by Olivia Drake
Furious, he strode toward James. A sea of startled faces turned to Drake. With a jolt, he recognized some of them: Kitty, the deaf girl; several grooms from his stables; Molly, the pregnant maid. The room was quiet except for the patter of raindrops against the windowpanes.
He swung toward James. “How dare you presume to chastise my employees? This is my house, not yours.”
The silence lasted a heartbeat. Then giggles swept the gathering, the pupils covering their mouths to hide their mirth. Their reaction left Drake nonplussed.
James grinned briefly, then returned his attention to the group. “Quiet, now,” he commanded. “It isn’t polite to laugh. Mr. Wilder didn’t realize I was reading you a story.”
The tittering subsided. For the first time, Drake noticed the notebook propped open in James’s lap. And he felt a rare moment of utter foolishness.
The duchess glided toward James, placing her hand on the back of his wheeled chair. “James is an eloquent reader as well as a gifted writer.”
A faint flush colored his fair skin. “Enough, Sarah,” he muttered.
She ignored him. “You should know, Mr. Wilder, that James penned this tale of knights and dragons, of evil sorcerers and fair princesses. The class has enjoyed hearing his stories. Is that not so?”
As one, the pupils eagerly spoke their assent.
Drake looked at their bobbing heads and felt more off balance than ever. James, a writer of fairy tales? A benefactor who entertained the underprivileged?
Drake couldn’t reconcile that image with the snobbish lord who had been raised as a privileged only son. This must be a ruse of some sort. But to what purpose, he couldn’t imagine.
While the younger ones begged James to read another chapter and he laughingly refused, Alicia pulled Drake to the side of the room, where a large map of England was tacked to the wall. His senses were attuned to the brush of her soft breast, the seductiveness of her subtle scent, the delicacy of her features.
Somehow, she looked especially fragile today, her skin translucent and her eyes shadowed as if she needed a nap. “I thought you’d be arriving in half an hour,” she murmured. “I’d meant for you to see the class at their lessons.”
“Class?” he repeated numbly.
“Yes, I’ve organized this school for those wishing to learn their letters and sums. That way, a maid can aspire to the post of housekeeper someday. And a groom might prove adept enough at numbers to become a steward. They can better their lot in life.”
A school for the poor? He’d thought she’d been spending her days shopping and socializing, the usual activities for a lady of wealth. He struggled to assimilate her actions.
She’d been here at Pemberton House. With James.
Feeling betrayed, he gripped tenaciously to his anger. “What the devil is Hailstock’s son doing here?” he said under his breath. “The wretch is toying with these commoners, playing the Good Samaritan. He hasn’t any true interest in them.”
“You’re wrong about that,” she whispered back. “And before you pass judgment, I ask only that you listen while the pupils show you what they’ve learned this past fortnight.”
He despised being gulled. Yet he couldn’t refuse her. Not when she gazed at him so hopefully with those clear blue eyes. Not when she curved her lips into the soft smile that could turn him into a babbling idiot.
Compressing his mouth into a thin line, he took up a stance by the hearth, propping his elbow on the mantelpiece. She walked toward the class, her hips swaying, all graceful, beguiling woman.
While Sarah and James sat watching, Alicia clapped her hands for attention and called the beginning pupils to the front. Scullery maids and grooms alike assembled in a circle on the large rug while she seated herself on a stool. One by one, they proceeded to draw their letters on their slates. After that, they did a little game using marbles to count their sums. Some of them were remarkably quick; others struggled with the simplest numbers. But Alicia showed patience toward them all, giving a word of encouragement or a quiet correction as needed.
Fascinated, Drake watched her. He shouldn’t be surprised to see that she was an excellent teacher. After all, she’d been responsible for her family these five years, and she had exhibited a serene tolerance for her mother’s most eccentric impersonations. But he had always viewed Alicia as a lady. And ladies did not associate with the lower classes.
He was still trying to adjust himself to seeing this new side of her when she dismissed her group. Expecting her to call on the more advanced pupils, he tensed when James did the honors.
The students filed to the front and stood at attention. Taking turns, each recited a sonnet by Shakespeare. Then James quizzed them on geography, and they used a pointer to indicate the counties of England on the map, naming the noteworthy sights of each region.
Drake flexed his fist. It was all he could do to keep from breaking that damned pointer in two. Right on top of his brother’s privileged head.
James had to be trifling with these servants. They were a curiosity to him, a game to dispel his boredom. From his life on the street, Drake had known other do-gooders like James. When he lost interest—and undoubtedly that would happen soon—he would leave them heartbroken, disillusioned.
“Class is dismissed,” Alicia said. “Please return tomorrow morning at our usual time.”
The students put away their slates and walked out of the study, casting surreptitious glances at Drake. The clatter of their footsteps sounded in the corridor as they dispersed through the back door.
James wheeled his chair around to give Drake a challenging stare. “So what do you think of our little school?”
“Oh, not quite our,” Sarah said on a laugh. “I’ve done naught but bedevil these two at every turn.”
“One man’s bedeviling is another man’s bewitching,” James murmured.
He and Sarah exchanged an intense glance that struck Drake as overtly sexual. He frowned, seized by curiosity about his crippled brother. He’d assumed the accident had rendered James impotent, that he’d been forced to survive without life’s greatest pleasure.
But perhaps he was able to engage in sexual activity, after all. Did Hailstock celebrate the fact that his legitimate son could sire the next heir?
Drake gritted his teeth. Hell, why was he even wondering? He didn’t give a bloody damn about his brother’s love affairs—or lack thereof.
Edgy and restless, he snapped, “I can admire those with a sincere desire to aid the less fortunate. But I condemn those who would merely amuse themselves with charitable diversions.”
James gave a faint smile. “And pray tell, into which category do I fall?”
“Among the dilettantes who seek to ease their ennui.”
Alicia stepped between them. “Drake! Is that all you can say?”
Her hands were folded primly at her waist. She looked angry and hurt, disappointed in him. He fought the urge to drop his gaze like a chastened child. The truth was, he admired her willingness to help others. Most aristocrats cared nothing for those who served them.
But Alicia cared. And he had ridiculed her efforts.
“Forgive me,” he said gruffly. “I don’t mean to disparage your achievements here. There’s a great need for schools like this. And you’re an excellent teacher.”
A fledgling warmth illuminated her eyes. It stirred a yearning in him that somehow transcended the physical. The light on her face drew him.…
“James did much, too,” Sarah said, poised like a champion beside him. “I shan’t allow you to think otherwise, Mr. Wilder.”
“Let him think as he will,” James said with a shrug. “Eventually, he’ll be forced to face the truth.”
Abandoning leniency, Drake growled, “I very much doubt that. You’ll be gone from here soon enough.”
“Are you forbidding me to enter this house?” James taunted.
“I’m saying that you don’t belong here—”
“Enough.” Alicia marched
toward Drake. “This is a schoolroom, not a boxing ring. If you will excuse us, James and Sarah. My husband and I need to speak in private.”
She slid her arm through Drake’s and pulled firmly. He was half tempted to stand his ground. But if he did, he might awaken her suspicions. She would start asking too many questions.
And if ever she guessed that James was his brother, there’d be the devil to pay.
* * *
Controlling her temper, Alicia led the way into the morning room and closed the door. She leaned back against the gilded panel, wanting to stay as far from Drake as possible. She didn’t need his touch distracting her. The air smelled faintly of wallpaper paste and the new flowered carpet. The greens and yellows of the decor lent a natural brightness to the gloomy day. But she could feel only the agitation of anger.
Going to the window, he propped his shoulder against the woodwork and scowled out at the rain. His hard features had a pensive quality that crept past her pain. Heaven help her, she wanted to be enveloped by his warmth. She had envisioned a far more romantic scenario in which she would tell him he would be a father.…
Guarding her heart, Alicia crossed her arms. “Well. You managed to turn the afternoon into a disaster. Have you nothing to say?”
“I do, indeed. What’s going on between those two?”
His keen gaze scattered her thoughts. “Sarah and James?” Her voice softened. “I believe they are in love.”
“Or in lust,” Drake said. “Is he capable of consummation?”
Alicia huffed out a breath. She oughtn’t be surprised he could ask such an indelicate question. “How should I know?”
“Women talk to each other.”
“There are some things a lady doesn’t discuss, not even with her best friend. I wouldn’t betray a confidence, anyway.” Watching him, she tried to fathom his deep dislike. “And why do you wish to know? So you can reassure yourself that James finds no pleasure in his life?”
“Of course not. I’m curious, that’s all.” Leaving the window, he sauntered toward her, stopping mere inches away. “Don’t look so dubious, my lady. You should know that, of late, my thoughts have been centered on”—he looked her up and down—“intimate matters.”
An involuntary thrill eddied through her. In direct opposition to her will, her breasts tightened and her pulse surged. Keeping her voice steady, she said, “I know that you’ve carried on a ridiculous rivalry with Lord Hailstock. And you’ve let that absurdity extend to his son.”
“He doesn’t belong here with you. It isn’t proper.”
“Since when have you cared about conventions? Besides, James and I have been operating a school, not conducting an affair.”
“And it’s a fine school, indeed.” All charming scoundrel again, Drake placed his warm hands at her waist and gave her the smile that could turn her into a helpless ninny. “I’m proud of you, Alicia. I’ll admit, you surprised me today. I’d never imagined you had any interest in teaching—especially those less privileged than yourself.”
His praise soothed the wound within her heart. She wanted to melt against him, but she also wanted to make her point. Placing her hands on his chest, she held him back. “James is my partner in the school. As such, I insist that you cease this hostility toward him and his father.”
For a heartbeat, Drake stared at her. Then he nuzzled her mouth again. “Never mind them. Kiss me.”
She turned her face away. “No. I will have your promise.”
“Don’t be a scold. Be my lover.”
“Don’t be a scoundrel,” she countered. “I know you’re capable of better than that.”
Their gazes clashed. He scowled as if determined to conceal his worthy side from her.
She was just as determined not to back down. “I mean what I say, Drake. I cannot abide this constant strife. I want your pledge to be civil. I can’t imagine why you’d refuse me that.”
His jaw clenched; he glanced away for a moment. “If it means so much to you,” he said grudgingly, “then I’ll try.”
“You’ll do more than try. You’ll give me your vow.”
His fingers pressed into her waist. He looked so fierce, Alicia felt a sinking expectation of his refusal. Then he ground out, “All right, then. You have it.”
The breath left her lungs in a sigh of relief. At once her anger dissolved and she wrapped her arms around him, relishing the beat of his heart against her breasts. She trusted him to keep his word. The realization warmed Alicia down to the tips of her toes. He was a difficult, complex man, but beneath his hardened exterior, he had a core of integrity.
Standing on tiptoe, she pressed her lips to his smooth-shaven cheek. She breathed deeply, smelling the freshness of rain on his still-damp hair. No longer could she quell the feelings inside herself. “Oh, Drake. I do love you.”
His dark lashes dipped slightly over his midnight-blue eyes. She could not read the expression in his shuttered gaze. Moving his hands to cup her neck, he lowered his mouth to hers. She parted her lips, welcoming his deep exploration, offering him all the affection in her heart. With patience, she could bend him, change him, make him a better man. In time, he would realize how foolish he’d been, how unimportant were his petty resentments. And their child would look up to him as a man of honor.
He pressed his hand against her back, urging her across the room to a chaise. Though she felt the shivery anticipation of his intent, she set her heels. “Wait. I’ve something to tell you. Something very important.”
“Nothing can be as important as this.” He nuzzled her breasts, the tip of his tongue dipping into the shadowed valley. His hands reached back to release the buttons of her gown.
“Please, Drake, listen.” Catching his upper arms, she wrapped her fingers around his hard muscles. “I’m going to have your baby.”
His gaze searched hers as he slowly straightened. Into the silence, the rain dripped from the eaves and tapped on the windowpanes. His rakish charm altered subtly into a look of intense concentration. In a gruff voice, he said, “Do you know this … for certain?”
She nodded, her throat choked. She wanted so badly for him to be pleased, to share in her happiness. “The physician examined me this morning. Shortly after the new year, we’re to have a child.”
He drew a raspy breath. Then he brought his hands up to lightly caress her shoulders. As if she were made of the finest porcelain, he drew her against him, pressing his cheek to her hair. “A baby,” he said in a roughened undertone. “My God.”
She laughed at his dazed tone. “I found it hard to believe at first, too.”
“You should have told me straightaway. I’d have guarded my damned temper. And I certainly wouldn’t have pawed you.” As if to verify that, he reached between them and very gently cradled her belly.
More than words, the tenderness in his touch bespoke the power of his emotions. She felt the bond between them strengthen and grow. Though he hadn’t voiced any words of affection, she felt certain he would in time. He would conquer his prejudice against the nobility and love her for herself.
She teased him, brushing her breasts against him. “I happen to like the way you touch me.”
He set her back firmly. “Have you been ill? You’re pale.”
“I’ve been overly weary, that’s all—”
“Then you ought to be lying down.” His arm around her waist, he walked her to the door. “I’m taking you home. As for your school, I’ll hire another instructor. You mustn’t overtax yourself.”
Rather than irk her, his masterful manner gave her hope that he truly cared for her. As he opened the door, she looped her arms around his neck. “I’m perfectly healthy. The doctor said I may continue all my normal activities.”
His eyes gleamed with a banked fire. “I’ll consult with him myself and see about that—”
Abruptly he bit off his words, his dark brows lowering. He turned his head to peer down the passageway in the direction of the study.
At the same
moment, Alicia grew aware of the sound of raised voices. Holding on to him, she strained to see over his broad shoulder.
Just then, James wheeled out of the study. Sarah marched stiffly beside him. At first, Alicia thought they were quarreling. Until she saw the tall, distinguished gentleman who stepped out of the study after them.
Lord Hailstock.
Chapter Twenty-four
“Stay here,” Drake said in a low-pitched voice. “I’ll deal with him.”
Alicia had no intention of meekly retreating into the morning room. “No,” she murmured. “Something tells me they’ll need a mediator.”
Ignoring his impatient exclamation, she hastened down the passage. James and his father faced each other like two snarling dogs. Each time James attempted to wheel away, Lord Hailstock stepped out to block him. Their sharp voices echoed against the green-painted walls.
“I am not finished,” the marquess snapped. “You will have the courtesy to remain still and listen.”
James met his gaze without flinching. “I’ve heard quite enough. Whether you will admit so or not, I’m of age and no longer under your jurisdiction.”
“I cannot condone this willfulness,” Hailstock said, his hands held stiffly at his sides. “I was pleased you’d discovered that wheeled contraption. You seemed quite happy, going off every day with the duchess. But you led me to believe you were at the park or visiting at her house. And all that time, you were here.”
“I’m under no obligation to report my activities to you, Father.”
“I must concur,” Sarah said, placing her hand on the back of James’s chair. “There is no point to this quarrel.”
“Your Grace,” Hailstock said, lifting his angry gaze to her. “As a leader of the ton, you of all people should see the folly in consorting with the lower classes.”
Arching an eyebrow, she regarded him with cool majesty. “It is not for me to gainsay James. Nor for you, for that matter.”
Alicia stepped quickly to the marquess. Despite the foul weather outside, his greatcoat bore not a drop of rain and his hair was perfectly groomed as always. “My lord, I didn’t realize you were coming to call.” Hoping to diffuse the quarrel, she forced a gracious note into her voice. “If you’d care to go to the drawing room, I’ll order tea.”