pleased to note Alyssa prepared Morgan’s tea exactly as he preferred it, without asking, and then took the initiative to fill a plate of food for her husband.

  “Morgan tells me you are a Carrington, my dear,” the dowager duchess commented. “I knew your grandparents and both your mother and father.”

  Alyssa’s teacup rattled at the mention of her family. “Oh, really,” she replied, dreading what might come next.

  “Yes,” the dowager duchess continued. “I thought your mother was a charming woman.”

  “I never knew my mother,” Alyssa explained, relieved that the dowager duchess had not mentioned her father. “She died when I was very young.”

  “Yes, I know. How is your father faring these days?”

  Morgan interrupted before Alyssa had a chance to respond. “Alyssa has only recently come out of mourning for the viscount, Grandmother. He passed on this spring. I do believe I mentioned this to you,” Morgan finished pointedly. He gla
red at his grandmother.

  She smiled back at him, very pleased at his protective attitude. “Perhaps you did, Morgan. I must have forgotten. Well, at my age, what can you expect?”

  Morgan snorted at that remark. What was his grandmother up to? She knew Alyssa’s family history completely, probably better than he did. And she never forgot things. He gave her a warning scowl that seemed to bring her tremendous delight.

  Alyssa watched the exchange between the two with growing fascination, glad that she was no longer the focus of attention. She was not at all offended by the dowager duchess’s questions. She was, in fact, pleasantly surprised at the congenial way the dowager duchess was treating her, especially under these circumstances.

  “I am pleased Morgan decided you should come to Ramsgate Castle,” the dowager duchess remarked. “It has always been one of my favorite residences.” The dowager duchess paused for a moment, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to her. “I hope you will not mind my being here, Alyssa?”

  “Oh, no, Your Grace,” Alyssa hastily countered. “Truth be told, I shall be most grateful for your company.”

  The dowager duchess nodded in approval over Alyssa’s sincere response. Despite the rather bizarre circumstances of their marriage, the dowager duchess found herself pleased with Morgan’s choice. He just might be able to make a go of it this time, she thought.

  “Do have another crescent sandwich, Alyssa,” the dowager duchess insisted. “And try some of Cook’s marvelous scones. I promise if my grandson makes another uncalled-for comment about your eating habits, I shall kick him in the shins.”

  Alyssa chuckled softly, turning her eyes to the duke. He gave her an engaging smile, and she felt her heart turn wildly in her breast. “Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes locked on Morgan’s handsome face as she took another scone. Suddenly flustered, she looked away.

  “You really must go upstairs and rest, my dear,” Morgan said after Alyssa finished eating her pastry. “I am sure you must be tired.”