“Indeed, Madame, I would wish that were so. The minute I set my eyes upon you my heart ceased to beat for anyone else,” he said with not even the shadow of a smile.
Her eyes lit up with delight although her face stayed solemn.
“You are a toadeater of the worst kind, Your Grace. You must stop this at once, or there will be the devil to pay.”
Percy smiled in delight, pleased to have an insight into the beguiling creature in front of him, “You are a dutiful daughter, Lady Alexandra, and I congratulate you for that. But I urge you just for a moment to consider the possibility that I am perfectly serious.”
Her eyes widened in surprise, and she studied him in a considering way, “Whether or not you are serious, Your Grace, it is too late. I am promised to another.”
“If indeed this paragon was in earnest in his desire for you, he would already have married you by now. Since he has not then I urge you most sincerely to break your betrothal and marry me instead. Just say the word, and I will challenge Summerhill to swords at dawn. We shall settle this like gentlemen, and then you shall be mine.”
Lady Alexandria laughed with derision, “But of course, you shall exchange me like the piece of merchandise that I am, Your Grace.”
“My apologies. That was crass and unworthy of you. I just meant that I would go to whatever lengths necessary to win your heart.”
“My heart is at war with my duty. And my duty has already won,” she said seeming sad and resigned to her fate.
“A dutiful daughter is a comfort to her parent, but mark my words, your heart will win this battle…my Lady.”
The lady almost smiled, stopping herself at the last minute. Percy applied himself to his food knowing that he had rudely neglected their other dinner companions and seeking to make up for that faux pas now. It would not do to start a scandal by speaking exclusively to a woman who for all intents and purposes was taken. He aimed to win her heart not to ruin her.
He fancied that he saw a flash of disappointment in her eyes as he turned away but did not allow himself to hope for too much. She was the most beautiful flower in this garden, and he meant to pluck her and take her home.
Percy was amused at the poetic nature of his thoughts but even more convinced that Lady Alexandra was something special if she could inspire his shriveled cynical heart to create odes to her beauty.
As he ate and conversed with his fellow diners, his eye kept sliding toward Lady Alexandra, keeping an eye on her, noting her every reaction to his words.
He could tell she was disappointed that he did not speak to her again and that filled him with secret delight. She was not as indifferent to him as she would have him think. There was a chance that he could change her mind, convince her to break her betrothal and marry him.
He did not know where this determination came from all of a sudden. He had had a plan for his future, for a wife, for the future of his legacy. But all that had gone out of the window as soon as he clapped eyes on Lady Alexandra.
Percy could see Walter sitting across from him casting concerned glances in his direction. Asking with his eyes if he was alright. His brother knew him well and was undoubtedly aware that something had discombobulated him tonight.
He was not ready to discuss it, however, and was glad of the press of people who stopped his brother from interrogating him. His mind was solely on convincing Lady Alexandra in any way that he could. He would work his charms on her if it were the last thing he did.
Once supper was over, he took Lady Alexandra's hand in his to escort her back to the ballroom. He was the very picture of propriety, his attention trained on her without saying anything inappropriate. She could not call him out or find an excuse to snub him or his company. He deposited her beside Lady Easton and then bowed in thanks.
“Is there anything more you require from me, my Lady?” he asked.
Her eyes were downcast, and he felt he was not mistaken in seeing the disappointment in them. He had made his case already, and now it was time to let her stew in confusion. He walked off, meaning to lead another lady to dance as propriety demanded.
For the rest of the evening, Percy socialized with other guests always making sure to be within sight of Lady Alexandra but not so much as looking in her direction. He felt her gaze the entire time like a brand upon his skin and suppressed the instinct to smile. In spite of herself, she must be as intrigued by him as he was by her. He made up his mind to woo her away from Summerhill at all costs.
He and Summerhill were barely acquaintances, and he did not know much about the Duke. What he knew of him did not convince Percy that he was deserving of a diamond of the first water such as Lady Alexandra. Thus, Percy felt no guilt at aiming to steal her away.
The night ended too soon, and he knew it was time to retreat and regroup. He had avoided Walter all evening, knowing that his brother could see that Percy was scheming. No doubt he would wish to quell Percy’s more adventurous tendencies, but he could not let Walter do that. Not in this case–the stakes were too high.
He made sure take his leave of the Earl complimenting him on an enjoyable ball and congratulating him on his daughters. The Earl seemed pleased with the sentiments, but he saw Walter frown.
“What are you up to, brother?” he asked as they waited for the carriage to arrive. Percy merely gave him an enigmatic look but said nothing. His brother would not dissuade him from his decided course of action. So, there was no need for him to know about it.
Chapter 5
A Most Propitious Meeting
Alexandra sat at her window looking out into the night idly picking up at a loose piece of thread on her night rail. Having taken her leave of Summerhill earlier in the evening–he had been held up by some business and was late to the ball–she had hurried up to her bedchambers, wanting to be alone. She mused at the peculiar turn her night taken with the arrival of the Duke of Greenwick. She had been taken aback at the way her heart had stuttered in her chest when he looked into her eyes. It was just so compelling, so mesmerizing.
His bold language and his declaration that she would be his wife made her hands tremble with excitement though she tried her best not to show it. He had flirted most outrageously and then proceeded to ignore her for the rest of the evening! She did not understand him at all. What game was he playing and why did she even care?
Her betrothed had occupied her body, dancing with her three times and then inviting her out for a stroll in the gardens. She had politely declined, knowing he would try to kiss her or at least hold her hand and she was not ready for that yet. Not with him at least.
She looked up at the stars and wondered what might have been…His Grace, the Duke of Greenwick had dark blonde hair perfectly styled, and his deep blue eyes did not fill her with revulsion at all–just the opposite. She had wanted to reach out and smooth a recalcitrant strand that kept falling in his eye as he spoke. When he smiled at her, she wanted to smile back. She noticed the rosebud shape of his lips seemingly already poised to kiss her senseless.
She wanted to lean into him, let him have his wicked way with her like the most profligate Courtesan. She knew all about ladies of the night–Miss Catherine had been quite thorough in her lessons on how not to behave in front of a man.
She was startled when a stone hit the window at which she was sitting, and she reared back, unable to comprehend what was happening. When a second stone hit the window almost exactly at the same place, she understood that it was deliberate. She looked down to see who might be trying to signal her.
She expected it was Magdalene up to some mischief and looking for a partner in crime. She already had a stern look on her face as a result, meaning to tell her sister to go right back to bed this instant before anyone else discovered that she had left the house.
She almost jumped in surprise when she looked down and saw the blonde-haired Duke she had just been thinking about, lurking outside her window! She gasped, and he looked up with a grin.
“Come down and talk to
me,” the Duke called seemingly unfazed to be at the home of a lady in the middle of the night. She could not speak with him with no chaperone!
“Have you lost your mind, Your Grace?” she called maintaining the exact same tone of sternness she would have had if it had been Magdalene outside.
“I do not believe so, my Lady, but I fear that I have lost my heart.”
“Fiend seize it!” Alexandra exclaimed, “You shall not play with me simply because you think yourself above the tenets of good behavior, Your Grace.”
“I do assure you I am not playing, my Lady,” Percy said looking as earnest as a puppy that had done its business in the hall and sought to pretend that it had no awareness of its faux pas.
“Please come down and speak to me.”
“I can speak to you quite well from here, thank you very much.”
“Indeed, you can, my Lady. But I would love to look into your beautiful eyes and tell you why you need to break your betrothal and marry me.”
Alexandra let the peals of her laughter echo unchecked in her bedchamber. She was alone after all with nobody about to look at askance at her.
“You are a rake, and you seek to ruin me,” she accused him.
“Tell me what I can do to convince you, and I will do it, my Lady!” the Duke pleaded looking earnestly up at her.
“Leave and don't come back,” she said her voice trembling ever so slightly.
“I will do anything but that, Lady Alexandra. For even after just an evening’s acquaintance, I know that I cannot live without you.”
Alexandra sighed giving up the pretense of disinterest, “Wait right there, I'm coming,” she said, second guessing her decision even as she made it.
She unhooked her cloak and covered herself with it then, slipped on her slippers. She crept out of the room heading for the back stairs the servants used and out the back door. She crept to the garden that overlooked her bedchambers where the Duke was waiting anxiously for her.
He grabbed her hands in his, looking intently into her eyes.
“My dear Lady Alexandra,” he said voice hoarse with feeling.
“Please, Your Grace assures me that this is no game you are playing with my heart,” Alexandra said.
“‘Tis no game, my Lady. Merely the unfettered passion of a man in the throes of first love.”
Alexandra stared at him not knowing what to think or what to do. What he said he was feeling, she was feeling too, and it scared her. Such emotion could only lead to one thing–heartbreak. Yet here she stood, her cold hands ensconced in the Duke’s warm ones and all she could think was that she did not want to be anywhere else but here with him.
She wanted to laugh at such excess of emotion, and she wanted to cry with happiness and sadness. For even as she knew she had found something to live for, it was already an impossible dream. Her father would not countenance the scandal of a broken betrothal. Even though she would be exchanging one duke for another, she knew that they were far more considerations than her happiness involved in her betrothal.
She could not merely go to her father and say, “Papa, I have fallen in love. Please allow me to break my betrothal to the Duke of Summerhill marry the Duke of Greenwick.”
It was just not done. Everybody knew that marriage was not just about something as pedestrian as love. There were other considerations, advantageous unions, and making the best match one possibly could. Duke Summerhill was the best match her father could make for her. He would not entertain any dissent, and she dare not give any.
Still, she did as she had desired to do ever since she laid eyes on the Duke and ran her fingers through his hair. It was shockingly forward of her to do that, but she did it without a second thought. Her hands were already running through his delicate blonde strands before the impropriety of touching a duke in such a manner occurred to her, or of touching any man!
She gasped snatching her hand away in mortification, but he reached out and encircled her wrist with his fingers.
“Please,” he whispered beseechingly, “don’t stop.”
She froze, staring into his eyes, drowning in their depths. She was in virgin territory at the moment, and she did not know what to do. She knew she should not be out here with a man, on her own, at night. If anybody were to catch sight of them, her reputation would be ruined, and her betrothal would be broken.
She narrowed her eyes wondering if that was in fact, Duke Percy’s purpose. But looking into his yearning eyes, she could not bring herself to believe that he would do that to her.
Even though she had known him for only a few hours, she felt that he had her best interests at heart, and the feelings that he expressed were real. She felt that he was just as caught up as she was in this flaming thing between them. She could not define it, but she could feel it–an awakening light in her chest pulling her toward him like a magnet.
She lifted her face to his, eyes wide and scared. It was permission for she knew not what; she hoped that he did. She watched his lips come closer to hers and could not help but feel relieved at the absence of any moles.
His lips touched her forehead briefly, and she closed her eyes in disappointment. Something inside her had hoped that his recklessness would extend to placing his lips upon hers.
If she were to marry a man she did not love, she would have loved her first kiss to be with a man whose very presence rocked her to her core. His lips lingered on her forehead, and she felt them like a brand on her skin. Instinctively she knew he would not go further without her explicit encouragement. So, she went up on her tiptoes touching her own lips to his.
She felt things she had never felt before -- the strange sensation of his warm, soft wet lips upon hers, so near, so intimate, she could barely fathom it. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced in her life.
The closest she had come was when her horse, Florence, put her tongue out and licked Alexandra's face–and yet not. She parted her lips, and he slipped his tongue between her teeth. She stood very still, assailed by sensation. The gentle sucking of her bottom lip, the feel of his teeth hard, wet, against the soft, delicate skin on the inside of her mouth. It was a lot to absorb.
The Duke drew back, eyes sharp, watching her every reaction. She trembled in his arms biting her lip to keep the feeling of his mouth on hers.
“Am I ruined, Your Grace?” she asked quietly torn between hope and despair.
“No, my Lady, you are not ruined,” he said softly, gently. The blue of his eyes shone even in the dark night, swirling with emotion.
“I need to go back into the house,” she said still feeling unsteady.
“Indeed, my Lady. Goodnight. Soon we shall be together for always.” He let go of her arms, and she swayed not realizing how much she was leaning on him. His hand shot out clamping on her arm like a brand of iron.
“Let me take you up to your room,” he said.
“No, Your Grace,” she said with a laugh, “you absolutely cannot do that. I shall be alright. I only lost my balance for a minute.”
“Alright, then sweet Lady Alexandra. I shall take my leave. I will be back on the morrow to speak to your father.”
Alexandra gasped, “No, Your Grace, please don't do that. He will not entertain your suit.”
“Very well then. I shall speak to Summerhill, and we will settle this like gentlemen.”
Alexandra shuddered at what ‘settling this like gentlemen’ might look like. She was afraid that there would be blood and death before this was done. But she could not in good conscience ask Percy not to try. She had already broken the betrothal in her mind. She did not think she could marry Summerhill, knowing full well the touch of another man’s lips on hers…knowing full well how much she wanted that man's lips on hers again. She would let him do what he must.
“Your Grace?” she asked her voice low and hesitant, “What should I call you when it's just us?”
The rumble of his laughter made her blush, and she withdrew her hand from his, head lowered in embarrass
ment. He reached for her quickly recapturing her hands in his.
“Oh no, my Lady, do not be embarrassed. I was merely delighted at your naiveté. Please, you can call me by my given name which is Percy. Whichever passes from your beautiful lips with the greatest ease.”
“Percy,” Alexandra repeated in a reverent whisper.
“Yes, my dear?” he replied at once.
It was her turn to giggle. She covered her mouth feeling mortified at the sound that had emerged from it.
“Your laughter is beautiful, my Lady,” he said most gently as if he divined her thoughts.
“You are such a toadeater,” she exclaimed even as her laughter rang out into the night.
“Lady Alexandra, is that you?” Constance’s voice was like a bucket of cold water emptying all over her. She pushed Percy away.
“You have to go,” she whispered frantically, “you cannot let Constance find you here.”
“I shall leave, my dear, but I will see you on the morrow,” he insisted.
“Yes, yes, whatever you like. Please go before she comes.” She was still pushing him towards the exit, and at last, he turned around and disappeared into the night. She whirled around just as Constance turned into the garden.
“My Lady, what are you doing here in the middle of the night? Who are you talking to?”
Alexandra trembled unable to think of anything to say.
“I... I…” her lips worked trying to come up with a lie that would work, but she couldn't think of a single thing. Constance’s face fell.
“Oh, my Lady…” she said in a quiet voice. “What have you done?”
“N-n-nothing,” Alexandra said, but Constance just continued to give her that tragic look, “I -I-I was merely taking the air.” She tried again but could not quite disguise the shake in her voice.
Constance walked towards her taking her arm and urged her forward, “Come on, my Lady, let me return you to your room before anybody else comes. You should not laugh so loud alone when you are ‘taking the air.’ It makes people wonder if indeed there was somebody else there with you.”
Daring Fantasies of a Noble Lady Page 4