Andrea Kane (36 page)

What did any of the wealthy, influential people present at Allonshire have to gain by causing Drake’s demise? It didn’t make sense. Yet it had to be one of them. No one would suspect a member of the
ton
to be guilty of murder. She certainly couldn’t accuse any of them.

But then, none of them knew they were suspected of anything. Drake would never tell them that his fall had not, in fact, been an accident, but an attempted murder. Therefore, the true culprit would not feel threatened. He might be caught off guard. Alex smiled slowly. It was time to utilize all the charm and feminine wiles that she had been taught but had disregarded all these eighteen years. What was it they said about catching more flies with honey?

She yawned again, rubbing her eyes in annoyance. Why did she suddenly require an afternoon nap? She had no patience with physical weakness. Yet, today alone, she had experienced several dizzy spells, been seized by acute nausea, and had fallen pray to the hateful female practice of swooning. She was not under
that
much stress.

It struck Alex suddenly, like a blow. Tossing the bedcovers aside, she rose and, in the same movement, tugged her chemise off and dropped it carelessly onto the floor.

The afternoon sun peeped through the draperies, casting more than enough light on Alex’s naked body as she stood before the mirror. Slowly she ran her hands over the contours of her body, staring at her reflection as if seeing herself for the first time. Her breasts were heavier than normal, the nipples having darkened to a deep rose color. She continued her exploration, smoothing her palm over what had been the concave surface of her stomach. She felt the slight rounding with a sense of awe and amazement.

How could she have been so blind? She had been so preoccupied, so utterly consumed with her own emotional turmoil, that she had paid little attention to her physical self. And each night, when she and Drake came together, it was always in the dark, for neither of them was ready to read what was in the other’s eyes. Now she frantically searched her mind, realizing that she had not bled in over four months … since her marriage to Drake.

Alex closed her eyes as the realization took hold, the absolute knowledge inserted itself in her shaken mind.

She was pregnant with Drake’s baby.

T
HE BALLROOM WAS VIBRANTLY
aglow, the brilliant chandeliers scattering fragments of light, the highly polished floor reflecting the golden cast of the gilded ceiling. Liveried footmen scurried about, seeing to refreshments and pouring champagne into crystal glasses for Allonshire’s guests.

Alex sipped at her champagne, watching the twelve people who laughed, talked, and danced in the elegant room. They had dined at seven o’clock; then everyone had gone on to the ballroom to continue the festive evening.

The men had been introduced to Alex at dinner, and despite Drake’s disapproving frown, most of them still hadn’t taken their eyes off her. In a flowing gown of rich red satin trimmed with delicate lace at the low-cut neckline and along the edges of the full skirt and sleeves, she looked like a radiant and majestic queen.

She felt, however, as if she might spill out of her bodice, and judging from the interested looks she was receiving from the gentlemen, she was not far from wrong.

Satisfied that she was unobserved, she gave a dainty squirm and a discreet tug at the uncooperative, square-cut neckline. It didn’t budge. This particular gown had not been designed for a woman who was almost four months pregnant. She gave a resigned sigh just as a smooth masculine voice sounded from behind.

“Never have I seen a more beautiful woman.”

Alex turned cool gray eyes to Sebastian’s admiring face. “Never have I met a man more well versed in ineffective flattery,” she responded pointedly. Her tone was light; her gaze was not.

Undaunted, he gave her a charming smile. “Not flattery, Alexandria, but fact. Surely you know how desirable you are to men?”

Alex considered tossing the contents of her glass into his arrogant, suggestive face, but she had no time to make a scene or to dodge Sebastian’s amorous flirtations. Tonight she had a special mission.

“Sebastian,” she asked softly, careful to retain her brightest smile, pretending to be enjoying a most delightful conversation, “have you not learned that desiring something and acquiring it are two very different things? Remember that even the loveliest of roses has thorns with which to protect itself.”

He leaned closer. “And if the thorns are plucked?”

“Then the rose has no choice but to connect its knee to the appropriate part of the offending male’s anatomy,” she purred.

Sebastian gaped, then covered his shock with a hollow laugh. “You are by far the most outspoken female I have ever met.”

“Now
that
I will accept as a true compliment, sir,” she replied, prepared to end their conversation and resume mingling with her guests.

Sebastian caught her arm. “How is my brother feeling? Any ill effects from his accident?” The question was casual enough, but his gaze was oddly penetrating.

Alex glanced across the room to where Drake was chatting with Eric Ravensley. Her husband looked breathtakingly handsome tonight in a black dress coat that fit snugly across his broad shoulders and a contrasting white waistcoat. Above his frilled shirt was Smitty’s handiwork—a perfectly tied white silk cravat that made Drake’s tanned face and raven hair seem even darker in comparison. He laughed at something Eric was saying, exuding that inexplicable, charisma that made Alex weak. Even from this distance, Alex could feel the unique magnetic allure that was Drake’s alone and was responsible for devastating women’s hearts effortlessly.

She realized that Sebastian was watching her expressions with great interest. Schooling her features, she replied, “As you can see for yourself, Drake is unharmed. He did suffer a dislocated shoulder and some minor cuts, but that is all.”

“He is quite lucky, then. He could have been killed.”

Again,
Alex added silently. There was something about Sebastian’s tone, a certain sarcasm, that riled her. She drew herself up to her full height, prepared to defend her husband. “Luck had little to do with it, Sebastian. Drake is a splendid horseman. He made certain his fall caused minimal injury to himself and none to Jupiter.”

Sebastian raised his glass in a mock toast. “Of course. Drake is superb at everything he does. There has yet to be invented a skill at which he does not excel, a feat that he cannot accomplish—not to mention a woman whom he cannot conquer. A most fortunate man, my brother.” He sipped at his drink.

Alex had never witnessed such blatant envy within a family. There was no doubt in her mind that Sebastian wished nothing but ill for his brother. It angered and sickened her. She knew for certain that she could never confide in Sebastian her suspicions that someone was trying to kill Drake. He was no ally, but an adversary.

Sebastian interpreted Alex’s dark silence to mean that his barb had hit its mark, that she was infuriated by the possibility that Drake might still have other women. Good. If his implication had made her doubt Drake’s fidelity it would drive her to his own bed that much sooner.

Discreetly he brushed the bare skin atop her bodice with his fingers. “Do not look so mortified, my thorny little rose,” he soothed. “As I have told you before, I will always welcome your attentions. It is charming and refreshing to see so lovely a woman champion Drake’s cause. I much admire your display of loyalty.”

Something inside Alex snapped. “Then perhaps you should acquire some yourself, you unprincipled snake!” She recoiled from his touch and walked off, not turning to see his reaction to her words.

Sebastian looked thoughtfully, expressionlessly, after her. For now he would let her play her little game of indignant virtue. But in time she would be his.

Alex took deep breaths to control her temper. She would not allow Sebastian to deter her from her purpose. Come hell or high water she would uncover the identity of the person who had tried to kill Drake.

With a dazzling smile she approached Alicia and Stephen Lyndale, who were engaged in light, breathless chatter, having just finished a frolicking reel.

“Oh, Alexandria,” Alicia said, still laughing. “This party is delightful! Stephen and I were just saying that it is a pleasure to enjoy a dance together without colliding with other couples. A small gathering like this one is a welcome change after the rapid pace of the Season and the cluttered house parties of the fall.”

“I am pleased that you are enjoying yourselves,” Alex said with sincerity. She truly liked Alicia, and had taken to Stephen immediately as well. He was the only man in the room, save the elderly Lord Kensgate, who looked at Alex without lust burning in his eyes. In fact, Stephen was totally absorbed in his wife. The tender glances he bestowed upon Alicia revealed his obvious and deep love for her. Seeing their closeness, Alex felt a momentary twinge, of envy. How she wished Drake would gaze at her with such love.

“You are looking a bit pale, Alexandria.” Stephen’s voice held genuine concern. “Are you feeling well?”

Alex smiled up into his kind face. “Yes, of course, Stephen. I suppose I am still shaken by Drake’s accident today.”

He nodded sympathetically. “I understand. Thank heaven he seems to be none the worse for it, though.”

Alex followed his gaze to where Drake remained in animated conversation with Eric Ravensley. Only now a flushed and simpering Arabella stood beside Eric, staring up at Drake as she hung on to his every word.

A surge of anger shot through Alex like a bolt of lightning. Was Eric blind? His wife was openly ogling his friend right beside him! As she watched and fumed, Alex saw Arabella inch closer to Drake until her half-naked bosom was almost touching his arm. That did it. If Eric had no pride, Alex did.

She turned back to Stephen. “I agree. Drake seems to be quite himself tonight. Would the two of you excuse me, please?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, but walked purposefully across the room as the musicians began the first notes of a waltz. Alex was certain that neither Stephen nor Alicia would harm anyone, least of all, Drake. It was time to investigate the Ravensleys … and to stake her claim on her husband at the same time.

She reached Drake in time to hear Arabella say, “Oh, how I love to waltz. But Eric does not succumb to decadence quite so readily as I.” She licked her lower lip suggestively, then giggled. “So it seems I am in need of a partner for this dance.”

“Then we will not hold you from your search, Arabella,” Alex broke in, positioning herself possessively by Drake’s side. “Since Drake has promised this waltz to me, we’ll be out of your way at once.” She smiled innocently at Drake’s startled but amused expression. “Darling?”

He recovered immediately. “Of course, princess. I am all yours.” He nodded their excuses, then, smoothly guided Alex onto the dance floor, chuckling as he took his wife’s hand. “Darling?” he teased, looking down into her flushed face. They both knew she had never used that particular endearment in the past. “Funny,” he mused aloud, “I do not remember discussing this particular waltz, though it is a pleasure to dance with my wife,” he assured her. In truth he was touched by her obvious display of jealousy, for it was a further indication that she cared.

Alex hastily changed the subject. “Is your arm causing you any pain?” The anger had waned, her real concern for Drake warming her eyes to a deep smoky gray.

“My arm is fine.” His smile abruptly faded. When she looked up at him that way he felt everything inside him melt. Hell, she reduced him to a callow schoolboy, a burning mass of raw emotions. All evening he had struggled unsuccessfully to bring himself under control. Every time one of the men ogled her, Drake felt irrational and raging jealousy pump through his blood. He wanted to kill the offending bastard, to shout to the world that Alex was
his.
She looked so damned beautiful tonight, like an enchanted fairy-tale princess. His burning emerald gaze caressed her face and shoulders, then settled on the deeply cut neckline that seemed to expose far too much of her throat and breasts.

He frowned, desire warring with jealousy, pride, anger, tenderness—all heightened to a fever pitch. “Your gown is rather revealing, is it not?” he inquired in a tight voice.

Alex blushed at his meaning, then lifted her chin defiantly. “I happen to adore this gown,” she retorted.

“So do I,” he agreed, his jaw set. “What little of it there is.”

Her eyes flashed, more so because he was right. “I am sorry that my attire displeases you, your grace.”

He stroked her thumb with his, though his mood was as fiery as hers. “Careful, princess,” he warned softly. “We are newly married and supposedly
very
happy. So smile and look totally besotted with me; hang on to my every word. All of our guests are watching us.”

Alex controlled her fury with great effort, aware that he was goading her. Apparently he was angry about something, perhaps her gown. But whatever the reason, his earlier good humor had vanished. She forced a smile to her lips and endured the remainder of the dance in tense silence.

The waltz ended, and Alex stepped away from her brooding husband.

“I will mingle with our guests now, Drake,” she told him, glancing about the room. Already her mind had returned to the problem at hand—uncovering the identity of the person who had attempted to take Drake’s life. “There is no need for you to dance with me, since I have obviously annoyed you. I will find other partners.” She lifted her skirts and moved off.

Drake caught her arm. “You will dance with me whenever I deem it necessary.”

Alex looked up at him, startled at the bitterness of his tone and the blazing light in his eyes. “I am your wife, not your chattel,” she answered softly. “Please refrain from treating me as such.”

She shook her arm free and stalked off, then slowed her steps so as not to arouse curiosity among the guests. Her battles with Drake, his battles within himself, were no one’s business but theirs.