Chapter 13

Thirteen

A s Aurora sailed by on the arm of yet another gentleman, Alex quaffed the rest of his champagne and somehow managed not to hurl the empty glass in her wake. He had wanted her to enjoy the evening, but not quite to this extent. Damnation. She had not missed one set yet, and by the look of the cluster of gentlemen gathered near her empty chair, it did not appear as if she would be sitting down any time soon.

The current tune came to an end, but the violins were already striking up the chords of a waltz. He hadn’t bothered stepping out onto the floor after the first few dances, but to avoid seeing the hand of some young buck come to rest at the small of her back, he turned on his heel and stalked off to refill his glass. Or, he reflected, maybe he should simply take up a whole bottle. He had a feeling he was going to need it.

His teeth set on edge. Perhaps it had not been the best of ideas to inform the fashionable modiste he had engaged for Aurora that her newest client needed a ball gown fit for a special occasion. Having all the measurements in hand, Madame Mathilde had promised to deliver a work of art that would show off to perfection the charms of the lady in question. As his eyes strayed back to the froth of seafoam green silk, and the vast expanse of creamy skin that it left uncovered, a low oath slipped from his lips.

Hell’s Teeth. If it showed any more of her charms, those lovely breasts would be bared for all to see.

The thought caused a surge of heat to course through him that another glass of hurriedly consumed champagne did little to dampen. No doubt it had something to do with desire, for there was no denying that he ached to feel those soft curves cupped in his palms.

However, out of the corner of his eye he saw Aurora’s partner pull her a fraction closer to his chest and he realized that desire did not answer for all that he was feeling. There was something else. Jealousy, perhaps? For right now his palms were also itching to be wrapped around the cursed fellow’s throat for having the impudence to touch her in such an intimate way.

But the real source of the fire was something he couldn’t quite put a finger on, since he had never experienced the sensation before.

As a scowl as black as his fine set of evening clothes came to his face, Alex sought to make some sense of the flames licking up inside him. Why the devil did he care who danced with her? She was, he reminded himself, a most exasperating female. Just because the sway of her slim hips and the sparkle in the depths of her emerald eyes caused him to want to sweep her up in his arms and carry her off to the nearest bedroom …. A harsh sound, somewhere between a sigh and a groan, rumbled deep in his throat. It didn’t help his mood any to suddenly realize he was still legally entitled to do just that!

Several gentlemen, on observing the Earl of Woodbridge’s present expression, thought better of seeking to strike up a conversation, and swerved in a wide arc around him.

Damnation , he repeated once more to himself, blithely unaware of the formidable face he was presenting. Retreating farther into the shadows cast by a towering arrangement of potted palms and exotic blooms, he turned and cast a glowering glance at the sea of swirling silks ebbing and flowing in tune with the lively music. It wasn’t as if there weren’t any number of ladies present who were far more beautiful—and far more willing to throw themselves into his arms.

The strange thing was, he didn’t want anyone else but Aurora in his arms … In his bed … In his life.

Yet another long gulp of the sparkling wine slid down his throat. Alex stood for some time contemplating the spins and pirouettes of his own emotions, then his hand suddenly tightened around the glass with such force that the stem was in danger of snapping. Perhaps he had finally grasped hold of what had his sense so addled.

The word had four letters and began with an ‘L’ ....

It was lust, he tried to tell himself. But with a shake of his head, he had to acknowledge that what he was feeling was infinitely more complex than that, though lust was a part of its whole.

No, it was love that turned his life on its ear.

Alex slowly drained the rest of his drink, letting the import of the word seep into every fiber of his being. He might as well finally admit it, he told himself with a wry twitch of his lips. He loved Aurora, no matter the absurdity or the irony of it. Or the fact that she couldn’t stand the sight of him.

The devil of it was, what was he going to do about it?

Aurora passed by yet again, this time with Jack ready to lead her out for the promised waltz. He watched the light of the myriad candles reflect off the silky curls framing her face. Like the young lady herself, the actual color seemed subtle, quixotic and damnably elusive. Repressing a harried sigh, Alex set off in search of a waiter with a full bottle.

His steps took him past a cluster of turbaned matrons, their attention divided between keeping a basilisk eye on their charges and exchanging the latest salient tidbits of gossip. Off to one side, Miss Robertson sat by herself. Light winked off the lenses of her spectacles as she stared with rapt fascination at the glittering scene before her. Altering his direction, he drew to a halt beside her chair.

“Enjoying yourself, Miss Robertson?”

She looked up, a sparkle evident in her eyes. “Very much, Alex. All the fine ladies and gentlemen in their elegant splendor, the chandeliers and the flowers, the music—it is even more wonderful than I ever imagined.”

“No doubt you would enjoy it even more were you to join in the dancing yourself,” he said softly as he extended his gloved hand.

Her jaw dropped. “Y-you can’t mean to dance with me?”

“Why not?”

“First of all, I’m an old woman. And secondly, that is a w-waltz that the musicians are preparing to play.”

A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “First of all, I have noticed that for an old woman you are still extremely agile. And secondly, I have it from a good source that you, too, have acquired the necessary footwork for that particular dance since Aurora was in need of someone to practice with. So that seems to answer all the objections.”

Miss Robertson was drawn to her feet and the earl’s arm came firmly around her ample waist.

After nearly treading on his toes for the first several steps, she appeared to compose herself and fell into the rhythm of the music, relaxing enough to follow his lead without the threat of doing him bodily harm. The effort, however, seemed to require her total concentration to be focused on the tips of her kidskin slippers, and they moved through the crush in silence. But after a series of box steps brought them to a less crowded spot on the dance floor, she looked up into his eyes with a searching gaze.

“Alex, if you do not mind, I have a rather pressing question I should like to ask you. Perhaps now is a good time, seeing as we have a chance to converse in a modicum of privacy.”

A certain wariness shaded his reply. “Yes?”

“Why is it you are being so nice to the two of us?”

The tightening of his jaw was barely perceptible in the flickering of the light. “So you, too, think me no more than an unprincipled rogue, acting out of some selfish desire to attain an end?” he asked softly. They turned, and a shadow danced across his face, making his expression even more inscrutable than before.

“Indeed not, sir.” Her eyes didn’t waver from his. “Actually I have become enormously fond of you, for I have come to the conclusion that you are no rogue at all, but rather a thoroughly nice gentleman. One who is intelligent, perceptive and witty, as well as kind and compassionate.”

For a moment he was speechless. Then a ghost of a smile flitted across his lips. “Are you flirting with me, Robbie?”

The older woman’s cheek turned a pink that matched the sash of her new gown. “Good Heavens, am I?”

He chuckled. “Have a care, my dear. If I were available, I might be tempted to see just how serious you are.”

They completed a series of twirls before she spoke again. “Are you not … available, Alex?”

Rather than answering right away, his brooding gaze sought Aurora among the other couples. He could swear that Jack’s gaze kept sliding down to her cleavage.

“Kindly inform your charge that she is not to order any additional gowns from Madame Mathilde.”

“I regret to inform you that in certain matters, I have absolutely no influence over Aurora.”

His mouth quirked. “I can well believe it. Having spent a week in my wife’s company, I am more than aware of how deucedly mulish she can be.”

Behind the glint of her spectacles, Miss Robertson’s eyes took on an appraising light. “And you would seek to train such stubbornness out of her, sir?” she inquired.

There was a long pause. “Miss Robertson, if I wanted a creature who obeyed my every command and answered to a cuff and sharp word, I would get a dog.”

It was her turn to chuckle. “As I said, sir, you are a most enjoyable partner. Especially as your legs have remained quite steady throughout this dance instead of threatening to fold like an overdone souffle.”

Alex had to choke back a bark of laughter. He would miss this delightful woman almost as much as Aurora when it came time for them to quit London. “Are my legs to be a constant source of amusement to both of you?” he demanded, trying his hardest to sound aggrieved.

“Aurora has commented on your legs?”

“Indeed she has. Found them a subject for mirth as well. I believe she referred to them as great, hairy—er, that is ....” To his acute mortification, he felt himself blushing like a raw schoolgirl.

Miss Robertson kept a straight face. “Well, she certainly has not mentioned finding fault with any other part of your anatomy.”

He gave a strangled cough, then maneuvered her through a series of spins and turns, hoping that the quickened pace might help account for the fact that his cheeks were turning a shade redder. Finally regaining some mastery over his voice, he made an abrupt change of direction in the conversation as well. “Tell me, Miss Robertson, does she truly find me as abhorrent as it appears?”

“Why do you ask, Alex?”

He drew in a deep breath. “Because I should like to know whether she might consider tolerating my company for more than just the coming few weeks.”

She took what seemed to him to be an inordinate amount of time to reply. “Hmmm. Well, as to your question, Aurora insists that you are the most odious, insufferable, overbearing man she has ever met.”

His face fell. “That bad?” Several more box step were completed before he gave a rueful grimace. “So then, it would seem that I have no hope in the matter”

An unladylike snort escaped from his partner. “Come now, Alex. I would not have expected a seasoned military man to surrender so easily. Do you mean to tuck your tail between those long legs of yours—hairy or not—and slink off, leaving the field to someone else?”

Her gaze made a pointed shift to where Aurora was gliding along in the viscount’s arms. Alex’s eyes narrowed and his fingers clenched tighter around hers, but he said nothing.

“She might forgive the first desertion, you know,” added Miss Robertson in a low whisper. “But I doubt she would look kindly on it happening again.”

He grimaced. “But if she hates me?—”

“I can see that despite your experience in the ways of the world, you still have much to learn about females in general and Aurora in particular. Trust an old governess when I say that, like many situations seen in the heat of battle, things may not be as grim as they seem. You must simply come up with the right tactics to turn the tide in your favor.”

His brow furrowed in thought. “Tactics, you say?” As he spoke, he looked once more in Aurora’s direction, and to his eye it looked as though the space between her chest and Jack’s elegant evening coat had lessened considerably. The pensive expression slowly turned into a scowl nearly as black as his friend’s well-tailored garment.

“Yes, tactics. And as on the battlefield, you must be willing to take some risk in order to achieve victory.” She cleared her throat. “And one other thing, Alex, if I may make so bold as to suggest an initial change in strategy. No lady in her right mind would feel encouraged to wax romantic over a gentleman who is constantly looking at her with such a glowering face.”

“Face? What face? I am not making a face.”

“Yes, you are. And a very odious one at that. Your brows draw together in a most forbidding manner and your lip curls up at the left corner.”

The devil take it . It was clear that this campaign to was going to be infinitely more daunting than facing off against Marshall Nye himself.

“You look absolutely divine this evening.” As he spoke, Jack executed a skillful bit of footwork to avoid collision with an elderly gentleman whose partner looked to be as broad in the beam as a ship of the line. His grin then became even more pronounced. “And judging by the number of besotted gentlemen all but kneeling by your chair, you have converted more than your share of acolytes.”

“I can’t imagine what on earth has inspired such silly behavior.”

“Can’t you?” His brow arched up, but instead of answering directly, he went on in the same teasing vein. “I take it Woodbridge is reduced to squiring Miss Robertson about the floor because he didn’t think to secure a spot on your dance card in advance. No chance now. He would need a regiment of foot soldiers to cut a path to your feet, even if there were a blank space left. Which there isn’t.”

“You may be sure that the earl has not the least interest in stepping out with me,” replied Aurora rather stiffly, taking great pains not to look in Alex’s direction.

That was certainly true enough, she thought. He had not so much as glanced her way the entire evening! His gaze had been riveted on the voluptuous raven-haired beauty whom he had partnered for the first waltz. Or, to be more specific, on the goodly amount of cleavage that the lady’s low-cut burgundy gown showed off to perfection.

Her eyes pressed closed for an instant, as if such action might also help banish the picture of how the lady’s head had tilted back in soft laughter at something Alex had murmured close to her ear. And how dazzling his smile had been in return. To her dismay the threat of tears stung her lids.

What did it matter that he had held another woman in his arms? He would very soon have another wife in his life, and she should be well glad of it. Better to live with an aging governess and a calico cat than with a handsome husband whose sentiments would never match her own. Alex didn’t love her, and the pain of knowing that his eyes—and his heart—could not help but wander would be unbearable.

She blinked once more and forced her attention back to her dance partner. “And of course, there is no reason for His Lordship to ask for a set,” she added with a shrug of unconcern. “Duty has obliged him to dance attendance on me quite enough over the past week. I imagine he is delighted to be free of the obligation, at least for an evening.” So delighted, she added to herself, that he had rather dance with Robbie than consider asking for her own hand.

“Ah. yes,” murmured Jack. “You did mention that you are related to his aunt. By marriage, is it?”

“Yes.” Her mouth set in a grim line. “The connection is through marriage.”

For a moment he was silent, a thoughtful expression on his features. “Hmmm. That must make you related to Alex by marriage as well.”

Aurora’s foot jerked left when it should have slid right, causing her to come down rather heavily on his foot. “Oh, do forgive me, Jack,” she gasped as he stifled a little yelp of pain. “I-I did warn you that I have very little experience in the making my way in Polite Society.”

“You are doing marvelously well,” he reassured her with a game smile while trying not to limp too noticeably through the next series of turns.

For a moment Aurora thought she had managed to change the direction of the conversation as well, but Jack’s next words proved his curiosity was not so easily squashed as his toes. “I take it the two of you were not aware of your, er, relationship during the time in the North?”

She bit her lip. “His Lordship and I had met only once before, a long time ago when I was but a child. My name, as well as my person, had changed in the meantime, and as he chose not to reveal his true identity, neither of us had the slightest inking of the connection. It was only by merest chance that the truth came to light when I was summoned to London on … family business.”

“A strange twist of Fate,” he said with a faint smile.

Ha! That was putting it rather mildly, thought Aurora to herself.

He gave a slight cough. “To return to the question of your new admirers—perhaps you should know that Lady Renfrew has let fall several interesting comments during the evening.”

“Has she?” To her vast relief, Aurora recognized a flourish of notes that indicated the melody was nearing its end. “Well, I imagine one does not reach such an advanced age without having picked up at least one or two things that are worth listening to.”

There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Especially when one is a nosy old lady who makes it a point to learn every ondit that is repeated in Town. As a matter of fact, the topic of conversation was you?—”

“Me!”

“A lovely lady with an aura of mystery about her—you may not be acquainted with the ton , but surely you understand human nature well enough to know how tantalizing that is. On top of that, Lady Renfrew has made it a point to mention that you have … expectations.”

“Expectations?” she repeated faintly.

“Of coming into a generous settlement. And of seeking a husband.” He cleared his throat. “She has dropped more than a few hints that Mr. Sprague is no more. Is that true?”

“Yes, Mr. Sprague has departed from this world,” she answered through gritted teeth. “But I assure you that I am not seeking a new husband.”

“Ah. Well, given your sentiments on the first one, I suppose that is not to be wondered at. Still, Lady Renfrew did say that?—”

This time, Aurora sidestepped the issue with a bit more adroitness than before. “Surely you are too much of a gentleman to put too much credence in gossip.”

His mouth opened, then shut.

Seizing the advantage, she hurried on. “Oh, look, I do believe that is Mr. Drimble, my next partner, who is waving at us.” She made a show of consulting the card dangling from her wrist. “Yes, so it is.”

“So it is.” His expression became rather odd. “Forgive me. As a gentleman I should honor your reluctance to speak more on the subject. But as a friend …”

The arrival of the portly Mr. Drimble to claim Aurora’s hand made further words impossible. With a gracious bow, Jack relinquished his place. He exchanged greetings with several acquaintances, but rather than linger in the crowded ballroom, he chose to wander out through the set of open french doors that led to the terrace. A breeze had blown out several of the torches, but as he leaned back against the carved marble balustrade, the remaining flickers revealed that he was not alone.

“You and your partner appeared to be enjoying yourselves immensely, Wheatley.” Irritation bubbled up in Alex’s voice, though a surfeit of champagne submerged the worst of it.

Jack turned a quizzical eye on him. “Yes, well, Aurora is a most interesting—and unique—companion, as we both have reason to know,” he replied lightly. “Never a dull moment in her presence.” He watched a moth veer towards the nearest open flame, then shrugged as if acknowledging that his next actions might be equally as foolhardy. “Already she has no dearth of admirers, what with the intriguing little hints Lady Renfrew has let drop over the course of the evening. It appears the combination of her striking looks, the possible prospect of Fenimore blunt and a healthy dash of mystery concerning her past have made her the most fascinating addition to the Marriage Mart in quite some time.”

A muttered oath was the only reply.

“I imagine she will soon have a number of offers to sort through. Daunting task for a lady, especially one unacquainted with Society. But then, she has you to turn to for advice on whose suit to accept.”

Despite the experience of several trips aboard a Royal Navy vessel, Jack felt his ears turn red at the rather lengthy string of curses that followed. He ducked his head and studied the fobs on his watch chain until the last of the invectives had died away. “Er, do I take that to mean you are not in favor of her contracting another match?” he asked with great innocence.

“You may take that to mean that regardless of what rumors you have heard, Aurora is not … available,” growled Alex.

“I see. Well, she seems to be in complete agreement with you, though perhaps not for the same reason.” He still had not looked up from the intricate intaglio designs cut into the bits of onyx. “And what of the other rumors I have heard? It’s said by some at Whitehall that you are—well, that you are married, though no one seems to have ever met your wife. Or to have the slightest notion of whether she might be English, Spanish, Hindu or Tartar.”

Alex turned so that nothing was visible of his face save for a hard edged profile silhouetted by a faint aureole of light from the closest torch. “We are discussing Aurora, not my personal affairs.”

“The two aren’t … related?” asked Jack softly.

The earl’s jaw became even more clenched.

“Perhaps it is none of my business, but I have come to think of the two of you as friends. I have been told that marriage is an enviable state if one has chosen the right partner. The trouble is a mistake, once made?—”

“Stubble it, Wheatley,” replied Alex in what was clearly a tone of warning. “I am in no mood for any more advice this evening, especially from one who has spent the last quarter of an hour staring down the dress of the lady in question.”

Jack looked as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or to issue a challenge for the coming dawn. Then, stung by the earl’s acid comment, he was moved to make his own sharp retort “At least I have a right to stare at those lovely curves. I am able to offer her something more than a tap on the shoulder.”

Alex’s hand was suddenly clenching the intricate folds of the other man’s cravat. “The devil you do.” he snarled, all his frustrations overflowing onto his friend. “I advise you to?—”

The musicians must have taken a break from their playing, for several couples appeared on the edge of the terrace, and a murmur of voices indicated that others were not far behind. Alex’s fingers slipped from the starched linen, leaving Jack to smooth at the crinkled folds, along with his own ruffled feelings.

“Have a care, Woodbridge” he said softly, shaking his head and regarding the earl with a measure of anger and sympathy. “I do not pretend to understand what is going on, but something tell me that it is more dangerous for both of you than anything we faced in Scotland. I shall not forgive you if you hurt her.”

“Jack!”

Aurora was among the couples seeking a breath of fresh air and on catching sight of her friend, she nearly dragged her escort away from one of the paths leading out to the gardens. By the twist of the fellow’s features, it was clear that his intention in taking a walk had been other than allowing any other gentlemen to share her company. Still he had no choice but to accede to her wishes and reluctantly followed her lead over to the stone balustrade.

“Jack,” she repeated. “Lord Greeley suggested a tour of your mother’s garden, but I had much rather stay here and converse with friends.” Her smile wavered slightly at catching sight of the figure behind him. “Good evening, Lord Woodbridge,” she added a bit more hesitantly. “I do not wish to interrupt a private conversation—” Taking in the grim expressions of both gentleman, she drew to an abrupt halt. ”Is something amiss?” she asked.

“No, we have just finished on the subject that perhaps was a bit too serious to be discussed at an evening meant for fun and frivolity,” replied Alex as he brushed a speck of pollen from his sleeve. “I trust you are having a pleasant evening, Mrs. Sprague?” he inquired with a cool politeness.

She nodded, though her own expression was hardly gay.

Her partner looked decidedly uncomfortable at having run smack into the nominal head of the lady’s family. “Awfully warm inside,” he stammered, eyeing the earl’s muscled shoulders with some trepidation. ”Mrs. Sprague remarked on how she would like to escape for a moment or two from such a crush. Er, hope you have no objection.”

“Not at all.” Alex had turned to pick up his glass, a shrug of nonchalance masking the urge to plant the spindle-shanked young man a facer he would not soon forget for keeping his hand resting on Aurora’s wrist. “Mrs. Sprague is quite capable of making her own decisions. But I, on the other hand, am finding I have had enough of the chill night air. I think I shall go back inside and enjoy the rest of the festivities.”

Leaving a still offended Jack, a slightly hurt Aurora and a vastly relieved Lord Greenley, he headed back toward the open french doors.

So much for a change in strategy, he thought, thoroughly disgusted with his own actions. He had nearly come to blows with a well-meaning friend and then managed no more than a scowl—no doubt an odious one—for Aurora. At this rate his campaign would be routed before it had properly begun. Perhaps he would be better off changing tactics and seeking out the sultry widow who had partnered him for the first waltz of the evening. She, at least, seemed able to tolerate his presence.

But instead of looking for solace in that direction, he merely drained another glass of champagne and gave orders for his carriage to be brought around.

“Well, Lord Woodbridge does not appear to be a fellow to kick up a dust over your activities, it seems,” said Aurora’s escort as he mopped at his brow with a silk pocket square and gave silent thanks for the earl’s departure.

“No,” she said quietly, her eyes surreptitiously following Alex’s progress through the growing thong of revelers until he disappeared into the ballroom. “But I am not a green chit, without any experience in the world. There is no need for him to take any notice of what I choose to do.”

Jack was watching her just as carefully. “You think Woodbridge does not care what you choose to do?”

“Why should he?”

“Why indeed?” he said, so softly it was nearly inaudible.

“What lovely roses your mother has, Jack,” she said after a moment, abruptly taking hold of one of the lush stems growing up a fanned trellis. “Do you know its name?”

His lips quirked. “I believe it is called a wandering rose.”

She essayed a tight smile. “Really? It seems quite at home here.”

“Yes, well, some wanderers do indeed get lucky and find a spot that suits them.”

Her escort fidgeted from one foot to the other. “Can’t tell a dahlia from a daisy,” he muttered.

Aurora gave a small shiver, then turned away from both the gentlemen and the flickering lanterns. “His Lordship is right—the air has taken a decided chill to it. And in any case, I believe I hear the music beginning to start up. I had best be going in to meet my next partner.”

He would, however, not be the partner she longed for.