Page 41 of The Banished Bride
His chair push back abruptly. “I’m afraid you gentleman will have to excuse me.” Ignoring the startled looks from all around, he folded his hand and stood up. “I must be off.”
“Deucedly odd behavior,” muttered one of the players as Alex retreated toward the front hall. “Must come from spending so much time away from civilization.”
Odd did not begin to describe the way he was feeling. Nothing was making any sense! If a warm caress was what he needed to chase away his dark mood, why the devil was he mooning over Aurora, who now held him in nothing but contempt? He was very angry with her, too, and well within his rights to feel such sentiments.
Enough of the plaguey female! If intimate companionship was what he needed, then he would seek it out now. There were plenty of other willing women who possessed more beauty, more charm and certainly more knowledge of how to give pleasure to a man. A few words were exchanged with the porter, along witha coin or two, and the address of the most exclusive madam in Town was passed along.
The coach rolled to a halt in front of a small but elegant townhouse tucked away on a small side street of the fashionable neighborhood. A sliver of honeyed light shone from a small gap in discreetly drawn red velvet draperies at the front windows. It cast a warm glow over the white marble stairs leading up to the door, beckoning with the sensuous promise of sultry delights hidden within.
His boot was halfway to the ground when suddenly he yanked it back with a scathing oath directed at his own head. The door slammed shut and, still muttering under his breath, he rapped on trap and ordered the confused coachman to spring the horses for home.
Giving up all pretense of trying to sort out his tangled emotions, Alex dismissed his valet and stripped off his finely tailored clothes, letting them fall in a heap on the thick carpet. Not bothering with a nightshirt, he slipped between the sheets of his large tester bed. A very large and very lonely bed. Tucking one of the eiderdown pillows under an arm he turned on his side and closed his eyes. A number of minutes passed before he stirred and tugged the covers over his chin. Then he tossed. And turned again, willing sleep to come.
But despite all his efforts to the contrary, deep, dreamless oblivion proved elusive. Not so were haunting thoughts of ... his wife. He rolled onto his back and let out a muffled groan, imagining the feel of her skin, the texture of her hair, the sweetness of her lips and the innocent rapture of her response to his lovemaking. He swore, but could not banish the image of her molten green eyes, or the endearing tilt of her chin when she was roused to anger. As heat pooled in his groin, the anger in his breast burned down to a flicker of remorse.
Perhaps he was more to blame for what had happened that afternoon than he had admitted. His hasty words had been what had caused tempers to flare, and cutting insults to be exchanged. So it was only right that he should consider apologizing for the breach in behavior. It was what honor demanded, he assured himself, and not because it would afford him another chance to meet with her.
On further thought, there seemed to be no reason they could not, as rational adults, both agree to be civil to each other until things were settled. After all, it would soon be over and then they would both be free to do as they pleased. In the meantime ….
It suddenly occurred to him that Aurora and her companion had never been to London before. He could at least make an attempt to show himself a true gentleman by offering to show them the sights while they were here.
Twelve
Miss Robertson regarded the impeccably tailored coat and the starched perfection of the cravat over the rims of her spectacles for several long moments before her gaze slid down to the fitted fawn breeches and polished Hessians. “Hmmph,” she sniffed. “It appears that your legs, at least, are a good deal steadier this morning than they were ten years ago, sir.” In a lower voice she added, ”I wonder whether the same can be said for your character.”
Alex repressed a twitch of his lips. “You are, I take it, the infamous Robbie. I hope I shall not come to regret the fact that it was not you who ended up sunk in the waters off Ayr.”
The former governess’s mouth dropped in momentary shock before it resumed its pursed scowl.
“An attempt at humor,” he murmured. “Perhaps it is still a bit early in the day for such things.”
If anything, the scowl deepened.
He cleared his throat. “Er, would you kindly inform … my wife that I wish a few words with her.”
“No.”
His brow rose a touch. “No?”
“No.” Miss Robertson crossed her arms. “Since it is rumored that you attended Oxford, I trust it the meaning of the word is quite clear.”
Alex took a step closer and fixed her with a grim smile. “No. It is not. It has been a long time since I was required to study the nuances of language, so in this particular instance, perhaps you will humor me with a more precise definition.”
She swallowed hard but refused to back down. “Very well, sir. No, I won’t inform her, because no, she doesn’t want to speak to you.”
“You are sure?”
“Yes.”
His lips twitched. “Perhaps you would care to give a detailed definition of the word ‘yes’”
Before another round of verbal sparring could begin, the door to the morning room opened, framing Aurora in a halo of sunlight. “I appreciate your concern, Robbie, but I’m capable of fighting my own battles.” She fixed Alex with an icy look, hoping it would mask the frisson of happiness she felt run through her on seeing him again. “Besides, I think we may trust that His Lordship is not intent on causing anyone bodily harm this morning.” There was a deliberate pause before she added a muttered aside. “I won’t promise that the same can be said for me.”
He make a polite bow. “As I am not unused to danger, madam, I am willing to take the risk.”
She turned slightly and motioned for him to enter the room. Miss Robertson made to follow, but the door was quietly, yet firmly, drawn shut. Aurora moved to a spot by the window, placing a small japanned settee between them, and began to toy with a Staffordshire figurine that sat on the matching sidetable.
“Choosing a weapon already?” he murmured dryly.
