You, and Only You (17 page)

“Alex-?”

Rising from his chair, Alex placed his hand briefly upon his
friend’s shoulder.
 
“I’ll see you at
dinner.”
 
With that, he walked unhurried
from the room.

Following Alex’s retreating figure with his eyes, Nicholas
watched him until he was gone, a mixture of puzzlement and frustration evident
upon his features.
 
Turning back to the
table, he glanced at Alex’s cards, still lying face down where he’d left them.
 
Idly, he reached out and flipped them
over.
 
Glancing to the marquess’ cards
and then back to Alex’s, he cocked his head to the side, his eyes widening in
surprise and confusion.
  

As Alex strode down the hall, moving in the direction of the
front staircase, the full realization of what had just occurred pressed upon
him like a load of bricks, crushing in its weight.
 
Bloody
hell!
 
He was getting married.

Having taken her seat amongst the other dinner guests at the
Leighton’s massive dining table, Tiffany’s gaze bounced fleetingly from one
person to another as she tried not to stare at the man seated directly across
from her.
 
With her father sitting next
to her, the last thing she wanted was to draw his attention to the fact that
she had more than a passing interest in the Earl of Chesterfield, especially
after what had transpired between them earlier in the day.
 
However, in all honesty she didn’t wish to
draw his notice at all, for when the marquess chanced to pay attention to her,
he tended to find fault more often than not.
 
Fortunately, Lady Tisdale, a lovely, middle-aged widow was seated on her
father’s other side and he seemed quite content to direct the majority of his
attention to her.

“Lady Tiffany, I heard your father mentioning earlier that
the two of you would be traveling to London next week.”

Tiffany turned to the man seated at her right, the handsome
Duke of Rutherford, and tried to keep the surprise from showing on her
face.
 
Her father had said nothing to her
regarding an upcoming trip to London, but of course he rarely felt the need to
inform her of his plans, whether they involved her or not.
 
“Did he?” she replied, smiling politely.
 
She couldn’t help wondering why her father
would wish for her to accompany him, for the official start of the Season
wouldn’t commence for several more months.

“As I too will be journeying to London later in the month, I
was hoping that I might have the opportunity to call upon you.”

“I would be honored if you did, Your Grace,” Tiffany replied
courteously, questioning once again how it was that a man as good-looking,
intelligent and charming as the duke, seemed to have so little effect upon her,
whereas Alexander Warrene had only to be in the same room to make her heart
beat faster.

From his position across the table, Alex couldn’t help but
overhear the exchange between Rutherford and his newly intended
.
 
Back off Rutherford, she’s mine!
 
The unspoken assertion seemed to invade his
thoughts without warning, the surprising intensity of it catching him off
guard.
 
Frowning, he reached for his wine
glass, nearly draining the burgundy-colored liquid in a single swallow.
 
His
intended
.
 
The words reverberated
throughout his head like the vibrations of a tuning fork, making him feel
slightly off balance.
 

Turning her head, Tiffany inadvertently caught Alex’s eyes
upon her.
 
He was frowning.

“My lady.”

Her attention redirected, Tiffany glanced upward.
 
“Thank you,” she replied to the young,
blonde-haired footman who carefully placed the first course in front of
her.
 
When she cast her gaze across the
table once again, Alex had turned away, his eyes no longer fixed in her
direction and his lips no longer drawn downward into a frown.
 
They hadn’t spoken since their return to the
house, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it was that he’d been thinking
just then.

Fortunately, the Duke of Rutherford did an admirable job of
distracting her from her silent musings as the evening progressed.
 
Over the course of the next two hours,
Tiffany did her best to keep her attention focused away from Alex and upon the
duke’s pleasant conversation as they dined upon a seemingly endless allotment
of tantalizing fare.
 
There was turbot
with lobster and Dutch sauce, red mullet with Cardinal sauce, stewed beef, lamb
cutlets with asparagus and peas, sweet-bread, plover’ eggs in aspic jelly, to
name but a few of the delectable dishes, as well as fresh fruit and flavored
ices for dessert.
 
In addition, bottles
of sherry, Madeira and champagne flowed freely throughout the meal.
 
It was an impressive display of culinary
expertise, and she, as well as everyone else at the table it seemed, was
thoroughly appreciative of the talented chef’s labors.

Though he managed to converse effortlessly with Nicholas,
who was seated to his immediate left at the head of the table, and the widowed
Duchess of Pembrooke, seated to his right, Alex wasn’t entirely able to keep
his attention from drifting across the table, especially when he heard the
unmistakable, melodic resonance of Tiffany’s laughter, as he did now.
 
Glancing up he eyed Rutherford, making only a
half-hearted effort to keep his annoyance from showing on his face.
 
Oddly enough, he’d always admired
Rutherford’s engaging personality and winning sense of humor.
 
Until now that was.
 
Now, he found it decidedly aggravating.
 
Tiffany however, clearly didn’t share the
same opinion.
 
Observing the two of them,
Alex felt his irritation intensify with each passing second.
 
It was only hours ago that Tiffany had been
lying beneath him, writhing in pleasure as he’d awakened her burgeoning
passion.
 
Had she forgotten him so
quickly he contemplated, watching in aggravation as she smiled prettily at the
duke.

“Alex?”

Hearing his name, he immediately rotated his head in
Nicholas’ direction.

“The duchess asked if you were partial to pineapple,” he
said, repeating the question he’d obviously missed.

Turning to the duchess, he offered her an apologetic
smile.
 
“Forgive me, Your Grace.
 
I fear my mind wandered for a moment.”
 
Glancing down at his dessert, he realized
that he hadn’t taken a single bite of the pineapple cream ice that had been set
before him.
 

The duchess smiled understandingly.
 
“No need to apologize, dear.
 
I often find myself woolgathering at the most
unfortunate moments.”

Lifting up his spoon, he promptly inserted it into the
frozen delicacy.
 
“As to your question, I
am
quite fond of pineapple and have
been since I was a lad.”
 
Taking a bite,
he savored the tangy sweetness.
 
“Delicious.”

“Their Graces had best be careful,” the duchess teased in an
exaggerated whisper.
 
“For now that we
have all experienced the brilliance of Monsieur Rousseau’s culinary skills,
they shall have to keep the man under lock and key to keep one of us from
stealing him away.”

Alex waggled his brows at Nicholas, for he had suggested
that very same thing earlier in the afternoon.

“I shall inform my wife to keep her guard up,” the duke
responded good-humoredly.

Once the dessert course had come to an end, the ladies
excused themselves and withdrew to the drawing room, leaving the men at the
table to enjoy their after-dinner port.
 
As the duke and duchess had informed their guests, the evening’s
entertainment would commence shortly thereafter.

“So, Your Grace, what is it that you have planned for us
this evening?” Lady Mayweather asked as she adjusted her position upon the
rose-colored settee upon which she sat.

“I’m afraid you must wait and see, Eleanor, for it is to be
a surprise,” Ashleigh responded with a secretive smile.

“Oh, I do love surprises,” the countess replied, clapping
her hands together excitedly.

 
As the footmen
circulated throughout the room, serving both tea and coffee, the ladies
discussed everything from the latest fashions plates newly arrived from Paris
to the tending of their prize-winning rose gardens.
 
While Tiffany tried to appear interested, it
wasn’t easy, for she had only a passing interest in the latest fashions and
cultivating award-winning roses was not something she particularly aspired to
do.
 
Listening with only half an ear, it
wasn’t until she heard the name Chesterfield that her attention was brought
entirely back into focus.

“I’m sure the poor dear is praying night and day that
someone will catch his eye this Season.”

“If Cecelia had her way, the boy would be married and setting
up house within a fortnight,” Lady Mayweather chortled.
 

They were talking
about Alex’s mother
, Tiffany realized.

“My granddaughter, Elizabeth, will be making her debut this
Season,” the Countess of Hallsforth stated proudly.
 
“Although, with Chesterfield’s reputation,
I’m not entirely certain that I would encourage the match.

“Oh don’t be silly Claudia,” the Duchess of Pembrooke
scoffed.
 
“Chesterfield would make a
splendid catch and you would be over the moon if he took an interest in
Elizabeth.
 
Do not tell me you deny it.”

“Well,” the countess hedged, “he does come from an
impeccable family.
 
And I suppose one
could surmise that marriage might in fact tame the boy’s roguish behavior, at
least to an acceptable degree.”
 

Would it?
Tiffany
wondered, biting down upon her lower lip as she pondered the question.
 
Glancing up a moment later, she caught
Ashleigh watching her.
 

“How is Elizabeth?” Ashleigh asked.
 
“I don’t believe I’ve seen her since the
Matherton’s house party last month,” she said, purposefully redirecting the
conversation.

Approximately forty minutes later, as Alex and the rest of
the guests made their way out onto the front lawn, there was a definite feeling
of excitement and anticipation in the air.
 
Two rows of wooden folding chairs had been placed in a wide semi-circle
on the east side of the expansive, manicured lawn and several blazing torches
had been staked here and there to add additional lighting as well as heat to
the cool moonlit night.
 
Rather than
taking a seat in one of the chairs, Alex chose to hang back, content for the
time being to watch the proceedings from the shadows of the house.
 
Watching as Tiffany passed by on the arm of
Brendon Leighton, his eyes narrowed in irritation.
 
With two of London’s most eligible bachelors
already vying for her attention, he could only imagine what it would be like
once Tiffany arrived in London.
 
Although
the Season had yet to begin, there would still be a goodly number of single
gentlemen about town.
 
And once Tiffany’s
presence was made known, the lot of them would be lining up at her doorstep and
jockeying for position.
 
How disappointed
they would all be, he mused, when they discovered that she was already spoken
for.

Though he didn’t know as yet when Melborne intended to
announce his and Tiffany’s engagement, he was confident that it would be
sooner, rather than later.
 
For, if he
was right about the marquess’ financial situation, he would want his
association with the Warrene family to be made public as quickly as
possible.
 
It was unfortunate that his
mother and sisters were still on holiday.
 
He would have liked to have given his mother the news in person, rather
than by written correspondence, but either way, he knew that she would be thrilled
beyond words when she found out that he intended to marry.

In any event, Tiffany’s suitors, Leighton and Rutherford
included, would be sent along their merry way soon enough.
 
And, as an added boon, the announcement of
his engagement would finally rid him of the unwanted attention he received from
Society’s marriage-minded debutantes and their overly zealous mothers once and
for all.
 
He managed a slight smile at
the thought.
 
If he had to surrender his
blessed freedom, at least there was that.

As Tiffany took a seat alongside Brendon Leighton, she had
to admit that she was looking forward to the night’s entertainment, if for no
other reason than to distract her, at least temporarily, from her seemingly
incessant thoughts of Alex.

Once everyone had taken their seats, one of the Leighton’s
liveried footmen stepped forward, carrying a lighted torch.
 
Walking toward the large mound of timber that
had been erected directly in front of the semi-circle of chairs, he touched the
torch to several places within the pile of dry wood.
 
Within seconds the stack of cut timbers burst
into a blazing pillar of fire, its mass of red and orange flames shooting
several feet into the air.
 
As the crowd
oohed and awed their appreciation, their attention was suddenly drawn to the
unmistakable sound of music coming from somewhere within the dark shadows of
the neighboring trees.