You, and Only You (33 page)

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Authors: Jennifer McNare

BOOK: You, and Only You
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“One can always hope, I suppose,” Ashleigh stated in an
optimistic tone.
 
“But enough talk about
my wayward brother-in-law.
 
I want to
know how you’re doing,” she continued, her expression growing serious as she studied
Tiffany’s face.
 

“Honestly, Ashleigh, you worry about me far too much,”
Tiffany contended, interjecting an artificial lightness to her tone.
 
“I’m fine, truly.”
 

“Are you?” Ashleigh looked dubious.
 

Sighing softly, Tiffany met her concerned gaze.
 
They knew each other too well, and as such,
her friend wasn’t easy to deceive.

 
“I’m trying.”
 
Though she hadn’t told Ashleigh about the
wager between Alex and her father, she
had
told her a portion of the truth; that once she’d discovered the real motivation
behind Alex’s proposal, to acquire the land her father had owned, she’d chosen
to end their engagement.
 
Even though
Ashleigh was like a sister to her, to have told her the complete truth would
have been far too humiliating.
 
Somewhat
surprisingly though, Ashleigh’s husband hadn’t enlightened her about the wager
either.
 
Though Tiffany didn’t know why,
she could only assume that the duke had kept quiet because of his long-standing
friendship with Alex.
 
Whatever the
reason, she supposed that it hardly mattered.

 
“Oh Tiffany,”
Ashleigh began, her eyes full of compassion, “are you sure this is really what
you want?”

Ashleigh had asked her that same question before, but her
answer hadn’t changed.
 
“I cannot marry
him Ashleigh, not when I know that it was never really
me
that he wanted.”

Ashleigh shook her head.
 
“But I know Alex, and I simply cannot believe that he would have
proposed if he didn’t have feelings for you, regardless of whatever business
dealings he had with your father.”

They’d discussed this before too, but without telling
Ashleigh about the wager, there wasn’t much she could say that would make her
truly understand her decision.
 
“Please,
Ashleigh, let’s not go over it again.
 
Not when we have so many other pleasant things to talk about.”
 
Though it appeared for a moment that she was
about to disagree, after a short hesitation, Ashleigh’s expression gradually
began to relax.

“Fine,” she said with a barely discernible huff.
 
“New topic.”
 
She smiled brightly then.
 
“How
about fashion?”

“Perfect,” Tiffany replied.
 
Fashion was a safe topic.
 

“Madame Oliver has just completed the final fitting on my
gown for the Devonshire’s affair, and it is absolutely gorgeous.
 
I swear the woman is nothing short of a
genius.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” Tiffany replied honestly, for
Madame Oliver truly was gifted when it came to dress design.

“Even so, gorgeous as it may be, with you wearing that
stunning lavender silk creation, I am sure to pale in comparison,” Ashleigh
asserted, referring to another of the spectacular Parisian gowns Tiffany had
tucked away in her armoire.
 
“But
nevertheless, as long as my husband thinks that I am the most beautiful woman
in the room, I shall be perfectly content to watch all of the other men fall at
your feet,” she said with a warm, heartfelt smile.

For Ashleigh’s sake, Tiffany did her best to appear excited
as they discussed the upcoming event.
 
After much cajoling, she had finally agreed to accompany Nicholas and
Ashleigh to Lord and Lady Devonshire’s annual winter gala at their nearby
country estate the following week.
 
However, the thought of attending her first social engagement since the
news of her and Alex’s broken engagement had made the rounds,
was
extremely daunting.
 

While Ashleigh had informed her that the
ton’s
overriding consensus seemed to be
that their impending nuptials had been set aside due to her father’s sudden
illness, she secretly feared that a great number of people would suspect the
truth, that Alex had never really wanted to marry her to begin with.
 
But regardless of their assumptions, she knew
that hiding wasn’t going to change things, so all the better to get it over
with, she reasoned.

 
 

One week later, as Tiffany stood atop the steps leading down
to the Devonshire’s immense ballroom alongside Nicholas and Ashleigh, she drew
several, deep calming breaths into her lungs as she waited for the butler to
announce their names.
 
Glancing about, it
was clear to see that along with the latest crop of debutantes making their
first forays into Society’s midst, the bulk of the aristocracy had braved the
snow-covered roads to put in an appearance at the highly anticipated
event.
 
Was Alex among them, she
wondered, unable to arrest the errant thought as she cast an eye over the
assemblage.
 
Oh stop it; she commanded in
the next instant, mentally chastising herself for allowing her thoughts to
wander in that direction.

“Relax,” Ashleigh whispered, as their names were
heralded.
 
“And stop frowning,” she added
in the very next instant.

Tiffany complied at once, hoping that her sudden smile
didn’t appear forced as dozens of heads immediately rotated in their
direction.
 
Holding her head high, she
struggled to appear confident as the three of them began their descent.

“Goodness,” Ashleigh murmured as they reached the bottom of
the steps, “what a crush.
 
It looks as if
the Devonshires have invited the entire peerage.”

“Yes, and apparently every single one of them accepted,”
Nicholas remarked with a weary sigh, as he eyed the milling crowd.

Looking up at her husband, Ashleigh gave him an amused
behave yourself
look, and then rose up
onto her toes to whisper something in his ear.

Though Tiffany couldn’t hear what Ashleigh said, the sudden
brightening of the duke’s expression and the sensual smile that curved his
lips, gave her a pretty good idea.
 

“Good evening, Your Graces, Lady Marlowe,” Lady Devonshire
welcomed, as she and her husband stepped forward to greet them.
 

 

From his vantage point midway across the room, Alex watched
in rapt attention as Tiffany entered the ballroom with Nicholas and
Ashleigh.
 
Though he’d hoped that she
would be in attendance, he hadn’t known for certain if Tiffany would come, and
he’d been watching for her arrival with increasing trepidation for the past
twenty minutes.
 
And now that she had
made her entrance, he couldn’t tear his eyes from the entrancing vision she
presented.
 
Pushing himself away from the
wall that he’d been leaning against since shortly after his arrival, his eyes
riveted upon her every move, he immediately headed in her direction.

 

After briefly chatting with their host and hostess, Ashleigh
and Tiffany moved forward into the room, while Nicholas promptly went off in
search of refreshments for the three of them.
 

“I can all but guarantee you that my darling husband is
actually searching out the nearest card room,” Ashleigh said with a knowing
grin, as she followed Nicholas with her eyes, “and pondering just how soon it
will be before he can safely make his escape.”

 

As Alex continued to move swiftly through the crowd, drawing
ever closer to Tiffany’s side, he noted another gentlemen heading purposefully
in her direction as well.
 
As their paths
intersected just a short distance from their mutual target, Alex turned to the
young viscount and said only one word.
 
“Don’t”

Turning his startled gaze to Alex, the young man froze in
his tracks.
 
Noting the harsh,
uncompromising expression on Alex’s face, he glanced briefly towards Tiffany,
and then once again returned his gaze to Alex.
 
A split second later, he tipped his head in acquiescence and wisely took
a step back.

 

Grinning, Tiffany was about to respond to Ashleigh’s last
comment, but the words she’d been about to speak never left her mouth, for it
was at that exact moment that she caught sight of Alex from the corner of her
eye, and he was looking straight at her.
 
To her dismay, she could feel that old, familiar pull once again tugging
at her heartstrings, and the fact that he was still just as devastatingly
handsome as ever, did little to help matters.
 
As her gaze swept his tall frame, she absently noted that his
superbly-fitted jacket outlined his broad shoulders to perfection and that his
long, muscled legs were encased in a pair of impeccably tailored breeches.
 
Though the stark whiteness of his cravat and
the finely embroidered gold accents threaded through his waistcoat were the
only contrasts to his otherwise jet black attire, the stylish, yet austere cut
of his dark evening clothes gave him an aura of understated elegance.
 

“What is it?” Ashleigh asked, as she turned to follow the
line of Tiffany’s gaze.
 
“Oh,” she said,
as her own gaze fell upon Alex.

Oh good lord, he was heading straight for them, Tiffany
realized. Taking an automatic step back, her first instinct was to flee. But
then, as if she’d somehow read her thoughts, Ashleigh grabbed onto her arm,
holding her in place.

“Wait,” she ordered.
 
“If it appears that you are avoiding him, it is sure to draw everyone’s
notice.”

Ashleigh was right of course, for Tiffany could already feel
the weight of the stares from those who’d taken notice of Alex’s course.
 
But even so, it was nearly all she could do
to keep from pulling her arm free from Ashleigh’s hold and running as fast as
she could in the opposite direction.

“And for goodness sake, smile,” Ashleigh whispered, as Alex
drew near.

“Good evening, ladies,” Alex said when he reached them.

“Hello, Alex,” Ashleigh replied with a broad smile.

“Good evening, my lord.”
 
Through sheer strength of will, Tiffany managed an amiable smile.

“Lady Tiffany, I was hoping that you might honor me with the
first dance of the evening,” Alex said, meeting her wide-eyed gaze as he held
out his hand.

“I…” She began, but the words suddenly lodged in her
throat.
 
Glancing helplessly toward the
orchestra platform, she could see that they were preparing to begin the first
set.
 
Oh
no!
 
She wanted desperately to
decline his invitation, but how could she?
 
With everyone in the immediate vicinity looking their way, her refusal
would have tongues wagging within an instant.

Releasing her grip on Tiffany’s arm, Ashleigh nudged her
slightly with her elbow.

“Yes, of course,” she uttered.
 
Dropping her gaze to his gloved hand, she
extended her own, placing her fingers within his.
 

As Alex led her from Ashleigh’s side, he could easily
discern that, despite her genial smile, Tiffany would have much preferred to
have refused his invitation.
 
It was the
reason he’d deliberately requested the first dance, knowing that it would be
nearly impossible for her to turn him down with the excuse that her dance card
was already full.

Seconds later, as they made their way onto the dance floor,
Tiffany nearly groaned aloud, for as the couples surrounding them stood
patiently waiting for the music to begin, it became readily apparent that the
first dance was to be a waltz.
 
Oh lord,
how was she to bear it, she wondered?
 
But mercifully she had little time to ponder the notion, for as the
first notes abruptly filled the air, Alex gently pulled her forward and
suddenly she was in his arms.

Keeping her eyes downcast, she tried to focus her attention
on the music as they moved about the floor, rather than the man who held her,
but of course it was impossible.
 
Being
so close to Alex again, feeling the familiar strength of his arms and inhaling
his unforgettable, masculine scent, all played havoc with her rioting
emotions.
 
Why ever had she agreed to
come here tonight, she wondered, cursing herself for her folly.
 

As they danced, Tiffany deliberately kept her eyes averted,
but knowing that this might be his only opportunity to speak with her, he
needed her to
see
him, to
hear
him.
 
But how to begin?
 
“You left without saying goodbye,” he said
finally, breaking the taut silence between them at last.

Tiffany looked up in surprise, meeting his eyes.
 
“I…sent you a note.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

It was true.
 
She’d
taken the cowardly way out.
 
“I thought
it best, for both of us,” she replied, her tone subdued as she once again
dropped her gaze.

“I never meant to hurt you, Tiffany,” he uttered, his tone
utterly sincere.
 
“That is the last thing
I wanted to do.
 
I hope you can believe
that.”

She nodded ever so slightly as her gaze remained fixed upon
his shirtfront.
 

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