A Taste of Seduction (An Unlikely Husband) (25 page)

“They were in love.”

“Of course they were. I meant no disrespect. I want you to know I consider us equals, despite what society may dictate.”

“Thank you.” The words fell out stiff and awkward.

“And marrying Alexander, well... ” She smiled. “That won’t help your social status any, but I’m certain you have your reasons.”

“We do.” They did, didn’t they? Of course they did. She was marrying Alexander because she loved him. And he was marrying her because...her thoughts scattered like leaves twirling in the wind, falling just beyond her grasp. She tried again. Alexander was marrying her because... he loved her? No, he hadn’t said that. He needed her?
Not exactly. Her shoulders slumped a fraction. He desired her. Obviously true, but not solid footing for marriage.

She gnawed on her lower lip. He’d said Philip wanted her to live at Drakemoor among his
society, therefore returning to Amberden was out of the question. It was unsuitable for a young unmarried woman to reside in the same household as an unmarried man, without benefit of chaperone. She blinked hard. Alexander knew Drakemoor was the only household available. Because there’d been no suitors seeking Francie’s presence. Not even pathetic Lord Grose-something or other. How humiliating. She blinked again.

“Francie?” Claire’s too-sweet voice rolled over her. “Is something wrong?”

Francie blinked once more and rubbed her eyes. “I think I’ve got something in my eyes. Dust,” she lied. “I’m allergic to it.”

“You should fire the maid. I’ve no tolerance for incompetence.”

“I’ll be fine.” Francie waved a hand in the air. “It must have been an oversight. Mrs. Jones is usually quite thorough.”

Claire sniffed. “Nevertheless, people must learn they cannot take advantage of their employer. Perhaps, you need to make an example of her.”

“No. It’s nothing.” And Mrs. Jones was innocent.

“You’ll learn soon enough you must show the servants you are their master and as such, they are to obey you, despite personal opinions or objections. I once fired the cook for preparing fried eggs instead of poached.”

“You fired her?”

“Of course. Threats never work as well as action.”

“I see,” Francie said, but she didn’t. Was this what the ton concerned themselves with? Did they also believe action always replaced second chances? That there was no room for mistakes?

“Tell me how Alexander proposed.” Claire lowered her voice to a whisper. “It must have been very romantic.”

Romantic?
Francie blushed. “He didn’t actually propose.”

“No? What did he do then?” Her blue eyes widened. “Or what did you do? Did you propose to him?”

“No!”

Claire raised a black brow. “Do tell.”

Francie lifted her shoulders and said, “He just said...I couldn’t return to Amberden...and I couldn’t stay here alone without Uncle Bernard and Aunt Eleanor...so…”

“So he was going to marry you to save your respectability?” Claire finished.

“Yes,” Francie said in a small voice. It sounded so cold and impersonal when Claire said it. Why hadn’t it felt that way coming from Alexander’s lips? Perhaps it was the way he said it or the silver gaze that blurred the true meaning. And when he touched her, well, she couldn’t remember anything but the feel of him after that.

“Francie,” Claire said, “I’d like to tell you something as a friend, and I do hope you will consider me a friend.” She placed a dainty hand over Francie’s. “I hate to even put the thought into words, but I must, for your sake.” She took a deep breath and continued
. “Is it possible Alexander is marrying you for his own reasons that have nothing to do with your honor or respectability?”

***

Claire Ashcroft’s words clung to Francie for the next several hours, dampening all thoughts of her upcoming nuptials. She would question Alexander the moment he returned and certainly he’d dispel her silly worries. But until then, her spirits remained gloomy. It was a relief when James located her in the library where she’d been pretending to read and informed her that her father’s solicitor requested a meeting with her posthaste.

Francie frowned. “Is he aware Alexander isn’t here?” Why would the solicitor require a meeting with her? She had no knowledge of her father’s private matters. Alexander handled everything. James nodded and tapped his foot twice. He’d begun to relax the foot tapping around her and even hazarded occasional smiles. “He specifically asked for you
, Miss Jordan.” One small tap. “With no mention of Mr. Bishop.”

“Oh. Well, see him in then, James.” Perhaps there had been a complication of some sort or mayhap he merely desired to make her acquaintance. Curiosity often got the better of people and solicitors were no different.

The man who entered the library possessed the air of a nobleman. Tall, trim, and solemn, he appeared no more than a handful of years younger than her father. “Gerald Heath at your service, Miss Jordan.” He bowed slightly and studied her through thick spectacles that distorted the shape of his eyes and made it difficult to discern their color.

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Heath. May I call for refreshments?”

“Thank you, no. I won’t be staying long.”

So, the man had a very particular mission
that it appeared would be delivered quickly, precisely, and without pretense
. Oh, Alexander, why did you have to pick today to be gone? I fear something is amiss
. Francie sank into the overstuffed chair by the fire and gestured for Mr. Heath to sit in the matching chair a few feet away. “I rather thought any business you had would be conducted with Mr. Bishop.”

Mr. Heath coughed. Twice. “This visit is of a most delicate nature and as it concerns you directly, I thought it prudent to deliver the information myself.” He paused, “At your residence.”

In Alexander’s absence? Curiosity warred with dread. Had this visit to do with her illegitimacy? Was Mr. Heath trying to spare her embarrassment by seeking her out instead of naming his concerns in Alexander’s presence? If so, she should be most grateful to her father’s solicitor for his discretion.

“Did Mr. Bishop explain the terms and conditions of your father’s estate?”

“Yes. He told me my father’s estate was to be divided between us.”

Mr. Heath studied her from behind his thick spectacles. If only she could see his eyes. “Then he told you he would have to marry you in order to obtain Drakemoor and the other lands?”

“No.” A horrible dread overtook Francie, spiraling from her head to her stomach in one gigantic plummet. “No.” She shook her head. “He said I couldn’t return to Amberden because my father wanted me at Drakemoor. And I couldn’t reside here with Alexander as a single woman.” She lifted her shoulders and let the rest of the sad truth spill out. “My father held a ball in hopes someone would express an interest in furthering my acquaintance, but there were no such offers.”
Not even one
. “Alexander said the only way around the whole business of maintaining my reputation and keeping us both at Drakemoor was to marry.”

How tawdry and unromantic it all sounded now. “Mr. Bishop is a good man.
A very forceful man, but still a good man. You could do worse than marry him.”

Marry a man who only wanted her for her property? Never. Even if the man was Alexander Bishop
.

“
Miss Jordan?”

Francie glanced up to find Mr. Heath standing next to his chair. In the span of a few minutes
, the solicitor had crumbled her dreams. But he’d given her honesty, which was more than her future husband had done. “I thank you for your visit. I am most grateful.”

“I’ve upset you. Please forgive me
; that was not my intent.” The man hesitated. “I’ve known Mr. Bishop a good many years and he’s not a man to be forced into doing anything he doesn’t want to do, no matter the stakes. Try to remember that.”

Francie remained in the library a long while after Mr. Heath left. Alexander wanted to marry her for Drakemoor.
For her father’s land. She couldn’t marry him now. She wouldn’t marry him. The sooner she exposed his subterfuge to Uncle Bernard and Aunt Eleanor, the sooner they could leave for Amberden. However well intentioned her father had been in his desire to see her and Alexander wed, he should not have meddled. It had only proved disastrous and heartbreaking.

She found her uncle in her father’s study reading; his spectacles perched on the end of his nose. Her fondest memories of her uncle were with his head in a book. He’d once told her words had the power to transcend time and place, to take one from a most miserable, desperate situation to a world of hope and possibility. She’d always believed and trusted him.

“Uncle Bernard?”

He lifted his gray head and pushed his spectacles to the bridge of his nose. A smile appeared beneath his mustache and beard. “Come in, my dear.”

Francie stepped inside and closed the door. Her stomach jumped and quivered as she met his gaze. “I’ve come to deliver grave news. Father’s solicitor just left.”

“Oh?” He raised a bushy brow and waited.

She moved toward him and stopped before his chair. “Alexander is only marrying me to get Drakemoor and my father’s lands.”

She expected him to jump up in shock or
, at the very least, frown in concern. He did neither. A horrible blush of guilt crept over his face, settled on his cheeks, slithered to his neck. “You knew?” The one man she’d trusted more than anyone had known and not told her.

“Francie,” her uncle said, placing his hand on her shoulder, “your father believed you and Alexander belonged together and he was determined to give you the chance he never had. Please forgive him for his methods
; his intent was pure. As for Alexander, he
wants
to marry you.” He sighed. “Even if he doesn’t realize it yet himself.”

“Don’t try to defend Alexander. There’s no need.” He’d never said he wanted to marry her. Rather, he’d implied he
had
to marry her because it was her father’s wish she remain in his society. And there’d been no other suitors. Mustn’t forget that humiliating fact. Alexander may well have felt it a fair trade—he’d marry Francie, a woman he desired but didn’t love, and give her a place in society in exchange for Drakemoor, his one true love. All nice and tidy. Francie need never know. Or so he thought.

But thanks to Mr. Heath’s conscience, she knew the truth. “Child—”

She cut him off. “Alexander never spoke of love or even undying affection. At least in that he was honest with me.”

“He’ll come around,” Bernard soothed. “Once you’re married, he’ll realize how much he cares for you.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Francie said, forcing the words out. There was nothing left to be said. She turned to him and offered a wobbly smile. “I feel a horrible headache coming on. I’d like to rest a while.”

“Do that, child.” Her uncle pulled her into his embrace. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to Alexander,” he whispered. “Not a word.”

Francie squeezed her eyes shut. It didn’t matter.

By the time Alexander returned, she’d be gone.

***

Alexander stepped from the carriage and reached up to straighten his cravat. His fingers stilled as he recalled Francie’s words.
You can dress as you like, or not
. The truth of those words struck him as he stood enveloped by darkness. The house slept. Not even James would greet him at this hour. Who would care whether he wore a coat or cravat? His hands dropped to his sides and he started up the old stone steps.

It would feel good to sit back in his chair and savor a whiskey or two. Maybe even kick off his shoes. Or rather, pull them off, and enjoy the cool surface of hard wood beneath his silk hose. She was starting to affect him, working her way under his skin and into his conscience
, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. Not that he really wanted to, other than enjoy the pure spontaneity of her presence.

The meeting had dragged on far too long.

Alexander had wanted to leave hours ago, anxious to reach home before Francie retired for the night. But the three gentlemen, two dukes and an earl, couldn’t decide which of Alexander’s three business ventures they should invest in. Before the meeting adjourned, they’d settled funds for two of them, with a commitment for the third in six months’ time. Everybody had wanted his advice, cocking an ear to listen, hanging on his every word.

Too bad he couldn’t get Francie to behave in a similar manner. He smiled and shook his head. Not very likely, he thought as he pushed open the oak door and stepped into the foyer. The hall was dark, save a small lantern casting dubious shadows from its perch on a marble table. He picked it up and headed for his study.

An overwhelming desire to see Francie struck him square between the shoulders. It was past midnight, but perhaps she was still awake, reading or maybe even listening for his arrival. She’d been in the habit of waiting up for him; she admitted as much the other night when they had the discussion about his relationship with Tess. If she were still awake, what harm would there be in popping his head in to say goodnight? They were, after all, betrothed.