Timeless Deception

by Susanne Marie Knight

  With a rustle of fabric, she regally departed the breakfast room.

  “Dash it! What was that all about?” Charles leaned over the table to look Richard in the eye. “I'll lay a pony Mater's snit has to do with sweet Alicia. Fireworks flying already?"

  Richard accepted the challenge. “Have you added gaming to your list of vices, Charles?"

  A telltale blotch of pink reddened Charles’ cheeks. “Don't prose at me, brother dear. I don't tell you how to conduct your affairs and I won't abide your sage advice on my marriage—or lack of one.”

  Lingering over his coffee, Richard calmly replied, “No, Charles. I will not meddle, unlike our dear mother. It is none of my business. However, I have heard your name linked with a rather notorious French enchantress."

  Now Charles’ eyes reflected remembered passion. “Monique, my latest paramour.” He licked his lips. “How can my mouse of a wife compare with the magnificent Monique? Believe me, Richard, it was with great regret that I tore myself away from my mistress's side to attend these holiday festivities."

  A shudder of monumental proportions shook his very frame. “The thought of two weeks in Lucinda's company makes me yearn to bow out, even now. Let me tell you, traveling with her to journey here was outside of enough!"

  Richard steepled his fingers. His brother's infatuation was worse than he thought. “I am glad you changed your mind. The Dowager would have been disappointed. Family is so important to her.”

  A look of secret delight crept into Charles’ eyes. “I also am glad, brother dear. I have a feeling the visit will prove to be amusing. Very amusing, indeed."

  Richard nodded, then took his leave. After he left the room, he twisted his lips with displeasure. His brother was turning into the most profligate rake in London. How could he detour Charles back onto the path of goodness and honor?

  Another thought hit Richard. What the devil did his brother's parting words mean?

  ~*~

  After dressing, Alaina hurried over to Terrence's bedroom. If what the Earl had said about Alicia being an abominable mother was true—and Alaina didn't doubt it—then she wanted to try to rectify the situation. At least for as long as she was trapped back in 1816, anyway.

  Her sister, Vicki, had two boys, and Alaina always loved playing with her nephews. Maybe she could give Terrence the attention he craved while she'd get a much-needed friend in the Saybrooke household.

  Butterflies in her stomach, she opened the door to the nursery. The great room—filled with colorful toys, rocking horses, and other childish paraphernalia—surprisingly stood empty of life. Walking inside, she scanned the nursery, looking for clues to where the Earl's heir might be.

  “Terrence?” she whispered. For some reason, the hushed atmosphere reminded her of a library where loud speech would earn her a rebuke from the staff.

  From behind a chair, a small boy peeped out of his hiding spot. “Hullo.” His dark eyes never blinked. “Are you my mother?"

  Goodness, what a strange question. Alaina sat on her heels so her height wouldn't frighten the child. “Hi, Terry. Come out and let me see you. You're such a big boy now."

  “I'm six,” he announced proudly. Getting off his knobby knees, he cautiously approached her.

  His face still rounded with youth, he was quite a handsome little boy. Actually, a carbon copy of his father. But his eyes were his mother's—deep chocolate brown, ringed with black. Alicia's eyes, and also hers.

  “Mama?” Again there was a question in his voice.

  Alaina hated to lie, but she really didn't have a choice. “Yes, Terry, it's me."

  With that, he ran into her arms, giving her a crushing hug—astonishing strength in one so little. “I've missed you, Mama. Will you play with me?"

  She snuggled his raven haired head against her shoulder, enjoying the wondrous feel of it. How in the world could anyone not love a child as sweet as this?

  “You know, I haven't had breakfast yet, Terry. Would you like to have some with me?"

  “Golly! Could I?” His pert mouth formed a perfect “O".

  Giving him a kiss on the cheek, she then stood. “Sure. Let's go now before my stomach starts to grumble."

  His bubbles of laughter were like pure music. But then his giggles died. “Miss Kerns says children aren't allowed to eat with the adults."

  A governess, no doubt. “Well, I think Miss Kerns will permit it, just this once anyway. We'll tell her and then I'll race you down to the breakfast room. What do you say?"

  “Good-o!” Terry slipped his hand into hers then tugged her toward the door. “C'mon, Mama. This'll be great fun! Maybe we can race Papa, too."

  Alaina crossed fingers on her other hand to keep Terry's father away. The less she saw of the Enraged Earl, the better.

  ~*~

  The breakfast room door creaked open, and Alaina entered, holding Terry's hand. In fact, he refused to let go of her even though they were supposed to be having a contest for speed.

  She smiled at the Dowager, who had just walked into the room from another door. “Good morning, Ma'am. Did you sleep well?"

  Lady Wilhelmina gaped at her, then sank down on a chair as if her knees were Jell-O. “Y ... Yes, I did, Alicia."

  “Good morning, Grandmama,” Terry said in his high voice. He paraded Alaina over to the Dowager, then stood on his tiptoes to kiss her forehead. “Mama invited me to breakfast,” he added proudly.

  “So I see,” his grandmother managed to utter.

  It was then Alaina noticed a striking young man sitting at the table. Good grief, the resemblance to Lord Saybrooke was unnerving. The same strong jaw, straight nose, and high forehead, but his eyes sparkled turquoise blue and his hair was deep russet brown. A younger version, but the Earl all the same.

  Terry also saw the man. “Uncle Charles! You're here, too!” He looked longingly over at the man, but was reluctant to let loose of Alaina's hand.

  “Go ahead, Terry. Give your uncle a hug.” Alaina squeezed the boy's fingers and she could tell he was grateful for the encouragement.

  The Dowager patted a seat by her. “Here, sit by me, Alicia."

  As Alaina obeyed, Lady Wilhemina continued, “How wonderful for you and Terrence to be together. He is a joy, is he not? I must say, this is the first time I have ever seen you smile at the boy."

  The Dowager's own face was alight with excitement. But Alaina felt unaccountably depressed. How could her “twin” be so cruel to her own son?

  With Terry lost in his uncle's bear hug, Alaina glanced over at the Earl's younger brother. Another heart-throb, all right. Muscular and virile, but his lips did contain a bit of a petulant pout.

  After Charles set his nephew aside, he ruffled the boy's hair. “There you go, you little monkey. Then he gazed back at her, with much speculation in his vivid eyes. “So, Alicia, it is good to see you again. How long has it been?”

  Alaina had no idea of the answer, so she took the safe route in being vague. “Too long, Charles. How have you been?”

  She poured herself a cup of coffee and handed Terry a large sticky bun. With that she crossed her fingers again. Here's hoping the Earl's brother isn't as perceptive ... or as hostile.

  His eyes widened, then he fingered the complicated arrangement of material on his cravat. “Dash it, I'm fine, Alicia, but what the deuce happened to your voice?"

  The bun Alaina had been eating stuck in her throat.

  Fortunately, the Dowager came to her rescue. “Alicia is recovering from a serious illness, Charles. Her voice and her ... memory have been affected, is that not so, my dear?"

  “Um, yes. Exactly. I hope you don't mind, Charles.” Alaina eyed the door, planning her escape. Things were getting a little uncomfortable for her.

  Thankfully mother and son kept the conversation going, catching up on the latest gossip currently circulating London. They both tried to draw Alaina into their talk, but she just smiled and focused her attention on Terry. The sooner he was done, the sooner she could lea
ve.

  The paneled door opened again, and she braced herself. Who else would enter except the Earl? Only it wasn't Lord Saybrooke, it was another clone of his. Younger, maybe twenty, with the most charming dimples on either side of his smile.

  “Mother, Charles. And Terrence, you old boy!” the young man greeted. Then he lost his pose. “Alicia! Zounds, you look bang up to the mark!” He promptly turned beet red.

  Alaina also blushed. She murmured, “Thank you, I think.”

  Terry ran over to the man and clasped him about legs. “Uncle Nigel! How smashing you're here too!"

  Of course, another brother. One with obvious admiration in his blue eyes. In fact, in a way he reminded her of Jack Morrison.

  Alaina wiped a bead of perspiration from her brow. She was in no mood for such heavy scrutiny from the Earl's closest clan members. Before she made a mistake she couldn't recover from, she'd better cut her losses and run.

  Standing, she held her hand out and, in a flash, Terry was right by her side. “Please excuse us. I've got to return Terry to his governess.”

  Disregarding the murmurs from the two brothers and mother to stay, she led Terry out the door, then stopped to release her pent-up breath. The child's warm hand and worshipping gaze took away most of her fears as they walked up the staircase to the nursery. If only she could have him by her side the entire time.

  Always look on the bright side, her mother often told her. The bright side this morning was that the Earl hadn't come down for breakfast. So major battle avoided.

  But there was still dinner. And he would have his two backup lieutenants nearby just in case he ran out of ammo.

  She couldn't help sighing. Maybe she could plead a headache.

  ~*~

  A headache was a coward's way out, and Alaina refused to see herself in that light. But the dinner atmosphere seemed no better than the night before. Although the new arrivals, excepting Charles’ wife, were lively conversationalists, she could still feel disapproval emanating from the Earl, seated at the end of the great table. Disapproval aimed in her direction.

  So what else is new? Feeling mutinous, she deliberately requested Madeira for her dinner drink. As she sat on stall until the holiday season was finally over so she could pursue any leads on Madame Reena's whereabouts, Alaina leaned over to speak with the newest member of the group: Lucinda Cransworth.

  “So, how was your trip over here, Lucy? You don't mind if I call you Lucy, do you?” Alaina spoke in a low tone so the others wouldn't hear.

  The young woman must've been startled for she dropped her fork. “N—not at all.” She paused as a footman replaced the utensil. “The j—journey went very w—well, thank you."

  An obvious lie. From her pale, washed out appearance and also from the Dowager's previous words to Alaina. Evidently Lady Wilhelmina had to prod Lucy into leaving the sanctuary of her bedroom and come down to eat with the rest of the family.

  Lucy Cransworth reminded Alaina of a fragile, faded rosebud. A pity not to see the rose in bloom, since Lucy could be an attractive woman if ... if only her husband paid attention to her. Positive attention. No wonder she drooped and stammered. Charles blatantly ignored her at the table, and his only words to her all evening had been “Stop sniveling."

  Appalling. The two older brothers had a lot of improving to do on their manners.

  Using a sympathetic approach to break the ice, Alaina said, “You must be a good traveler then. Those long hours in the carriage give me a headache.”

  To be truthful, Alaina hadn't ever left the confines of Saybrooke Hall, but she'd read about some of the discomforts concerning that mode of transportation. It wasn't hard to imagine the pounding of horses’ hooves vibrating the carriage. After hours on end, a person was bound to get a headache or worse.

  The younger woman sent her a look of astonished gratitude before she directed her gaze to her plate. So transparent was her expression, it was easy to read her thought: Why was her sophisticated sister-in-law condescending to speak with the gauche and clumsy Lucy?

  Alaina tapped her chin. Maybe she could help Lucy gain some self-esteem.

  Returning to the contemplation of her food, Lucy murmured, “Y—Yes, Lady Alicia—"

  “Please, just Alicia."

  Lucy smiled timidly. “You are right. Traveling can be difficult.”

  Charles must've overheard part of the conversation, for he set down his goblet with a thud. “Difficult? Dash it, ‘tis Lucinda who is difficult! After we picked up Nigel, she was disgustingly ill for the whole of the trip.”

  His wife noticeably whitened at this assault. Alaina's heart went out to her. Poor Lucy was like a small, defenseless animal with her husband as her prime tormentor. If she grew any paler, she'd pass out at the table.

  This won't do, it won't do at all.

  “Well, Charles,” Alaina wagged her finger at him, “how very ungallant to mention that. Riding in close quarters all day—”

  “And night,” Nigel broke in. “It was demmed uncomfortable.”

  “Faith!” the Dowager exclaimed. “Do you mean to tell us, Charles Cransworth, you did not stop overnight at a posting house?” She glared at her middle son as only a mother could. “It is no wonder Lucinda is under the weather."

  Lord Saybrooke flicked his pensive gaze over everyone at the table but didn't enter the fray. Try as Alaina might, she couldn't tell what he was thinking.

  Not so with his brother. Charles admitted his guilt, but the look he sent over to Lucy verged on murder and mutilation. Fortunately his wife still studied her plate.

  To lighten the mood, Alaina said flippantly, “Remind me never to travel with you, Charles!”

  But evidently Charles had a temper on par with his older brother. With clenched teeth and flared nostrils, he ground out, “How now, sweet Alicia? You shorten Lucinda's name and also Terrence's. Do you not have a term of endearment for me?"

  That must've been news to the Earl for he raised his eyebrow. “Indeed? Is this true?”

  Gosh. If looks could kill. Both barrels from the Cransworth shotgun were aimed right at her. Alaina took a measured sip of wine from her glass and directed her question to Charles. “Would you like a nickname, then?"

  “Only from you, Alicia.” His glittering eyes now hooded, masked his thoughts as well.

  “Okay.” She raised her goblet. “Here's to Charlie. Charming, comely....and callous."

  Lord Saybrooke coughed. A ghost of a smile even hovered on his lips.

  “I admit to the first two,” the now-dubbed Charlie conceded. “But callous?”

  “Heartless and unfeeling, to some, Charlie.” She wouldn't make it any plainer.

  “What about my noble brother? Have you an appellation for your husband?"

  Charles’ words took her by surprise. Her husband. Not Alicia's, but hers. She glanced at the man in question. Just looking at him set all her nerves tingling.

  Again, he lifted up that eyebrow, dissecting her with his gaze.

  Her mouth suddenly dry, she crossed her fingers under the table. If he were my husband, I'd call him....

  “Rick,” she whispered.

  Charlie hooted. “Rick! ‘Tis a common name for one so high in the instep!"

  Neither Lucy or Lady Wilhelmina joined in with Charlie's laughter. But Richard Cransworth, most noble Earl of Saybrooke, asked in a dangerous voice, “And what words do you associate with Rick, m'dear?

  Alaina's mind went blank. Desirable and sexy were two, but she'd set the stage for using the first letter, so....

  A flash of inspiration hit. “I'd say regal, respectable ... and rude."

  Even the Dowager and Lucy couldn't help chuckling at those descriptions. The Earl, however, only glared.

  “What about me?” Nigel insisted. “You must give me a name, too, Alicia."

  Puppy love. That was what the Earl's youngest brother had for her. Smiling at him, she announced, “But you are perfect just as you are. How can I improve upon Nigel?"

&nb
sp; His chest puffed out with her compliment. “How do you declare me, then?"

  Her head buzzed with all this thinking. “Um, how about noble, naughty, and, um, nice."

  “Nice?” he expressed with distaste.

  “Okay, then a nonpareil. You have no equal.” Whew, now she really had a headache. Hopefully, she satisfied all the male egos in the room. She glanced at Lady Wilhelmina. “Are we ready to...."

  “Precisely.” The Dowager stood. “Let us leave the men to their port while we adjourn to the White Salon.

  Only one male expressed regret, the naughty but nice Nigel. With Lucy eagerly leading the way and Alaina a close second, the ladies left the dining room.

  ~*~

  Now comfortable on the white couch designed by someone named Robert Adam, Alaina enjoyed talking with her two new friends. The safest topic to discuss was the upcoming Christmas party, so she steered the conversation that way.

  “I can hardly believe the big night is just a week away.” She mentioned all the preparations Mrs. Hendly had made for the holiday ball for Saybrooke Hall's neighbors, then asked the Dowager, “Have we forgotten anything?"

  “No, my dear. You have been quite efficient, just as a countess should be.” Lady Wilhelmina was clearly pleased. “I am assured the ball will be a decided success."

  Well, that was debatable. After all, Alaina could count—on no hands—the times she planned events as huge as this one.

  “Okay, that's settled.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Now, let's get to the really important matters—what would you like for Christmas?"

  Lady Wilhelmina set down her teacup with a clattering sound. “Gracious, Alicia! There is no need for a gift.”

  And yet a secret smile played upon the woman's lips. A smile that made Alaina uneasy. She had a very eerie feeling that what the Dowager wanted for Christmas was something out of Alaina's power to give. Like a reconciliation with the Earl, and maybe even more children. If so, Lady Wilhelmina was doomed to disappointment. Only Alicia could give the Dowager what she wished for.

  Alaina smoothed back her hair into the netting that held her chignon in place. “How about you, Lucy? What's on your Christmas list?"