Alex's Angel (20 page)

* * * *

After the bath, Emily changed into the nightgown and wrapper provided for her. Then she ate a meal of cold roast beef, cheese, cider and bread in a chair there by the fire.

The garments hung on her like sacks and pooled at her feet. She held the hems up to avoid tripping as she went around the screen. The trio were still sitting around the large pine worktable, gawking at her with open speculation.

“All done? Want to go to your chamber now?” Rachel said in a tone that suggested there was no other place in the house Emily would be welcome.

Wanting only to close her eyes and sleep off this troubling day, Emily nodded.

Expressionless, Sally stood, silently leading Emily back to the opulent hallway, then up one side of the double-sided, rounded staircase. A sizeable porthole window near the ceiling spilt light into the space and gave one the feeling of ascending into the heavens. It was like being in another world. The large central candelabra was lowered on its chain to the upstairs landing and two young housemaids happily chattered while cleaning and polishing it. Sally didn’t introduce them. They grinned in eager welcome. Emily smiled back, nodding.

Sally coughed pointedly and the girls returned to their work. “Come now, Miss Eliot.”

Emily hurried after her, trying not to trip on her too-long clothes.

Stopping near the end of the hallway, Sally entered a sizeable chamber furnished with a mahogany writing desk, armoire and large curtained bed, all crafted in the Chippendale style. Light blue walls with white crown mouldings, along with blue and white bedding, complemented the darker blue wool rug covering the centre of the floor.

“This can’t be my chamber,” Emily said.

“Mr Dalton specifically said the blue room—we only got one,” Sally answered snappishly. “Here’s the bell pull. You need anything, pull that. Mr Dalton says you’re to have anything you want, but we’re only human so you give us fair notice before you go complaining to him, eh?”

Emily startled at the brisk tone and nodded rapidly. “Of course.”

She had no wish to be trouble to anyone.

“Privy closet’s there.” Sally pointed to a panelled door. “Washstand and wardrobe’s behind that other door—oh, and there’s a sitting room on the other side of that, stocked with Madeira and bourbon, but I can bring anything else if that don’t suit.”

“It will be fine, I am certain,” Emily said when Sally appeared to be waiting for an answer.

Sally grunted a response and removed a long-handled heating pan from the bed, then banked the fire.

After she’d left, Emily climbed three wooden steps to the large, down-soft bed, sinking into its heated depths.

No sooner had she closed her eyes than someone was shaking her awake. Her eyes popped open and she sat up.

One of the young maids from the stairwell stood there yawning, her long, dark braids hanging over her shoulder and her nightcap askew. “Mrs Webbs says you must get up right away. Mr Alexander wants to see you in his study.”

* * * *

Dancing flames from a modest fire cast scant, inconsistent shadows as Emily entered the study, taking one halting step, then another. Every part of her ached to return to her warm, cosy bed. She wouldn’t even have answered his summons, except that the damned contract had stipulated she must obey his dictates if they applied to the work.

But what possible reason could Alex have to call her so late? If he thought she was going to play the harlot for him now, after he’d made her sign that contract…well, then he must be insane.

“Take a seat, Emily.”

His deep voice startled her. She hadn’t seen him in the shadows.

Sudden light illuminated the room, increasing as he lit the three candles on his desk. The aroma of jasmine-scented beeswax immediately filled the air. Then he leant back behind his massive, mahogany fortress of a desk, folding his hands behind his head. He observed her with a relaxed authority reminiscent of some fairy-tale Eastern potentate.

She sat down in the wingchair opposite him, waiting for him to indicate what he wanted. He merely continued silently studying her, as if casually taking her apart piece by piece, until she felt ready to jump out of her skin.

“It’s very late, Alex,” she complained.

“Is it?” Moving with languor, he pulled out his pocket watch. “Yes, I suppose it is. Sorry—time gets away from me when I must linger over dinner parties.” His tongue sounded thick, as if it were tiring out over the long sentence.

“You’re drunk.”

He leant back in his chair. “Yes, I think I am very drunk. We thoroughly toasted America. Also France.
Liberté, fraternité, égalité.
Vive la Revolution!
” His voice rang with sardonic amusement. “May she move her enemies through the guillotine with the speed of the wind. No toasts tonight for England, however—there were too many Republican-Democrats present.”

He adjusted the papers on his desk. “I require a favour, Emily,” he said commandingly. “The first of your official duties, per the contract you signed today.”

At his tone, she stiffened her back, suddenly not feeling like doing him any favours. “What?”

“Now, don’t be so suspicious. It’s nothing sinister. Nancy’s cold has taken a turn for the worse. You must take her place at my dinner party tomorrow.”

Sheer panic tightened her chest. “Me? But I know nothing of dinner parties! What would I say—or wear?”

“Aunt Rachel will take care of your attire. As to what to say, just be charming and friendly. The talk stays light until after the ladies leave. Most guests are coming alone. They are congressmen whose wives are not living with them. Without pretty faces to relax the gentlemen, things stay contentious beneath the surface.”

“Congressmen?” she gasped.

“Don’t be intimidated—they’re merely men. You’ll do fine. You may talk about your book if you wish.”

Oh, fine for him to say. He’d been born to this life. Already it was happening. He was pushing her into things she had no wish to do. “May I refuse?”

He shook his head. “Not according to the terms of our contract.”

She gaped at him. “You can’t mean to use that contract to force me to do things like this.”

“When it affects the outcome of the cause I certainly can and will.” His look softened and a slight smile tweaked his lips. “Don’t you know? There’s a price to be paid for everything in this world. You want your book printed?”

“It’s not a want, not a choice. My book must be printed.”

“Well, then, this is my price for doing so.”

She blinked several times. “You know how vital this work is to the soul of this nation. I know you do. You are possessed of too much sensitivity not to. Yet you want to control me like this.” She jumped to her feet. “I don’t have to accept this. I know I can find another way to get my book printed.”

She set her spine and shoulders in a determined stance and marched to the door of the study. Tomorrow she would be leaving.

When he put himself between her and the door, she realised her heart had been pounding so hard she hadn’t heard his boots on the floor. She hadn’t seen him either. Her eyes were filled with tears.

She jerked her head away from him and wiped at her eyes.

“Now what’s all this?” His voice was a deep whisper, smooth as honey.

“I—I just won’t be controlled like this… I can’t believe you’d be so insensitive. I can’t believe you wouldn’t just print my book based on the need for it.”

He put his hands on her shoulders. “Come here.”

He pulled her close.

She wanted to resist. Oh, yes she did. But her body went limp in his arms.

He pulled her closer, right up to the warm hardness of his powerful body. “Your work is very good, sweetheart. I think your book will make a real difference.”

“You’re patronising me now.” Her words came out all wet-sounding and she cringed.

“No, I am not. Now listen to me, Emily—I need your help tomorrow night.”

At the thought he might really want or even need her help, her heart skipped a beat. But it was an absurd notion. He was like some prince in this opulent palace. She was just a beggar girl from a tavern. No one else wanted her here; they thought she was a harlot. She needed Alex to provide the funds to print her book. He needed nothing from her.

“You don’t need me. I know nothing about…dinner parties and entertaining men.”

He caressed her hair, a lazy, sensual motion that sent relaxation through her. “You’re a lovely, charming, brilliantly shining girl. You will add a much-needed distraction and female touch to the table. You’ll put those men at ease. That’s something Nancy couldn’t do.”

She was holding her breath, overwhelmed by his words, wondering if he was perhaps teasing her in some way. Or worse yet, flattering her as a means to manipulate her. Just as Grandmother used to do. It made her feel strange. Tempted to believe, yet afraid of being controlled through that very intense need to believe. She didn’t know how to respond.

“They’ll all know I was the girl from the Blue Duck.” She blurted the only excuse she could find.

“Well, sweetheart, of course they will.”

She moaned.

“Calm yourself. The best way to face scandal is just to…face it. Directly. With no excuses. If we act as if we’ve nothing to be ashamed of, then we will weather this far more favourably.”

“Oh, easy for you to say, you are a gentleman.”

“Yes, to all appearances, I am.” He laughed softly, the sound vibrating through her bones in a delicious way. “I am very wealthy. I have influence. If I throw my support your way, if I make it clear you have a position of respect in this house, then people will find it harder and harder to believe I met you in a disorderly tavern. It will blow over.”

She pressed her cheek against his chest, seeking the beat of his heart. “You sound so confident.”

“I am.” He caressed her back. “We’re friends in this business about your book, correct?”

“Yes.” Her voice was a whisper.

“Then you’ll agree to help me with this dinner party. It’s vital, Emily, vital that you do.” His voice was silk, smooth seduction.

How could she possibly refuse him?

* * * *

The next afternoon, Emily sat patiently as Sally fixed her hair into a knot at the back, allowing ringlets to fall down her nape and crowning it with a circlet of gilded primroses. An elegant gown had somehow been altered to fit her—even a brand-new, gold satin braiding had been tacked along the bodice’s edge.

Now alone, and having never possessed such exquisite fabrics, Emily sat on her bed, naked but for her silken stockings and ribbon garters, watching the velvet shimmer from paleness to richness depending on how her fingers brushed the luxurious nap.

Rachel’s voice sounded in the hall, urgently calling for Sally.

Shaken into awareness, Emily reached for the new satin chemise that lay next to the gown. It slid over her flesh, as soft as a whisper. She stepped into the gown and pulled her arms into the tight, wrist-length sleeves. The skirt was full at the back and tighter at the front. It was a lovely dark green velvet. She reached behind herself to see how it would look when properly laced up. But she frowned at the sight of the bodice. She wished she had something to fill out such a beautiful gown.

The feel of the satin chemise on her skin beneath the sumptuous velvet created a textural sensation beyond her previous experience. She came alive, her body singing with taut, pleasurable excitement. Glancing at her reflection, Emily saw her eyes widen. Her aroused nipples showed clearly through the shimmering emerald velvet. Her breasts were now so small that, unless she was using them to hold stuffing, she never wore stays. She’d never had quite this problem before, though.

Someone knocked.

“Yes?” Emily asked, voice uneasy.

The door swung open.

Rachel leaned in, her blue eyes as bright as sapphires. “Miss Eliot, you must hurry.”

“Yes, yes of course,” Emily replied, without turning round.

“Well, don’t you look exquisite?” Rachel said breathlessly as she hurried in. She took hold of the laces at the back of Emily’s gown and began threading them. “I see they did a wonderful job on the fitting. It looks as if it had been made just for you. Draw your breath in and hold it, child.”

The rich scent of claret surrounded Emily as the older woman pulled hard on the laces.

“There, all done. You are ready now. See you downstairs. Soon, eh? James is getting most impatient.” Then Rachel hurried out, leaving the door open.

Apparently Rachel had been in too much of a hurry to notice, but with the gown pulled tighter, the problem with her nipples was worse than ever. Emily stared at her bodice, panicking.

What to do? What to do?

Masculine footfalls. Emily’s eyes darted to the mirror, seeing Alex in reflection as he strode into her room with a proprietary air.

“Come on—surely you must be ready by now.”

Dressed impeccably in a black cutaway frockcoat with long tails, a silver-grey and white-striped cashmere waistcoat and light grey breeches, his blond handsomeness took on an almost otherworldly aspect.