A Dream of Desire (15 page)

He didn’t sound the remotest bit pleased at the thought.

“And then you’d have an easier time monitoring me,” Talia said, her heart tightening when he didn’t deny her remark.

“Marriage to you would not have stopped me.” Talia took a breath and lifted her head to look at him, needing him to understand the depth of her commitment to her charity work. “I need a patron for the Brick Street school, James.”

“It cannot be me.” He shook his head. “It
will not
be me.”

Although she had expected that response, disappointment stabbed through her. Regret darkened James’s face.

“Talia, I would do anything for you, as long as—”

“As long as it’s what you want,” she interrupted. “I know, James. My brothers are the same way, which is exactly why I haven’t told them. But if I have support, if I have a patron before my father returns…perhaps the school will have a chance. And if the House committee agrees to fund the school as well, that means the boys will have an alternative to prison.”

“I still fail to see why you cannot do all of this work without venturing into dangerous territory.”

“For the same reason
you
cannot do
your
work without trekking into deserts and navigating jungles,” Talia retorted. “How would you chart the course of a river without traveling it, James? How would you create a map of the outback without going there? Would you have thought to bring back a piece of green quartz for me if you hadn’t found it yourself?”

…because you looked at it and remembered the color of my eyes…

She cupped her hand around the bump in her pocket where she kept the stone wrapped in a handkerchief.

“Do you think I’ve not worried about you every time you’ve left?” she asked, her throat aching. “Do you think I haven’t prayed for your safety, hoped you wouldn’t be hurt? Do you think I haven’t wondered whether or not you would even return?”

“You…you are a
lady
, Talia, the daughter of an earl…”

“Who believes change is possible.” For a heart-stopping instant, she thought she saw him waver. She tightened her grip on the quartz. “Won’t you help me?”

James looked at her, tension lacing his shoulders. “You could be hurt, Talia. I don’t trust any of those boys farther than I can throw them. And while your motives are admirable, even if I hadn’t made the promise to North, I would still insist you stop.”

Talia’s spine stiffened with a combination of irritation and disappointment. “And do what instead, James? Host afternoon teas and church bazaars? If you think such activities would suit me, then you don’t know me at all.”

He turned away from her, his hands curling into fists. “I do know you, Talia. And it is precisely because I know you that I cannot bear the idea of you associating with criminals and murderers. It’s like putting a diamond in a pig’s trough.”

In spite of herself, Talia almost smiled. “Diamonds are hard, James. They can cut glass.”

“They should also be treasured.”

The guilt in his voice sent a pang through Talia’s heart, though she tried to steel herself against it. He’d had his chance. She’d been prepared to give him everything, body and soul, and he hadn’t wanted it.

Well, she thought, remembering his undeniable reaction to her…he’d
said
he hadn’t wanted it.

“This is me, James.” She spread her hands, willing him to remember that he knew the core of her heart. “Do you remember what a recluse I became after the divorce? How I wanted to hide from everyone so I wouldn’t have to face the gossip and speculation? Then I found the ragged schools and Brick Street…I found a purpose, a way to be worthwhile. People depend on me. I can’t let you take that from me, no matter what you’ve promised my brother. I won’t. If I asked you to stop traveling because I didn’t like it or because it put you in danger, would you do so?”

“That is entirely different,” he snapped.

“Is it? How?” She paused, knowing her next words would hurt him and yet wanting to make him see the truth. “At least I’m not running or hiding anymore.”

James muttered a noise of disgust and stalked to the foyer. The slam of the front door seemed to echo through the entire house.

Alice shaded her eyes and looked at the dilapidated building that housed the Brick Street school. Smoke and noise billowed from the blacksmith’s shop beside it, and the clatter of wagon wheels and horses’ hooves filled the air. Alice opened the door and went into a narrow, dark corridor that stank of mildew.

She rattled the handles of another couple of doors before pushing one open. She looked at the classroom, her heart sinking. No wonder Peter didn’t want to attend Brick Street, if this was the only classroom. Lady Talia had said it was temporary, but such conditions were hardly conducive to learning.

Alice tested the doorknob. Even the lock was broken. She went inside and examined the tattered books, the papers scrawled with rudimentary writing. The odor of coal smoke hung in the air, and torn brown paper covered cracks in the windows.

“I thought I’d find you here, Miss Colston.”

Alice turned, alarmed at the sudden male voice. Her apprehension eased a bit when she saw Mr. Lawford standing at the door.

“How…how did you know?” she asked.

“A fortunate guess,” he replied smoothly, stepping into the room.

Alice frowned. Several times over the past week she’d had the odd sensation of someone following her, but surely Mr. Lawford wouldn’t…

He moved closer. His eyes were a rather brilliant blue in the smoky sunlight. He paused, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. “Are you well, Miss Colston?”

“Yes, I…” Alice clasped her hands together. She felt as if she could still feel the kiss he’d given her the other day. “I wanted to see the school since Peter has finally agreed to attend. Lady Talia said there were no lessons this afternoon, so I thought to stop by.”

“And how is Peter faring since his reappearance?” Lawford asked.

“Well enough,” Alice said, not wanting to tell him that their father still refused to allow Peter to return home from the dormitories until he’d proven his commitment to staying enrolled at Brick Street.

An unwelcome sense of helplessness rolled through her. For all she’d tried to do to keep their family together after her mother’s death, Alice could not rid herself of the feeling that she had failed.

Mr. Lawford was still looking at her. Never had a man given her the kind of attention that he had these past two weeks. As if he actually
saw
her, when for so much of her life she had felt utterly invisible.

“I’m leaving next Thursday,” Mr. Lawford said.

“Leaving?”

“I must return to Middlesex. My uncle is…unwell, and so I’m forced to oversee the situation at Newhall. We’ve several new inmates who require my attention.”

“Oh.” Disconcerted, Alice didn’t know what to say. “Er…will you return to London soon?”

“I shall make the most valiant effort.” He lifted a hand to her chin, tilting her face toward the light. “For no other reason than to see you.”

Something softened inside Alice. Though nervousness wound through her, she allowed herself to move forward when he leaned in to press his mouth to hers.

Curiosity flared in Alice’s belly. Before William, she’d been kissed maybe twice…and even then, it had been years since she’d experienced the affection of a man. His lips were dry, slightly rough, and when he moved his hands up to cup her face, she felt as if electricity were flowing through her veins. Her mind fogged as his lips moved gently over hers, eliciting her response, her desire, which had been dormant for so long…

His hands tightened on her face. Alice startled as tension seemed to roll through him. He lifted his head, his eyes twin blue flames of lust as he stared at her.

“You are a paragon,” he whispered hoarsely. “I have dreamed of a woman like you.”

Alice tried to smile and ease away from him at the same time. “Mr. Lawford, I—”

He slid his hands to the back of her neck, holding her in place. His mouth descended on hers again, this time with a force that caught her off guard. She gasped, shocked when he attempted to pry her lips apart with his tongue.

Her alarm turned to outright fear. Alice pushed her hands against the solid wall of his chest. He didn’t move, his fingers digging into her neck.

“Stop!” Panicked, Alice brought her hand up and scratched her fingernails down his face, hard.

Lawford cursed and released her. Alice stumbled backward and pulled a breath into her tight lungs. She turned and hurried toward the door, fear still burning through her.

“Miss Colston, I’m sorry!” he called after her.

Alice didn’t look back. She went out to the street, relieved to be in the safety of public surroundings again. She stopped and took a few more breaths to calm her shaken nerves.

“Miss Colston?”

She looked up to find Mr. Fletcher approaching, a stack of books in his arms.

“Oh, Mr. Fletcher. I was just…just wanted to see the classroom.”

“Of course.” He looked at her with a hint of puzzlement. “Are you quite all right?”

No, she was quite
not
all right. Sorrow and anger boiled in Alice like a sudden firestorm. She shook her head and tried to speak past the constriction in her throat.

“Mr. Lawford is—” She broke off when the door opened and Lawford stepped out, his expression hardening as he saw them.

Instinctively, Alice moved closer to Mr. Fletcher. Her fear eased a bit, an inner voice assuring her that he would prove a safe haven. Though Mr. Fletcher was not a particularly tall man, he carried himself with a degree of assurance that Alice found comforting.

As if sensing her unease, Mr. Fletcher moved in front of her and eyed Mr. Lawford, his gaze sharp behind his spectacles. “You wish to see the classroom as well, sir?”

“Already done so, my good man.” Lawford seemed to force a smile as he bowed in Alice’s direction. “Thank you, Miss Colston. We’ll meet again soon.”

He turned to leave, his back straight as an arrow as he walked to the cabstand.

Alice shivered. Dismay filled her as she thought of how she’d succumbed to Mr. Lawford’s attentions,
welcomed
them…and she had tried to ignore the stark fact that her brother was afraid of Lawford. Now Alice had a sick feeling she knew why.

J
ames paced to the windows and back, rubbing the nape of his neck. For the past day, he’d been wrestling with all that Talia had divulged, and he kept coming back to the same conclusion.

He was bound to tell Northwood about Talia’s involvement with this new school. He’d always been honest with North, the one person who knew the complete truth of his parents’ marriage. North had never betrayed that confidence and never would.

So how could James break a promise to his oldest friend?

At the same time, how could he look into Talia’s green eyes and tell her he couldn’t keep her secret? That he
wouldn’t
?

James cursed and went to the sideboard to pour himself a brandy. He downed it in one swallow and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

He didn’t like the idea of Talia’s disappointment over failure, but that would be easier to bear than watching her venture into London’s slums to consort with criminals, young though they might be. Even if Peter Colston had killed a man in self-defense, that didn’t mean the boy wasn’t dangerous.

His spine tensed at the memory of what Talia had told him. He hadn’t been here. He couldn’t have protected her. And he couldn’t bear to imagine her terror as some bastard forced her into an alley with the intent to…

Rage speared him.

“Milord?”

James took a hard breath to calm his turmoil before he turned to face Polly. The girl hovered uncertainly in the doorway.

“There’s a lady here to see you, sir,” she said.

“Who is it, Polly?”

“She didn’t say.”

James sighed. “Would you ask, please?”

Polly blinked, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her, and went back to the foyer.

“Lady Sally Shaw ’ere to pay you a visit, milord,” she announced as she returned to the drawing room.

“Show her in, please.” James ignored a flicker of disappointment, which told him he’d been hoping his visitor was Talia.

He pasted a smile on his face as he crossed the room to greet Lady Sally, who bustled into the room like a little white-haired squirrel. Her bright blue eyes sparkled as she took his hands in greeting. She glanced around at the furnishings—the dusty curtains, worn sofa, frayed rug—with an air of disapproval.

“I don’t pass much time here,” James said by way of an explanation.

“Yes, I know.” Lady Sally settled back in the chair. “Does your maid intend to serve me any tea?”

“Of course. Please forgive me.” James went to ring the servants’ bell, but Polly didn’t respond to the call.

“She seems a bit…inexperienced,” Lady Sally remarked.

“She is, rather,” James agreed. “She was the wife of a crewmember who accompanied me on an Arctic expedition three years ago. The poor man died in a wagon accident shortly after our return, so I offered Polly the maid position.”

“You could find someone far more skilled, James,” Lady Sally said.

James shook his head. Though Polly wasn’t terribly adept at her job, she was pleasant enough to have about the place, and he felt a certain degree of obligation toward her.

“I’m not in London long enough or often enough to require a skilled housekeeper,” he told Lady Sally as he went in search of Polly.

He found her eating a slice of bread and jam in the kitchen and asked that she bring in a tea tray.

“Aye, milord.” Polly wiped her sticky fingers on her apron and went to the stove.

James waited until she’d actually made the tea before accompanying her back to the drawing room. Polly left the tray on the table, gave Lady Sally an awkward curtsy, and departed.

James leaned forward to pour the tea and extended a cup to Lady Sally. She took it with a frown.

“You know, James, you wouldn’t need to contend with inexperienced servants if you had a wife to manage a staff for you.”

Startled, James fumbled with the teapot, spilling the tea into the saucer. He looked at Sally. She dropped a spoon of sugar into her tea and stirred.

“Er, I’ve…I’ve no plans to marry, my lady,” James said.

“Oh, I know.” Lady Sally blinked at him. “Merely a statement.”

He rather doubted that. Sally was a bit too cunning to make
mere statements.

“But speaking of marriage…” Sally sipped her tea and continued looking at him. “I’m certain you’re aware that my lovely Talia is getting rather…on in years, yes? She should have married quite some time ago.”

James tried to deflect a pang of guilt and regret, even as an image of
lovely Talia
appeared in his mind with no effort whatsoever. As if she were a part of him, natural as breathing.

“Er…” He scratched his chin. “Earlier you said Rushton might give Bexley his approval if—”

“Really, James.” Lady Sally set her cup down with a clink, her frown deepening. “Do you honestly think Rushton would find Talia a husband whom she would actually want? He’s just like Alexander! He’ll think someone like…like Lord Kingston would do.”

James tightened his hands on his cup at the extremely unpleasant thought of Talia marrying the obnoxious, fifty-year-old viscount.

“Of course Talia would vehemently refuse, which would cause all sorts of strife between her and her father, not to mention leading to gossip,” Sally continued. “That is the last thing our family needs, James. And with both Alexander and Sebastian settled down…well, it’s about time Talia does the same.”

James cleared his throat, sensing this conversation was heading in a direction he definitely did not want to go.

“I consider it my duty to ensure that Talia also marries a man with whom she will be genuinely compatible,” Sally said. “A young man of the peerage with a secure future and a good reputation, someone who will respect her and treat her well. A handsome man, of course, but not one of those vain dandies who struts about like a peacock. A man who appreciates literature and travel. A man who will give his wife a good bit of freedom, but not allow her to run wild. That is the kind of husband my Talia needs.”

Lady Sally nodded, as if the matter were already settled. James shifted, placing his teacup back on the table. His stomach tightened with nerves at the idea of now having to tell Lady Sally what he’d told Talia a year ago. And realizing that he didn’t want to recount all those flimsy excuses. That he didn’t want to believe they were still true.

“My lady, I have always wished the best for Lady Talia,” he began.

“Of course you have.”

“But I do not…I’ve never intended to marry, not that Talia isn’t ideally suited as a wife, but with my career and—”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, James.” Lady Sally actually rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t referring to
you
.”

He looked up with a frown. “You weren’t?”

“Certainly not. I know quite well you’d never do as a husband for Talia. No offense intended,” she added.

“None…er, none taken.” He was somewhat baffled to realize he actually
was
rather offended.

“No, no.” Lady Sally waved her hand again, as if she were batting away a pesky fly. “You and Talia? Perish the thought!”

She gave a little laugh, the tinkling sound of which grated on James’s nerves. The idea of him and Talia wasn’t
that
ridiculous.

Was it? And why should he care anyway what Sally thought?

“James, I’ve another man in mind for Talia,” Sally said, leaning forward to fix him with her blue gaze.

Another man.

A fierce possessiveness speared through James at the mere mention of another man. He couldn’t bear the thought of Talia with anyone else. Certainly not the likes of Fulton, Bexley, or Kingston.
No one.

His jaw clenched. He could not be the man for Talia either, undeserving fool that he was. And he could not wish for her a life of lonely spinsterhood. Not warm, generous Talia, who deserved a good man, a family of her own, children on whom she could shower her love…

“What other man?” he asked Lady Sally through gritted teeth.

“Lord Ridley.”

“Ridley.” James didn’t know whether to be relieved or further irritated. Ridley was a friend of his. A good man from a good family. Honorable. Decent. Everything Lady Sally wanted for her niece. Ridley would be an excellent match for Talia.

Of course he would. Better than Fulton or Bexley, at any rate, even if the idea did still make James want to hit something. And he didn’t dare examine
why
.

He rose and went to the sideboard to pour himself another brandy. He took a swallow, appreciating the burn as it spread through his chest.

“That’s the reason I’ve come to see you, James,” Lady Sally continued. “I’d hoped, given your long-standing friendship with my brother’s family, that you might assist me in this matter.”

“What…what is it you wish me to do, my lady?”

“I’d like to secure Talia’s engagement to Lord Ridley…or at the very least, set it on the right course, before Rushton returns to London,” Sally said. “That way, he won’t have any reason to interfere. And Talia won’t have reason to refuse, if she’s the one actually making the decision.”

“And you believe she will?”

“If Lord Ridley approaches her in the right way, of course she will,” Sally said. “Even women as headstrong as Talia are not immune to masculine attentions. Especially when they are designed to suit one’s disposition.”

James frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s where you come in, James. I want you to tell Lord Ridley about Talia. I know they are acquainted, but he doesn’t know her nearly as well as you do. So if you were to
educate
him on Talia’s temperament, the things she likes and dislikes, her pastimes…well, then he could court her in a manner she will not be able to resist.”

“How am I to
educate
him, my lady?”

“Just inform him about all the things that interest Talia, what she likes to do, her favorite books and music. The fact that she likes currant muffins and detests lobster, loves Petrarch but thinks Boccaccio is horrid. You know everything about Talia, James. All you need to do is tell Lord Ridley.”

“What if Lord Ridley does not wish to court Talia?” James asked.

Sally laughed again. “You haven’t seen the way he looks at her, have you, James? Or if you have, of course you wouldn’t notice. He can’t take his eyes off her when he sees her, but he hasn’t yet mustered the courage to approach her. So it’s your duty to fortify his courage.” She raised her fist, as if galvanizing troops into battle. “Give Lord Ridley the confidence of knowing exactly how Talia wants to be courted.”

James felt his spine tighten. “And what if Lady Talia doesn’t wish to be courted?”

“Oh, she will,” Sally said. “Once she discovers just how perfect Lord Ridley is for her, how well he knows her…I daresay, her heart will begin to flutter every time he is near. And once a woman’s heart flutters for a man, James, then no one else will do.”

She reached to pour herself another cup of tea. James paced to the windows and stared out at the garden. Talia’s heart had once “fluttered” for him. Did that mean no one else would do for her?

He inhaled a hard breath. He wanted Talia to be happy. And if that meant smothering his own feelings for her…then so be it.

Before James could dwell on all the implications of Ridley’s courting Talia, before his mind could start imagining them kissing, touching, marrying…he turned back to face Sally.

“You’ve determined an excellent match for Lady Talia, my lady,” he said. “I admire and respect Lord Ridley and would be most pleased to help however I can.”

“Wonderful!” Lady Sally clapped her gloved hands together. “I knew I could count on you, James. I’ll begin making a list of ideas as soon as I return home. You won’t regret this, I promise you.”

James forced a smile as he saw her to the front door and into her carriage. Then he returned to the drawing room and headed straight for the brandy decanter again.

Peter squinted at Miss Hall and Mr. Fletcher. They were hunched over the front desk, explaining a lesson to Daniel, a fourteen-year-old boy who actually understood everything.

Not like Peter, who couldn’t make heads or tails out of the bloody primer or, worse, the sums. Resentment flooded his chest. He squirmed, tapping his pencil on the desk. That other bloke…Forester…was slouched in a chair near the windows, his arms folded and his face etched with a frown. He didn’t look any too pleased about this whole endeavor either.

Peter picked at a hangnail, wondering how long before he could get the hell out of here. He wanted to go back to the docks, where at least he knew he could do something. He was good at engine work. Strong, too. All the foremen wanted to hire him for loading cargo, pulling sails, working in the warehouse. Didn’t earn a pittance, but it was better than sitting here trying to get his sorry brain to grasp written words and numbers.

He glanced at Forester again, startled to find the man watching him. Wariness shot through Peter. He knew certain nobs stalked London’s slums in search of boys to satisfy their predilections…as if dealing with the kidsmen weren’t enough of a bother, the street boys had to contend with the bastards of the
ton
too.

Just let Forester try to mess with him. Get a stick in his eye, he would.

“Peter?”

Peter glanced up at Miss Hall. His shoulders tensed.

“Did you finish the first lesson?” she asked, looking at him with all that hope and expectation, as if she truly believed that
one day
he would suddenly be able to read and calculate sums. As if one day he would prove her success story.

He slammed his book shut and glared at her. “Waste of time,
my lady
.”

Who was she fooling, having everyone call her Miss Hall? As if it weren’t obvious just by the way she looked at you that she was one of those fancy women who had everything at her fingertips.

Unlike Alice, with her rough hands and shadows under her eyes.

Shame filled his throat. He looked away from Miss Hall. He felt the uncertainty radiating from her, and he was glad of it. He wanted to make her nervous and uncomfortable. Then maybe she’d leave him the bloody hell alone.