Taming The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 2) (21 page)

The tour was being led by Alfred’s mother, herself a devotee of the arts.

As Lady Harrington discussed a particular piece with the students, Prudence couldn’t help but notice that the woman was a natural born teacher. The girls adored her. So did Prudence. Yet the subtle tension between Alfred and his mother endured. Prudence couldn’t help but wonder if they would ever be able to put their differences behind them.

Her own heart sank miserably at the thought. If only she and Alfred could do the same. The question of marriage still stood like a barrier between them. Yet neither one of them seemed able to give up their position on either side of it.

To make matters worse, she had hardly seen Alfred in the past week at all. Except for breakfast and sometimes at supper, there would be whole days where she wouldn’t see him at all, even as she lived in his own house.

But she had realized rather painfully that she missed him. More than she wanted to admit.

She missed his smile, the roguish twinkle in his eye, the warmth and texture of his skin and most of all, the feel of his body moving over hers and bringing her to the brink of heaven. Just the thought of that sent a wicked thrill through her veins.

She even missed arguing with him. To be honest, she most especially missed arguing with him, as he was such a worthy opponent.

She felt a twinge in her heart just then, and turned to see Alfred, leaning languidly against a wall, studying her with his dark, charismatic gaze. For a moment, she could have sworn he knew exactly what she was thinking about.

He pushed away from the wall and walked slowly toward her, like a panther calmly stalking its prey. She felt as helpless as a gazelle caught in the cat’s sights.

Then he was beside her, looking down at her with the knowing gaze of a lover. She felt naked then, and knew that it was worse than that, for he could strip her to her very soul with just a look.

He paused for a moment, then took her hand. His touch sent a jolt of heat to her core.

How quickly, how effortlessly he could turn her world upside down.

“I’ve been watching you.” He pressed his lips to her hand, and she thrilled at the sensation. “I am no expert on art, Miss Atwater, but in my humble opinion, none of these works could ever compete with what I am beholding now. And I should know, having seen you at your most beautiful.” He moved his face closer, and whispered, “Do you know what I’m talking about, Prudence?”

She nodded, trying vainly to rid her mind of the image that swirled there, of his powerful body, naked and warm, loving hers and making her weak with passion.

“I am thinking about how you looked when I was making love to you. I think of you like that every moment.”

Prudence gulped. She must be a weak woman, for she was very close to throwing herself before him and begging him to do exactly that to her again at the earliest possible convenience. She eyed a large antique cabinet in the corner and wondered if they would both fit inside.

He smiled down at her wickedly, saying, “I must say, looking at all the statues of nymphs and gods frolicking with each other has done nothing but make me think of
you
traipsing through a garden bower, naked and sweet, and me chasing after you like a randy centaur.” He looked pensive for a moment, and said seriously, “Do you think we could play that game in the garden when we return home?”

She laughed then, and gave him a little push. “Not if it is still light out, my lord.”

He brightened. “Then, there is hope?”

Prudence shook her head and replied, “You might be waiting quite some time for that, I’m afraid.”

“I can wait,” he said. “For you, I would wait forever.”

His words sobered her. “Forever is a long time, my lord, especially if something can never be.”

Sensing her unease, he took her hand again and kissed it chastely. “Never say never, my dear. You may be tempting the gods themselves to prove you wrong.”

Alfred led her into the next room, where the girls were already milling about. He gestured to the priceless statues and paintings that filled the vast room.

“Look around you, Prudence,” he said. “All of this beauty took time to build, took
sacrifices
to build. These artists made their dreams into reality. A man and a woman together, they’re like artists, too. They can create something beautiful—like a child.”

She tried to pull away then, but he wouldn’t let her escape so easily.

Oh, she didn’t want to hear this
. Didn’t he know how hard this was for her?

He turned her face up to meet his piercing gaze. “What’s between us is strong, Prudence. I’ve never felt this way for another woman. I can see in your eyes that you feel it, too. It’s willful, this feeling we have for each other. Bear that in mind when you’re alone in your bed, making those logical arguments to yourself, because I’m not going to give up without a fight.”

His words shattered her as effortlessly as a hammer would smash an egg. She closed her eyes, and felt him pull her closer.

“You don’t fight fairly, my lord.”

“Who said life was fair?”

Just then, Emma came rushing over. “Miss Atwater, I’ve something to show you! Do you remember the painting we studied last week? I’ve found it over here! Oh….” She looked up at Prudence quizzically, obviously sensing the tension between her and Alfred.

Prudence took a deep breath and replied, “Do you mean,
The Rhapsody of Venus
, Emma?”

Emma nodded, but still looked unsure as to what was going on. “Yes, Miss.”

Prudence stepped away from Alfred and took Emma’s hand. “Please excuse me, Lord Weston. I must attend to my student.”

He nodded silently. As she moved away, she saw the unspoken message in his eyes.

Surrender to me
.

It frightened her just how close she had been to doing that. One touch from Lord Weston…a few pretty words were all it had taken to make her melt like ice in the sun.

But if she gave in as he wanted, if she traded her students’ happiness for her own, she would never forgive herself.

She mentally shook herself and put an arm about Emma’s shoulder. “I would be delighted to see the painting. Will you show me, Emma? And, as you are an artist as well, I should like to hear your detailed observations on seeing the original, firsthand.”

Emma beamed. “Oh, yes, Miss! I should like that, very much indeed.”

As they reached the doorway to the next room, Prudence turned back to see Alfred gazing at her with a penetrating stare. But before he could cast another of his spells upon her, Prudence took Emma and hurried from the room.

* * *

Alfred leaned back against the wall.

He was coming close to breaking her resolve—he could feel it. Prudence had all but melted in his arms earlier, and all but said yes to his marriage proposal.

But if he was so close to success, why did he feel so empty inside? He was sure that he could woo her, could break down her defenses and make her surrender to him completely. He’d seen it in her eyes, seen her valiantly struggling against her own heart. All he had to do was keep charming her into his arms, keep describing the happiness she could experience if she but agreed to be his wife.

Then he would be victorious. He would win the battle of wills that raged between them.

And that was what he wanted, wasn’t it?

To win?

Yet, the thought of winning Prudence like that made him feel like a cad. Just as she’d said, he wasn’t fighting fair. He was using her own responses, her own passion as a weapon against her. But was it not warranted to secure the future of his unborn child?

If there was a child. He found himself hoping more and more that there was.

“What are you brooding about, m’boy?” Great-Aunt Withypoll said from beside him. Somehow, the diminutive woman had managed to sneak up on him. Which hadn’t been an easy feat, considering Alfred had left her in Mungo’s charge.

He kissed her hand and then placed it in the crook of his arm. “What did you do with Mungo, Auntie? Or shall I say, what did you do
to
him? I left you in his care.”

Lady Weston waved a gnarled hand dismissively. “Oh, it wasn’t hard to escape him, my dear. The big burly man was too busy mooning over Miss Simms to notice my departure. And I didn’t have the heart to break up their
tete-a-tete
.”

“Really?” Alfred led her into the next room. “I didn’t know that Mungo had a
penchant
for Dolly.”

Lady Weston whacked his arm.

“Ow!” he said. “What in God’s name is it about my arm that invites whacking from females? Good Lord, between you and Prudence, I should wonder that I have an arm left at all.”

“Don’t try to change the subject,” Great-Aunt Withypoll said. “Speaking of
penchants
, I am glad to be proven right, yet again, as you have developed one for Miss Atwater and she for you.”

Alfred opened his mouth to speak but Lady Weston cut him off.

“Oh, don’t bother trying to fool me, m’boy,” she said. “I have eyes.

And contrary to what you might think, they still work quite well
.”

Alfred huffed. “That was why your maid found you wandering about the kitchen looking for your bed, then?”

“Hmph. I told all of you, I wanted a cup of tea. But let us return to the subject of you and Miss Atwater. Even a blind man would be able to see the way you look at each other. Like two lovesick puppies. But this is a very serious business, Alfred. Now, as you have observed on more than one occasion, I am not getting any younger. I long to see you settled with a wife. I long to hold your children in my arms and dote upon them in my final years.”

“Auntie, please,” Alfred said, “you’ll upset yourself.”

Lady Weston reached up to touch his face. “I have always loved you like a son, my dear. Bertram and I—” her eyes filled with tears then, and Alfred thought his jaded heart would break. “You know that I was unable to give him children as he so dearly wished. But when your mother went away to Italy, we were blessed with looking after you and your brother. And you were my favorite. I should have tried to hide it better, I know. But I couldn’t, I suppose. After I lost Bertram, you were such a consolation to me.”

Lady Weston wiped at her eyes with a delicate lace handkerchief. “Now that you have shown an interest in Miss Atwater, I suppose I fear I might lose you.”

Alfred rained kisses on her hand, and noticed that the papery skin was as cold as ice. He pressed his hands around hers to warm them. “No, Auntie. You could never lose me. I’m your Alfred, always.”

She gave him a weak smile, and patted his hand. “That’s what I admire about you, Alfred—your devotion. And perhaps I have been stingy in my old age, refusing to share you with anyone else. Now Miss Atwater has come along, and stolen your heart—just as I wanted her to do. Yet, I am afraid of life without you. I’ve had you by my side for years now, and I must say, you’re a hard habit to break.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Auntie,” he said, trying to reassure her, “no matter what happens with me and Miss Atwater. I haven’t said anything to you, because I didn’t want to get your hopes up. At the moment, Miss Atwater is resistant to the idea of marriage—with me or anyone else. I am trying to convince her otherwise, but as you know, she has an independent mind. She is afraid of losing her freedom, and I can’t argue against that. She’s right—if she marries, she will lose some of the freedoms she has come to know. But she would be gaining a new life—one full of love, devotion and happiness. In my mind it is a worthy trade, but in hers, the price is much too dear.”

Great-Aunt Withypoll smiled sadly. “Miss Atwater has a point, of course. But so do you, Alfred. You must fight for what you want in life, for
whom
you want. I fought for what I wanted, and I have no regrets. You have fulfilled the role of a favorite son for many years. But now it is time for me to let go, I think. Of many things….”

Her eyes fluttered and she crumpled in Alfred’s arms.

“
Auntie
?” He patted her face, trying vainly to revive her as he held her limp body in one arm. He shouted over his shoulder to some other patrons. “
Get a doctor!”

A shocked couple hurried off to fetch help as Alfred sank to the floor, cradling his aunt in his arms.

Chapter 19

“Where is that bloody, damned doctor?” Alfred said, checking his great-aunt’s pulse.

She wasn’t dying.

She
couldn’t
be dying. Not yet. Not when he had so much left to say to her.

Great-Aunt Withypoll had been a mother to him for over twenty years. She had been the one to kiss the scraped knee, to soothe the cuts and bruises of childhood. And she had been the one to comfort him when he cried for his mother in the night. He owed so much to this woman.

She had asked for a grandchild to hold; even though it would actually be a third cousin once removed, or something of the sort. But it didn’t matter. His child
would
be her grandchild. If only she could live long enough to see such a child with her own eyes. He vowed to see it come true.

Her eyes fluttered open weakly. Her voice was barely audible. “Alfred….”