The Seduction of Lady X (37 page)

“I do not slander her!” Alexa said angrily, and came to her feet. “I am saying what we both know is true. A month ago, marrying me off and saving my reputation was of the utmost importance. Today, however, it can wait. Yet I am getting bigger, and you have become cross, and I think you have no intention of marrying me at all.”

“You are imagining things,” he said curtly. “You need an occupation.”

“And yet you have not denied it!” she exclaimed. “I saw the way you looked at her when we left Everdon Court. I have seen the smiles between the two of you. I can
see
your regard for her, Harry.”

“Stop!”
he said sharply. “Regard for someone does not equate to love.”

Alexa groaned. “Why will you not admit it?”

“Why will you not bloody well keep yourself out of my affairs?” he shot back.

Alexa gasped.

“You do not know me, Alexa. Do not presume that because I have extended my protection that you know
anything
about me.” He turned away again, downed the wine, and slapped the glass onto the sideboard.

“I did not ask you to marry me, Harry,” she said softly.

He shook his head and sighed heavenward. “No, you did not,” he said, his voice calmer. “I offered for you, and you accepted, and on Friday, we shall stand before a clergyman and join in matrimony.”

“Pardon?” Alexa said as his words sank into her consciousness. “Friday?”

“Yes. Friday. As I said, certain things had to be taken care of first.”

Alexa gasped with surprise and delight. She ran to him and put her arms around his waist, her head against his back. “Thank you, Harry! I was beginning to believe you would not honor your word!”

He sighed. He ran his hands over the top of his head and moved so that she had to drop her arms. He turned around to face her, his gray eyes studying her face. “Have you not realized it yet, lass? You are carrying a child who does not have a name.”

“Yes but I—”

He took her chin between his fingers. “I will reveal a little secret to you, Alexa. I would give up all of this,” he said, gesturing to the room about them, “to have known a father. I would give up everything I have ever had for the privilege of knowing what it is like to be held by a father. My life would have been far easier if I had had a legitimate name. That is what we must do for your child. The time has passed for any concerns over our own selfish wants, for there will soon be a helpless being who must take precedent.”

Alexa eyed him closely, looking for something she wasn’t seeing, a sense that they were together in this. It felt very odd to her, as if his conviction was firmly in place, but his heart was nowhere to be found. “Do I have your word?” she asked.

He swallowed as if he were forcing down a bitter elixir. “I asked Mr. Fish to arrange it all today. He assured me that Friday we could be wed.”

Alexa blinked. She put her hand on her abdomen and nodded. “Thank you.” It was what she wanted, but it almost felt as if the floor slanted in this spot; she was having trouble finding the center of her balance.

“Shall we dine?” he asked, offering his arm.

Alexa had very little appetite, but allowed him to lead her to the dining room.

As was Harry’s habit, very little was said as they consumed the first course of onion soup. Alexa scarcely tasted it at all. She couldn’t seem to shake the unsteadiness of her feelings. She had what she wanted; why, then, did she suddenly feel so restless?

“I think,” she said carefully, “that we should pay Olivia a call once we are wed.”

Harry’s head came up quickly.

“I am sure after all she’s been through, she might like the company,” Alexa said.

An emotion scudded across Harry’s features. He picked up his fork and knife and cut his meat.

“Or perhaps we might invite her here—”

“No,” he said abruptly, before Alexa could suggest her sister attend their nuptials. He put down his utensils and leaned back, his gaze on Alexa.

“It seems as if we owe her that, at least,” Alexa said.

“No,” he said again, his gaze unwavering.

Alexa looked away. The restlessness in her only grew. “Then I shall write her and tell her we will call at Everdon Court after the nuptials.”

Harry didn’t disagree. In fact, he didn’t speak at all.

The disquieting feeling did not leave Alexa, and when she and Harry sat in the salon after supper—he with his book—she stared at the painting of a man on a white horse above the hearth. She couldn’t find any physical comfort. It was as if she were sitting on a lumpy cushion and couldn’t find the smooth place.

“Are you uncomfortable?” Harry asked.

Alexa hadn’t realized he was watching her. She shook her head and smiled wryly. “I have suffered a lifelong curse of restlessness,” she said sheepishly. “Livi would tell you that I always appear to be sitting on hot coals.”

He smiled at that and returned to his book.

“Once, when I was a girl, my mother sent the two of us to call on our grandmother,” Alexa continued. “I never cared for that old woman. She was quite ill and hard of hearing, scarcely even knew who we were, and she was cruel.”

Harry closed his book.

“She was spiteful,” Alexa said, surprised she had his attention. “Mamma said she suffered from senility, but I think she was very aware.” She frowned slightly at the memory of the spiteful old woman who would strike them with a walking stick when she thought one of them misbehaved. “Nevertheless, my mother commanded we go and pay our respects. It was Olivia’s responsibility to make certain I behaved and did not upset Grandmamma.”

Harry smiled.

“We sat in my grandmother’s parlor and she held a cane across her lap, and if she thought we did something we ought not to do, she would strike us with it. But that afternoon, she had taken quite a lot of laudanum for one pain or another, and she kept nodding off as she was speaking. I happened to see a little iron bird that sat on her table,” Alexa said, sketching it with her hands. “It was the oddest little decorative bird. It was on a hinge and I supposed it would lean over and peck the table, then swing back up. I picked it up. Olivia told me to put it down, straightaway, but I was stubborn and I would not—I was restless.”

“As you are now?” Harry asked.

She smiled. “Precisely as I am now.”

“What happened?”

“I was holding the bird and Grandmamma began to rouse. Olivia grabbed it, and her finger got caught in the hinge. It sliced her, just there,” she said, gesturing to the knuckle of her little finger. “Grandmamma opened her eyes and saw Olivia holding the bird and whacked her with the cane and said she was not to touch things that did not belong to her.” Alexa smiled sheepishly. “It was all my fault.”

One of Harry’s brows drifted up. “I’ve seen the scar.”

He had noticed the tiny scar on her knuckle? “She didn’t cry out or utter a word of protest. She said only, ‘I beg your pardon, Grandmamma.’ And when we left, I told her I was dreadfully sorry, but she said I should not think of it, but that she would be pleased if next time, I would leave Grandmamma’s things alone.”

Harry chuckled. “It would seem she has been caring for you a long time, eh?”

“Yes.” Alexa gazed into the fire a moment, thinking back. “Frankly, she is the only one who has cared quite so much for me.”

“I’ve always enjoyed her humor,” Harry said. “She has quite a keen sense of humor.”

“Olivia!” Alexa said, surprised by that. “How do you mean?”

“Once, at a supper at Everdon Court, Lady Fenster attended. She can be opinionated and determined to share her opinions on any number of subjects. She was not enamored with the leek soup that was served and said that if the leeks had stayed in the ground past their prime, their taste was more of dirt than of leek. Implying, of course, that the leeks used in the soup were past their prime and tasted of dirt. Lady Carey was rather cheerful about it and apologized for the soup, and sent it back to the kitchen and requested another soup for Lady Fenster. Mind you, that probably took some doing.”

“I can imagine it did,” Alexa agreed.

“Weeks later, several of the same people were invited back for a garden party and they played croquet. Lady Fenster fancies herself rather good at croquet. Her favorite color is blue, so Lady Carey gave her the blue mallet and ball. But with every strike of her mallet, Lady Fenster sent her ball veering off to the side.”

“Why?” Alexa asked.

“That is what Lady Fenster wanted to know. She complained loudly over it. Before everyone, Lady Carey picked up the blue ball and examined it. ‘Oh, see here,’ she said, to Lady Fenster. ‘The ball is misshapen.’ Lady Fenster demanded to know how that had happened. Lady Carey said, ‘I imagine it was left on the ground past its prime.’” He chuckled. “Naturally Lady Fenster did not recall her remark, but others did. It was later revealed to me by the groundskeeper that Lady Carey had employed him to shave a bit off the ball and repaint it.”

Alexa laughed. “Olivia did that?”

“She did indeed,” he said, and smiled fondly.

Alexa had never seen that side of her sister. To her, Olivia was the person who was always there when she needed a hand, or a shoulder. She was the older sister, there for Alexa to run to when times were bad, and quickly forgotten when times were good and there were other, more diverting people about.

She’d never thought of Olivia as funny. Or mischievous.

Those thoughts plagued Alexa the rest of the evening.

When she retired for the night, she shooed Rue away and sat in a chair, staring into the fire until it was nothing but coals.

When their mother had died unexpectedly, Alexa had been full of grief and righteous indignation. She’d believed her life unfair. She’d lost her father and her mother. She’d been left with no money, and a stepfather who was on his way home to Italy practically before her mother’s body had gone cold. She’d had no one but Olivia.

Olivia was the one who had urged her to take the trip to Spain. “You should go while you are young.” She’d given Alexa the money she’d gained from selling one of her mother’s pearl brooches, and Alexa had gone off to Spain with the idea that she was entitled to do as she pleased, for she had suffered.

Alexa never once thought of Olivia’s suffering.

And in Spain, Alexa had done something she ought not to have done, obviously, and when her heart was broken, she had known without a doubt that Olivia would fix it for her. Olivia had done precisely that. She’d given Alexa the man she loved. Olivia had done it because she was married and she could not have Harry—but then Edward had died, and everything had changed . . . and yet, Olivia had made sure that Alexa was cared for.

It was time, Alexa thought, that she solved her own troubles. It was time that she owned what she had done, as well as the consequences. She stood up and walked to the small writing desk in her room, sat down, withdrew a sheet of vellum, and dipped the pen in the inkwell.

Then she wrote a letter to Carlos.

O
n Friday morning, Mr. Fish arrived with the parish vicar, Mr. Meachamp, to perform the wedding ceremony. Mr. Fish would serve as a witness and Harrison had arranged for Rue to serve as well. When he’d explained to the simple girl that she would witness to his marriage to Miss Hastings, Rue had seemed confused.

“What is it, Rue?”

“My lord, do you not love Lady Carey, then?” she’d asked, clearly distressed.

“Sir,” he corrected. “Wherever did you get the idea that I loved Lady Carey?” he’d asked, hoping that his feelings were not so obvious that even Rue could discern them.

“But that is why his lordship fell off his horse! Everyone knows it.”

The girl truly had more hair than wit. Harrison had put his arm around her shoulders. “His lordship fell off his horse because he was foxed. And what have I told you about rumor and gossip? Are you to listen to it?”

Rue frowned. “No, milord.”

“Sir. Did you recall what I told you before we left Everdon, that what you might have heard about the night the marquis died was all gossip and rumor?”

“No,” Rue said, sniffing back a tear.