Anne Barbour (19 page)

“And...?”

The little man’s shoulders sagged. “I’ve seen the best, my lord, from the fuzzers to the sleeve men to the eyes in me sky, and I can’t figure out how she’s doing it.”

“But she must—

“Oh, yes, I’m sure she cheats, right enough. She wins too steadily. But the how is a mystery. I’ve examined the cards she uses, and cased the place for an accomplice—that Crawford is usually in another room, not that I see him as a gigger. She wears long sleeves, but they’re always buttoned tight and if she brings a scarf or anything else big enough to conceal an ace or two, it’s always kept well out of the playing area.”

Pilcher frowned, looking even more like an apprehensive rodent. “It’s a puzzlement, my lord.”

“Does she always play the same game?”

“No. She seems to favor piquet, but I’ve seen her take a hand at whist and even ecarte. Whatever game holds the highest stakes in the room, there she is. Every night.”

“Damn!” The expletive burst from March’s lips. “I wish I could get her back to the Upper Rooms—perhaps even play with her myself. Although, I suppose in that event, she would take great care to lose, and I would learn nothing.” He sighed heavily. “Damn,” he repeated, in a softer, duller voice.

Some nights later, after March had accompanied Alison and his aunt to yet another social function, this time an intimate dinner party with neighbors, Alison bade a hurried good night and whisked herself up the stairs before March could suggest a late evening libation.

“Goodness,” commented his aunt, “Alison certainly had the wind up tonight. Whatever have you done to her?”

“I?” March said, infusing the word with surprised indignation.

“Well, you must have done something,” replied his aunt austerely. “The girl hardly said boo to you all night. I had hoped that you two had become friends. After a somewhat rocky start, I might add. You were not very nice to her at first.”

“No, I was not.” Friends! March would have laughed aloud were he not so conscious of an urge to howl his hurt and rage into the candlelit darkness of the sleeping house. He led Lady Edith to the library, where a small fire crackled comfortably in the grate. Settling her on a striped satin settee, he took a seat near her. “Aunt,” he began hesitantly, “as I believe you have already guessed, the reason for my flying visit to Bath was to discover what I could about Alison Fox. Eleanor thought—”

“Yes, I know what Eleanor thought. Of course, I knew why you had come, but I was sure that by now you had come to see Alison for what she is—a lovely, kindhearted young woman who is truly devoted to me—as I am to her.”

“Well,” March responded slowly, “you were right. She had me convinced she is precisely what she appears to be: a gently bred, quietly proper lady’s companion. But now ...” He hesitated, uncertain of how much he should reveal to this very dear old lady. “Certain things have come to my attention—

“Things?” Lady Edith sat up very straight on the settee. “What things? What nonsense are you talking now, March? If you—”

Observing the signs of growing agitation on his aunt’s face, March hastily covered her hand with his own. “I am not talking nonsense, Aunt,” he continued, his voice gentle, “but I cannot speak of what I know just yet. I just wanted to prepare you for the ... revelation that Miss Fox is ... not what she appears.”

“Rubbish!” cried Lady Edith. “You are still trying to separate her from me, aren’t you?” Her voice cracking with tremulous anguish, she wrenched her hand away from her nephew’s. “Well, let me tell you, Anthony Brent, there is nothing you can say to me that will diminish my affection for Alison by so much as a whit.”

Recalling the whole disastrous episode, March uttered a sigh that seemed to spring directly from the ache that lay within him like a wound. He shook his head, wondering when all this would end. With a heavy heart, he reached once more for the decanter at his side.

* * * *

Alison stood before her mirror, giving a last-minute twitch to the skirt of her riding habit. She knew the ensemble of mulberry merino became her. Indeed, she considered it rather daring and would never have purchased it if Lady Edith had not been with her.

“Yes, I quite agree,” the older woman had said, “It is extremely dashing. Rakish, even, with all that military braid, and it will suit you admirably. Buy it.”

Alison adjusted the tight-fitting bodice and smoothed the superbly tailored skirt over her hips. Placing the matching shako hat atop dark curls arranged in a glossy swirl, she brushed the feather adorning it into place along the curve of her cheek.

She paused once more to look in the mirror, even though she knew that by now the others were awaiting her belowstairs. Aware that Lord Marchford was expected for breakfast, she had elected to skip that meal, settling for tea and toast in her room. She had then spent an inordinate amount of time in mindless drifting, unable to tear her thoughts from that very irksome gentleman. How had she come to fall in love with him? she wondered desperately for the hundredth time. One usually does not become enamored of those who wish one nothing but ill. On the other hand, how could she not love him? Despite his arrogance and, yes, a certain rigidity in his view of the world, he was everything she had ever dreamed of in a life mate. His strength was almost palpable, yet he could be gentle and sensitive with those he loved. The arrogance was leavened with humor—why, he could even laugh at himself. He was intelligent without being pompous—most of the time—and he treated her like a person instead of his aunt’s employee. Added to that, of course, were those mesmerizing, brandy-colored eyes and a smile that turned her knees to soup.

She shook herself. It mattered not one whit
why
she had fallen in love with him. It was important only that she maintain a neutral, courteous attitude toward him for another few days. For surely by then he would be gone and she could begin the long struggle to forget him. Surely there would come a time when she would no longer feel that part of her was missing because he was not beside her. Her arms would eventually forget how it had felt to press his body against hers, and her mouth would no longer ache for the touch of his lips against them.

Oh, for Heaven’s sake! Giving the feather one more twitch, she whirled and ran from the room. She was breathless by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, and she gasped apologetically as she flew headlong into a tail, slender figure waiting there. She looked up and nearly reeled from shock.

“Jack! Jack Crawford! What in the world are you doing here?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” said Meg, peering at Alison from around Jack’s shoulder. “I ran into Mr. Crawford yesterday and, when he heard of our outing today, he agreed to join us. Isn’t that wonderful?” Her tone was casual, her expression ingenuous.

“Wonderful,” replied Alison through gritted teeth. The earl entered the hall from the dining parlor just then, and it was obvious from his expression that he was no happier to see Jack than she had been.

Indeed, March was on the dangerous side of furious. When Crawford had been ushered into the dining parlor he had been sure, despite Meg’s crows of delight, that Alison had engineered his appearance.

Now, he watched Alison chatting amiably with Crawford and Meg. To his intense displeasure, his attention was promptly caught by the very becoming ensemble she wore. The need to sweep that lithe, lovely body into his arms was almost overpowering, and the remembered feel of her burned through him. He turned away before his churning emotions could be detected.

At that point, a vigorous knock on the door signaled the arrival of more members of the riding expedition. When an hour or so later, the party finally swept out of Royal Crescent and into the fields on the outskirts of Bath, it was a merry group, indeed, with two notable exceptions. When the group at last spied the silver ribbon that was the River Avon, they gave free rein to their mounts for a race over the green, rolling hills that sloped down to the water’s edge.

“You are an excellent rider, Miss Fox.”

Alison, who had joined the throng in their exhilarating gallop, nearly dropped her reins as the voice sounded at her elbow.

“And my aunt has mounted you well.” The words were spoken in a neutral tone, but Alison bridled instantly.

“Yes, Caprice is delightful, with the softest mouth imaginable. I enjoy her company any time I am able.”

“When you can fit a few minutes into your busy schedule,” March concluded, and this time there was a definite edge to his voice.

“Yes, I do keep busy, my lord. I have many duties—one of them being to chaperon Lady Meg and her friends this afternoon. If you will excuse me ...” Clapping her heels against the little mare’s side, she trotted over to where Meg’s mount walked side by side with that of Jack Crawford. The two were so deep in conversation that Meg jumped a little at Alison’s approach.

“Oh—Alison,” she said a little consciously. “Ja—Mr. Crawford and I were just discussing my London Season.”

“Oh?” Alison’s tone was not encouraging.

“Yes, indeed.” Jack’s smile bore a hint of mockery as he turned to Alison. “I was just telling Lady Meg the names of some of the young men she will likely meet. And who,” he added roguishly, “will no doubt be sending her flowers and poems by the cartfuls.”

Meg blushed and Alison felt a surge of annoyance. She bestowed a brilliant smile on young Peter Davenish, who rode with Sally Pargeter some twenty yards ahead. As she had hoped, the two fell back, and Peter challenged the two girls to a race, leaving Alison and Jack by themselves.

“Ah, impetuous youth,” Jack said, his charming smile very much in evidence. Alison was not impressed.

“Jack, I told you to leave Meg alone,” she said peremptorily. The smile remained fixed in place, undiminished.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Alison. I was merely exchanging idle chatter with the girl. My dear,” he continued, “believe me, I have no interest in unformed damsels. I prefer women of ... more experience.”

So meaningful was the glow in his gaze that Alison momentarily recoiled. Unthinking, she glanced about to discover March some distance ahead with young James Holiwell, laughing easily over some piece of nonsense, and apparently oblivious to Alison and Jack, who had come to a complete standstill.

* * * *

In this assumption, Alison was mistaken. March had been aware of Alison’s position in the group every second of the journey so far, and for some minutes now, the prattle of the young man next to him had faded wholly from his attention. What the devil was the vixen up to now? God—look at Crawford, laughing with his tart while the two of them left ruin and heartache in their midst. A haze of red clouded March’s vision as he watched Jack lift a hand to caress the feather that lay along Alison’s cheek, lingering on the soft flesh beneath it. He would give all he possessed to gallop across the meadow and knock the blackguard from his saddle in a satisfying explosion of blood and teeth and tissue.

     * * *

“Jack, stop that!” Alison jerked away from his touch.

“You are being very tetchy this morning,” replied Jack, his mouth turning down mournfully. His eyes, however, retained their mischievous sparkle. “I am merely trying to display a little of the affection I feel for you, my dear.”

“And don’t try turning me up sweet,” Alison snapped. “I am the last person in the world to be cozened by your endearments. Come, let us join the others.”

Jack, however, laid a hand on her bridle. “Not so fast, love. This may be the only chance I’ll have all day to be private with you, and I have something of importance to say to you.”

“Well?” asked Alison impatiently.

“You’re making this very difficult. I merely wish to say that I think we should marry.”

For some minutes, Alison merely gaped at him.

Chapter 15

“Jack, have you gone mad?” Alison blurted the words harshly.

He merely laughed. “On the contrary, I think marrying would be the smartest thing I could do right now.”

Alison began to breathe again. Obviously, Jack was merely indulging in another of his mad starts. “Well, I think it would be the stupidest thing either one of us could do, right now or ever,” she replied tartly. “I have no wish to see you again after today, let alone spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Do but consider,” said Jack, undeterred. “You have a truly remarkable talent that has gone for too long unexploited. With me at your side, you would have entree to gambling establishments all over the country. We would make a fortune.”

Alison laughed uncertainly. “Jack, be serious. You are not going to tell me you have developed a
tendre
for me.”

“No, although I am not at all sure that I would not lose my heart to you eventually—you are quite lovely, you know. But, I am perfectly serious.” His face suddenly lost its laughter, and his eyes narrowed. Alison felt a frisson of alarm skitter down her spine. He drew closer. “Listen to me, Alison. I need more money. Not very much—less than a hundred pounds,” he continued hastily at her choked protest. “I was put on to a good thing at the races—which turned out, unfortunately, to be not such a good thing after all.” He laughed unrepentantly. “I thought that, in addition, you could see your way clear to winning a little extra. You could provide me with a real stake, you know.”

“I have no interest in providing you with so much as a cup of tea, let alone a stake,” said Alison through gritted teeth. “Don’t you understand. Jack? I want no more to do with you.

“You have the worst case of gaming fever I have ever seen, and there is no doubt in my mind that you will end up at point-non-plus someday. I will not allow you to drag me down to the gutter with you. I want you out of my life. Jack Crawford, once and for all!”

Jack did not take his eyes from Alison’s face throughout this diatribe. When she paused to take a breath, he gripped her wrist and shook her ungently, after first looking around to make sure he was unobserved.

“Have you forgotten the hold I have over you?” He glanced meaningfully at Lord Marchford, who by now was some distance away. His expression softened as his eyes returned to Alison. “I truly do not wish to coerce you, my dear, but I have no choice. You see ...” He hesitated, as though uncertain how to proceed, “I told you that I had come to Bath to seek you out. What I did not mention was that my journey here was at the behest of... of those persons I told you about—in London. They were about to become very unpleasant over the money I owed them, and it was only when I explained that I had an ace in the hole, so to speak, here in this little haven, that they granted me some breathing space.