Heaven Sent the Wrong One (27 page)

The Most Important People

F
our long weeks. One miserable month. And not a peep from Allayne Carlyle. She could not take it anymore. The longer time stretched, the more uneasy she had become. What could he be doing? Had he been talking to solicitors, sneaking behind her back, maneuvering some devious plot to take Gabriel away from her? Oh, he'd better not! Alexandra muttered a very un-ladylike curse and yanked her kid gloves on with furious tugs.

Her maid looked up from lacing her stays, peering over her shoulder in the mirror. "Your Grace, are you alright?"

"Yes, yes. I'm fine." Alexandra swept her gaze at her own reflection. A rich flush cast a glow on her cheeks and her eyes seemed larger, brighter. She looked like a woman who had just been kissed.

“
Fool!” she mumbled to herself. The entire day, she had been jittery and absent-minded. Tonight, her condition had gotten worse—because she knew, Allayne would be at Jeremy's dinner party. She had been reluctant to go, but Jeremy's wife, Cassie, had organized the party for her, as her 'Welcome Back' into society. Jeremy had assured her that they'd invited only family and close friends—and there lied the problem. Allayne qualified for both.

The maid helped her into her new gown, an exquisite burgundy creation embellished with dusky gold beaded trim that sparkled in the candlelight. It had been delivered that morning
—a surprise gift from her Papa.

"Oh, it's so beautiful on you, Your Grace!" her maid exclaimed, as she adjusted the gown here and there, plumping the pouf sleeves that rested just below her shoulders and straightening the layers of skirting made of shimmering silk. "You will t
urn the head of every gentleman in the room."

"I'm sure there are many young ladies present to impress the gentlemen, Polly," Alexandra said, as she checked her appearance in the mirror. Her maid was not exaggerating. The gown did flatter her coloring, br
inging out the chestnut highlights in her hair. A low neckline revealed more than enough to excite a man's imagination. She could not wait to witness Allayne's reaction when he saw her. The thought of his eyes alighting on her bare skin—skimming her throat, her shoulders, the tops of her breasts—

Stop it! Alexandra inwardly scolded herself. She did not want to see him. And no
—she had not been miserable with longing for him at all. Well—perhaps just once—when she thought for sure that Allayne had kissed her in her sleep, or that other time when she woke up in the middle of the night—trembling and out of breath, ablaze with desire for him. The rest of the days did not count, of course. There was absolutely nothing wrong with woolgathering about someone. It was a perfectly good exercise to pass the time. Besides—she had not been dreaming all roses and rainbows about him. In fact—she was more than a little apprehensive in seeing him again. What if he was waiting on the sidelines, ready to pounce and take her to the magistrate for the deception she devised with Henry the moment he laid eyes on her? What if he made a scene and announced that Gabriel was his son?

Gabriel! Oh, God, she should not have consented to let him sleep over at Jeremy's house! Edward
and Diana had been so insistent, that before she knew it, the scheming pair had  outmaneuvered and manipulated her into letting Gabriel come with them. She had totally forgotten what Jeremy would think when he saw Gabriel. And Cassie—Dear God—she would notice Gabriel's resemblance to her brother, Allayne, for certain!

Alexandra pressed her palms to her hot cheeks with a groan. She had completely lost her mind! How she would manage to walk into Waterford House and look everyone in the e
yes was totally beyond her. She might as well throw a bag over her head, because she could not imagine how she would face the implicit criticism and disapproval from those around her, family or not.

Polly opened the door to the footman who had come to info
rm them that the carriage was ready. Alexandra nodded and drew a labored breath, bracing herself for the upcoming encounter as they made their way downstairs and boarded the coach. Lord, but she had done nothing, but walk into disaster after disaster the moment she'd set foot in London! Tomorrow, as soon as the sun rose, the first thing she intended to do was have Polly pack their luggage and leave for Sidmouth Abbey. She shouldn't have done this—rushed into the city without a concrete plan in case things didn't go as expected.

Alexandra was still mulling over her troubles when their carriage approached Waterford House.

"Oh my," Polly exclaimed, craning her neck towards the driveway.

Alexandra turned her gaze in that direction. The road was practically pack
ed with carriages—an alarming number of them, with swarms of well-dressed guests alighting from their conveyances and flocking to the entrance of Waterford House.

A rush of panic gripped Alexandra. Surely
—she had not misunderstood Jeremy when he said the affair was exclusively for close family only? Her whole body went cold and her hands dampened. She opened the window to call her driver and have him turn the carriage around, but it was no use—several other coaches were now blocking them from the sides, to the front and back. Alexandra quelled the sudden urge to bolt. Dear God, but she was not ready for this—she could not hold her head high in front of the ton—not yet—not so soon after that incident at the soiree.

The carriage lumbered forward and before lon
g, a footman dressed in Waterford livery opened the door. Alexandra accepted the hand he extended for assistance. Polly bade her goodbye. Her knees were shaking as she climbed the steps to the entrance. She could feel the eyes on her and overhear snippets of hushed conversations. Alexandra drew what little confidence she had left and forced a smile on her face, nodding at familiar faces here and there, ignoring the curious stares and whispers.

"Welcome back, Your Grace." Jeremy's butler, Barton, took her sh
awl as she reached the threshold.

"Thank you, Barton." Alexandra glanced around. "Are Lord and Lady Waterford receiving upstairs?" She turned her gaze at the crush going up the curving marble staircase that led to the ballroom.

"His lordship and ladyship have decided to forego the reception line tonight for the sake of convenience." Barton followed her gaze, then bowed his farewell to attend to the other guests.

Alexandra moved towards the stairs. The Waterfords had done the right thing in foregoing the re
ception line. It would take hours to greet everyone—the entire ton must have shown up to attend the party in her honor—though for the life of her, she could not fathom why.

Finally, after the slow progress up the steps, Alexandra reached the wide landing
overlooking the magnificent ballroom below. Like most great houses, the marble platform was designed to provide guests with a grand entrance. A flight of steps spread downwards into the ballroom in a wide arc, allowing one to parade in his or her attire and get a good view of the opulent interior.

Alexandra's eyes widened at the extravagant decor. Each enormous pillar on the four corners of the hall was decorated to the hilt with white roses. Every arched glass door along the side walls that opened to the v
eranda outside was draped with yards of delicate silk, swags of white roses, and crystals that caught the light from the brilliant chandeliers above. At the opposite end, a full orchestra was playing a popular symphony to the delight of an enchanted audience.

Good Lord, Alexandra swallowed. Everything was so lavish. Surely, all this could not be for her. Jeremy and Cassie must be celebrating something else aside from her venture back into society.

She swept her gaze about the crowded ballroom. Was Allayne here? Where in heaven's name were the Waterfords? How would she ever find anyone in this madhouse?

"Ah, there you are, my dear." Alexandra turned to see her father, the Earl of Weston, walking towards her.

"Papa! What are you doing here?" she exclaimed, meeting him halfway. Jeremy must have been very persuasive in his invitation for the Earl to show up. Nothing could keep her Papa away from his horses. He loved the country and only the lure of a trip to Tattersall's could make him take the journey from Oxfordshire to the city.

"Ah, well, I thought it would do me some good to get some stale city air once in a while." He kissed her on the cheek and placed her hand on his arm.

"Did Jeremy promise to take you to Tattersalls?" She glanced sideways at him as they made their way down the winding stair steps.

"Well, that too." Her Papa gave her an approving smile. "You look very lovely tonight, my dear."

"Thank you, Papa, and thank you for sending me this exquisite gown."

"Yes
—well, I thought you might want something fancy to wear tonight. Your Mama would have been so proud to see how beautiful you've grown," he grinned, yet a trace of sadness shimmered in his eyes.

Alexandra squeezed his arm and beamed at him. Her Papa never talked much about her Mama and she suspec
ted that he still had not gotten over his loss. A worried frown creased her brow. He seemed pensive—overly sentimental tonight. She sincerely hoped he was not sliding into melancholia again, like the way he had done, for years after her mother died.

The m
usic from the orchestra ceased and a chime sounded to summon the guests' attention. All heads turned to the direction of the podium. Alexandra saw Viscountess Carlyle go up the short flight of steps with a wave of an elegant hand.

The noise in the ballroom
subsided and the crowd pressed nearer towards the stage.

"Come." Her Papa tugged at her hand, leading her as close to the front as the space would comfortably permit.

Alexandra disguised her anxiety. Truly—she hoped this was not Allayne’s mother's idea of welcoming her back into society. The last thing she needed was for her to have to go up onto the podium and see the censure in everyone's eyes.

"Good evening, everyone!" For a lady with such a petite stature, the Viscountess propelled her voice clearly o
ver the din of chatter across the room. "Thank you for joining us. Tonight, we are celebrating a very special occasion—"

Alexandra squeezed her eyes shut. God help her, but here comes the part where Lady Carlyle would call her name
—…

"
—on behalf of my son, Allayne Cassius Carlyle."

The Viscountess' words penetrated Alexandra's restless introspection. Her eyes flew open. On behalf of
—of—did she hear the Viscountess correctly? Was she at the wrong gathering? She could swear—today was the day written in the invitation for the party that was supposedly be for her!

"As you all know," Lady Carlyle continued, "my son is a highly eligible bachelor. But tonight, he wishes to announce that he has chosen a bride."

Murmuring emanated from the crowd.

Alexandra's heart s
ank. He had decided to go ahead with his engagement to Miss Ellery, after all. And she—by some cruel twist of fate—did misread the invitation and had mistakenly attended his betrothal announcement instead. She should be grateful at the turn of events for this could only mean one thing. Allayne had withdrawn his offer for her hand. And with that, came the possibility that he might be amenable to some kind of discreet arrangement regarding Gabriel. He must have woken up one morning and wondered what in God's name he had been doing—pursuing a widow with morals low enough to conceal his son from him, when he had the world at his feet and a beautiful heiress to someday become his Viscountess. This was what she had wanted, wasn't it? For him to leave her and Gabriel alone. For her life to revert back to the way it had been. She should be happy with this development.

But of course, she was happy.

Tears welled in her eyes. Her gut clenched in knots. She wanted to throw up.

"Thank you, Mama," Allayne's baritone voice
brought Alexandra back to the matter at hand. She watched him approach his Mother with that confident, easy, long-legged gait. He kissed his mother's cheek, before turning those gorgeous green eyes at the avid, awaiting guests.

A collective sigh gushed fro
m the ladies. The butterflies that fluttered in Alexandra's belly echoed their sentiment. He was achingly handsome, with a physique so solid and powerful that literally implied his prowess in bed. His wind-blown, honey-blond hair was trimmed to his shoulders, giving him an air of ruggedness—something devilish, untamed—a fallen angel, or a wicked pirate. She caught her breath at the remembrance of her first impression of him, on that wonderful spring day in Bath.

"Is the lucky lady present amongst the guests
?" The Viscountess asked.

The ladies shoved their way to the front.

He surveyed the audience from one end of the room to the other.

Alexandra quickly bent her knees and scooted behind her Papa. He was going to see her
—easily, with her statuesque height—and she must not let him. She did not want him to think, to witness—how much this was slowly killing her.

"Yes, she is," Allayne answered, and Alexandra saw that his gaze had gone past where she stood with her Papa. She blew out a breath in relief
—immediately followed by a fresh wave of nausea. He was about to announce his intended—and she was about to lose him forever. At the thought of all hope between them gone, a heaviness fell on her chest. Sudden lightheadedness assailed her. Her legs wobbled and her whole body went cold.