The ladies graciously took the hint and adjourned to the Blue Salon. Seeing how he and Charles downed their wine, it was a sure bet that neither of them would be joining the women.
~*~
After a respectable interval, Alaina pleaded fatigue, as did Isabel, and they both left the Blue Salon. Alaina looked forward to continuing her work on Richard's manuscript. The sixth of April was coming up quickly and there was so much she had to do before finishing it.
She entered her dimly lit sitting room and found Dana waiting to undress her. As usual, Alaina had the maid undo the tiny pearl buttons down the back and then leave. Privacy, in whatever shape or form, was important. She picked out a nightgown and walked into the bedchamber proper.
Ready to slip out of her gown, she saw movement behind her. Whirling around, she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure before she was enveloped in an embrace. She had time for a shocked protest of “Rich—” before a pair of hungry lips pressed down on hers.
Never having been kissed by Richard, she certainly envisioned this action ... and much more—many times. But for some reason, the reality of the event didn't live up to her imagination. Dear God, this was almost as nasty as wet lips on a fish! A fish doused in alcohol.
Disappointed to the very marrow of her soul, she wriggled out of his arms, which caused her gown to slip down off her shoulders.
“Richard, what in the world are you doing?” She then broke free and backed away. Holding her gown up over her breasts, she wildly searched for a dressing gown.
“You don't have to keep up the maidenly pretense with me, Alicia.” His voice was harsh with passion. “I know you for what you are.”
Finding temporary refuge behind a chaise-lounge, Alaina quickly pulled on a silk robe and belted it. Good God, she needed time to think! The man with the fish lips wasn't Richard but Charles Cransworth!
“Charlie, what do you think you're doing? You'd better leave immediately.” Alaina tried to keep her voice calm. “Richard will be furious if he finds you here.”
“He might be, my dear Alicia, but the fury will not be directed at me. He knows how you are. One word from me about your seducing ways and your lovely throat will feel the wrath of his hands.”
Alaina raised her hand to her throat. She'd already felt the strength of Richard's hands around her neck, and had no intention of experiencing that again.
Charlie advanced further, like a stalking predator. His turquoise eyes darkened to indigo and he ran his tongue over his lips.
Cripes. She was in deep trouble. “Charlie, for goodness sake, listen to me. This isn't like you. For whatever it's worth, I'm Richard's wife and Lucy's friend. You don't want me. Don't ruin what small chance we all might have for happiness.”
He stopped in his tracks and his eyes returned to normal. “What does Lucinda have to do with this?”
Here was a point worth pursuing. Alaina smoothed back her messy hair and bravely sat on the side of the chaise-lounge. “Do you love your wife?”
Charlie rubbed a weary hand up and down his cheek as if he had a toothache. When he joined her on the couch, his shoulders slumped. “Yes,” he admitted. “Yes, I suppose I do.”
“If Lucy found out about tonight, think about how she would feel. You could never hope to ever reconcile.”
No longer afraid of what he might do, Alaina moved closer. She really did think of him as a brother. “Lucy doesn't know you love her. None of your actions tell her so. She's been very unhappy.”
With his head in his hands, Charlie looked like he'd been sentenced to hell. “What a muck I have made of it, Alicia. It has been torture for me these past few months. Do you think she will ever forgive me?”
Alaina smiled. “Why don't you ask her? A nice romantic dinner for two might be just the thing. All women love special attention.”
He nodded. “You are right. Perhaps it is not too late to see if Lucinda will still have me.”
Standing, he took Alaina's hand. “And you? Will you, can you forgive me?” His eyes burned red, probably with alcoholic excess and with shame.
“Forgive what?” she asked with playful innocence.
Charles grinned and kissed her palm. “I have much to thank you for.” Making his way to the door, he opened it and said, “I am a changed man, thanks to you, sweet Alicia. I should have come to you sooner. Good-night.”
Alaina stood in the doorway, watching him quietly walk down the corridor. She leaned against the wall, relief washing through her. The night's outcome had a happy ending. Charlie had given her a bad fright, but now she felt confident Lucy and he would work out their problems.
As she reentered her room, her relief turned into panic. The unmistakable sound of a nearby door clicking shut echoed loudly throughout the hall.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The next night after Charlie’ surprise “visit", Lucy burst into Alaina's bedroom. “Alicia, Alicia, I cannot believe this is happening. Oh, pinch me to see if I am awake!”
Then she held up her hands as if to stop. “No, don't! I do not want to wake up!”
Alaina slid the papers she was working on under a book, then said, “Sit, calm down, and tell me what the fuss is about.” She had a pretty good idea.
Her face flushing pink with joy, Lucy confirmed it. “It is Charles, he says he loves me and wants a second chance. He wants to go to Paris—just the two of us.” She sat down with a thud. “I must be in heaven.”
“I thought you said you were dreaming! No, no, I'm teasing. So what did you tell him?”
Lucy looked coy. “I said I would think about it! Of course I ran right over to ask you what you think. What caused this about-face, I wonder?”
Alaina reached over for her hairbrush and brushed her hair trying to appear nonchalant. “That isn't important. What is important is that he finally came to his senses.” She gave Lucy a hug. “As for what I think, I say do what you think best.”
“Then I shall go!” Lucy said breathlessly. Blowing a hurried kiss, she flew out of the room, calling back, “We leave tomorrow.”
Richard wasn't present when his brother and wife departed the next day. In fact, Alaina hadn't seen him since the night of the would-be-violation. Deep inside, she feared that he had overheard his brother leave her room—meaning of course, he believed her guilty of seduction.
No one else saw anything unusual in Richard's absence, though. I'm making mountains out of molehills, she scolded herself. He probably knows nothing of the other night.
But in her heart, she knew she was deluding herself.
Terry started demanding more and more of her attention. After Lucy and Charlie left, he pulled her and Isabel into the Drawing Room and insisted someone read him a story. With Isabel's help, Alaina acted out selections from Aesop's Fables and also from some Greek myths.
While Terry looked at pictures concerning the tortoise and the hare, Isabel remarked, “You are so talented, Alicia. Yes, indeed. Just see how Terrence is progressing with his reading. Imagine, his favorite word to spell is ‘hare'!”
“He is a darling, isn't he? But you have the patience of a saint with children, Isabel. Let me tell you, that is a gift! And it's something I sorely lack. One day you'll read to your own children at your knee.”
The older woman blushed. “Truly, I am passed the age of childbearing. Besides, have you forgotten I am not even betrothed?”
“Give yourself time.” Alaina waved Isabel's concerns away. “Once Lady Wilhelmina is up and about, there'll be dozens of parties to attend. I predict it won't be long before the ‘right man’ claims your hand.”
Alaina wasn't indulging in empty praise. Since Isabel now had a new sophisticated look—minus the fat, sausage curls—and plus some up-to-date gowns, the country cousin was all the crack. One of these days, pretty darn soon, an eligible widower or bachelor would snatch the timid lady from the antidote shelf.
Maybe Alaina should start planning now. “You know, I think I'll run upstairs and tell the Dowager that Lucy
and Charlie got off okay. Be right back."
Terry murmured his dissent, but Alaina silenced him with a motherly kiss.
Lady Wilhelmina was eager for company and very receptive to Alaina's scheme. “My dear, that is an excellent idea. I quite agree. I am positively itching to resume my rounds in society. If I remain contained within these four walls much longer I will become dicked in the nob—pardon my street cant!”
She leaned back against her pillows. “I shall go about my ‘recovery’ slowly. Perhaps next week we can attend a musicale or a rout.”
Then from under her lashes, the Dowager asked, “By the bye, how do things stand between you and Richard?”
“The truth is...” Alaina paused to sigh, “I haven't seen him. He's told Cook that he'll be having dinner elsewhere now that Charlie and Lucy have left. And where he spends his days ... and nights, is a mystery to me.”
“I refuse to admit defeat—you and Richard are bound to get back together ... bound to! Look at the miracle of Charles and Lucinda. You would have thought those two were off on their honeymoon.”
Alaina grinned. “Yes, that describes it to a tee! Well, I'll see you later. Terry is impatient to continue his lessons."
Back in the Drawing Room, Alaina, along with Isabel, sang the Alphabet Song to teach Terry his letters. He loved its sing-song rhythm and made her sing it over and over.
In the middle of yet another rendition, Richard walked into the room. After a flicker of surprise, he displayed no emotion except boredom. When they finished the song, Terry chirped, “Daddy, good morning! We were saying our alphabet.”
Terry was so proud of his accomplishment. “Didn't we do a good job?” He was the only one not affected by Richard's unexpected entrance.
Richard's sardonic gaze took in a subdued Cousin Isabel as well as a fidgety Alaina. “Indeed,” he pronounced, in somewhat gloomy tones. “Cousin Isabel, kindly restore my son to his governess. I wish to speak with my wife alone.”
Oh, joy. What did I do now?
“But Daddy,” Terry protested, “I was having fun."
“Terrence.” Richard would brook no opposition from his son.
Isabel glanced at Alaina as if to seek her permission, so she made an imperceptible nod. Isabel and Terry then left the room; the boy had a frown on his usually happy face.
“Higgins informed me I would find you in the Drawing Room. I do not recall giving permission for it to be turned into a schoolroom.” Richard leaned against the wall and placed one foot up on a low stool.
His informal pose didn't fool Alaina. She smoothed back a stray lock of hair. “Terry likes to be read to. There's no harm in that. And, as you recall, you haven't been home lately, so I couldn't ask you.”
He ignored the dig. “I do not consider you an appropriate example for my son to learn from. I want you to desist teaching him.”
Maybe it was her time of month, or something, but Alaina felt unaccountably down in the dumps. In his eyes she couldn't do anything right. Even reading to a little boy who so badly needed a mother. And what about the presentation paper? What would Richard do when he found out about that? It was too late to return it; she was committed and had to finish the work.
How many slams could she handle without giving up the ghost? How could she find the energy to fight back? Everything was toppling in on her. Everything was going wrong—and nothing would ever change. He would never view her as anything other than an adulterous bimbo.
A trickle of a tear coursed down her cheek. Too tired to wipe it away, Alaina turned her head to hide it. “You win,” she said, striving to keep her voice even. “I'll stop the lessons. Is there anything else?”
His wife's unhappiness hit Richard hard. Clenching his fists, he watched her hunched-over form with despair. He longed to take her in her arms and kiss away the salty tears. However, didn't he see his brother depart her bedchamber with a smile on his face? Didn't he hear Charles thank her and call her “Sweet Alicia” and wish that he had come to her sooner? What kind of woman seduces her own brother-in-law?
Richard had been tempted to call Charles out but he resisted—Alicia was not worth it. And now here she was, crying over ... over what, the loss of reading to her son? The son that she had previously despised?
Since his mother showed signs of being on the mend, as soon as she was completely out of danger he would send Alicia packing. Who knew, perhaps the next target for her unbridled passion would be Nigel? Richard would contrive to get Nigel readmitted to Cambridge—out of harm's way.
“Is there anything else?” she repeated, dully.
The fog of despair cleared in his mind. “Yes, I thought you would be glad of the news. Your Madame Reena was right.”
Alicia jerked her head up. “Madame Reena was right ... right about what?” The mention of the dead mystic's name seemed to make her shiver.
“The Duke of Clarence's child has died.” Seeing Alicia's incomprehension, Richard added, “The Duke, once again, has no issue. You should be pleased to know you received your money's worth—Madame Reena predicted correctly. Knowing the future rulers of England was the reason you went to the mystic, isn't that what you said?”
Mocking her with his words, Richard closed the door to the Drawing Room. For some inexplicable reason, he felt like a cad.
~*~
As the sixth of April approached, Alaina finished the presentation paper. Fortifying herself with brandy to give herself courage, she slipped into the Library and placed the neatly printed work on Richard's desk. The room had an unused air about it as if it suffered neglect from its master. The magnificent bust of Augustus brought back memories on how Richard had become inflamed over her interest in it. Then that thought led to remembering how he brushed away her tears. What a tender moment; if only there could be more moments like that one.
“You're a fool, Alaina Sawyer,” she whispered bitterly. “A damn stupid fool. I have to get it through my thick head that it's useless to hope, no matter what the Dowager says."
Alaina could count on her fingers all the times Richard touched her. Although the contact was usually made in anger, she couldn't deny the electricity that passed between them. She now had an intimate understanding of the term “sexually frustrated.” To put it mildly, it was the pits!
“As soon as Richard has his archaeology meeting, I'll leave London. At least at Saybrooke Hall I can be reasonably certain of not running into him.”
Alaina admitted defeat and was ready to retreat and lick her wounds. There was one other thing she wanted to do though; she wanted to attend the Dilettani Society when Richard presented his paper. Going was risky, but although it was unlikely there would be many women present, she hoped to escape notice—especially one person in particular's notice.
She had it all figured out but she sat on pins and needles anticipating Richard's reaction to her meddling. Every day prior to the big one, she peeped into the Library. The presentation paper remained exactly where she had placed it. He must have felt confident of his secretary's abilities and didn't think it necessary to review his work. It appeared she would be spared a blow-out until after the meeting.
The big day finally arrived. Looking out of her bedroom window, Alaina saw Richard enter his carriage; his destination had to be the Dilettani Society.
“Okay. It's show time.” Taking a last look at her appearance in the cheval mirror, she nervously caught her leather shoe in the flounce at the base of her dark grey bombazine dress. “Damn!"
“Milady!” her maid admonished. She straightened the back of Alaina's high standing collar, then adjusted the white frill surrounding the neck. “If I may say so, Milady, this walkin’ dress is very flatterin'. ‘Tis a bit somber in tone, though."
“It's just what I want—can't be too conspicuous.” Alaina grabbed her bonnet and gloves. “Wish me luck.”
Dana complied with the request, but as Alaina left the bedroom, asked, “But what do you need the luck for, Milady?"
At the Dilettani Soci
ety, Alaina quietly observed the members. They were crowded together in a medium-sized room, eating tea and crumpets while waiting for the meeting to begin. She took care to remain on the fringes of the group. If she needed to make a quick exit, she was right by the door.
There was no doubt that the majority of the Society's membership was of the aristocracy; there could be no mistaking the manners and dress of the British upper crust. Other ladies were also present, so her presence wasn't extremely glaring. Overhearing a remark, she gathered that these ladies were considered “bluestockings.”
As Alaina turned to her left, a man bumped into her elbow. “Pardon me, sir.”
“Demmed clumsy of me. Pardon me, miss,” he offered. An older gentleman with his hands full of refreshment and biscuit, he had trouble maneuvering in the crowd.
With a once-over, he took stock of Alaina from head to toe. “I say, delighted to see some new blood at these stodgy meetings. M'name's Boggs, Ian Boggs.”
He seemed harmless so she introduced herself. “And I'm Alaina.”
The man had a comical appearance, with graying hair parted in the middle and a bristly mustache hanging over the sides of his lips. At the moment, the stiff hairs held several crumbs from the biscuit.
“Oh dear, I'm afraid you have....” She gestured toward his face.
“'Tis a demmed nuisance.” Ian Boggs flicked his finger through the mustache. “If you would be so kind....”
Alaina pulled out a handkerchief from her reticule and quickly brushed away the crumbs.
“Indebted to you forever, m'dear.” He finished the last of his food, then concentrated on her. “You must forgive an old man, but why is a lovely gel like yourself here with these dull old dogs? You should be out kicking up a lark! If I were thirty years younger,” he ended wistfully.
She laughed. Bumping into Mr. Boggs was a piece of good luck. “Oh, I have a small interest in the ancient Romans. I thought I'd come hear the paper scheduled for today.”
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