Authors: Adrienne Basso
Intimate Betrayal (20 page)
“Get your things,” the duke commanded. “We are going to pay Mr. Hopkins a visit.”
Alyssa made a small sound of distress. Her heart filled with terror at the very idea of venturing into town.
“Morgan, please,” she pleaded, glancing down at her expanded waistline. “I cannot go into the village.”
“I would not ask this of you unless it was vitally important, Alyssa,” Morgan said.
Her green eyes searched his features solemnly. His expression was open and direct.
“I will go with you.”
Alyssa regretted the words the moment they were spoken, but she did not refute them. She was responsible for the missing desk and felt obligated to help Morgan retrieve it. Perhaps if she was very careful and very lucky, she would not meet anyone she knew.
Morgan went searching for Ned while Alyssa trudged upstairs to fetch her cloak and bonnet. As soon as Ned was found, Morgan instructed him to hitch up Tristan’s new phaeton and bring it around front. The weather was warm, and the open carriage would be more comfortable for the ride to the village.
Morgan waited impatiently at the bottom of the long staircase for Alyssa. She took a very long time. He stood there fidgeting, rocking back and forth on his feet, and disciplining himself not to go charging up the stairs.
Morgan heaved a sigh of relief when she finally appeared on the second-story landing. Gracefully she descended the staircase, stopping directly in front of him. She was covered from head to toe in a long, loose black evening cloak; an obvious attempt to shield her bulk from curious eyes. She wore a wide-brimmed bonnet that almost obscured her face entirely, and clutched a small leather reticule in her hands.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Alyssa nodded, not trusting her voice, and allowed him to guide her out the front door. She instinctively dug in her heels as she stood before the shiny new phaeton, but at Morgan’s gentle touch she moved forward. The duke sat next to her and accepted the reins from Ned. He glanced over at Alyssa. There was a hint of tension in the way she held her shoulders and a faraway look in her eyes as she stared out the side of the carriage.
The half-hour ride to the village was accomplished in complete silence. Alyssa held her breath as they entered the main street and drove down the lane at a sedate pace. Morgan was acting as if they were taking a leisurely afternoon ride through Hyde Park, and Alyssa wanted to scream at him to move faster.
“Where is Mr. Hopkins’s establishment?” Morgan asked.
“Down at the end of this block, on the left,” Alyssa replied quickly, her anxiety evident in each word she spoke.
It was a Thursday afternoon, and the street was not very crowded. Alyssa was grateful the carriage attracted little attention as they pulled up on the opposite side of the street, across from the small shop. She let out a tremendous sigh of relief when she saw Mr. Hopkins’s establishment was empty. She waited impatiently for Morgan to hitch up the horses and assist her from the carriage, her eyes darting nervously up and down the street. The last thing she wanted was to be noticed.
Once her feet were firmly on the ground, Alyssa lowered her head and sprinted to the shop. The tinkling of the small bell on the door was a sweet sound of victory for Alyssa. She had succeeded in entering the shop without being seen.
“Most impressive, my dear,” Morgan whispered in her ear.
Alyssa jumped at the sound, and then looked around worriedly to see if anyone else had followed Morgan into the shop. She was vastly relieved to discover they were alone.
“May we please get this unpleasant business taken care of as quickly as possible?” she snapped.
He grinned, and Alyssa itched to throw her reticule at him. He looked so handsome, so devilish, as if he-were enjoying her agitation. Didn’t he realize how nervous she was? Didn’t he understand how truly mortified she would be if she encountered anyone she knew?
Mr. Hopkins came out of the back room. “Good afternoon,” he called out to them. “How may I help you?”
Mr. Hopkins was a good-natured man, a shrewd but honest businessman. His small shop was cluttered with a variety of knickknacks and furnishings of various sizes and quality. He was a large man, and his impressive bulk only emphasized the clutter in his establishment. He was also hopelessly nearsighted without his spectacles, which he was constantly misplacing. He did not have them on now. Alyssa moved forward to greet him.
“Good day, Mr. Hopkins,” she said in a breathless voice, not believing her luck when she noticed his missing glasses.
“Lady Alyssa.” The shopkeeper’s face lit up with delight as he recognized her voice and fuzzy features. He had many successful business dealings with Alyssa over the years, and always liked the dignified girl. “What a nice surprise. What can I do for you on this fine afternoon?”
“I’ve come about some of the furnishings from the manor,” she explained.
“Oh, fine,” Mr. Hopkins answered. “Tell Ned to bring the cart around back, and I’ll help him unload.”
Alyssa blushed to the roots of her hair. Stealing a glance over at Morgan, she fully expected the duke to be furious, but instead he was smiling charmingly. He appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. Alyssa suppressed a strong urge to throw something at him.
“No . . . no, Mr. Hopkins,” she corrected the shopkeeper. “I haven’t brought anything to sell. Actually, I’ve come to buy something back.”
“Buy back, you say?” Mr. Hopkins queried, scratching his head, not certain he heard right. The gentry were an odd lot, for sure, but Lady Alyssa had always struck him as a levelheaded person.
“That will not be necessary,” Morgan interrupted in a firm voice. “I only wish to examine the desk. That is, if you have no objections, Mr. Hopkins?”
Mr. Hopkins raised his chin and squinted toward Morgan’s voice, noticing him for the first time.
“Don’t mind at all,” he said. “If you’ll wait a minute, I’ll get my spectacles, Your Lordship, and then I can help you find whatever it is you’re looking for.” Mr. Hopkins shuffled away, muttering to himself about the queer ways of some folks.
“No!” Alyssa shouted in panic. “Please don’t trouble yourself, Mr. Hopkins. I can assist the duke in locating the item.”
She turned around and confronted Morgan. “You dragged me all the way out here just so you could look at that damn desk?”
“Are you still going to help me find it?” he questioned with a maddening grin.
Alyssa took a deep breath and forced herself to remain calm. “Certainly,” she replied sweetly.
Without too much difficulty, they located the desk in the corner of the shop. Alyssa watched, dumbstruck, as Morgan removed a drawer from the desk, opened the false bottom, and took out a large white envelope.
Morgan was very pleased with the look of total bewilderment on her face. It was obvious she had no idea the documents were there. Any nagging doubts he had about Alyssa’s connection to the Falcon were immediately dispelled.
“I don’t suppose you are going to tell me what is in that envelope?” she asked.
“No.”
“Or how it came to be there?”
“No,” he stated firmly. “Now, if you will just give me a moment, I want to thank Mr. Hopkins for his assistance.”
Alyssa stood by the door, gritting her teeth as she waited for Morgan. She was keeping a tight grip on her control, even though she wanted desperately to throttle the duke. What was taking him so long? All she could concentrate on was racing back to the carriage unseen. She had only taken the great risk of entering the village to make amends for selling the furniture.
Naturally Alyssa knew she had no right to sell the furniture, but she reasoned Tristan and Caroline would neither notice nor care. Her need of funds had simply been greater than her conscience. She felt ashamed of her actions and intended to return the small sum of money to Morgan, hoping the matter would be forgotten.
Finally Morgan finished his conversation, and Alyssa noticed Mr. Hopkins pocketing several coins. Alyssa loudly called out her farewell to the shopkeeper from a safe distance. Checking both sides of the street carefully to confirm it was free of pedestrians, Alyssa began her mad dash toward the waiting carriage.
Morgan caught her before she bolted. Grabbing her arm firmly, he started across the street with her. Alyssa was focused so intently on reaching the safe obscurity of the phaeton, she failed to notice Morgan considerably slowing their pace. She tugged insistently on his arm, and when he didn’t move she was forced to raise her head.
She glanced at him briefly, turning her head to follow the duke’s line of vision down the nearly deserted block. Alyssa’s heart lurched and her eyes widened with fear. Heading straight for them was the biggest gossip in the entire county, Lady Jane Roberts, and her oldest daughter Cecille.
Chapter Fourteen
Alyssa felt her mouth go dry as she tried to speak.
“For God’s sake, Morgan,” she pleaded. “Hurry up.”
“They have already seen us, Alyssa. Our only chance is to brazen it out.”
“Oh, lord.” Alyssa swallowed convulsively, trying to dislodge the lump that had settled firmly in her throat.
“Who are they?” Morgan inquired casually.
His calm attitude served only to heighten Alyssa’s anxiety, and her hands twisted the material of her cloak.
“The older woman is Lady Roberts; the younger girl is her daughter Cecille. I met them several years ago at a market fair. Lady Roberts is easily the biggest gossip in the county.”
“I thought that honor belonged to Mrs. Stratton.”
Alyssa groaned. “This is not funny, Morgan. You know I cannot meet them. Please, we must leave,” Alyssa whispered frantically.
Morgan patted her hand reassuringly and remained rooted to the spot. Within seconds the two women had reached them.
Alyssa gasped out loud as Lady Roberts and Cecille stood a scant six feet away from her and Morgan. With her free hand, Alyssa clutched the front of her large cloak, trying to conceal her body. Morgan tightened his grip on her arm.
Maybe we can remain unnoticed, Alyssa prayed, hoping for a tiny miracle. Turning her head she focused her complete attention on the large display of silk and satin fabrics in the window of the mercantile shop, pointedly ignoring the women. Just when Alyssa was almost convinced her ploy had succeeded, Morgan spoke.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” he began conversationally. He elegantly removed his hat and bowed slightly to the two women. “I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. Would you do the honors, my dear?”
Alyssa wanted to kill him. She stared at his handsome profile, stunned by his audacity. There was an ominous silence and Alyssa’s face went white.
“Lady Roberts, Cecille, may I present His Grace, the Duke of Gillingham,” Alyssa said icily.
Lady Roberts’s face was a mask of uncertainty. Alyssa could tell by her startled expression that Lady Roberts was very much aware of Alyssa’s condition, and would have preferred to ignore them. Yet she could not openly snub the introduction of a duke.
In the end, Lady Roberts opted to pretend everything was as it should be, and hesitated only a moment before acknowledging the introduction. Cecille, blissfully unaware of the volatile situation, made a pretty curtsy and stared at the duke with a flirtatious eye. She was obviously impressed with his handsome person as well as his lofty title. Cecille gave a small giggle at the duke’s comment, fluttering her pale eyelashes at him. Alyssa felt nauseous.
The three others exchanged a few minutes of stilted conversation while Alyssa waited stoically by Morgan’s side, barely breathing, never blinking, and staring blankly ahead.
After what seemed like an eternity to Alyssa, the conversation ended. Lady Roberts and her daughter made their good-byes; Lady Roberts pointedly excluded Alyssa. Not until the pair reached the end of the block did Morgan finally release Alyssa’s arm.
Alyssa stared at him for some time, her emotions in turmoil. He returned her gaze steadily. Alyssa felt a coldness radiating from deep within her soul and she gathered her cloak closely, her arms curving instinctively in a protective gesture around her womb. Moving blindly, she walked to the carriage, somehow getting inside without the duke’s assistance. A few moments later she sensed Morgan’s presence, and the phaeton moved down the street.
Alyssa felt the cold, dull ache invade her heart. Biting her lip, she tried to suppress her emotions but failed. Disbelief, shame, and despair washed over her. Her eyes glistened with tears. Finally she succumbed to her overwrought emotions, bent her head, and cried.
Alyssa was too caught up in her despair to notice the carriage had stopped.
“Please don’t cry, Alyssa.” Morgan spoke loudly to be heard over her weeping.
The sound of his voice jarred her out of her misery, and her tears began to lessen as anger became the dominant emotion.
“Why did you speak to them? They were almost past us. They would have strolled by without uttering a word if you hadn’t opened your mouth!” she accused.
“Lady Roberts and her daughter had already seen us. It seemed cowardly to ignore them.”
“Cowardly? Have you completely lost your wits? Do you know what it has been like for me these last few months? I have made myself a virtual prisoner at the manor in an effort to keep my unborn child safe from the prying eyes of the Lady Robertses of this world.”
“Alyssa, please, sweetheart, don’t upset yourself so much,” the duke begged. He reached over and gently wiped her tears. His caring gesture only enraged her further.
“Get away from me,” she wailed, slapping his hands. “I cannot tolerate your touch.”
“Alyssa, stop this. You must calm yourself.”
“No, I will not calm myself,” Alyssa spat out defiantly. “Did you see the expression on Lady Roberts’s face? She was appalled. It will be all over the county by nightfall. How she and her precious daughter met the rakish Duke of Gillingham in town today. With his pregnant whore, Alyssa Carrington.”
Morgan flinched visibly at her bitter words, but allowed Alyssa to continue to vent her anger without interruption.
“I don’t care about the humiliation to myself. Truly. I know what I am, what I have become. I am a fallen woman, no longer acceptable in polite society. But my baby deserves better. I have gone to such great lengths to protect my child, our child. And then, in one instant, you have destroyed it all by standing in the middle of the street and practically announcing to the biggest gossip in the county that I carry your bastard. A blacker heart doesn’t exist in the devil himself, Morgan.”
The duke was horrified. He never imagined his actions would bring her such suffering. “If you would just calm down and listen to me,” he begged, fear etched in his voice.
She heard the fear he could not keep out of his voice, and it gave her pause. She looked into his bleak eyes and felt her fury start to crumble. Their gazes held for several long, silent moments.
“Forgive me, my sweet,” he whispered in a ragged voice.
Fresh tears shimmered in Alyssa’s wide, distraught green eyes. “I thought to pass myself off as a widow in Cornwall.” She gave a hollow laugh, then spoke softly. “I realize how naive that sounds. It will be impossible to spend the rest of my life continually worrying someone will discover my child is in truth a bastard. That is the price, I suppose, for trying to live a lie.”
Her pain and vulnerability tugged at his heart. Guilt engulfed him, for he knew he was responsible.
“My God, Alyssa,” Morgan whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “How you must despise me.”
“I only wish that I could,” she answered, her voice so low he had to strain to hear her words.
Morgan reached out, gently embracing her. Inexplicably she allowed it, and after a time rested her head on his strong shoulder, giving in to her complete exhaustion.
Loath to let her go, Morgan shifted his weight slightly and picked up the reins firmly. Still holding Alyssa in his arms, he slowly continued the journey back to the manor, never once relinquishing his strong grip.
Alyssa was nearly asleep when they arrived at Westgate. Drowsily, she straightened herself as Morgan climbed out of the carriage. Before she even had a chance to realize what was happening, he lifted her down from the phaeton. Walking past an openmouthed Ned, Morgan carried her into the house.
Once they were in the hall, Alyssa struggled to stand on her own.
“Morgan, please release me,” she protested. “I weigh far too much for you to be carrying me about.”
“I believe you have just insulted my manhood, Miss Carrington,” Morgan answered her with a wink. He cradled her closer against him, and she shyly burrowed her head into his neck, enjoying far too much the feel of his strong arms around her.
Morgan paused for a moment at the bottom of the staircase to speak with Perkins, and then proceeded up the long flight of stairs, carrying Alyssa every step. He entered her bedchamber, fumbling a bit with the doorknob, and placed her ever so gently on the bed.
She struggled to sit up in the soft bed, her large girth making her clumsy. Chuckling at her awkward efforts, Morgan reached out to help. She eyed his outstretched arm warily, not at all pleased with his obvious enjoyment over her predicament. She wished she could accomplish the task on her own, and knowing she could not only added to her annoyance.
Suppressing an almost irresistible urge to stick her tongue out at him, Alyssa grudgingly accepted his assistance. Morgan let out an exaggerated groan as he hoisted her into a sitting position.
“That’s not funny, Morgan,” she snapped. “I’d like to see how nimble you were if you carried this extra weight.”
“I’m sorry, love,” he answered, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. “It’s just that you so resembled an overstuffed duck, wings flapping wildly, when you tried sitting up by yourself.”
“A duck . . . a duck,” she sputtered. “What . . . what a perfectly nasty thing to say.”
He unfastened her cloak and placed it on a chair near the door.
“You are right, of course,” he said, trying to sound contrite. “Truthfully you looked more like a goose.”
Alyssa groaned loudly and threw herself back, lying flat on the bed. “I’m sure I look more like a cow,” she murmured bleakly.
Morgan was quickly at her side. He clasped her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. Her green eyes loomed large in her pale face, and he was instantly sorry for his teasing.
“I’ve always thought you were a beautiful woman, Alyssa,” he said in a husky voice. “But I have never seen you look more lovely than you do at this moment.”
His hand reached down, hesitating for a split second before stroking the swell of her belly where his child was growing. His eyes widened in shock at the hardness of her stomach; he didn’t know it would feel so solid.
Embarrassment flamed as Alyssa felt his hands trembling slightly while he explored the living roundness. She moved her hand over his, trying to pull him away.
“Don’t,” he protested, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Alyssa, please let me touch our babe.”
She kept her hand over his, but the gentle pleading in his voice stopped her from pushing his hand away. Suddenly the baby moved, strongly kicking out against the hands that had awakened him, almost as if in greeting.
“Good God,” Morgan said, startled by the movement. “Does that happen often?” He pressed his hand against her, waiting for another kick.
Alyssa shrugged her shoulders, her eyes moist with unshed tears at the wonder and excitement in Morgan’s voice. She could almost believe he loved the child she carried.
Alyssa shifted stiffly, and Morgan reluctantly released his hold. He assisted her into a sitting position for a second time and propped several large pillows behind her back, trying to make her as comfortable as possible.
“We must talk, Alyssa,” he said, regarding her solemnly.
She nodded her head in agreement. “We really shouldn’t be alone together in my bedchamber, Morgan. Perhaps it would be best if we went downstairs?”
Morgan laughed at her ridiculous statement. “It is a little late to be worrying about proprieties, isn’t it, Miss Carrington?”
She grinned in response and rubbed her forehead. “Yes, well, I suppose I am being a bit stuffy.”
“A bit,” he agreed with a heart-wrenching smile.
She loved it when he smiled. It made him look younger and less serious. She looked at his disheveled hair and intense gray eyes and sighed. She wondered if their child would favor him, secretly hoping it would.
Morgan sat next to her and held her hand firmly. Alyssa enjoyed the warm feel of his skin, the strength of his fingers.
“I first want to explain about my appalling behavior today,” he said firmly.
Alyssa winced at the memory, but did not protest. She strongly doubted a logical explanation existed, but she wanted to be fair. She waited expectantly.
Morgan squirmed a bit under her open gaze. Now that he had her undivided attention, he wasn’t sure where to begin. Especially since his actions had caused such great misery.
“I needed you to take me to the desk at Mr. Hopkins’s shop,” he began.
“To retrieve the white envelope,” she interjected. “That you haven’t told me anything about.”
Morgan grimaced at her. “That I will not tell you about.”
He began nervously pacing the room.
“I admit I did not do all that I could to avoid meeting Lady Roberts this afternoon. But I was desperate to make you see how much you need me, Alyssa. I want to marry you and take care of you. I want our child born at Ramsgate Castle. Yet I feared you would not allow it.”
She stared at him in confusion. “I don’t understand, Morgan.”
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