Heartbreak and Honor (18 page)

“Why wouldn’t she?” Bretheridge crooked his mouth and winked. “Doesn’t every woman aspire to marry brilliantly?”

“Not Alexa. She doesn’t want to be a duchess. Doesn’t want the life of a peeress or the
ton’s
trappings.” Lucan slowed his stride. Would marriage to him make her miserable, destroy the fiery gypsy who captivated him, and replace her with a bored, bitter woman?

God, no. He’d move them to a crofter’s cottage in the Highlands first.

Bretheridge nudged Lucan’s upper arm. “Forget about titles, reputations, scandal, and gossip. You need to convince her to marry you as a man who loves her, adores her, and cannot fathom a day in his life without her. Nothing else matters to a woman.”

“Waxing poetic, Bretheridge?” Lucan tipped his mouth into a lopsided smile. “What’s this nonsense about love? Much too soon to toddle along that nonsensical trail.”

Bretheridge grinned and slapped Lucan’s shoulder. “I just witnessed a man defending the woman he loves. You, my friend, are, tit over arse, head in the wool-pile, smitten.”

Am I
?

On horseback and waving like demented hags, Sir Howard and Lord Craven clattered across the pavement, making straight for Lucan. Craven reined in his horse, and his constant shadow followed suit. Was Howard capable of an independent thought or action? Did he piss when Craven did too?

Lucan kept walking, not trusting himself not to yank Craven from the saddle. Only betting against Renishaw saved the fop from the same fate as the viscount.

“You left the Needhams’ too soon, Harcourt.” Craven toyed with his reins, anticipation lighting his nondescript eyes. “Missed quite an entertaining spectacle.”

“Don’t know when I’ve been more amused.” Sir Howard chuckled and scratched his chafed chin. “Indeed, I don’t.”

Lucan turned around and furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you blathering about? I didn’t see either of you earlier when I dropped Miss Atterberry and her servants at home.”

Wise to make sure anyone eavesdropping knew he and Alexa hadn’t been alone in his carriage. He’d deemed it prudent to leave before he’d been forced to acknowledge Alexa’s family. He didn’t trust them—particularly Peterson—and he didn’t trust himself to remain civil around the bounder.

Several passersby slowed to listen to their exchange.

“Came up behind you. Recognized your crest, of course.” Craven’s horse pranced in a circle. “Didn’t know who the other carriage belonged to until The Dowager Lady Atterberry thrust her head out. Furious as a hellcat. Actually gave my heart a terrible start, she was so incensed.”

Craven patted his chest over his heart.

Sir Howard nodded, or attempted to until his over-starched cravat brought him up short. “Cannot blame her. Her stepdaughter seduced Lord Renishaw—in public, at that.”

Chapter 21

Escape
.

Alexa forced her legs to move, to put one foot in front of the other and turn toward the doors. Both her fathers had betrayed her, each claiming their actions were for her benefit. Gut-wrenching pain, so forceful she feared she would vomit, tore through her middle.

Stoicism be damned. Unused to such extreme emotions, she desperately sought privacy to digest what she’d learned. After a final glance at the solicitor, she spun on her heel. Head bowed, she hurried to the entrance. Before she grasped the handle, the door flew open, and she careened into Katrina and Shona.

“Alexa, what is it?” Peering beyond Alexa’s shoulder, Katrina reached for her. “My God, what has happened?”

Shona tentatively touched Alexa’s arm. “Alexa? You’re pale as milk.”

Alexa shook off their hands, and grasping her skirts, sprinted along the corridor. She must reach her room before she cast up her accounts or wailed like an infant.

Double betrayal.
Dat
had
lied. He knew her identity and then pretended he didn’t. Why hadn’t Steafan sent her to live with the Needhams if he worried for her safety? Surely, sequestering her with family members, rather than strangers secreting her away, made more sense.

Tears burning her eyes, she lowered her head and darted around a corner. She rarely cried, and never did so in public. She skidded to a halt at the stairway’s bottom.

On the entry’s other side stood Mr. Mortimer, the Duke of Harcourt, an elegant dame, and an austere gentleman. She’d seen the latter two at the bookstore, hadn’t she?

Concern etched their faces and filled their eyes.

Lucan surged forward. “Alexa, what has happened?”

With one hand, Alexa shielded her face, hiding her watery eyes. Not caring if those below viewed her calves, she lifted her gown higher and climbed the steps two at a time.

Was she never to be given a reprieve? Not even within her home? She couldn’t make it to her chamber without others witnessing her devastation and giving rise to more speculation?

She’d been a tattlemongers’ delight; one abysmal episode of succulent scandal after another. Skirts at her knees and gasping for breath, she bolted up the risers.

Let Shona have the blasted title. Alexa didn’t want it or the troubles invariably accompanying positions of that nature. She wanted to go home, to the security and obscurity of Scotland and the tinker’s camp.

But she couldn’t. Not anymore.

She hadn’t a place to escape to, and that frightened her more than this ill-fated trek into High Society or the ongoing gossip dogging her. She was done over, good and stuck, until this inheritance and title business sorted itself out.

How long did those proceedings take?

Weeks? Months? Years?

Impossible. She couldn’t endure the chaos for so long. She must be away from here, the sooner the better.

Hot tears spilled onto her cheeks. Swiping at them, she darted the wide corridor’s length as Mr. Ponsby’s words echoed over and over in her mind.

Your father arranged . . . paid . . . hide you.

Reaching her bedchamber, Alexa fumbled with the handle, tears blurring her vision. The latch finally gave way, and she rushed inside. She kicked the door shut behind her and sucked in a shuddery breath. More tears blinded her as she crawled onto the window seat. She angrily brushed her cheeks. Infants and weaklings cried.

It shouldn’t matter. She’d been well-cared for. Had been loved. She’d known nothing different and lived contentedly as a humble traveller.

Who else knew of Steafan’s arrangement?

Someone took her to the travellers after he died. Someone Steafan trusted and who kept silent, though whether from fear or loyalty, Alexa couldn’t determine. Or maybe, whomever Steafan chose to aid him, had betrayed him too.

Except Mr. Ponsby hadn’t said travellers. Maybe . . . Was her presence with the tinkers a colossal mistake?

Hugging her knees, she buried her face against them and at last gave way to the sorrow hounding her from the moment she’d discovered she wasn’t Tasara Faas. As much as she abhorred waterworks, her reserves, her self-control, the fortitude she prided herself in, was depleted to a nutshell’s worth, scarcely enough to keep her from shrieking and railing like a common fishwife.

The door whisked open.

Aunt Bridget or Katrina? God above. If He had the slightest morsel of mercy, He would spare her Minerva or Shona. Those two she couldn’t face at present.

“Please go away. Let me be.” Between sobs, Alexa sucked in a ragged breath, her face pressed to her knees. “I do not wish to talk to anyone right now.”

“Then don’t talk, Kitten. Just cry. You can tell me what’s wrong afterward.” An instant later, strong arms scooped her against a solid chest before settling her atop a very manly lap.

“Lucan?” She tilted her head against his shoulder. “You oughtn’t to be here. It’s most unseemly. Think of the gossip.”

More spiteful natter—a handcart load if he is caught.

“You’ve been the object of more than your share of tattle, haven’t you?” He kissed her forehead and adjusted her more securely against him. “I’ve left the door ajar, but I couldn’t ignore you when you fled upstairs that distressed.”

Alexa let her eyelashes flutter shut and snuggled closer. He smelled divine. Spicy cologne, coffee, and—she sniffed—yes, a touch of heather.

She’d not been comforted in a tender embrace for a long time. Right now, she didn’t know who else to trust, and his sturdy arms encircling her soothed her wounded soul, although it wasn’t her soul that an intense burst of heat surged through.

“Lucan, do you realize this is the fourth time you’ve come to my rescue or defense? The Blackhalls, the ball, the bookstore, and now?”

“Actually, it’s the sixth, but it is the fourth time today.”

She loved how his chest rumbled when he spoke, his voice a rich, melodious baritone. She slipped her arms about his waist and his muscles bunched. “Good heavens, truly? I am becoming a nuisance for you, aren’t I?”

“Never.” He hugged her, whispering fiercely against her hair. “I would sacrifice my body, give my life to protect you.”

His words, ringing sincerely, brought about another round of tears. Alexa blinked them back. “How can you say that? You barely know me.”

“I’m of a mind that the length of acquaintance doesn’t necessarily equate how well you know someone. I believe similar spirits recognize one another.” He rested his chin atop her head, his breath warming her scalp.

True. In mere weeks, Katrina and Seonaid had become sisterly to Alexa.

“I’ve known some coves decades, and couldn’t tell you a single personal detail about them. Turns out, I didn’t know my own father that well either.” A depth of melancholy she hadn’t heard before etched his voice.

Alexa acknowledged a similar truth. She grazed her fingers along the curve of Lucan’s ribs. Lean, rippled firmness. Not given to stoutness at all. A foreign, although not unpleasant, twinge vibrated her woman’s center.

“What happened while we were apart? Only a couple of hours passed.” The folds of his neckcloth muffled her question.

“I broke Renishaw’s nose and informed Lord Craven in the most succinct terms, what he ought to do with his flapping tongue.” Lucan’s torso shook when he laughed while rubbing her shoulders in a slow, soothing motion. “Physically impossible for the chap to do as I proposed he should, but made me feel somewhat better for having suggested it.”

“Oh?” She opened her eyes, her gaze fixed upon the slope of his lips. Why did he have to have such a lovely mouth, not thin, wet lips like the rat? “Do I want to know why you felt the need to protect me?”

“No, but Renishaw is not to be trusted.” A serious glint entered Lucan’s pewter eyes. “He’s placed a bet to see you disgraced. And since they arrived in Town, White’s book is peppered with his and Peterson’s name.”

“I’ll bet Harrison is behind Renishaw’s wager. He revealed his true nature today.” She wanted to arch into Lucan’s palm skimming her spine.

His breath warmed her scalp as he tucked her nearer. “Wouldn’t surprise me. Those two castoffs taint the earth with their presence.”

She feared them and what they were capable of.

The arc of Lucan’s mouth grew before he dropped a kiss upon her nose, though his gaze caressed her lips. “It’s imperative we marry, and hastily.”

“Still bent on that, are you? The answer remains no. I’d make you miserable, Lucan.” As unyielding as an oak, and if their circumstances permitted, she might have been charmed.

“I disagree. I think we’d get on very well.”

She toyed with the buttons of his coat. Besides, she’d lose her inheritance and with it, any hope of independence or helping the Highland travellers. “Hasn’t what’s occurred these past twenty-four hours been proof enough for you? I am not duchess material. I’d bring you disgrace, and in time you’d come to resent me.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” He dropped another kiss atop her nose. “What do you take me for? Some kind of ogre who expects perfection?”

She slumped in his arms. “Think of your family. I doubt they’d welcome a black tinker with a scandalous trail a league long into their midst.”

“You’d be sorely wrong, and you’ve no dishonor attached to you, except that which snobs have taken upon themselves to judge and thus found you wanting.”

If only she could believe him, that he didn’t care what his peers thought, wouldn’t care as time whispered onward. Nevertheless, often with the noblest and most honorable of intentions, people frequently found themselves regretting impetuous decisions.

“I’ll not quit until you agree.” He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I’d be far more miserable without you and cannot imagine ever resenting you. I’ve become most attached to you, my little gypsy.”

She shook her head. “Do not, I beg you.”

“We can talk of this later.” His arms tightened the merest bit. “What has you distraught? How can I help?”

Ominous clouds blanketed the sun, and the rays warming her through the beveled glass disappeared into bleak grayness.

Alexa sighed and shifted from Lucan’s lap. Pure foolishness to continue sitting atop his marbled thighs. Indulging in fantasies of him kissing her, and what life as Lucan’s duchess might be like, had her almost forgetting the travesty in the salon minutes ago.

Her core pulsed again.

Yes, indeed, gossip was the least of her worries.

He released her, but stayed close, his thigh touching hers. Tilting her chin until her gaze met his, he smiled. “What happened?”

She explained what had occurred from the moment he left her at the curb to her bolting into the entry.

“I’m glad for Shona’s sake, but truthfully have no idea where this leaves me. My father’s will names me his heir, but if I understand correctly, Shona’s petition for the title is valid. She’s welcome to it too.” She wrinkled her nose and stared into space for a moment. “I may have that portion wrong. In truth, I don’t understand most of this title business. I know Harrison would see me gone in a flash. Shona would have inherited my portion if I hadn’t returned in another two years. I’m sure that chaps their bums red and raw as the Highland winds in January.”

“You honestly don’t care about the title?” The penetrating look Lucan gave her set her heart aflutter. “Most women in your position would.”

Alexa plucked at the delicate lace covering her gown until Lucan wrapped his palm around her hand. She didn’t care about the title, but she’d be a colossal liar if she denied caring about the money. She’d spent eighteen years surviving on next to nothing, and didn’t relish returning to a pauper’s state.

“No, I don’t, Lucan. In fact, it’s almost a relief to think Shona may be awarded it. If I have my own funds, I would prefer she does.”

What Alexa would do if that proved true, she hadn’t determined. She hovered in limbo between worlds, not wanted by, or fitting into either. At least she would have the means to support herself.

She offered an apologetic glance. “I know that may be hard for you to understand. I wanted the power and monetary benefits to help the tinkers, but I’m not even sure they’d accept my aid now.”

He drew little circles in her palm with his forefinger, sending more of those tantalizing sensations along her nerves. “I have a foundling hospital along with other charities I support. Perhaps you might start there with your benevolent work. I believe those of us born into wealth and power have an obligation to ease the misery of those who weren’t as fortunate.”

“Hmm, perhaps. If I stay for any length of time, which I don’t foresee.”

Underneath her window, a charcoal-brown bird hopped about in the garden in search of insects.

Alexa lifted a shoulder then slouched against the casement.

“I . . . Lucan, I don’t belong here. I can never relax and be myself. I feel as if I’m acting, playing a role I’m expected to perform, but this,” she swept her hand over herself, “isn’t the real me. Yes, these are lovely trappings, and I’ve enjoyed having nice clothes and pin money, I cannot deny that. But it feels like a holiday which must eventually end.”

“Who is the real you?” Lucan tucked a tendril behind her ear then traced his finger along her jaw. “I see an extraordinarily beautiful, intelligent woman, who’s brave beyond belief, one I would be honored to spend the rest of my life with.”

He bent near and brushed his lips across hers.

A heady sensation enveloped her, similar to the time she’d imbibed too much wine during Hogmanay.

The urge to press her lips against his molded mouth, to feel the warmth of his lips on hers overwhelmed, and before she considered the rashness of her actions, she cupped his nape, drew him to her, and kissed him.