Authors: Adrienne Basso
Intimate Betrayal (21 page)
“Alyssa.” He rubbed his hand along his jaw, then looked to the ceiling. Keeping his eyes there, he muttered softly, “I cannot allow you to push me out of your life.”
“You are serious,” she said, amazement and wonder etched in her voice. “You want us to marry? Truly? Yet you have vowed never to marry again.”
Morgan lowered his eyes and looked pointedly at her stomach.
“You deliberately wanted Lady Roberts to see us together to make sure I would marry you,” she repeated, wanting to be certain she understood.
“Yes.”
She shook her head and began laughing. “Didn’t it ever occur to you it might be best to ask me first, before you resorted to such high-handed tactics?”
“You have refused my proposal in the past, Alyssa,” he challenged, “and demanded that I not see you again.”
“You should have asked me, Morgan,” Alyssa said quietly.
The duke closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife, Alyssa?”
Alyssa felt a cold panic rise up unexpectedly and struggled for common sense. “I am grateful you want to be part of our child’s life, Morgan. Yet I fear you might come to regret this decision to marry me. I could not bear it if you began resenting me and my child.”
He gazed powerfully into her brilliant green eyes and felt a surge of tenderness toward her. “There are many aspects of marriage I find distasteful, but one thing I know with certainty. I could never resent you, nor our child.”
“I will marry you, Morgan,” she said faintly, her emotions swirling. Alyssa nestled back among the pillows, trying to still her pounding heart. She waited expectantly for his kiss, but instead of embracing her, the duke reached out and covered her with a soft blanket.
“I want you to get some rest,” he said. “I’ll send Mavis to wake you in a couple of hours.” After flashing her a brilliant smile, he was gone from the room.
Alyssa was positive she wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink after all the tumultuous events of the afternoon, but within a few minutes she dozed off.
Alyssa came awake with a start when Mavis entered the room a few hours later. She sat up quickly, feeling light-headed and disoriented. Darkness had fallen, and Mavis was busy lighting the lamps, filling the room with a soft glow.
“I had the most incredible dream, Mavis,” Alyssa said drowsily, shaking her head back and forth. But one look at Mavis’s excited face revealed it had not been a dream after all.
“I’m getting married,” Alyssa stated in a voice filled with awe.
“That you are, my girl,” Mavis answered, the excitement and pleasure evident in her voice. “And about high time you got around to it, I’d say.”
Mavis headed straight for the dressing table and poured fresh water into a large china basin. She produced a cake of rose-scented soap and a clean towel. Then she turned to Alyssa expectantly. “Well, hurry up, my girl. No need to dawdle. You don’t want to keep the groom waiting, do you?”
“What? We are getting married now? Tonight?” Alyssa sputtered. “But what about the banns? And the license? And the minister?”
“His Grace has taken care of everything,” Mavis said with a wave of her hand. She spoke of Morgan as if they were old friends. “All we are missing is the bride.”
Still dazed, Alyssa walked over to the dressing table and let Mavis help her out of her gown. She remained quiet while the older woman fussed over her toilette, arranging Alyssa’s hair several times before it was done to her satisfaction.
“And now for the dress,” Mavis said, her old eyes gleaming. She rushed over to the oak armoire and reverently removed a lovely pale rose dress Alyssa had never seen before. The material was a lightweight crepe, which perfectly suited the waistless style of the gown. The neckline was square, demurely low cut, with an elegant white lace insert. The sleeves were long and tight fitting, with the shoulders puffed and the same beautiful white lace adorning the cuffs. A matching rose-colored satin ribbon was attached beneath the bodice to be tied under the breasts. Alyssa thought it was a most charming dress.
“Where did this gown come from?”
“Do you like it?” Mavis asked worriedly. “I picked it out myself. There wasn’t very much time, and not much of a selection, but I thought it was pretty.”
“You bought this dress for me?”
“I picked it out,” Mavis corrected her. “The duke bought it for you. Are you pleased?”
“I couldn’t have chosen better myself, Mavis,” Alyssa answered honestly. “But where did you get it?”
“In the village,” Mavis replied. “I went to the fancy dress shop all the fine ladies of wealth and privilege patronize. The duke sent me on my errand the moment you agreed to the wedding. He told me to buy whatever I thought you needed, and spare no expense. I went in Lord Tristan’s new carriage, I did. Ned drove me.”
Alyssa grinned at the pride in Mavis’s voice. She wasn’t sure what her old nurse had enjoyed most, buying the dress in the snobbish shop or riding in the new phaeton.
Nervously Alyssa allowed Mavis to put the lovely dress on her, heaving a sigh of relief when they saw how well the gown fit. Alyssa examined her reflection critically and was pleased. The gown complemented her coloring, and her nervous excitement brought a natural sparkle to her eyes and a flush to her cheekbones. One last adjustment to the profusion of curls on her head and she was ready.
Morgan was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and she was glad for his comforting presence. She noticed the flare of appreciation in his eyes at her appearance, and it gave her courage. When she reached the last step, Morgan handed her a simple bouquet of white and pink roses, gaily tied together with long white satin ribbons. It was the perfect finishing touch. She looked like any other radiant bride, except for her rounded belly.
“Are you ready?” he asked in a deep voice.
She nodded slightly. Even though Morgan was dressed in the same sapphire-blue coat and buff-colored breeches he had worn earlier, he looked so handsome her pulse quickened. Alyssa could tell his shirt and cravat had been freshly pressed, and his black Hessian boots showed evidence of new polish.
They entered the drawing room together, and Alyssa gasped with delight at the magical transformation. Candlelight softly bathed the room, and the intoxicating scent of fresh flowers was everywhere. A large fire blazed in the hearth, adding its warmth, with the cheerful crackling of the logs breaking the silence.
Alyssa felt relieved to discover the room relatively empty of people. Besides Mavis, who had already begun sniffling, were Perkins, Ned, and two unknown gentlemen. Morgan introduced the first man as Mr. Potts, a magistrate, who had been kind enough to procure the special license needed. The other gentlemen was the minister, Rev. Harrow, who would perform the wedding ceremony. Both men resided in Winchester, twenty miles to the north, which accounted for Alyssa’s ignorance of their identities.
If these two rather imposing gentlemen were shocked by the bride’s condition they gave no indication. Alyssa assumed Morgan had been sensitive enough to inform them beforehand of the situation. She was very grateful to him for saving her the embarrassment of having the ceremony performed by someone she knew. She doubted she would possess the audacity to face Rev. Jameson with her belly protruding and repeat her wedding vows.
The actual ceremony was very brief. Morgan and Alyssa stood together in front of the minister, with Perkins, Ned, and Mavis gathered close around. Mr. Potts stood a bit off to the side, not wanting to intrude on this intimate moment.
Alyssa listened intently to Morgan’s strong voice as he firmly spoke the traditional promises, and made a silent vow never to give him cause to regret this marriage. The heavy gold band felt warm on her skin as Morgan slipped it onto her finger. She looked down at the sparkling diamonds and sapphires with amazement.
“You may kiss the bride,” Rev. Harrow said, and Morgan was very pleased when Alyssa turned around to meet his embrace. He kissed her lips softly and then caressed her cheek.
Mavis sniffled loudly. Alyssa smiled and turned to accept her old nurse’s congratulations. She hugged Perkins and Ned, and shook hands with Mr. Potts and Rev. Harrow. At a nod from the duke, Perkins popped open a bottle of champagne and everyone drank a toast to the health of the bride and groom.
After emptying a second bottle, the well-wishers discreetly withdrew leaving Morgan and Alyssa alone.
Chapter Fifteen
“I don’t know how you managed all this in a few short hours,” Alyssa remarked breathlessly. She felt strangely shy and nervous being alone with her new husband. “It was most kind of you to make the arrangements with Mr. Potts and Rev. Harrow. Thank you.”
“It took a bit of doing,” Morgan explained in an offhand manner. “I was lucky to find Mr. Potts and Rev. Harrow so accommodating. I decided it would be easier if we had someone from another county handle all the arrangements.” The duke’s husky voice filled with humor. “I must confess I didn’t relish the idea of dragging you off to Gretna Green.”
“Yes, I have heard Scotland can be cold this time of year. I was surprised, however, to notice one guest was markedly absent. Was Lady Roberts busy this evening?”
He turned to her sharply, but relaxed when he saw her smile. “Yes, she had a previous engagement.” He grinned, understanding this was Alyssa’s way of telling him he was forgiven for this afternoon’s fiasco. “I imagine Lady Roberts will be singing a different tune the next time she meets the Duchess of Gillingham.”
“I believe she will,” Alyssa mused, looking again at her exquisite wedding band. It was funny how this single piece of jewelry had miraculously changed her from a social disgrace to an acceptable member of society.
“More wine?” Morgan offered, opening another bottle of champagne.
Alyssa’s stomach grumbled loudly. “Truthfully, I would prefer something to eat,” she replied bluntly.
Morgan smiled fondly. “Perkins should be bringing in our wedding supper shortly. Shall I ring for him?”
“Don’t bother,” Alyssa answered. “The bell cord is not connected. The workmen are scheduled to fix it early next week. It has been incorrectly installed once already, and I intend to inspect the work personally this time.”
Morgan frowned at her words. “I am afraid that won’t be possible, madam” he explained. “I plan on leaving for Ramsgate Castle tomorrow morning, and naturally you shall accompany me.”
Alyssa was distracted from commenting by the arrival of Perkins. She remained silent while the butler and Ned arranged the elegant meal on a small table cozily positioned in front of the fire.
Alyssa took one look at the mouth-watering array of food and sent Perkins a questioning glance. With Mrs. Stratton away visiting her sister for the past few months, the reduced staff had been eating a limited fare. The fragrant cream of oyster soup, poached filet of fish, ham with brandied peaches, carrot pudding, and plums jellied in Chablis wine were far beyond the culinary talents of Mavis.
“We had some assistance from the Rose and Thistle Tavern, Your Grace,” Perkins explained.
“Everything looks splendid,” Morgan complimented the butler. “Thank you, Perkins, we shall serve ourselves.”
The moment the door shut, Alyssa spoke.
“I cannot possibly be ready to leave here by tomorrow morning, Morgan,” she stated in a firm voice.
He raised an eyebrow. “Come and have some dinner, madam,” he commanded, ignoring her outburst.
Alyssa stared hard at him for several moments, but sat in the chair he held out for her without commenting further. Morgan settled comfortably in the matching leather wing-back chair and took a long sip of his champagne, his eyes never leaving hers.
Alyssa quickly grew tired of glaring at him as her stomach rumbled. Heaving a sigh of exasperation, she opened the lid on the porcelain tureen and ladled out the hot soup, serving her husband first.
“I have responsibilities here, Morgan. I cannot just suddenly leave,” Alyssa said, tasting her soup.
“Your responsibilities are to me, madam,” he insisted. “Tristan will simply have to find someone else to supervise the completion of the renovations at the manor.
“Naturally, Tristan will hire a new person, Morgan,” Alyssa agreed. “I did not mean to imply I intended working for any great length of time.”
“How long?”
“I . . . I am not sure,” she hedged. “Another week perhaps, maybe two.”
“No,” he stated emphatically.
“I beg your pardon?” she replied, her voice rising in volume.
“I said no, madam. We shall leave for Ramsgate Castle in the morning. Perkins or Ned can manage until Tristan hires someone.” He gave her a charming smile. “Do try the ham, my dear. It is quite delicious.”
Alyssa felt her stubbornness rising. She slowly let out her breath. Morgan watched her struggling to keep her temper under control and felt mildly disappointed when she succeeded.
“You are being most unreasonable,” she replied through her teeth. “And exceptionally bossy.”
“One of my more charming qualities, don’t you think?”
His sly grin did not escape her notice. “You, sir, are enjoying this entire conversation far too much for my liking,” Alyssa commented, biting into her ham.
“Perhaps,” he said lightly, finishing his champagne. “But if I correctly recall, less than one hour ago you vowed to obey me. Do you intend to keep that promise, my dear?”
“Of course,” Alyssa stated vehemently, trying her best to look sincere. “As long as it suits me.”
Morgan chuckled, pleased to see her independent spirit emerging again.
“We really must leave early tomorrow morning, my dear,” he said in an apologetic tone. “I have pressing business that cannot wait. If you insist, however, you may join me at a later date.”
Smugly Morgan refilled his wineglass, feeling certain she would reject his offer.
“Thank you, Morgan,” Alyssa replied calmly. “It is very considerate of you to give me the option. I shall let you know my decision in the morning.”
Feeling neatly outmaneuvered, Morgan picked up his wine goblet, thought better of it, and returned it to the table without drinking. Better to keep a clear head, he decided ruefully.
“I don’t suppose you would care to explain the nature of this important matter that makes our departure tomorrow morning necessary?” Alyssa ventured.
“I have pressing business,” Morgan replied vaguely. “More plums?”
“No, thank you,” she answered. “I have a fair knowledge of business, Morgan. Perhaps I can be of some assistance?”
“Not on this particular matter, my dear,” he insisted firmly. “Although it would be a help if you answered a few questions concerning the renovations of the manor house.”
“What do you wish to know?”
Morgan sat up eagerly. Interviewing Alyssa might lead to a valuable clue. “Did you hire each man on the work crews or did Mr. Walsh do the employing?”
Alyssa took a moment to remember. “I engaged the majority of the work crews. A few of the specialty craftsmen were brought in by Mr. Walsh, especially the plasterers and the artist who painted the wall mural in the dining room and on the second story.”
“Where did you find the men you hired?”
“All were from the village or the neighboring farms.”
“Were there any strangers among them? Men that you did not personally know?”
Alyssa considered his question thoughtfully for several minutes. “I don’t believe so. I will have to check the payroll, but I’m fairly certain all the workmen I hired were from this county.”
“What about the craftsmen Mr. Walsh hired? Were these men known by him?”
“I’m not sure. I do know he worked with the painter before. They mentioned a ceiling mural in Lord Thomasville’s chapel that was painted last winter. I’m also fairly certain two of the plasterers worked on other jobs with Mr. Walsh prior to coming to the manor. I don’t know about the others.” Alyssa sighed heavily. “If you explained precisely what you are attempting to discover, I might provide you with more pertinent information, Morgan.”
The duke weighed his decision carefully before speaking. “I placed the envelope you saw me recover from the old desk the last time I was at Westgate Manor in early spring. Since that time, I have reason to believe someone discovered the envelope, read the contents, arid sold the rather sensitive information inside. Do you have any suspicions who that individual might be?”
“No,” she admitted, feeling totally puzzled. What could possibly be inside the envelope that someone would want to buy? Alyssa tipped her head coyly to one side. “You realize, of course, I understand less now than before your explanation.”
“I am sorry,” he answered solemnly. “I don’t mean to be so bloody mysterious. You must believe me when I say it is safer if you don’t know the whole truth.”
Alyssa became alarmed at his serious tone. “You are not in danger, are you, Morgan?” she said in a voice laced with fear.
“No,” he reassured her, touched by her concern. “It would help, however, if I could determine which individuals had access to the desk.”
“Anyone on the estate could have easily come to the library and searched the room. Would someone have been sent here specifically looking for these papers?”
“It is possible,” Morgan replied, impressed with her quick grasp of the situation. “My theory is that someone stumbled upon the papers by accident, but was knowledgeable enough about the information to realize its value.”
“What exactly was inside the envelope, Morgan?” Alyssa joked. “A treasure map?” At his answering frown, Alyssa became more serious. “I can verify the workmen I hired were locals, known by me personally. The only strangers working at the manor were the men engaged by Mr. Walsh. Only he can vouch for their character. There wasn’t anyone else here, unless you suspect Tristan and Caroline.”
“Anything is possible,” Morgan retorted grimly.
“Not Tristan,” Alyssa whispered in horror.
“No, of course not Tris,” Morgan hastened to assure her. “Caroline did, however, bring countless numbers of her friends and family to the manor. Can you recall if a Comte Henri Duponce or Madeline Duponce visited?”
Alyssa stiffened visibly at the questions, instantly recognizing the Duponce name. “I never met either of them, but Caroline and Priscilla seldom bothered me during their visits unless they had a specific question. Generally I was too busy. Mr. Walsh always spent time entertaining them. The one person I distinctly remember Mr. Walsh mentioning was Caroline’s younger brother, Gilbert. Mr. Walsh thought he was an exceptionally enlightened individual.”
Morgan merely nodded at her answer, trying to digest the information. “If you will excuse me, my dear, I must spend a few moments reviewing the folders you gave me earlier today.”
“Now?” Alyssa’s green eyes darkened with astonishment. True, they were hardly a typical bride and groom, but it was their wedding night.
“Yes, now,” he answered. “You go off to bed. I’ll join you in a little while.”
Alyssa was hurt, but did not want to appear waspish, so she left Morgan to his privacy. She entered her bedchamber, feeling in a bit of a temper, and sat down at the dressing table. Quickly she undid her upswept hairstyle, vigorously shaking out her hair. She reached automatically for her brush, but could not find it on the table. As she examined the room closely, she saw none of her personal items were in the room.
Alyssa left the bedchamber in search of Mavis.
“Oh, there you are,” Mavis said, suddenly entering the hallway. “I thought you might have gone to your old room by mistake.”
“I don’t understand, Mavis.”
“Tonight you will be sleeping in the master suite, Your Grace.”
“Oh,” Alyssa squeaked softly. A sharp quiver of delight speared her heart. Morgan always slept in the master suite.
“Come along now, Your Grace, you don’t want to keep your husband waiting.”
Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Merciful heavens, Mavis, stop calling me Your Grace. Just because I have married a duke does not mean I’m going to start putting on airs. I’m still the same woman I was yesterday.” She looked down at her rounded belly. “Perhaps a bit more respectable than yesterday, but the same woman nonetheless.”
Mavis merely huffed. “The duke has asked me to assist you with your evening toilette, Your Grace,” Mavis insisted defiantly.
Alyssa threw her arms up in frustration and followed Mavis down the hall, grumbling all the way about how bossy everybody seemed to be today. Her sour mood diminished, however, upon entering the bedchamber and spying the large bathtub set before a roaring fire. Alyssa squealed with delight and cast Mavis a grateful glance. Maybe life as a duchess wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Alyssa remained quiet as Mavis helped her remove her gown, pretty new lace-trimmed chemise, and lightweight petticoats. Alyssa sat on a low chair while Mavis untied her slippers and helped unroll her silk stockings. With Mavis’s assistance, Alyssa carefully sank into the tub, relaxing her tired muscles in the soothing warm water. Mavis bustled about the room, putting away her clothes.
“We need to get you a proper lady’s maid,” Mavis grunted. “I’m too old for this.”
“Ha.” Alyssa snorted. “You are enjoying every minute and you know it. Besides, I’m sure the duke will assign someone to attend me when we arrive at Ramsgate Castle.” Alyssa sat up suddenly, sloshing water out of the tub onto the hardwood floor. “Mavis, you are going to accompany me to Ramsgate Castle, aren’t you?”
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