Three
After pouring himself a generous measure of brandy, Alexander swallowed it in one gulp. He just as swiftly poured himself another shot. He felt no guilt for his unusual consumption of the fiery spirit. Miss Grace Honeywell could drive any gentleman to drink. She had to be the most aggravating minx in all of England.
For heaven’s sake, it had taken him over an hour to convince the stubborn chit that becoming his fiancée was the only solution to their difficulties. An hour during which she had managed to make him feel the lowest excuse for a gentleman that had ever had the misfortune to be born. He had never regretted a kiss more in his life. Even if it had evoked the most astonishing sensations in the pit of his stomach.
Of course, he had to concede that once he had managed to wrench a promise of compliance from Miss Honeywell and sent her and her kitten on their way, he had been suddenly struck by the irony of the situation.
He had come to Chalfried to convince Mr. Wallace that Lady Falwell was not his mistress. What better means of convincing him than to produce a fiancée? One who could be easily disposed of at the proper time?
Determined to turn the exasperating dilemma to his own advantage, Alexander had sought out Rosalind and together they had plotted the best means to proceed. Now he waited in the elegant blue-and-green salon for his prey to arrive.
He did not have to wait long. He had just polished off his second drink when the overpowering scent of citrus cologne warned him that Mr. Wallace had made his entrance.
Turning slowly, he regarded the striped plum coat and absurdly high collar points with an inward shudder. At least the lace was gone, he acknowledged, although the enormous buckles on the dainty slippers were just as ghastly. A puffed up popinjay with few scruples and a talent for being where he was least wanted.
With an effort, Alexander summoned a lazy smile as he poured his guest a brandy and thrust it into his pudgy white fingers. Wallace’s own smile held an edge of lewd enjoyment.
“Well, well, Fox. I must apologize for intruding at such an . . . inopportune moment.”
Alexander waved a dismissive hand. “Think nothing of it, Wally.”
“A lovely wench. Who is she?”
Alexander allowed himself a dramatic pause. “Actually, that is a rather delicate subject.”
Wallace gave a nasty laugh. “Yes, I am sure it is.”
“More brandy?”
“No, thank you. I am all agog with curiosity. Are you going to confess?”
Alexander pretended to consider his request with a faint frown. “Only if you promise not to repeat what I tell you.”
“You have my word.”
Which was no doubt worth as much as the chip of glass he attempted to pass off as a diamond in his stickpin, Alexander acknowledged wryly.
“The young lady you saw in my arms is Miss Honeywell. . . my fiancée.”
There was a choked sound of disbelief. “You must be jesting.”
“Not at all.”
“This is absurd. I have never heard mention of any fiancée.”
“Miss Honeywell has been in mourning for her stepfather. We were forced to keep our arrangement between ourselves until after the New Year.”
The oily smile faltered. “Indeed?”
“Yes.”
“And what was she doing in your chambers?”
Alexander had prepared carefully for the obvious question. “She had decided to surprise me with a miniature she had commissioned from a local artist, but I arrived before she expected and I caught her placing it upon my bed. Rather impetuously, I was overcome at the sight of my beloved after such a length of time apart, and I allowed my feelings to overcome my good sense.”
An ugly expression descended upon the pudgy countenance. “Good God, Fox, you spin a pretty tale, but you cannot expect me to believe such a banbury story?”
An imperial ice descended upon Alexander’s thin features. When he wished, he could be as arrogant and commanding as his distant cousin the czar. He deliberately glared down his long nose at the much shorter gentleman. “Frankly, Mr. Wallace, I am supremely indifferent to what you may or may not believe. You asked for the truth and that is what I have given you.”
For a moment Wallace wavered beneath the intimidating glare; then clearly remembering he stood to gain a great deal if he could destroy his host, he stiffened his spine and withdrew a lace handkerchief to lightly dab at his large nose.
“That woman is no more your fiancée than I am the prince regent,” he scoffed.
They regarded each other in silence for long moments, like two fencers waiting for their opponent to reveal an opening. Then, on cue, Lady Falwell swept into the room, appearing inordinately lovely in a buttercup silk gown with an amber necklace draped about her neck.
“Am I intruding?” she demanded.
A sly smile suddenly curved the thick lips. “Not at all, my lady. Fox was just telling me of his mysterious fiancée.”
Alexander grimaced. So much for Wallace’s pledge of silence. He said nothing, however, as Rosalind artfully widened her eyes with shock.
“You told him of Miss Honeywell?” she demanded of Alexander. “I thought your engagement was still a secret?”
Wallace was obviously taken aback. “You knew?”
“Of course, although Lord Falwell and I were sworn to secrecy.”
“As was Wally,” Alexander pointed out in sardonic tones.
Like any rat, Wallace was wise enough to realize when it was time to scuttle back to the shadows. With a forced laugh he raised his glass in a mocking toast. “It seems congratulations are in order.”
The next morning Alexander rose at a most unreasonable hour to ensure he would discover Miss Honeywell at home.
Of course the minx had already disappeared to the local village. Determined to speak with her before Wallace could discover her whereabouts, Alexander had nevertheless lingered long enough to become better acquainted with her most charming mother. And long enough to realize that she had not been exaggerating when she had claimed that their cottage was not fit for a pig.
At least he now understood that prickly dislike that had shimmered in those emerald eyes. What maiden wouldn’t resent losing her home to a gentleman whom hadn’t the least need for yet another estate?
Returning to the gig that he had discovered in the stables, Alexander urged the plodding mare in the direction of the village. His eyes rolled heavenward at the uneven pace. He was quite certain that his grandmother could outdistance the nag. Eventually, however, he pulled onto the narrow High Street. For once his luck was in and he had traveled only a few feet when he caught sight of those fiery locks peeking from beneath a plain black bonnet. The rest of her was swathed in a heavy black cape that did nothing to complement her pale countenance.
Still, Alexander felt the oddest prick as he watched her storm down the street, the light of battle in those green eyes.
This was no milk-and-toast miss. She was a woman of passion. Decidedly angry passion at the moment.
Battling the uncooperative mare, Alexander at last managed to pull up beside his fiancée. “Ah, Miss Honeywell, I have been searching for you.”
“Go away.”
Alexander couldn’t prevent a startled chuckle. In all his years a young maiden had never, ever told him to go away. “Is that any way to greet your fiancé?”
She stomped her foot in frustration. “How dare you make light of this . . . this catastrophe? Do you know what I have endured this past hour?”
Glancing down the street to where a dozen locals had halted their activities to openly ogle the two of them, Alexander gave a rueful grimace. “I can well imagine.”
“I have never been so humiliated in my entire life.”
“Get into the gig and I will take you home.”
She instantly stepped away. “No, thank you. I prefer to walk.”
He allowed a smile to curve his lips. “If you wish, but I believe there are a handful of dragons waiting to speak with you just down the street.”
Against her will she turned to note the clutch of disapproving matrons standing beside the stone church. She visibly stiffened with dread of being at the mercy of their shrill tongues.
“Oh, bother.” With a harsh sigh, Grace awkwardly climbed onto the seat beside Alexander, keeping her gaze staunchly trained on the clenched fists in her lap as he maneuvered them out of town and onto the road that led to the estate.
Once away from prying eyes he turned to regard her rigid profile. “May I say you are looking particularly fetching this morning?”
“Fah, I look hideous in black,” she promptly retorted, then her eyes widened as he pulled to a halt beneath the shelter of a towering oak. “What are you doing?”
“We must speak.”
Her chin jutted out. “I do not see why.”
He heaved an exasperated sigh. Out of thousands of maidens who would have bartered their own grandmother to become his fiancee, he had to choose the one female who considered him as appealing as the plague.
“You are clearly determined to make this as difficult as possible.”
Her tiny gasp echoed through the chilled air. “You are the one who has made this difficult, sir. It was bad enough to be forced from my home to that wretched cottage, but now you have made me a source of gossip and ridicule throughout the entire village.”
An unwelcome prick of guilt brought a hint of color to his high cheeks. Good heavens, you would think he had created this disaster on purpose.
“First of all, I have already explained that I had no notion that my arrival in Kent would in any way inconvenience you, and I assure you that I will have your accommodations seen to as soon as possible. And I also assure you that I am no more pleased than you by the gossip, although I have gone to great lengths to ensure that by the end of the day the gossip will be centered upon our impending marriage rather than our impetuous kiss.”
The green eyes never wavered.
“If you are attempting to lighten my mood, sir, you are doing a shockingly poor job of it.”
A reluctant laugh was wrenched from his throat. By gads the chit had brass.
“Listen you aggravating minx. I am attempting to salvage our reputations from a very nasty situation. Are you going to help me, or do you prefer to have all of England believing you are a light skirt?”
A hectic color stained her cheeks, adding a hint of beauty to her plain features.
“Oh, if I were a man I would plant you a facer.”
Without conscious thought, Alexander abruptly leaned forward to snatch a brief, utterly heart-stopping kiss. Pulling back he gazed deep into her startled eyes.
“If you were a man we would not be in this interesting predicament, would we?”