Timeless Deception

by Susanne Marie Knight

  He took his place behind the desk. “This is a violent sentiment, Alicia."

  She shrugged, then turned for the door. “I leave violence to you."

  “Wait."

  Tilting her head at his command, she complied.

  “I am glad for this interruption, Alicia. What is this I hear about stuffed objects for the tenants?"

  “Animals. Two hundred of them as gifts for the children.” His wife's angelic face took on a beatific glow. “Won't that be fun for them on Christmas morning? Dana and some of her friends are helping me—"

  “I do not approve. You shall immediately stop this project.” Of course he was aware he would not appear to advantage by forbidding this latest whim of hers. However his cunning little wife had something up her appealing sleeve. He had no wish for the Saybrooke estate to be part of her scheme.

  “I see.” Calm and poised, she accepted his order.

  “Good.” He gave his attention to his archeological papers. That she agreed so readily was disturbing in itself.

  Evidently she was not finished annoying him. “Well, on another matter, I don't think I told you what I wanted for Christmas yet.”

  This was more like the spoiled Alicia he was familiar with. “What bauble has caught your fancy this time?"

  As she glanced at him from under her lashes, he ground his teeth at her femme fatale tactics. “Will you give me what I ask for, Richard?"

  “You needn't flutter those brown orbs at me, Madam. Save them for your puppy admirers. Tell me which jewel you want so we can end this fruitless interview.” That Alicia was acting true to form was unaccountably depressing.

  The woman had the temerity to half sit on his desk and leaned over to him!

  “What I really want is for those stuffed animals to be distributed. That would be a perfect Christmas present.”

  “Hell and damn—” Richard swallowed an oath. What game was Alicia up to now?

  He stood up and paced the carpeted floor to relieve his restless energy. Only after a few turns around the Library, did he trust himself to speak. “How noble and unselfish of you. Indeed, your do-gooder deeds are becoming most tiresome.”

  “Really?” She had the effrontery to smile. “I apologize then. I'll try to curb those nasty tendencies in the future.”

  Standing, she joined him at the window. “Well, what do you say? Sewing those toys will keep me out of trouble.”

  The smell of her sweet perfume assailed his senses. He clenched his fists for control. “Tell Biddleton to proceed with the distribution when you are ready,” Richard said through tight lips. “You understand that this will be your only gift.”

  “Thank you, Richard.” She paused, but he refused to look at her.

  After she left the room, he sank down on the window ledge. “Dear sweet Lord, give me strength to withstand the lures of this traitorous Delilah."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Cransworth clan celebrated Christmas morning in a subdued way, not at all what Alaina was used to. While the Hall was decorated in festive branches of evergreen and assorted colorful trimmings, no Christmas tree towered inside any of its rooms. The custom of packages around the tree must not have been “invented” yet. And whether “Santa Claus” made his famous rounds, was a matter she could only speculate on.

  Gathered around the breakfast table, everyone was busy eating their food instead of exchanging presents. Alaina couldn't stand the suspense anymore and handed out her packages.

  “Good-O!” Terry bobbed up and down in his chair. “Look, everybody! Soldiers! Just like the ones at Waterloo."

  Lady Wilhelmina and Lucy passed out presents as well. Alaina was now the proud owner of a pair of gloves and an embroidered handkerchief.

  “What a lovely shawl,” the Dowager exclaimed at Alaina's gift. “And how thoughtful of you, my dear.” She draped it over her shoulders and modeled it for the group. “I shall wear it tonight at the ball."

  Lucy came over and gave Alaina a kiss. “Thank you for the luxurious muff. My hands will never be cold again."

  The tankards were also a big hit. Nigel especially liked having his name engraved on the base, while Charlie laughed at the informal spelling of his name.

  Richard hadn't looked at his yet. Evidently he was more interested eating ham and eggs than in opening presents.

  “Mama, Mama!” Terry pulled on the sleeve of Alaina's gown, impatient for her attention. “See this soldier? He's got big black boots. D'you think he's the famous Wellington?"

  She smiled down at the boy next to her. Allowed to eat with the grownups on this special day, he unwrapped each of the wooden figures she had given him and lined them up for review.

  “Gosh, I don't know, Terry. Do you think the Duke wore that funny hat with hair hanging down?"

  Richard walked over to the sideboard and heaped more eggs on his dish. He then lifted the figure from his son's hands to study it. “This is an officer of the First Dragoon Guards. The helmet has a horsehair crest, denoting the proud tradition of the King's Guards."

  Alaina sighed at his disapproving tone. Really, there was no pleasing some people. “I stand corrected."

  “Indeed,” he commented, returning to the head of the table.

  Terry placed his Wellington back with the troops. With his dark head bent, he was a carbon copy of the Earl.

  Glancing down the table to make sure Richard couldn't overhear, she whispered in the boy's ear, “You look so much like your father."

  Terry gazed up at her, his eyes almost as dark as his pupils. “Why do you dislike Papa? But you like me now, don't you?"

  The questions stopped her cold, as well as tugged at her heart-strings. What in heaven's name should she do? Any good that she did or said was bound to be erased when Alicia returned back home. Wouldn't it be horribly traumatic if Alaina told Terry that he was a darling little boy and then later, when his mother came home, he had to experience her aversion again?

  Alaina's thoughts hardened. Spoiled Alicia never knew how good she had it. It didn't take much imagination to picture how she was making a mess of Alaina's life, too. God forbid that the woman said yes to Roger's proposal. And what if she fooled around with Jack? What if he wasn't her only victim?

  Darn it, the sting of tears blurred Alaina's vision.

  Terry tugged on her sleeve to reclaim her attention. He was so sweet. Really the perfect son, and all he wanted was her love. No one had ever looked at her with adoration the way he did right now.

  Fortunately, most of the Cransworths had finished eating and now cleared the room. Only Richard and Charles remained, standing by the door and having a serious chat.

  The disruptions gave her time to think. She picked up Terry's small hand and clasped it between her own. “Terry, your father and I do have our differences. I admit that. But every day I love you more and more. You must believe that."

  Somehow, in that moment, being his mother was more important than anything her previous life had ever held. She did love him. Honest and true.

  “Mama!” He squeezed her with the affection that his young heart had been denied all of his six years. At least it felt that way to her bruised ribs!

  She ruffled his thick hair. “C'mon, let's go to my bedroom. I still have one more present for you.” A crude but cuddly teddy bear waited for him. She'd made it herself.

  As they passed by Richard, he reached out and held her by the upper arm. “A moment, if you would, m'dear."

  “I'll take Terrence,” Charlie offered. He lifted the boy to his shoulders and said, “I have a stick of candy in my pocket. Would you like some?"

  “Would I ever!” was the animated reply.

  After they left, Richard released her arm, then brushed away at something invisible on his waistcoat. “I have not thanked you for my presents."

  “I hope you like them.” Hope was, of course, an inadequate word.

  He removed the gold and mother-of-pearl snuff box from his pocket and flipped the lid open. “I do not us
e snuff."

  “Oh!” The heat of embarrassment enflamed her cheeks. “I ... oh, goodness. How could I have forgotten that?” Drat. Didn't she feel foolish?

  “How indeed?"

  She couldn't meet his gaze. “Darn this loss of memory.” Fiddling with the lace edging her sleeve, she gave herself an “A” for the thought behind the gift. “Well, it's a pretty box, anyway. Do you like the ... book?"

  Richard returned to the table and picked up The Twelve Caesars, turning it over from front to back. “It is a valuable addition to my library. Indeed, it shows considerable knowledge in the field of Roman history to procure this particular book.” He put the book down, then folded his arms across his chest. “What made you select this one, Alicia?"

  He liked it! Thank God. He was tougher to buy for than anyone she'd ever met. “I can't take the credit, Richard. The bookseller in Hambledon suggested it."

  “Then he must be commended.” A rare smile lit Richard's face. If only he'd smile more often.

  “I must confess,” he continued, “I am somewhat chagrined that I have naught to offer you this Christmas.”

  “But you gave me exactly what I wanted.” Alaina hurried to ease his mind. “Biddleton distributed the stuffed animals earlier. He says they were a big hit.”

  A strange look came into Richard's eyes. Almost haunting in its intensity. In response, her heart hammered out an uneven beat. Dressed to perfection, his raven hair seemed a bit more adventurous today and a thick curl tickled his left ear. How she wished she could tickle it as well!

  She stepped away from temptation. “Well, I'd better get the ball rolling for tonight. No pun intended!"

  Turning, she rushed to the breakfast room door and called back, “Merry Christmas."

  A sadness leadened her spirit, knowing that this would be the last Christmas she'd have to spend with him ... and his family.

  ~*~

  The big Christmas ball was just getting underway. Alaina stood back to drink in the beauty of the scene in front of her. Women, elegant in vivid gowns, moved gracefully among the crowd. Men, dignified in their evening dress, smiled indulgently at their womenfolk. Once she returned back where she belonged, she'd never see anything like this again. Ever.

  Unfortunately, gossip was the same, no matter what the century. Clusters of guests grouped all the walls to exchange words on the latest scandals. And the topic on everyone's lips was the estrangement of their hosts, Lord and Lady Saybrooke.

  Alaina made an effort not to listen to individual words which, consolidated, made up the hum buzzing through the Long Gallery. Words like “separated this whole year,” “her latest being Donnehey,” and “Saybrooke more interested in Roman bones.” But of course, bad news always circulated faster than good news.

  A moment of anxiety gripped her when Biddleton announced a guest by the name of Donnelevy, sounding so much like Donnehey. But Sir Derek Donnehey was in the future. She didn't have to worry about running into him here at the Christmas ball ... or anyplace else.

  To hide her unease, she smiled warmly at the many strangers who knew her name. Standing in the Long Gallery—but not under the kissing bough—she listened to music drifting in from the adjoining Grand Ballroom. The first set of dancing had not yet begun.

  “There you are, Alicia,” Lucy called out. “I have been looking for you everywhere.” She glided over, radiant with happiness. “Truly, this will be a wonderful party. Everyone looks so grand and elegant.”

  Alaina saved a special smile for Lucy. A touch of color here, a riotous curl there, and she looked like a million dollars.

  “The most amazing thing, Alicia. For the first time in my life, I feel like I belong. It is a dream come true!”

  Lucy twirled around in her periwinkle-blue satin gown. The short, puffed sleeves were slashed in the Spanish style and her hairdressing—thanks to Dana—was complete with a wreath of white roses encircling her head. “I cannot thank you enough for this dress. I feel positively attractive in it.”

  “Don't thank me, Lucy. Blue's not my color. But it does wonders for your complexion.” Alaina gazed fondly at the younger woman. The change in Lucy's increased self-confidence was a miracle.

  She had protested wearing makeup, saying that only actresses paint their faces, but subtle color applied to the lips and cheeks gave her an assurance to sparkle, as she was meant to. Several young men had already asked her for a dance later in the evening.

  Charlie had not noticed his wife's radiance tonight—yet. Alaina kept her fingers crossed that when he saw Lucy being sought for each dance, a stab of jealousy might cause him to reevaluate his marriage's status quo.

  “You look so lovely too, Alicia.” Lucy dimpled a smile. “Of course, you always do. I cannot wait until Richard leads you out onto the dance floor."

  “Oh no, that's impossible.” Alaina shook her head. There was no way in heaven or on earth that she could do the steps for these old dances. Quadrille, cotillion, and the country dance ... forget it.

  Lucy worried her lower lip with her teeth, a sure sign something was wrong. Just then the Dowager walked over, wearing her new yellow shawl. “Here you are, Alicia. Richard will be over in a trice to lead you in the first set."

  Alaina's stomach dropped. “I can't, Ma'am! I mean, it would be far more appropriate if he partnered you, his mother.”

  “Alicia dear, how could you have forgotten that the ball's first dance is always led by the present earl and his countess. Here comes Richard to claim you.”

  Who could have foreseen this predicament? When Richard, looking very handsome in a tightly molded black tail coat and form-fitting knee-breeches, touched her arm, her mouth was dry with fright. English dances consisted of intricate patterns and steps that took a lifetime to learn! She didn't even know the first step!

  Fighting her panic, she whispered urgently, “Richard! “What type of dance will this be?”

  He looked down and must've noticed the terror on her face. “It is the minuet. The first dance always is. You are aware of that.”

  “Please, I can't dance that! Couldn't you and your mother lead the set?”

  “Impossible,” he said implacably.

  Surely he could feel her shaking beside him. She tightened her grip on his arm. “Please! I can't explain, but I just can't do those dances—the minuet, the quadrille, the cotillion—none of them.”

  Inspiration hit her. “It's, um, because of the illness. I've ... forgotten how.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Indeed? Surely you have not forgotten the waltz? Will you do that?”

  Although it had been a long time, she did remember the steps. “Why, yes, I know how to waltz.”

  “Wait here,” he commanded. After taking long strides to give instructions to the musicians, Richard quickly returned to her side. “Have no fear,” he murmured in her ear. “The first dance will be a waltz.”

  Relaxing, Alaina gave him a smile that conveyed her relief. “That's another Christmas present for me! Thank you.”

  Without another word, he escorted her into the ballroom.

  ~*~

  As the music began to play, a low buzz of surprise swept the ballroom. With his arm around his wife's waist, Richard glanced at his guests. Several of them seemed scandalized that the opening number was the immoral waltz instead of the traditional minuet. Let them be scandalized. Earning Alicia's gratitude was ample reward for any inconvenience his neighbors experienced.

  He tightened his hold on her waist. This new Alicia was rapidly becoming a mystery he could not hope to unravel. After all, she was an accomplished dancer; the minuet, cotillion, quadrille and company were part of her feminine talents.

  And yet Alicia says she cannot dance them. She admits only knowing the waltz.

  However, she was genuinely terrified; that had been no act. Indeed, what purpose would it serve to lie about her ability?

  The suspicion that she did not desire to dance with him crossed his mind, but quickly vanished at her eager acceptan
ce of the waltz as a substitute. Now that he was holding her in his arms, he was glad of the change. Glad, and yet, her nearness made it all the harder to ignore his inner needs and desires.

  She must have felt his gaze because as she gracefully swayed to the rhythm of the music, she looked up at him. For no apparent reason, she blushed.

  “I would say you waltz very well, Alicia.”

  She reddened further.

  As other dancers joined them on the parquet wood floor, he savored the feel of her. How strange to have tender thoughts concerning his wife. She easily was the most fashionable woman in the ballroom ... and the most desirable. Her deep emerald green crêpe gown, had a low, revealing bustline that hugged her feminine form to perfection.

  Richard darted his tongue over his lips. How the devil could he keep his gaze from straying to her exposed décolletage? He was only human. And when was the last time he had touched those rounded breasts?

  Her sweet scent brought back other memories. Memories of a more intimate nature.

  Hell and damn! Why was he torturing himself? Alicia was Alicia. Enough said.

  Inadvertently, he executed a rough turn, which caused her to be thrown, full breasts and all, against him.

  “I see I can't say the same about your waltzing,” his partner teased.

  Richard almost audibly groaned at the impact. Close contact with his wife was obviously wearing down his self-control.

  Again Alicia surprised him. She shook her head, displacing the loose ringlets that hung high from the back of her head and barely touched the base of her lovely neck. “I'm sorry. I was just kidding.”

  He succumbed to temptation and flicked a ringlet off her shoulder, skimming the surface of her velvety skin.

  She trembled at his touch. By all that was holy, she was not indifferent to him.

  A cooler head prevailed. To be cozened by an actress greater than Sarah Siddons was outside of enough!

  When the waltz ended, Richard made excuses and abruptly left his wife in the middle of the floor. He was in dire need of a drink.

  ~*~

  Alaina sighed. Just as she was making headway with Richard, he bristled up with more quills than a porcupine! And yet, when he'd held her, if he hadn't looked at her with affection in his eyes....