Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,118
her tongue in amused dismay. “I must say, it is kind of his lordship to send along a vase. We seem to have run out of containers.” She left the room to fetch an ewer of water.
Gerald brushed the golden pollen off his leaf-green coat. “You should know, Ali, your husband went to the country and picked these himself.”
“Now, there’s a Banbury tale,” Alicia scoffed.
“’Tis true,” her brother insisted. “He returned only a short while ago. Indeed, I’ve never seen a man so—” Before he could finish, he whipped out his handkerchief and sneezed.
A man so … what?
Alicia wouldn’t ask. She didn’t care to know.
To distract herself, she patted her brother on the back. “You aren’t catching cold, are you?”
“Blasted bouquet tickled my nose, that’s all.” Then he reached into an inner pocket of his coat and produced a square of ivory vellum, folded and sealed with a wafer. Flashing a grin, he handed it to her. “This goes along with the posy.”
She took the note, surreptitiously gliding her fingertips over the fine paper. Drake hadn’t attempted any communication since that first week, when he had endeavored to convince her to return to his house, alternately cajoling and demanding, subjecting her to the full force of his scoundrel’s allure. He had avowed his regrets over the lies he’d told and claimed that he had resigned himself to being a peer only for the sake of their children.
Their children.
A wistful warmth enveloped Alicia, the ever-present knowledge that their baby nestled safely within her womb. She knew Drake would be a good father. He liked children and children liked him. But he was determined to win her back only because he had too much stubborn pride to admit defeat. She resented him for thinking he could buy her affections with his bounty. She would not allow herself to be swayed by lavish gifts and persuasive letters. That wasn’t what she wanted from him.
She would never forget that night when she had stood outside James’s room, trying to work up the courage to tell Drake that he was legitimate, and overhearing him say, I’ll never kneel before any woman.
That one remark summed up his inability to love. It wasn’t that she wanted him to prostrate himself. But she had always dreamed of a man who would be willing to walk over hot coals for her, a man who regarded her as the center of his existence.
“Open the note,” Gerald urged.
Mama waved her hands, then peered into the crystal ball. “I do believe … yes … it is from one who yearns for you.”
Alicia’s fingers itched to open the missive. Perversely, she resisted the temptation. “Then he shall go on yearning.”
“Ah, have pity on the poor fellow,” Gerald said. “I vow, he’s at his wit’s end.”
Was he? Feeling a moment’s softening, she walked swiftly back and forth, reminding herself of all her grievances. “I cannot pity the man who stole the title from James.”
“’Tis Drake’s by right,” her brother said, with typical male obtuseness. “The courts should confirm that soon.”
Mama looked up from her crystal ball, her eyes clear and blue, her brow puckered. “My dear girl,” she said in faint horror, “are you suggesting that Claire’s son should not be the Marquess of Hailstock?”
More and more these days, Mama seemed to grasp what was going on around her, though she still dressed up in costumes and played out her daydreams. Not wanting to upset her, Alicia demurred, “I simply don’t think it’s fair to deprive James, that’s all.”
“Neither is it fair to deny Claire’s son,” Mama said, a trifle anxiously. “The dear boy was lost all these years. And Claire’s dying wish was to protect him. That is why I hid the documents for so long.”
Repentant, Alica slipped her arm around her mother’s slight form. “I know, Mama. You are to be admired for keeping your vow so faithfully.”
Realizing the truth in that, she took a deep, shaky breath. Perhaps she herself was the obtuse one, afraid to risk her heart again. Afraid to accept the fact that her husband hadn’t wanted this final revenge. He despised the notion of being the Marquess of Hailstock.
In her mind she saw Drake touching the documents to the flame of the lamp. He had intended to destroy the evidence that would prove his legitimacy. All the while, he had gazed straight at her. As if willing her to believe him an honorable man.
She fingered the folded notepaper, wondering what message it contained. Could Drake have overcome