An Impossible Attraction (12 page)

A few minutes later he had forgotten Charlotte Witte and was thinking about his drawings. He was about to enter the study when Randolph came running up the corridor, his boots muddy from the long ride to and from Edgemont Way.

Stephen halted, smiling. He glanced at his pocket watch. “You made good time. Did she like the roses?”

Randolph met his gaze and hesitated.

His smile vanished. “The roses were exquisite, I presume?” Heads would roll if they had been anything less.

“They were beyond exquisite, and yes, she did admire them…somewhat.” Randolph hesitated again, as if searching carefully for words.

Stephen could not imagine what was wrong. “She admired them—
somewhat?
What, exactly, did she say? Surely she was very flattered.”

“I am not sure she was flattered, Your Grace. But she did say thank-you,” he added with haste.

Stephen was taken aback. “She was not flattered by my interest?”

Randolph sighed. “The truth of the matter is, Your Grace, she intended to refuse them, and I had to argue with her and convince her to keep them.”

Stephen was disbelieving now, shocked. Alexandra Bolton had wanted to return the flowers? She thought to reject his advances? She thought to reject
him?
A dark mood overcame him. “Why would she wish to return the flowers?”

Randolph pursed his lips. “It seems as if she has a suitor who intends to ask for marriage.”

Stephen was surprised. Surely she was not interested in the elderly squire? He’d already learned that the man who’d danced attendance on her the night before was Morton Denney, the largest of Sir Rex’s leaseholders. He was twice her age, but that did not mean anything. And while he was a gentleman, he was also a farmer. On the other hand, he had some means. For someone as poorly off as Alexandra, his means might seem like a fortune.

But they were not. He, Stephen Mowbray, was the one with the fortune.

“She seemed to feel it inappropriate to accept the flowers, Your Grace. She even said she should be sending flowers to you, as a sign of her gratitude for your aid with Edgemont last night.”

His interest seemed to have spiraled dangerously high. No woman had ever rejected his advances, and in fact, she hadn’t done so, either. But she had thought about it. Apparently, however, in the back of her mind, she wasn’t really ready to dismiss him. Of course she was not. In the end, she would bend to his will.

And now amusement began to rise. He had a rival?
Really?
He loved a good battle. He was only sorry his rival wasn’t someone more interesting, a peer who was closer to him in means and title. Stephen slowly smiled. “I want to know the moment the squire asks for marriage,” he said softly.

Randolph started. “I’ll contact our London lawyers, find out which firm Denney uses, and make certain we stay apprised.”

“Good.” Stephen turned, gesturing for Randolph to follow him into the study, and that was when he saw Charlotte backing away from the salon doors. Obviously she had been spying. He hoped it had brought her to her senses. And then his ex-mistress was entirely forgotten once again.

“I have some things I wish to discuss with you. I have started looking over the recent Ridgeway statements, and I’d like you to examine them,” he said, pushing open the study door. As his mind turned back to the affairs of Clarewood and the Foundation, he had one last thought. Tomorrow night he would extend a supper invitation. And because he did not expect her to accept a conventional invitation, he would make it a persuasive one.

A very persuasive one—the kind no woman could refuse.

T
WO DAYS LATER
, Alexandra smiled at the squire as his open carriage approached Edgemont Way. It was a gray cloudy day, the still-wet roads littered with red and gold leaves, and she’d just taken a tour of his home. She was impressed. He had a beautiful country house with immaculate grounds; clearly, he was doing very well.

Her home was ahead, a two-story rectangular country house built of beige stone with gray shingled roofs. The single stable, also of stone, was to the left. A caretaker’s cottage stood alone off in the distance, but it had been vacant for years. A low wooden fence encircled the front of the property, and in springtime, blooming bougainvillea climbed the rails. In the spring, Elizabeth’s red roses were a wild array against the front of the house. Now, only ivy graced its stone facade.

The squire turned into their short drive, and instantly, the coach hit a deep rut. Alexandra did not exclaim as she was jarred hard in her seat. She merely sent the squire an apologetic look. “I am sorry,” she said.

“Do not apologize to me. It will be very easy to improve the drive,” he said, smiling at her. He then added, “May I say you look lovely today, Miss Bolton?”

“Thank you.” She did not flush, and her heart did not race. Instantly, her thoughts veered to Clarewood.

How could they not? His magnificent red roses were in her bedroom, and when she went upstairs, she remained in disbelief. Why choose her for his improper advances?

She was grim. She’d had two days to think about his advances. She still could not comprehend them. But that was the end of that. She’d told Randolph about the squire and his suit, so no doubt Clarewood would move on to other, greener pastures.

It should have been impossible, but she felt a twinge of dismay and another of regret.

She pinched herself—hard—through her navy blue skirts. A wonderful gentleman with means was courting her. He could have turned tail and fled after the fiasco at Harrington House, but he had not. He was staunch, he was generous, and he was kind. Most importantly, his intentions were honorable and he could change her sisters’ lives.

Denney halted his two-horse carriage in front of the house. Alexandra silenced her wandering thoughts. She would have to entertain him for a bit, but she was impatient for him to leave. Lady Lewis had brought her gown by as she’d promised, the day after the birthday ball, and she was expecting to pick it up tomorrow. Several other ladies had also left their ball gowns with her yesterday. She had hours of labor ahead of her.

Denney got down from the coach, which he was driving, and helped her alight. Then, gravely, he said, “Would you be offended if I did not come inside? I’m afraid that I have some accounts to go over and a meeting with one of my most important tenants.”

She realized he leased out some of the land that he himself leased. She was suitably impressed by his business acumen—and relieved that he would not linger, so she could get to her repairs and cleaning. “I would not be offended at all, Mr. Denney. It has been such a lovely afternoon.”

He beamed and then, impulsively, took both of her hands in his. “I am trying to restrain myself, my dear, but would you be offended if I pressed my suit with your father sooner, rather than later?”

Her heart slammed. She told herself she was surprised, not alarmed. Then, somehow, she smiled. “I doubt you could ever offend me, sir.”

His wide smile increased. A moment later he was driving off, and Alexandra waved after him. He returned the gesture.

He intended to offer for her soon. She simply stood there, staring after his carriage, trying to control her dismay. She had expected a courtship of several months, if not longer.

But of course he was impatient. Her birthday was in the spring. She would be twenty-seven years old. And she wondered, her heart lurching, if he wanted more children. He had two grown sons and a daughter, all married, none of whom she’d ever met.

She decided that now was not the time to think about it.

Behind her, the front door opened, and Alexandra turned to see Olivia standing there, wide-eyed. Instantly she knew something was amiss. She hurried toward her. “What is it? Is something wrong?’

“Come inside.”

Alarmed, Alexandra increased her stride and followed her sister into the house. “Father is out,” Olivia said tersely, leading Alexandra into the parlor.

But Alexandra stumbled on the threshold, because six vases were on the table behind the sofa, each filed with a dozen perfect burgundy roses. Her heart slammed. Then it began racing madly.

He wasn’t giving up.

“The florist delivered them himself. They came an hour after you left with the squire,” Olivia said, her tone hushed, her eyes huge.

Alexandra sat down, in shock.

Corey rushed into the room. “Can you believe it?” she asked in excitement. “This time there’s a letter!”

Why was he doing this?

Olivia handed her a letter. She said, “There’s something inside, Alexandra.”

She looked at the envelope, and saw the bulge in it. It was addressed simply to her at Edgemont Way; obviously, the florist had been given directions and a precise address. She could not imagine what the bulge meant. She turned the envelope over and saw that her hands were trembling. His crest was a magnificent one: the letter
C
was book-ended by two rearing lions, a crown atop it.

“Please open it,” Corey begged.

She looked up at her sisters. “I was very clear. I told Randolph that the duke’s previous gesture was inappropriate. I explained that the squire is courting me, and that he intends marriage.” She did not recognize the tone of her own voice. It was high and strained. Tension had stiffened her so much that her back hurt.

“He is so romantic,” Corey breathed.

Alexandra felt like screaming at her silly sister. This was not romantic. It was sordid.

But she wet her lips and took the letter opener that Olivia was holding out. She slit the envelope. And as she saw the gleaming contents inside, sprawled almost carelessly against a folded letter, her eyes widened and she went still with shock.

“What is it?” Olivia asked urgently.

Alexandra felt incapable of movement, of speech. She lifted the diamond bracelet from the envelope. It glittered wildly, even in the dull and gloomy daylight.

Corey gasped and sat down in an adjacent chair. Olivia cried out. Dumbfounded, Alexandra simply stared at the bracelet. It was two centimeters wide, consisting of hundreds of diamonds set in platinum squares. Her heart was pounding so fiercely now that she felt dizzy.

“That is worth a fortune,” Olivia managed, also sitting down.

“Why is he doing this?” Alexandra asked helplessly. That bracelet could purchase new wardrobes for her sisters, she thought. It could provide small dowries. What was in his mind?

“Read the letter,” Olivia whispered.

Alexandra gasped, realizing she’d forgotten about the note. She handed the bracelet to Olivia, who exclaimed over it, still stunned, and took out the letter and unfolded it.

“What does it say?” Corey demanded, but her tone was hushed with awe. She was holding the bracelet now.

Alexandra handed the letter to Olivia, who read it aloud. Her own mind raced, spun. She could not go. Of course she could not go. Because now there was no doubt as to his intentions. If he were inclined to court her, he would never send her this kind of invitation, or the kind of gift one bought one’s mistress—if one were exceedingly rich.

“You have to go,” Corey said, leaping to her feet.

Alexandra looked up at her. “Corey, he is intent on seduction. And I have a suitor, remember?”

“The squire?” Corey demanded scornfully. “Alexandra, what is wrong with you? The most handsome—and wealthiest—bachelor in Britain is pursuing you. How can you possibly refuse?”

“If I go over there tonight, I will return a fallen woman, a harlot with no shame!” Alexandra said, distressed.

Corey paled. Then, stubbornly, “I think he is a gentleman. He would never force you to do something against your will.”

Alexandra stared desperately at her youngest sister. She longed to believe as Corey did—not that it mattered. What her sister did not know was that she dreamed of his strong arms, of his kisses. He’d awakened her dormant body, reminding her that she was an unfulfilled woman. But, dear God, he wasn’t Owen. She did not love him. She did not even
know
him!

Olivia got up. “Corey, I believe that the duke is a gentleman, but I also agree with Alexandra that his intentions are scandalous.” Olivia turned and looked carefully at her.

Alexandra stared back, aware that her sister sensed just how attracted she was to him.

“He has refused to take no for an answer,” Olivia murmured.

“Are you going to reject the supper invitation?” Corey asked. “Even if you do, you still should keep the bracelet.”

“Corey!” Olivia was aghast. “This is a stunning development, but Alexandra can’t keep the bracelet.” She turned to stare at Alexandra very closely again, her regard searching.

“But it would feed us for years. It would pay our debt,” Corey said flatly. And she looked at Alexandra, too.

Alexandra’s temples were throbbing. “I cannot keep the bracelet, because that would send the signal that I am open to his advances.” She knew what she had to do. “Corey?” She held out her hand.

Corey seemed highly reluctant, but she handed Alexandra the glittering bracelet. “I would go,” she said angrily. “And I would rather be the duke’s mistress than the squire’s wife.”

Alexandra felt her heart lurch wildly, but she refused to identify her feelings. Nor did she want his image in her mind, as if engraved upon her memory. “He knows I am being courted. He obviously doesn’t care. This has to stop.”

Reluctantly, Olivia agreed with her. “It does have to stop—that is, if you mean to go through with marriage to the squire.”

Alexandra ignored another jolt in her heart. “I do.” She looked at the table with the six dozen roses. “If Father saw those, I do not know what I would say. He would be furious. The Lord only knows what he would do.” She inhaled. “I am going to Clarewood.”