Devil's Desire (24 page)

"He does?" Elysia asked in surprise. For she'd thought he had been fully occupied with Lady Woodley, who seemed unable to take a bite without asking his advice first-constantly placing her bejeweled fingers on his sleeve.

"Well?" Louisa persisted.

"Well what?" Elysia answered, her mind elsewhere.

"Well, when did you know you loved the Marquis? Or how did you know that it was
true
love?"

Elysia looked thoughtfully at Louisa's upturned face–expectantly awaiting an answer. How could she tell her that she didn't love Alex, that she knew nothing about love, that Alex didn't love her? Could she destroy Louisa's romantic dreams? Had she the right to tarnish them with her own bitterness? It was apparent that Louisa was very much in love and for the first time. She had once dreamt the same things as Louisa, but Elysia knew now that they were just an innocent and naive schoolgirl’s dreams.

"To me, love would be when you could no longer think of anyone else but the person you are in love with. You feel bereft when he is not around and giddy and nervous when he is. You want to please that person, make him happy. You feel jealous of others he might be with. But most important, is that you place his health, happiness, and welfare above your own
—
no sacrifice is too great to bear for him. You worry about him, fear for him," Elysia continued quickly, almost incoherently with the revelations to herself of her own feelings for Alex which had hidden until now, and were being reluctantly revealed to her. "Nothing must ever happen to him to take him away from you
—
or your world
—
or your very existence would be at an end."

Elysia stood silently, breathing hard as the truth emanated from her confused and troubled mind. She loved Alex, she repeated to herself in disbelief.

How could it have happened? She had despised him–hated him. She would have escaped from him had she been able. Now she would gladly lock the door to her prison and throwaway the key. When she had thought him injured, she had acted like a woman possessed, or a woman very much in love. The truth had been revealed then-but she had been too blind to see it. She thought it had been desire-not love. She had believed that love could not exist for her.

She paled as she thought of Alex
—
what good did these feelings do her? They could only torture her, hers was an unrequited love. He desired her, yes, but he didn't care for her-at least not in the way she wanted to be loved by him. In all of their lovemaking, he had never said that he loved her. He had whispered endearments that had thrilled her, but never had he mentioned love. She was just one of his many women, the one he was currently fascinated with at the moment. He would soon tire of her, as he had done with Lady Woodley and so many other beautiful women. Could she bear to see him turn to another woman–go to London, and leave her at Westerly, alone? No, she could not stand that-but it would be even worse if he knew she loved him. How amusing for him
—
another broken heart! Elysia wondered if it had been her disdain and obvious dislike for him which had attracted him?
—
he, who had always received and expected admiration and capitulation to his advances, If she kept up her snow of ill–will towards him then possibly he would not tire of her
—
at least not yet, and she might succeed in capturing his love. But how could she pretend–when she had capitulated so completely to him, and now knew that she loved him beyond all reason. He was so astute–nothing escaped his golden eyes. Although some of the hostility had disappeared in their relationship–she still felt on shaky ground. It was more as if they had entered into an armed neutrality. They teased and traded sarcasms, but with an underlying edge of friendliness. They had entered into a new phase of their relationship-but it could very easily be shattered

Never would she allow Alex to know that she loved him, Elysia vowed to herself–never–unless he returned that love. She would not let herself be vulnerable to that kind of pain. She would play this game out to whatever its end–and by her own roles.

"Elysia. Elysia," Louisa was staring at her with concern. “Are you quite all right, you're pale. You are not feeling ill are you?"

"No, I'm quite well," Elysia answered dully. Or as well as can be expected with a broken heart, she thought despondently.

"Do you know that what you said is exactly what I believed love to be. Oh, it is precisely how I feel!” Louisa looked over her shoulder to be sure they were alone, and then continued in a confiding tone. "I have met the most wonderful man, Elysia. He is tall and handsome–and has the most beautiful, blue eyes and auburn hair." She looked starry-eyed as she thought of him, her cheeks flushing rosily.

"His name is David Friday, and he is the kindest, most gentle soul on earth. I met him for the first time one day a couple of weeks ago. I was out riding when Dove started to limp. We weren't far from the stable, so the groom went back to fetch another horse, and I was staying with poor little Dove when this young man came out of nowhere and removed the pebble from Dove's hoof. He talked to me so gentlemanly-like, that fin sure he is one-even though he was dressed as a seaman. I felt so at ease with him, not at all tongue-tied, like I usually am with those London gentlemen."

"A seaman, Louisa?" Elysia asked doubtfully, afraid her friend was sure to be hurt. "Your parents, surely they would not . .
 
."

"Exactly," Louisa interpreted Elysia's thoughts.

"They would not be at all pleased. In fact, if Papa found out that a seaman had dared to talk to me–why, I don't know what he might do in his rage. They have high hopes for my making a successful marriage–even though the Marquis is no longer available," she chuckled, and then bit her lip as tears brightened her gray eyes. "Oh, Elysia I'm sure if you met him you would see that he is indeed a gentleman, and worthy of my love. I only doubt that I am worthy of his:"

"What have we here?" Lady Woodley asked amusedly from the doorway. "Schoolroom secrets? Well, you'd better return to the salon, for your Mama is worrying about your whereabouts, and that of her 'Guest of Honor’ Hurry along and tell your Mama that we shall be with her shortly-before she sends you back to the nursery for being rude and spiriting one of her guests away. Luckily I saw you leave, and had to play tattle-tale," she continued maliciously, and laughed cruelly as Louisa hurried past, giving her a resentful look.

"Oh, please do not leave yet, Lady Trevegne," Lady Woodley said, moving towards Elysia, her eyes staring trance-like at the Trevegne emeralds. "I would like the opportunity to speak with you."

"Really," Elysia returned politely, yet not fully trusting the young widow. "I had not thought we would have much to say to one another."

"There you are mistaken, for there are quite a few details
of
which you should be aware. I would not have you ignorant of the truth, my dear Lady Trevegne," she replied, reluctantly dragging her eyes away from the green stones, only to stare into equally-green eyes. "I would have changed those ancient settings to something more modem," she said, almost to herself, before her eyes narrowed and a thin smile curved her lips. Then she continued, "you do know that you possess a hollow title? It is a title that you did not gain by your own cunning and efforts to ensnare Alex. You are only the Marchioness because I turned Alex's offer of marriage down. He married you out of pique
—
to save his pride. Alex knows I shall be marrying a Duke shortly, and after all the speculation about him and myself, well, you can imagine what people say. Alex would never allow himself to become the laughing stock of London, so naturally, he would have to take drastic steps to appear heartwhole, and show an unconcerned visage to the world. What better way than to take a wife, look the devoted husband. No one could possibly believe that he had been hurt by my refusal. But he still loves me
—
and I still love him. Just remember that Alex and I shall continue as we have in the past, once he gets over his offended pride, of course. But he always does as I wish." She looked at Elysia venomously. "You did not really imagine that he could be in love with you? I was his mistress for over a year. I know him. And you . . . you've only known him for a fortnight or so. Can that measure up to how long I've known him?"

"Maybe you have known him too long
—
possibly he became bored with your . . . er,
charms;
Elysia retorted smoothly, yet feeling sick with despair inside. But she would not let this creature know how wounded she felt.

"Bored! Bored with me?" Mariana demanded incredulously. She was enraged all the more because she knew it might be the truth. But she could not accept the remark from this beautiful, younger woman. "How dare you . . . you little slut. Do you actually believe that you could hold a man like Alex?" She looked Elysia up and down insultingly, laughing derisively. "He will come back to me
—
he always does. He still wants me, not you! You have nothing but his name
—
you don't possess his love."

Lady Woodley turned to leave the room, a smile curving her lips mischievously at the doubt she had planted in Elysia's mind.

"Yes, I possess the title. I bear Alex's name, and I also shall bear his children. You say I hold only the title. Well, the position entitles me to the jewels you have coveted for so long, and the estates, and Westerly, and a place in society that is permanent. Alex married me, and that is
forever.
Yes, I hold all of these," Elysia spoke, halting the other woman in her tracks. "But you deceive yourself, if you imagine I shall not keep Alex
—
for I shall
—
and not in name only. You are the one, Lady Woodley, who has nothing. You possess none of the things you so confidently lay claim to–
—
neither Alex, nor that title you covet. I would caution you not to count your chickens before they hatch. Good evening, Lady Woodley," Elysia spoke haughtily as she passed the speechless widow, and returned to the salon where she heard the mingled sound of men's and women's voices.
 

The carriage returning from Blackmore Hall bounced, as it hit a pothole in the rutted road, and threw Elysia against the Marquis. She pulled back as if burnt, and moved even farther to her side of the seat. She turned her face away from his curious stare, pretending to be absorbed in the darkness beyond the carriage window. Her mind kept returning to Lady Woodley's vicious words, her cruel laughter echoing around her troubled mind. Would Alex return to the Widow? Had he indeed asked her to marry him
—
and been rejected? From the gossip, it would seem that he had not asked the Widow to marry him. But if what she said was true, his pride would have been salvaged as he planned, marrying her to save himself from looking the fool, She could never let Alex know that she had fallen in love with him–especially now
—
if he still felt love for Lady Woodley.

She had lied when she told the Widow that the estates and riches of. Alex mattered to her. She would gladly have suffered the direst poverty to have but a part of his love. What was wonderful about a grand house if she had to wander through its halls and rooms alone? Who was there to see her dressed in fine silks and satins, bejeweled from head to toe? It was not an empty title she possessed, but an empty heart.

She foolishly thought that given time she could make Alex fall in love with her
—
eventually he might have, but she had not known that he married her on the rebound. She had believed him when he said he was in the mood to marry–serving his purposes, and saving her reputation. "Lies, lies, lies!” she cried in her heart. Everything was ruined now–now that she knew there was another woman in his life. He would hardly fall in love with her if he was in love with Lady Woodley.

Elysia sighed dispiritedly, half-listening to the conversation between Alex and Charles, their voices taking on a droning quality as she continued to stare out into the blackness of the night. She narrowed her eyes as she thought she saw a flash of light out at sea that quickly disappeared–probably a reflection from the lighted sconces from inside the coach on the glass of the window. She could see her own face reflected palely, her eyes distorted until they seemed to glow iridescently like white-hot coals in her face. Elysia hugged the warm fur-lined cape about her body, luxuriating in the feel of the soft fur against her bare shoulders and cheeks. Closing her eyes she dreamed of what could have been.

A finger of rock detached itself from the rest and moved silently from its shadowy concealment out onto the road The man stood statue-like as he watched the big, black coach disappear down the road to become lost in the blackness, the sound of the horses' hooves fading until silence reigned supreme, once again.

He looked out to sea–his eyes alert and searching, until he was rewarded by the Hashing of a light three times. Then it disappeared. He glanced along the cliffs of the coast, knowing he would not see the answering Hashes from the shielded lantern he knew was signalling the ship at sea from some hidden spot. The ship would now sail into one of the numerous coves along the coast. If he had not had a general idea of the area the ship would venture into, the chances of his locating such a ship–wishing to unobtrusively dock and unload its contraband cargo-would be a million to one. The whole length of Cornish coastline was honeycombed with small secretive coves and deep- penetrating ravines where a ship could moor undetected and go about its surreptitious business.