Dangerous Lover, page 23
“Of course.”
The door opened, and Alexandra entered. She wore a wide-skirted silk ball gown of the rarest shade of purple that somehow reflected her eyes. Her hair, elegantly styled for once and held in place by Spanish combs, highlighted the delicate beauty of her face. Although she wore no jewelry, she looked stunning. And he was not the only one who noticed.
Evelina and Anna were both staring at her. She stopped dead, a flush staining her cheeks, and Evelina ran to her and seized her hand.
“Why, Miss Battle, you are beautiful tonight!” she exclaimed. “Is she not, Papa?”
Nicholas was not a tongue-tied boy, however much he felt like one. “Miss Battle is always beautiful,” he managed. “Although, tonight, I grant you, she is particularly lovely. Are you ready to go, Miss Battle?”
“Of course,” she said, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. “I just came to show Evelina Lady Nora’s gown.”
“It does not look like Lady Nora’s,” Evelina observed. “It is perfect for you.”
Evelina hugged her, and she did not complain as Eva had if Evelina had endangered her elegant toilette. Instead, she hugged her back, and Evelina whispered something in her ear that seemed to deepen her flush—although that might have been due simply to bending down.
Leaving Evelina, they walked downstairs to the waiting carriage.
“What did she say to you?” he murmured as they left the house.
“Oh, something about dancing,” Alexandra replied, glancing around her.
“I hope you will heed her advice.”
“As you do?” she retorted, accepting his hand to climb the steps into the carriage.
“On this occasion,” he replied. Although tempted to sit beside her, he took the opposite bench with his back to the horses. At least that way, he could look at her more easily. “I’m sorry,” he said abruptly as the carriage began to move forward. “I did not think of you having nothing suitable to wear.”
Her breath caught. “I hope you do not mind me wearing Lady Nora’s gown.”
He frowned. “Mind? Lord no. I didn’t realize she had such taste. Why would I mind.”
“Because…because of your past relationship with her,” she said carefully.
He smiled with genuine amusement. “I’m afraid the youthful torch I carried for Nora burned out a long, long time ago. I am glad to rediscover her as a friend.” He paused, searching her face. “And now, you think me fickle.”
“Are you?” She looked away, her mouth opening to apologize.
“I was at nineteen,” he replied before she could speak. “Most young people are. Weren’t you?”
She shook her head. “I am not given to romantic notions of the brief or lasting varieties.”
“I don’t believe that’s true.”
“Why not?” she challenged.
Because of the way you kiss. He didn’t say it aloud. Not yet. She was much too skittish. “I’ll tell you when you dance with me.”
*
Although curiously soothed by Lady Nora’s advice to brazen it out in her lovely silk ballgown, several other anxieties bombarded Alexandra during the drive to Brook Street. Not least of those was Sir Nicholas and what, if anything, he meant to do with her. And then there was the fact that as she had glanced out of her bedchamber window just before leaving, she had seen a figure moving along the mews, who bore a passing resemblance to her father.
Fearing he was back, she had looked very carefully around her before she climbed into the coach, and as they traveled toward Mayfair, she kept darting wary glances out of the window.
Fortunately, there was no sign of him as they paused in Half Moon Street to pick up Griz and Dragan. In fact, she began to think anxiety had been getting the better of her, and her father had, in fact, left the country by now. Or at least escaped whatever trouble had led him to her in the first place.
At least the presence of Griz and Dragan broke the tension of being alone with Nicholas and unable to share her feelings or gain a clue as to his own. In ball dress, Griz looked as carelessly charming as she always did, and Dragan even more handsome than usual.
“What news of our arch-villain?” Alexandra asked, making an effort.
“We saw him, and the police lost him,” Dragan said wryly.
“But at least Inspector Harris now accepts Ricco is not Sir Nicholas,” Griz added.
“Well, that is good news!” Alexandra said.
“I thought so,” Nicholas murmured, which told her he already knew, an oddity she shoved to the back of her mind.
It was a long time since Alexandra had entered a formal ballroom as a guest, and there was no denying her confidence was boosted by Lady Nora’s gown. Other guests might regard her as an upstart, but at least they would not pity her.
She entered by Lady Grizelda’s side, to prevent any gossip, and when they were welcomed by their host and hostess, she rather enjoyed the flicker of surprise in their eyes. And when she followed Griz into the throng, she saw a good deal of attention on their little group. Of course, society knew all about the estrangement between the Swan brothers, following Nicholas’s scandal. His attendance here as his brother’s guest in what was his own house no doubt intrigued everyone. If they looked at her at all, they no doubt imagined her as some distant relation of Grizelda’s.
Sir Nicholas accepted two glasses of champagne from the tray proffered by a liveried footman and presented them to the ladies before taking glasses for himself and Dragan.
He raised his glass with a sardonic smile. “To fun.” Although his gaze swept around them all, Alexandra couldn’t help believing he spoke particularly to her. And suddenly, with the music playing and the lights of the ballroom beckoning, her anxieties melted away. He was right. This was fun, and she would enjoy her evening.
She smiled and drank.
Griz, she noticed, raised her glass almost to her lips and hastily lowered it again to look about her. “It is a fine ballroom. With access to a terrace, too.”
“Especially good for assignations,” Nicholas murmured.
“And for hiding,” Griz said, just as Mrs. Swan reached them, gushing.
“How delightful to see you! Lady Grizelda, perhaps I might introduce you to a few people since I doubt your particular friends are here…” She swept Griz off, and Alexandra, remembering she was meant to be chaperoned, followed her.
It was, clearly, an exercise in introducing the duke’s daughter to Mrs. Swan’s friends, a triumphant boost in the hostess’s standing. Griz tolerated it with the barest hint of discomfort. To each introduced group, she presented “my friend, Miss Battle.”
After the third, Mrs. Swan, fortunately, bustled off to her other duties, namely introducing partners for the first dance. With a polite nod and smile, Griz took Alexandra’s arm and drifted away.
“It’s quite a novelty for me,” Griz confided, “to be used in this way. I’m not sure I like it. I think I prefer to be ignored.”
“Then why come?” Alexandra asked. “You must have known she was like this.”
“True. But you couldn’t really have come without me. Not without causing scandal.”
Alexandra stared at her. “You came because of me? Why?”
Grizelda’s eyes twinkled. A smile lurked on her lips as she raised her glass, which seemed to distract her. She wrinkled her nose and hastily set the glass down on the nearest table. “I seem to have taken champagne in dislike. Is it good?”
Alexandra took another sip. “It’s fine. Don’t be angry, Griz. Start a new fashion by dancing with your husband.”
Griz laughed as the orchestra finished its background piece and, after a brief pause, began a waltz introduction. “Perhaps I will. Or I could go and disrupt assignations on the terrace.”
“Too early, surely.”
Griz opened her mouth to make some humorous reply, then closed it again as she clearly saw someone approach them.
Alexandra twisted around to see who, and her heart turned over.
Nicholas bowed to them. “Miss Battle, may I have the honor of the first dance?”
She couldn’t help the widening of her eyes. “Me?”
“If you would be so kind,” Nicholas said gravely.
Silently, Griz took the glass from her hand and set it down beside her own. In something of a daze, Alexandra took Nicholas’s arm.
“You look stunned,” he observed as they walked onto the dance floor among the other couples.
“I am,” she confessed.
He turned and took her in his arms so naturally that she might have waltzed with him a hundred times before. “Why?”
Why did their bodies fit together so perfectly? Why, when the dance began, did she know so clearly that he would step back and turn, that it would feel so good to follow every movement of his lean, muscular body…?
No, the question had been why was she stunned. And now, if ever, while they were so physically close and could not easily escape each other, was the time to answer it.
“Because I don’t understand what is going on between us,” she blurted.
“I know. And it is true, I have only recently worked it out myself.”
“Then I beg you will enlighten me,” she said, quite without sarcasm. “I thought we were friends. There have been some moments between us which…well, you know perfectly well what moments. But then you are cold and distant, you begin inquiries for another governess but will not accept my resignation or admit you are dismissing me. And after all that, in front of your family and a hundred friends for all I know, you ask me for the first dance? It makes no sense to me.”
His dark gaze held hers, warm, oddly glittering, and yet he did not appear to be laughing at her. “That is because you do not have all the information,” he said softly. “Which is odd for so clever and perceptive a person. If I told you that I have never met anyone like you, that you intrigue and fascinate, comfort and soothe me, that though I have barely touched you, you move me as no other woman ever has… Would that make things easier to understand?”
She stared up at him. Her feet did not stumble but continued to follow his as though someone else was controlling them. “No.”
A breath of laughter caught in his throat. “Alexandra Battle, I love you. You cannot be both my wife and Evelina’s governess.”
Now, she did stumble. At once, his arm tightened at her waist, spinning her around, almost off the ground to cover the lapse, and then they were back in step.
“Wife?” she whispered. “Wife? When you know all about my origins, my father, my lies?”
“That is the point. We know each other’s lies now because we trust each other. As for the rest, do you imagine I would ruin you and make you my mistress just because you were not born into my own social rank? My egalitarian principles are not so frail. All I want is your love. And if I don’t have it, I shall court you tirelessly until I do. If it takes all my life.”
Her mind and heart were whirling. For the first time, she allowed dangerous possibilities to enter her head—a future of love and happiness and safety. Nicholas. Evelina. Children of her own…
“You do not speak,” he said softly. “I know you care, or you would not melt in my arms… Do you not love me a little?”
“A little? Dear God, Nicholas—” She broke off, unable to speak because she was spun quite suddenly into cool fresh air.
She appeared to be dancing on the empty terrace until he halted beyond the windows, where there was no danger of being seen. There was no decorous space between them now. He pressed her to him, thrilling her, exciting her, and somehow her hand had slid from his shoulder around to the back of his neck.
“Well?” he said urgently. “Do you love me?”
“Love you?” she repeated helplessly. “Nicholas, I adore you, I always h—” The rest was lost in his mouth, which devoured hers like a starved man.
After the first, shocked gasp, she kissed him back with equal passion, pushing her body against him, almost fighting with lips, tongue, and teeth for control of the amazing kiss. Though she didn’t give up, his strength won out, and after her wild, blissful surrender, he gentled the embrace to one of slow, sensual tenderness that melted her bones.
“Then you will marry me?” he whispered against her lips. “Please say yes, or I will explode.”
Laughter and tears caught her unawares. She seemed to be made entirely of emotion.
His eyes looked stricken as he brought up his fingers to wipe at the dampness on her face. “Tomorrow will do. No, take all the time you need, sweetheart, don’t let me rush—”
“I don’t need time,” she interrupted, tightening her arms around his neck. “I will marry you now if you like.”
He kissed her hair and pressed his warm, rough cheek to hers. “If I could, I would. But I’ll settle for a month while the banns are read.”
Her whole being sang with happiness. She wanted to run and laugh and play the piano with outrageous exuberance. Instead, she hugged him tight, and that felt even better.
At last, with reluctance, he raised his head, his hold loosening. “Then we have tonight to enjoy without anxiety.”
“Nothing can stop that now,” she said, smiling, and softly kissed his lips.
It seemed he had to return the favor, and then, with a catch in his breath that told her he wanted much, much more, he dropped his arms and stood back, inspecting her. “No one would know I almost ravished you. Apart from the soft, warm glow in your eyes that tempts me to much more wicked intimacies.”
Her whole body glowed at that. A sweet, heavy yearning that could not be satisfied here and now. But soon…
He touched her cheek. “Even your tears have vanished in the breeze.”
She turned into his hand to kiss it. A sense of wonder overlaid everything, even her own boldness, which felt so very natural.
He said, “The first dance has ended. If you wish to enjoy the rest of the evening without the drama of announcements, you should go back inside first. I’ll follow shortly.”
He caught her hand and kissed it, and, smiling, she left him. She seemed to be walking on air.
In the milling around following the end of the waltz, no one seemed to notice her re-entry. She didn’t much care if they did, but in truth, he was right. There would be more fun in the evening without the drama.
A young man walking in a group at the side of the dance floor suddenly changed direction, veering purposefully toward her. Pulling her brain ruthlessly out of the clouds, she remembered he had been introduced to her by accident as part of Mrs. Swan’s campaign to make Griz known.
“Miss Battle.” He bowed to her, and she curtseyed in reply. “Would you grant me the pleasure of the next dance?”
“Thank you,” she said. “I should be glad to.”
And she was. The first dance with Nicholas had cleared everything for her, leaving only joy in the music, in dancing, and talking with pleasant people, while her heart soared. Because Nicholas loved her. Because she would be his wife and live her life with him. No more loneliness…
She knew she was smiling too much, but she didn’t care. Nicholas, Nicholas…
She caught sight of him, dancing with his sister-in-law, and was glad. Griz, who had danced the first waltz with her host, was sitting this one out, surrounded by people all trying to talk to her at once.
In fact, as the dance came to an end and Alexandra curtseyed to her amiable partner, it came to her that Grizelda’s smile was too fixed, her skin too pale.
Parting on the best of terms with the young man whose name she could not remember, Alexandra made her way through the throng toward Griz. And suddenly came face to face with another lady she knew. She would have nodded politely and passed on, but the other woman stayed her.
“Why, it is the governess, is it not?” she drawled in apparent amusement. Her eyes, however, were not amused. More…threatening.
Alexandra blinked. It was Mrs. Jenner, the widow who had called on Nicholas the day the piano had arrived. Whose soiree he had attended. Who had once inspired Alexandra with such painful, foolish jealousy.
“I am certainly a governess,” Alexandra replied, refusing to be cowed.
To her surprise, Mrs. Jenner took her arm, walking with her as though exchanging confidences with a close friend. “Yes, you are, and you would do well to remember it.”
“There is nothing wrong with my memory, ma’am,” Alexandra said, trying to keep the tartness from her voice. Tonight, of all nights, she did not wish to quarrel.
But the other woman’s contemptuous gaze swept down the length of her person. “I did not realize you had your admittedly puny claws into him to this degree, but it is quite ridiculous to suppose you can win him from me wearing a Paris gown that is two years old.”
“Rather more than two,” Alexandra said pleasantly. “And for what it is worth, what I or anyone else wears makes absolutely no difference to Sir Nicholas. Good evening.”
Alexandra moved in the opposite direction, forcing Mrs. Jenner to either release her or appear to be desperately hanging onto her. Mrs. Jenner hastily chose the former, and Alexandra made it at last to Grizelda who, by then, had risen to her feet and was fanning herself.
“Excuse me,” Griz murmured to those around her, her voice unusually shaky.
“Griz?” Alexandra took her arm in quick concern. “Do you need some fresh air?”
“Yes. Yes, I really think I do…”
As the next dance was forming, Alexandra fought their way around the edges of the dance floor to the terrace doors.
Since the ballroom was by now quite warm, more people had spilled outside into the cool of the evening. But Alexandra spotted steps leading down to a formal lawn and a wooden bench by a hedge of roses.
“Can you make it to the seat?” she murmured.
“Yes, of course, I just feel a little shaky. So silly. I am never ill.”
When Griz was seated on the bench, Alexandra sat on the edge beside her. “Shall I fetch a glass of water? Or Dragan?”
“No, thanks, I feel better already, to be honest. It was just so hot and crowded in there I was afraid I would faint.”
“Has this happened to you before?” Alexandra asked.
