An Impossible Attraction (19 page)

“I do.” She stared, fearful.

“Although I will confess I have never had to do so before.” He was reflective again. “You seem dismayed.”

“What does that mean?”

“My previous lovers have eagerly pursued me and vice versa. I have never encountered resistance before. I have never had to assuage or reassure anyone, for any reason. I have never had to discuss the parameters of a liaison.” He paused. “That is what you wish, is it not? To discuss the exact nature of our relationship?”

Alexandra was ashamed. “Yes. I cannot be like the others, Your Grace.”

“This is undoubtedly about my promise to be generous. Do you doubt me?”

“No, of course not.” She knew he would be a man of his word. “But I must know what you require of me—and vice versa.”

His mouth curved, and he reached out and slowly pulled her close. “So you wish for details?” he murmured.

She wanted to soften in his arms, but she stiffened, instead, her heart pounding. “There is so much to discuss, even logistics to arrange. But mostly I wish for there to be a contract between us.”

He released her abruptly. “A contract? Not an understanding?”

He was insulted, and that had not been her intention. “I do not mean that you must draw up a document, Your Grace, but I should prefer for us to verbally agree to some terms.”

He stared. “Very well. And what are your terms, Alexandra?”

She hesitated, aware that her cheeks were on fire now. She wished he hadn’t felt insulted, but there was simply no easy way to ask for what she had to.

He waited.

Finally she managed, “There must be discretion. No one can know of our arrangement.”

He folded his arms and said thoughtfully, “You live at home with your father and sisters—two hours from here. If we are being blunt, then I will tell you that I require your presence in this house on a nearly nightly basis.”

She flamed. Images danced in her head, of her in his arms in a big, canopied state bed. “That is impossible.”

His face hardened. “Really?”

“We will have to settle on the afternoons,” she said thickly, hating this tangent. She added, “And that will be difficult enough for me.”

He stared, his expression impossible to read now. “I will purchase a house close to Edgemont Way. We will be able to spend evenings there once I have done so. Until that time, we will have to manage with the occasional afternoon.” His eyes darkened. “My time is valuable, Alexandra. Unlike most peers, I am preoccupied with great projects during my waking hours.”

She shook her head. “I did not mean to anger you, Your Grace. And I do not wish to inconvenience you. But I must protect what is left of my name.”

His stare remained direct. “I am a reasonable man, and frankly, I cannot fault you for that. You are the first in many regards, Alexandra. Your living at home, and being unwed, presents a difficulty I had not considered.”

She trembled, this time in relief.
He had understood her reasoning. He was no longer angry
. “Thank you.”

“What else do you wish to discuss?” When she hesitated, dreading raising the subject of remuneration, he said flatly, “Might I assume there is the matter of my generosity?”

She nodded and bit her lip. “I must do well enough to provide small dowries for my sisters.”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his tweed riding coat. “And what will that amount be?”

She so hated what she was doing. She’d intended to ask for more than dowries. The house needed repairs. They all needed clothes, and the pantry was bare. Instead, she decided to forgo those other things. “That is all. Olivia and Corey need dowries.”

“You do not wish for a dowry for yourself?”

“No.” She looked at the floor. Her cheeks were so hot she wondered if they were scarlet now.

“How much will your sisters need, Alexandra?”

She looked up, trembling. “One thousand pounds each, Your Grace, unless you think that is excessive.”

His gaze narrowed. “I think the figure a low one.” He shrugged. “Done.”

She’d secured a thousand pounds for each of her sisters, but she felt no elation. He must surely disrespect her now. Humiliated, and wondering if she should undo what they’d just agreed to, she turned back to the fire. She felt close to tears.

He came up behind her again, clasping her by her shoulders, his breath warm on her neck and jaw. “No,” he said firmly. “I am not letting you retreat.”

She tensed, shocked by the feeling of his entire body, hard and warm, against hers. Her heart thundered. Her skin flushed. A terrible aching began.

He nuzzled her neck and murmured, “This is morally repugnant to you.”

“Yes,” she breathed.

He slowly turned her around. “Why? I know
I
am not repugnant to you.”

“No, of course not.” If ever there was a time to tell him the truth, it was now.

He rubbed her shoulders languidly. “I have assumed from the start that you are a woman of some experience,” he said.

She tensed. If she confessed to her innocence, would he retreat from their arrangement? She looked into his smoldering eyes, her heart thudding with so much desire, and now, with some alarm.

He gave her an odd look. “I am correct, am I not?”

Her alarm grew. If she confessed, he was going to walk away from this pursuit. In that moment, she was certain. “There was someone once. I loved him.”

His eyes widened and his caress stopped.

“I did not feel ashamed of my passion, because of that love. More importantly, we had planned on marriage.” She searched his gaze, biting her lip. When he did not speak, she added, “Our arrangement is a calculated one, Your Grace. And that is the cause of my hesitation.”

“Yes, it is. And who was this paragon?”

“Does it matter? He has since wed someone else. And I am here, concluding an illicit and immoral arrangement—for monetary compensation.”

“It is to our mutual satisfaction,” he said sharply. “We both benefit, Alexandra. As do your sisters.”

When he stared, as he was doing now, it was impossible to look away. “Yes, they benefit,” she whispered.

He released her. “I am sorry you are struggling with your conscience. Perhaps this will help. If I cannot satisfy you—enough to make you pleased with our relationship and content to remain freely in it—I will terminate our contract but compensate you in full.”

It took Alexandra a moment to grasp what he was saying. She was stunned.

“I meant it when I said I am a generous man, Alexandra. Perhaps you should start taking me at my word.”

T
HE NEXT DAY
, A
LEXANDRA
set about preparing the evening meal with her sisters, but she could not shake her encounter with Clarewood from her mind. As she peeled potatoes, she kept recalling their conversation in vivid detail, especially his seductiveness when he’d come up behind her. It was impossible not to feel his hands on her shoulders, his breath on her neck. She trembled and glanced at the kitchen clock.

It was only half past noon.

Clarewood had instructed her to return for luncheon on Friday. Tomorrow. She had almost been dismayed, for a part of her had expected him to begin his seduction then and there. But he had been expecting the dowager duchess within the hour, and obviously, there was no getting past that.

She reached for another potato and realized she had emptied the bowl.

I shall require your presence on a nearly nightly basis.

She was already ridiculously tense, and her body had been in a state of fevered arousal since their negotiation. It was shameful. She did not know what was wrong with her. Being in his arms was wrong, yet it felt right.

She glanced at the kitchen clock again. Only five more minutes had passed.

“Why do you keep looking at the time?” Corey asked.

It was almost, Alexandra thought, as if she were looking forward to returning to him and beginning their affair, as if she were counting the minutes until she saw him again. “Am I looking at the clock?”

“Every five minutes,” Corey said, her hands covered with flour.

The front door knocker sounded.

They never had callers; their neighbors were far better off than they were and hardly interested in the disgraceful Bolton family. Alexandra tensed. She had stopped by Squire Denney’s yesterday on her way home to break things off with him. He had been stunned, and then he had been upset—understandably so. She had done her best to explain by telling him that she would never love anyone again, and it would be unfair for her to marry him considering that. He had argued with her, insisting she would become fond of him and that he would make her happy. It had been a highly awkward encounter.

When she left, he had insisted that she would soon come to her senses. “You are merely having bridal jitters, Miss Bolton,” he had declared. “I am sure of it. But your sister is right. I have rushed you, so I will court you properly now.”

“Please don’t,” Alexandra had tried. “I have truly changed my mind.”

She knew he hadn’t believed her because he hadn’t
wanted
to believe her.

Her father had already been out when she had returned, so she hadn’t seen him until a few hours ago, when he had been exceedingly cool to her. He no doubt still meant to try to force her to the altar, she thought grimly. But she wouldn’t go, and in light of her understanding with Clarewood, his intent simply didn’t matter.

Their caller knocked again. Alexandra took off her apron, as did Corey, afraid the squire was calling. All three sisters exchanged looks. “If it is Denney,” Olivia said, “remain firm. That is the best you can do.”

“I feel sorry for him.”

“You would feel worse if you married him and had to pretend that you cared—for the rest of your lives,” Olivia returned evenly.

“I’ll get it,” Corey said. “If it’s the squire, I’ll say you are not home.”

But as she rushed off to answer the door, Alexandra followed. She did not intend to hide. To her surprise, the squire was not there; a petite, beautiful blond lady entered the house, instead. Instantly Alexandra recognized her from the Harrington ball. She recalled having noticed her with the duke.

“Hello, Miss Bolton, I presume?” the lady asked, smiling and taking off her gloves.

Instantly Alexandra tensed. The other woman’s smile was cold, and the light in her eyes was somehow unpleasant. “Yes.”

“I am Lady Witte, and I have heard your sewing extolled by Lady Lewis and Lady Henredon.” She began removing her coat, and Alexandra helped her. “I do hope you will accept me as a new customer. I have a number of gowns that need cleaning and repairs.”

“I am always taking on new customers.” Alexandra smiled, relaxing now that the woman’s supercilious attitude was explained and pleased to have a new client. For while that would mean additional work, there would also be added income.

“Oh, I am so relieved.” Lady Witte smiled widely at her. “I have the gowns in my coach.”

Alexandra turned. “Can you get them, Corey?” Then she faced Lady Witte. “It’s rather chilly. Can I offer you some tea?”

“Yes, it is quite cold out, but I will pass on the refreshments. I simply wanted to meet you myself this first time. Next time I will send my gowns to you.” She smiled again and said, “Did you enjoy Sara de Warenne’s birthday fete?”

Alexandra steeled herself against any impending unpleasantness. “I did,” she lied. “It has been a long time since I was out in society, obviously.” She gestured at their run-down home.

“I can only imagine,” Lady Witte said blandly. “You certainly made an entrance.”

Alexandra tensed. “I wasn’t feeling well,” she said.

“It is fortunate Clarewood noticed you—and bothered to come to the rescue.” Her smile seemed frozen in place.

And Alexandra knew now that this woman hadn’t come simply for the fine repairs she could make to her gowns. It felt as if Lady Witte was prying into her relationship with Clarewood. But as they had barely begun, she thought she must be imagining it. Though socialites did love to rumor-monger.

Edgemont came down the stairs just then, dressed for town. “I am taking the black,” he said. “If you need to go out, you can use my mare.”

Alexandra bristled inwardly, but outwardly, she smiled. “I have no plans to go out today. Father, this is Lady Witte, and this is my father, Baron Edgemont.”

They exchanged pleasantries, and he went out to tack up Clarewood’s horse. As he did, Corey and Olivia came inside with a dozen stunning dresses—Lady Witte’s wardrobe had cost a small fortune. Alexandra saw some intimates in the piles of clothing: frilly, lace drawers and beribboned corsets, beautifully sewn and hand decorated, a few of the items black. No one had ever brought her their most intimate undergarments before. Corey’s eyes were popping, and her cheeks were red. Alexandra knew her sister had examined each undergarment.

“You need not rush,” Lady Witte said, as if oddly satisfied. “I prefer you to take your time and be as fastidious as you like.”

“I am a perfectionist,” Alexandra told her, as Lady Witte reached for her coat. “And I am proud of my handiwork.”

Lady Witte looked at her with open pity. “Of course you are, Miss Bolton.”

Alexandra helped her on with her coat and opened the door for her, now noticing the expensive lacquered coach in front of the house, a two-in-hand, the pair in the traces matching bay Hackney horses. As she walked the other woman out, Edgemont led Ebony from the stables, a few dozen paces from the house. “Thank you for coming,” she said.

Lady Witte halted in her tracks and looked at Alexandra, unsmiling, her eyes growing even colder. Then she strode forward.

Confused, Alexandra followed. “Is something wrong?”

“Where did you get that gelding?” Lady Witte demanded.

Edgemont had heard and he halted. “What?”

“Lady Harrington was kind enough to loan us the horse when our mare went lame,” Alexandra said carefully.

“Really?” Lady Witte sent her a scathing look. “That is one of Clarewood’s finest, or I miss my guess.”

Alexandra stiffened.

“You are mistaken,” Edgemont said, looking back and forth between them. “The horse came from Harrington Hall. My dearly beloved and deceased wife was a good friend of the lady Blanche. My daughter doesn’t even know Clarewood.”

Alexandra could not believe what was happening. Dismay mingled with the disbelief.

“Really? He rescued her at the ball, did he not? And then you were escorted home in his coach.” In obvious disgust, she strode back to her coach. Her driver opened her door for her and she got in. He closed it after her, but she leaned out of the open window. “I have changed my mind,” she said, her cheeks flushed. “I should like everything the day after tomorrow.”

Alexandra rushed over to the coach. “That is impossible, Lady Witte.”

“I am sure you will manage,” the other woman said, slamming the window closed.

Alexandra stepped back as the driver got into his seat, releasing the vehicle’s brake and lifting the reins.

“Alexandra?” Edgemont asked, as the carriage began to move off.

She forced a smile, exhaling before facing him. “Father, Lady Harrington gave us the horse. I can’t imagine what is wrong with that woman.”

He stared, impossibly sharp now—as if suspicious. Then he softened. “You would never lie. You don’t know how. I’ll be back for supper.” He swung into the saddle.

When he trotted off, her sisters came to stand beside her. “What was that about?” Olivia asked in concern.

“How would Lady Witte recognize Ebony?” Corey asked in a low tone.

Alexandra felt oddly ill, and her heart was thundering. She tried to recall exactly how Clarewood had spoken to Lady Witte, and now she was certain the woman had been flirting with him, while he had been characteristically impassive and polite. In fact, if memory served, his gaze had strayed to
her
, as if he were not all that interested in Lady Witte.

Not that any of it meant much—except that Lady Witte knew enough about the duke to have recognized one of his horses instantly. Alexandra did not want to jump to conclusions, though it was hard not to. Lady Witte was a beautiful woman, and she was both impossibly elegant and probably not even twenty-five.

Did she really want her gowns cleaned and mended? Or had she come for more personal reasons?

“She hates Alexandra,” Corey said, ashen. “But what I do not understand is why.”

“I think she is a widow,” Olivia said. “And I think she is jealous of Clarewood’s interest in Alexandra.”

T
HE FOLLOWING DAY
Alexandra arrived at Clarewood fifteen minutes early. Guillermo showed her into the blue-and-gold salon where she’d become reacquainted with Elysse de Warenne and met Lady St. Xavier. “Luncheon is at one,” he told her, unblinkingly. “His Grace is in a meeting, but he will be through shortly.”

“Thank you,” Alexandra managed, hoping he hadn’t noticed that she was trembling. Her nerves were out of control.

It was almost impossible to believe that she was embarking on an affair with the Duke of Clarewood. Alexandra paced. She was breathless. Well, of course she was. In a few hours she might be upstairs—in his bed.

She wasn’t ashamed now, or mortified. She wasn’t anything except anxious. He would be a good lover, she was certain. She knew he could be kind; he’d been kind to her the moment they’d met—and more than once since.

She needed him to be kind now.

Even if he didn’t truly care for her—and how could he? They barely knew one another—she needed him to pretend affection. He was very experienced; he’d been rumored to be attached to various beautiful women over the years. Alexandra was certain that he would put her at ease. In spite of his illicit affairs, he was obviously a gentleman.

Guillermo had left the doors open. She heard voices, one of which was his. Her heart jumped. She turned, and her eyes widened when she saw him pause before the threshold with Randolph. His gaze was direct, his smile suggestive. His eyes were unusually bright. Then he turned to the younger man. “Please make sure I have the answers I am expecting, preferably by tomorrow.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Randolph turned and smiled at Alexandra. “Good afternoon, Miss Bolton. I hope you are enjoying Ebony.”

She was too aghast to smile. “I am.”

He nodded and sauntered off.

As Clarewood strolled into the room, carrying a stack of papers, she said, “We agreed on discretion.”

He was amused. “Randolph is discreet.”

“Having him see me here is not discretion!” Unthinkingly, she started for the door.

He barred her way and caught her shoulders. “You are beautiful today.”

She froze, looking up into his smoldering eyes. “I have been anticipating our rendezvous. I hope you have, too,” he murmured.

She found herself staring at his mouth and slowly forced herself to look back into his eyes. “I suppose I have, though…I am somewhat nervous, Your Grace.”

His smile deepened, revealing a dimple. “You have no reason to be nervous,” he said. He slid his thumb along the high curve of her cheek. Alexandra shuddered. Sensation raced through her entire body, right into her loins.

“I pray you are right about Randolph,” she whispered. “And what about Guillermo?”

He was amused. “If Guillermo wished to betray me, he could have done so a thousand times.”

What did that mean? she wondered, thinking of Lady Witte.

He released her, sliding one hand down her arm in a casual caress as he did so. Her insides tightened anew. “He would never betray me.”

“Do you know Lady Witte?” she heard herself ask.

“Frankly, I know her very well.” He seemed mildly surprised by her question.

Alexandra stiffened.
They were lovers
. “She is a new customer.”

He started, becoming annoyed. “You do not need customers, Alexandra. You need to heed me, and carefully. Now that we have agreed to this arrangement, I will take proper care of you.”

She gaped. “What does that mean?”

“It means you need a wardrobe and some spending money, at the least.” His stare intensified. “I said I was a generous benefactor.”

She flushed, shaken. Was he kind and considerate? It seemed so. Maybe she had misjudged him on every score. On the other hand, there was his relationship with Lady Witte.

“I sense that there is more. Please, finish,” he said softly.

She found her courage. “Is she your lover…even now?”

“She was my lover,” he said, his expression impossible to read. “But it is over.”

She was relieved. And now she understood why Lady Witte had pried—she must have sensed the attraction they shared at the Harrington ball. And as she knew Clarewood, she must have guessed he would make advances. Ebony’s presence had confirmed it. No wonder she had been so imperious and so mean.