Taking a sip of tea to refresh her tongue, Lady Wilhelmina continued, “And little Victoria, as she is to be called, is the only child in the line. Since poor Charlotte and her baby are gone.”
Lady Ravenwood reached for a delicate hanky after the Dowager's statement, and dabbed at her eyes. Princess Charlotte had been well loved by everyone.
Clarice Penterbury had been steadily looking at Alaina through the whole of Lady Wilhelmina's discourse. She set her biscuit down and said cattily, “But Lady Alicia deserves a prize as well. Not only did she predict the child would be a girl, but she gave us the name, and today's date.”
The woman sat back, watching the reactions her stunning tidbit created.
Alaina immediately choked on some of her food. Good God! She remembered the incident clearly. It had been at the Christmas ball. Having drunk too much, she had spoken indiscreetly about the next rulers of England. How was she going to get herself out of this mess? She couldn't think because the Dowager, Lady Ravenwood and two other ladies kept clamoring for more information.
Rick, bless him, came to Alaina's rescue by drawling, “Some demmed mystic told you. Isn't that so, my dear? I believe ‘Madame Reena’ was the name. She travels with the gypsies, who seasonally pass through our land.”
Alaina saw him give a speaking look to Nigel. Maybe gypsies didn't follow that route, and Nigel knew it. She could tell Nigel swallowed his protest. He merely agreed, “Just so.”
The explanation, however, satisfied the parties present including Lady Wilhelmina. She probably never concerned herself about gypsies. Only Clarice seemed dissatisfied. She glanced from Rick to Alaina, but wisely kept silent.
Alaina gratefully accepted his fabrications on her behalf. She smiled another “lover-ly” smile at him, promising a future reward.
He raised his glass to her and shot her an understanding wink.
Lady Wilhelmina still waxed enthusiasm about the royal birth however, and didn't notice the by-play. Instead, she informed Alaina, “It is too bad you did not come down to breakfast earlier, child. And why Charles and Lucinda are still upstairs is a mystery to me! The Duke of Blakesdale would have been happy to relate your news about the mystic's predictions to the new father.”
The Dowager took a much needed breath. “Edward wanted to name the infant, ‘Elizabeth,’ after himself. But the Regent's voice held sway. Perhaps knowing that the princess’ birth and names were preordained might lessen Edward's animosity toward his eldest brother.”
“Yes, the Duke of Blakesdale loves to be the bearer of tidings,” Lady Ravenwood confirmed. “He apologized to all of us for taking his leave so early. After we received the news, he was eager to go to his royal friend to offer congratulations. Your father also said that he especially wanted to have another word with you, Lady Alicia.”
How Alaina managed to swallow the liquid in her mouth and not have it come spewing forth, was a minor miracle. She sat, in a daze, and poured all her concentration into guiding the Sèvres teacup back to its saucer without breaking it.
Giving an automatic response to the Marchioness, she felt a paralyzing freeze descend over her body. Her father. Her father. The words sang through her stupor. The Duke of Blakesdale was Alicia's father.
And Rick knew. He knew that she was a fake. How could he not be aware of it? What person forgets her own father? Even with her lame excuse for memory loss.
Her words came back to haunt her. She had said, “I seem to have forgotten his name.” And then Rick's response, “I would not admit that to anyone else, Alicia.”
From the cold of her body's freeze, arose a blazing heat burning her face. She was sure her skin glowed vividly red. When he had danced with her last night, he had known she wasn't Alicia. When he had volunteered to share the bed with his “wife,” he had known she wasn't Alicia.
When they made love....
Control, Alaina. Control. She fought to keep the tears back. What was going on here? Was last night some type of revenge because she pretended to be Alicia? Why didn't he say something? Why had he humored her?
What should she do? How could she face him?
Wait a minute. How could he face her? At least she loved him. He just “wanted” her.
Avoiding his gaze, she rose from the table and made her excuses to the remaining diners. Now in the corridor, her tears refused to be held back any longer. With a quickness she hadn't known she possessed, she ran up the staircase.
Oh no. Voices. She hid in an alcove and watched Lucy and Charlie on their way to the Dining Salon. Good. This was perfect. She slipped into Lucy's bedroom and closed the door.
Rick would be looking for “his wife” in her bedroom. And she couldn't see him right now. Not with her emotions going full tilt. Until she figured out what her next move was, she had to avoid him.
Leaning against the door, she sank down to the floor. “Impostor.” She could hear that very word from his lips. How could she explain what happened? How could he believe her?
And what if he wanted his true wife back?
Never, in Alaina's entire life, had she ever been as miserable as this very moment.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Richard had seen the distress in Alaina's eyes but had been powerless to soothe or reassure her. She obviously realized he was aware of her deception. But what other thoughts passed through her mind he could not begin to guess.
As soon as he could, he excused himself from the dining table, and went in search of her. She was not in her bedchamber. His hopes for a conference with her on the journey back to Hanover Square were also dashed. Evidently the ladies—the Dowager, Alaina, Lucinda, and Isabel, decided to travel in a separate carriage from the men.
Briefly seeing Alaina in the entrance hall awaiting embarkation, she seemed a remote figure and purposely did not look his way. While all the other ladies oozed enthusiasm after last night's ball, Alaina was uncharacteristically silent.
Richard did not meet with success in cornering her later that day, either. Upon her return to the townhouse, Alaina sequestered herself in her bedchamber, pleading a headache. Even worse, she did not appear for dinner.
It came as no surprise that when he tried the communicating door between their rooms, he found it locked.
He would allow her this night to her privacy, but tomorrow, the estrangement would come to an end.
The next morning, he sent a formal request for Alaina to join him in the Study. But Higgins had unwelcome news for him.
The butler bowed. “Milady has already left the premises, Your Lordship.”
“I see.” Richard drummed his fingers against the solid wood of his desk. “Did she give her destination?”
“No, Your Lordship. Milady asked for a carriage to be brought ‘round and stated she was going for a drive.”
The devil. That meant she could be anywhere. Better to wait here than go traipsing after her.
To his butler, he said curtly, “Tell Her Ladyship that I desire her presence as soon as she arrives.”
Higgins nodded his acceptance of the command and left to take up his vigil by the front door. If the butler thought his master was in a snit this morning, the man would be right. He was.
Richard ruthlessly paced the length of his Study, heedless of the damage to its plush carpet. He tried to rehearse what he would say to Alaina. There were so many questions. Such as who was she? Where was his real wife?
Hell and damn. The entire dilemma was irrelevant, and boiled down to one basic fact: he wanted Alaina to continue as his wife. He wanted to spend the rest of their days together. By all that was holy, she also wanted the same thing, he just knew it.
A faint chime from the mantle clock interrupted Richard's sleep. No shock there that he had taken an unexpected nap, not with the nerve-wracking night he had spent.
He noted the time—two o'clock. Shaking his head to dispel the heaviness of slumber, he strode forth, jaw tightly clenched. Where the hell was Alaina?
“Higgins!” Richard ba
rked out his butler's name.
The man immediately appeared, fingering the collar around his neck.
Obviously Higgins was the bearer of bad news. “Has Her Ladyship returned?”
“Yes, Your Lordship. I relayed the message to Milady, however she went up to her bedchamber.”
“And how long ago was that?”
Higgins’ facial muscles tightened. “About two hours ago, Your Lordship.”
Instead of an outburst, Richard inquired on his lady's whereabouts.
His butler flinched. That must mean even worse news. Higgins stated in a low voice that Her Ladyship was to be found in the Drawing Room. “She is entertaining a caller,” he reluctantly added.
Richard impatiently walked to the Drawing Room and, without bothering to be announced, opened the door....
~*~
Alaina took one look at her unexpected caller and dropped down on the couch. Good God! The next to the last person she ever expected to see was Sir Derek Donnehey!
But here he was. There could be no mistaking the color-clashing clothes of a certified dandy.
She had a few seconds to think before the footman closed the door, leaving her and Alicia's co-conspirator alone. And she frantically made use of the time. There were three possibilities for Sir Derek to actually be here, in the year 1817. The first was that he never left the nineteenth century. The second, that he did travel to Alaina's own time period, but somehow found a way back. And the last, that his identity had been replaced as in the Alicia/Alaina situation.
She sat back, trying to appear calm. The young man obviously forgot that languor was more fashionable than eagerness, for after the footman left, he exclaimed, “Oh, my darling! I c—cannot believe that you are here. You have been here all the time!”
He knelt by her and grabbed her hands. Then he actually tried to bury his head on her knees.
Alaina quickly moved down the couch. As he gingerly raised himself up from his knees, she took stock of the man. His brightly colored red coat clashed with his purple striped vest. And both articles of clothing screamed against the yellow of his pants.
Though Sir Derek was slight in build, his shoulders seemed immensely broad. The sight of him reminded her of a gangly boy in his older brother's football padding! How in the world could Alicia have preferred this preposterous man to Rick?
“Why didn't you contact me, my angel? Why didn't you let me know you did not go through with the Plan?” The man's sad eyes scolded her.
Now seated on the same couch, Sir Derek continued, “You must be angry with me, I realize that. But let me explain. That December night we were to meet Madame Reena in the woods, well, I cannot mince words, dear Alicia. I drank to excess in order to summon up the courage to accompany you on that journey into the unknown. I got quite ... b...bosky."
He lowered his voice. “Alicia, I am ashamed to admit it but I fell into a stupor. I did not awaken until the next afternoon.”
The man sought her hand again, but she pulled away. “You must believe me, Alicia. I rode over to the Hall to discover whether you had gone through with it. Saw the servants running around in an uproar. Stopped a messenger galloping away from the gate. On an urgent mission, he told me. To inform Lord Saybrooke about you. I ask you, Alicia, what else was I to think except that you had gone ahead with the escape?”
Sir Derek bowed his head. “These past months have been hell without you. I left my estate and spent my time in Brighton, Bath, and London. Grieving for you!”
Alaina took advantage of his distraction to stand by the fireplace. If he started pawing her, she could make a mad dash to the door.
He poured a glass of sherry and offered it to her. As she shook her head, he pleaded, “Alicia, you m ... must believe me! You must forgive me, darling! What I have suffered! I would have never known you were here except that I ran into Kincaid this morning. He gloated that you had been present at Ravenwood's ball. That scoundrel!"
Sir Derek almost worked himself into a lather. “To think Kincaid considers himself worthy to even kiss your shoes is outside of enough! I, of course, had received an invitation, but how could I attend any event without my beloved present? So I declined. Oh, if I had only gone.”
He paused in his overly dramatic speech and joined her by the fireplace, waiting for her to finally speak.
Thank heavens for small favors because if Sir Derek had been present at the Ravenwood ball, the night would have definitely had a different outcome.
“Derek, I don't know what to say—”
“Don't say anything at all, my darling. Just let me hold you. Kiss you. And make you mine.”
As Alaina took refuge behind the sofa, the door opened.
Oh good heavens. It was Rick!
“A thousand pardons, I seem to be interrupting.” He casually produced his quizzing glass and slowly studied Sir Derek from head to toe.
After he finished his inspection, he looked over at her. His dark gaze betrayed not one sign of affection nor understanding. “Rick, I can explain...”
He held up his hand to silence her. “Explain why my wife's beautiful face is flushed from some type of exertion, and her over-stylishly dressed caller appears to be chasing her around the settee? I believe Sir Derek should perform the explanations. As a ‘gentleman,’ it is expected.”
Sir Derek gulped nervously. “Yes, I should have s ... spoken with you long before now concerning my intentions, Lord Saybrooke. But Alicia would not allow....”
The man seemed to lose his nerve beneath Rick's quelling gaze.
“I see.” Rick sat down on the couch and gestured for Sir Derek to also sit.
But Rick wasn't through with her, ordering, “Go to the Study, Alicia, and wait for me there. I will join you after Sir Derek and I have our talk.”
She turned to go, but Rick called after her. “Needless to say, I will brook no headaches or other delaying tactics."
Leaving the room without a backward glance, Alaina entered the Study, glad to leave that awkward mess in Rick's capable hands. Hopefully, he would scare Sir Derek off forever. That guy was too intense for his own good.
The time had finally come to tell Rick the truth. The only remaining question was, how much of it to reveal? The story, of course, would be incredible, even fantastic. But then, as the old saying went, truth was stranger than fiction. And nothing could be stranger than her story.
~*~
Richard's present problem was two-fold. First, he had to extract information from this lapdog of Alicia's. Whatever his wife had been involved in, also concerned Donnehey and that blasted Madame Reena. Second, Richard had to convince the man that his wife had switched her allegiance back to her husband.
Perhaps it was gratifying to know that Sir Derek believed Alaina was Alicia. Surely that meant his wife was no longer around. Richard crossed his fingers.
“Now, Donnehey, tell me what this is all about."
As the man talked, Richard shook his head. The man was not making much sense. Through the services of the mystic, Madame Reena, a transference had been planned between Alicia and a “substitute.” Alicia was to take the place of the other woman, but Donnehey was vague on where that location was to be. In fact, some passage of time was supposed to occur!
Donnehey also confided his failure to live up to his part of the plan, having slept through the assignation. However, now that he knew Alicia was still here, he urged Richard to do the “manly” thing. Release his wife from the marriage. Donnehey and Alicia loved each other deeply, so the man said.
Fingertip to fingertip, Richard digested this incredible tale and pondered his next move. The scheme was so farfetched, so extreme that he did not doubt it was true. Knowing Alicia, it had to be true.
“My dear Donnehey,” Richard said tentatively, “I am afraid I have some bad news for you. Frankly, your desertion of Lady Alicia, when she counted on you, has given her a disgust of you. She confessed the whole to me some time ago. In the meantime, she and I have effected a reconc
iliation."
Donnehey's raised eyebrows indicated his disbelief.
“You will, I am sure, want to confirm this with Lady Alicia. You are welcomed to do so. But I will not tolerate you plaguing my wife. She is in a delicate condition."
This unsuspected statement caused Donnehey to move so suddenly that the shoulder seam of his snug crimson coat made an alarming sound akin to that of a rip in the cloth.
To the man's credit, he paid no heed to it and stammered, “Lady Alicia is ... is with child?"
“Yes,” Richard affirmed. Doing some mental computations, he added, “Our child is expected at the end of the year."
Hastily wiping his sweaty brow with an overlarge handkerchief, Donnehey recognized his own defeat. Extending his hand, he offered his congratulations and apologized for misreading matters.
As the two men parted amicably, Richard realized, in amazement, that Donnehey wasn't a bad sort. He was too good for the fickle Alicia. He hoped Donnehey would be able to forget Alicia Cransworth—wherever she was.
Richard closed the door to the Drawing Room and headed for the Study. He would finally get answers to his questions. And he would get them now.
~*~
When the Study door opened, Alaina looked up. Rick's face was unreadable—which could've meant just about anything. Oh good grief! Her stomach twirled in a zillion knots.
Instead of sitting at his massive desk, though, he chose a chair close to hers. For a long second, they were both silent. She observed him, and he observed the fireplace.
The quiet got on her nerves, so she broke it. “What did you say to him?”
The “him” of course being Sir Derek.
With a shrug, Rick replied, “I told him you no longer held him in high regard. I did not think you would mind."
“Oh no, That's great! I'm so relieved.” So relieved in fact that she couldn't sit any longer. She stood and walked over to the fireplace. “Anyway, I didn't invite him here. He just showed up.” She tried to lighten the mood. “Have you ever seen clothes in such wild colors? His coat, vest—"
Timeless Deception Page 18