A Scarlet Bride (9 page)

She closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling with heated breath, as her conscious mind tried to remind her that she was supposed to be resisting him. She was supposed to be showing him how unaffected his kisses left her. But she had dreamed of this, wanted this for the last week. Only now, like a cup half full, she realized she wanted more.

Behind her, the door burst open, shining the light of the ballroom upon them. Quickly Alexandra thrust her hands against Connor's chest, trying to push him away. With slow motion, Connor rose from kissing her breast.

Still in a sensual fog, Alexandra didn't realize until she heard the telltale sound of ripping lace that somehow they had become entangled.

In a panic, Alexandra reached for the lace that hung from her bodice, desperately trying to cover her chemise.

"Good Lord, what is going on out here?" a man's voice called.

"Oh, my God," she said softly, realizing she stood in Connor's arms, her bodice ripped almost to her waist The next few moments whirled by in a sense of bewilderment and shock.

Connor, who had been strangely quiet until this moment
said,"Hold
still, Alex, and let me get us loose."

"Manning, just what kind of party are you holding out here?" Reverend Donahue asked.

Connor ignored the man.

"Alexandra," Connor warned, trying to get her to be still.

"Let me go," she said. "I think you've done enough damage."

At that precise moment several others burst through the doors, spilling enough
light
out on the porch to make Alexandra feel that she was on public display, with Connor hanging from her torn bodice.

The words "hasty marriage" reached Alexandra's ears and she moaned, "Dear God, not now!"

***

She was the biggest fool that ever lived. It was the only explanation Alexandra could find to understand how such things always seemed to happen to her. Connor Manning was the kind of man a woman did not toy with. He was the kind of man one was always on guard against for possible treachery—except for last night.

Last night she had let down her guard and today, all across Charleston, the morning meals were abuzz with talk about how Alexandra Thurston had once again been caught in a compromising position. She'd never forget how Reverend Donahue had found them with Connor's mouth upon the swells of her breast.
Or how her Aunt Clara had had to bring her evening cape to cover her torn bodice.

She sighed heavily. How could she have let such a disastrous event occur only weeks before
Hester's Revenge
would be published? When people realized that it was her story, why would they believe her if she had once again been found in a damaging position?

It was bad enough that Gordon had gotten away with making her an object of scorn and ridicule, but letting it happen a second time made her the biggest fool of all.

A knock on her bedroom door broke her reverie."Who is it?"

"Your father.
I'd like a word with you."

She didn't need anyone else berating her for her foolishness. "Leave me alone. I don't want to see anyone."

James Halsted opened the door.

Alexandra turned her back on him. "One day my doors will have locks on them."

He ignored her comment. "Connor just left."

Alexandra spun around, glaring at her father. "What did that scoundrel want?
To finish ruining me?"

"Dramatics do not become you, daughter. He hardly dragged you out on that verandah."

Walking over to the window, she sat with her back to her father. Why did the truth have to make her so blatantly guilty? "So, what did he want?"

"He's asked for your hand in marriage," her father stated.

She turned, hysterical laughter escaping from her lips. "The man has obviously lost his mind."

Her father moved to sit across from her. "He wants to correct the terrible mistake you made last night."

"Father, this man is less marriageable than Gordon and we both know how that turned out. He is a womanizer of the utmost degree."

"Connor wants to marry you, Alexandra."

"I don't care what he wants. I don't want to marry him. Tell him I politely decline."

"Your reputation is in shreds. You're a divorced woman who has now been caught in an improper situation a second time. Unless you marry Connor, you will never be accepted by polite society."

Alexandra stood and paced. "I don't give a fig about polite society. I'm not marrying this man or any other."

"Daughter, you have no choice. I insist you marry him."

Alexandra stopped her pacing and stared at her father. "You've wanted me married since I returned from England. You are not concerned with my happiness, only what this latest incident will do to your reputation and your need for a male heir."

Her father's eyes grew wide and dark; his cheeks turned a brilliant pink and puffed out, giving him the appearance of a chipmunk. He stood and pulled his suit coat down over his burgeoning stomach. "I'm going to give you time to think over your response. When you are more composed, we'll discuss Connor's offer again."

"The answer will still be no!"

She watched as her dignified father crossed the room and slammed the door behind him. She sank to the bed behind her, holding back tears of despair. Why would Connor ask for her hand? Why would the womanizer suddenly want a wife?

***

The knock on the door jolted Alexandra awake. After her father had left, she had cried herself to sleep. How could he be so cold and distant?

She sat up and called, "Who is it?"

"It's your uncle. Can I come in?"

Alexandra opened the door. Uncle Sydney took two steps into the room and handed her a bundle of wildflowers. "I thought these might cheer you up."

Taking the flowers from his hand, she threw her arms around his neck, giving him a hug. He always had the ability to make her smile. "Thank you."

He patted her gently on the back. "I just want you to be happy again, girl. You know your aunt and I love you and think of you as our only child."

"I know."

"That young Manning is a nice enough chap, but if you don't want to marry him, don't let anyone talk you into it."

Leaning back, she gazed up into her uncle's eyes and saw the man she'd always wanted her father to be. "Even if it means I would no longer be welcome in people's homes?"

"If my niece is not welcome, then I'm not welcome."

"Uncle Sydney, thank you for being supportive of me. I don't know what I'd do without you and Aunt Clara."

"We love you. You know I'm getting old and you've got to take care of my Clara when I'm gone."

"Don't say that. You'll be around for years to come."

"I hope so."

Alexandra stepped out of his arms. "What am I to do?"

"That's for you to decide, no one else." He gave her a quick squeeze. "I've got to go now, but I wanted to cheer you up." "Thank you, Uncle Sydney." She watched as he stepped through the door."Whatever decision you make, your aunt and I will support you."

***

As the sun slipped below the horizon, Alexandra sat and peered out the window, her knees tucked beneath her skirt. She had yet to venture from her room, her humiliation leading her to remain hidden, licking her wounds in private. Trying to figure out why she had been such a trusting little fool again.

Sooner or later she had to decide what she was going to do. Right now, her thoughts were centered on how she had let herself be lulled into such a titillating scene. The man had touched her and seemed to cast a spell, holding her hostage. Yet she had been an eager prisoner. She had enjoyed every moment up until the doors were cast open and her bodice had been torn.

That moment would cause nightmares for years to come.

A knock broke the stillness of the evening.

"Go away. I don't want to see anyone," Alexandra replied, fearing her father had returned.

Aunt Clara poked her head through the door."I brought you a cup of hot tea, dear. The world always looks brighter after some of my special blend."

Alexandra couldn't help but chuckle. Aunt Clara's special blend had a tendency to leave one feeling rather relaxed. Maybe the company and the refreshment would be nice after all.

She watched as Aunt Clara set the tray down and poured the tea into two small cups.

"One lump or two, dear?" she asked.

"I've already had two lumps, Aunt Clara.
Why not one more?"

Aunt Clara added the sugar to the brew, stirred the tea, and handed it to her niece. "There's nothing
so
pleasant as having a nice cup of English Rose tea to soothe one's troubles. Now, if we only had some of those nice little cucumber sandwiches, we'd be all set."

"Where are the sandwiches?" Alexandra asked, knowing her aunt would have thought of them well in advance.

"It's Sunday evening. Cook is off. And, well, we both know how the sandwiches I prepare would have turned out. We're lucky I know how to make tea."

Alexandra smiled, feeling better already. Somehow her aunt always cheered her. "Thank you for the tea, Aunt Clara."

"You are quite welcome, dear. Besides, it gave me an excuse to talk to you about your little problem."

An uncomfortable silence filled the bright pink room.

Finally, unable to contain
herself
any longer, Alexandra replied, "There is no problem. I will weather this social storm, just as I weathered the divorce."

"Oh, I remember how well you endured that one. You jumped on the next ship bound for England and hibernated there, shut away from the world. Is that how you plan on handling this crisis also?"

"No. I must stay here and somehow survive this, though I've yet to figure out how." Alexandra ducked her head, feelings of shame flooding her.
"Unless, of course, you want me to leave."

"Don't be ridiculous. You're my niece." Aunt Clara sipped her tea. "Your father told me Connor asked for your hand in marriage."

Alexandra scowled. "The man is a scoundrel of the worst sort."

"Then why were you kissing him, my dear?"

Rising to her feet, Alexandra crossed the room. "It's hard to explain. It was really quite innocent, though I know it doesn't appear that way."

"I'm sure it was.
Even though your dress was torn."

Alexandra stared at her hands. "We became entangled. Somehow his lapel pin must have gotten snagged in the lace of my dress."

"I'm sure you have an innocent explanation of how his lapel pin came to be near the lace of your bodice," Aunt Clara said.

Color flooded Alexandra's face at the memory of Connor kissing the swells of her breasts when they became entangled. "Well—"

"Connor Manning has quite a reputation with the ladies, and you are not the first woman he's been caught with in a delicate position. But you are the first one he has offered to marry."

Alexandra paused for a moment. To say the least, that was surprising news. But why would he offer for her? "That we know of," she added.

"True."

"Besides, I've been married. I don't want to be trapped again!"

"Dear, you are missing the point. This man is known as a rake, yet he's offering to save what's left of your reputation."

"I don't care, Aunt Clara. The man would charm his grandmother if it would get him what he wanted."

Aunt Clara chuckled. "He probably did."

She rose from her chair and went to stand beside Alexandra, putting her hand on her niece's shoulders in a comforting gesture. "The truth is, with your history, if you don't marry Connor you will never withstand the social disgrace. And while I know you're willing to live with that implication, I'm not sure you really understand how lonely your life will be."

A tear made its way down Alexandra's cheek. She reached up and swiped it away with the back of her hand.
"But why?
I meant no harm. Yes, I was foolish, but why such a drastic cure?"

"Because everyone believes something scandalous happened on the
Sloanes
' verandah. And unless you marry Connor, it will be as if you are no longer among the living."

Alexandra couldn't help but think about
Hester's Revenge
. Though the book was written anonymously and supposedly fictional, eventually people would realize it was her tale. Why would anyone believe her story when she'd been caught in a shameful act again? Even if she wed Connor, there would be people who would remember last night's event and question her tale. But her chances for success were much higher if she married.

Life wasn't fair. If she wanted her revenge on Gordon, then she must marry Connor.

"It's said reformed rakes make the best husbands," Aunt Clara said cheerfully."It was true with your uncle."

"But no one speaks of how to reform them. Is there a special school that trains men into becoming good husbands? Or should a woman hope that one night they fall asleep and wake up changed?"