Page 74 of Never a Bride
And still the tears came. How had he done it? He was destroying all her defenses against him. She’d been wrong about love, wrong about everything she’d ever experienced with her poet. None of it compared to even one touch from Alex—a man too hurt by his own problems to commit to a woman.
Oh, she’d spent nights reminding herself of his past scandals, of the women he must have seduced. But some foolish part of her was convinced there was a different Alex hidden inside him, one who was hurting, who covered it all with scandal and flirting and wagering. Her feelings for him frightened her, because Alex was not the kind of man who fell in love. He pursued her for the adventure, for amusement.
Her plan to be content as the maiden aunt no longer seemed enough—and it was all Alex Thornton’s fault. Did he even understand what he did, how he made her feel like a desirable woman? Yet what would it get her but seduced, or even left with a child and no husband? Had he truly only turned to her because she was more available than her sister?
Wiping away her tears, she gave a reluctant laugh. To think she had never thought to feel this torn by desire. She would have gone to her grave not knowing this painful pleasure, the wonder of being the only thing one man looked at.
But she hadn’t found it with a man who would marry her.
~oOo~
That night at the Rooster, Alex sat at a corner table and finished his fourth tankard of beer, ignoring the tumult of voices raised in a drunken song. But he couldn’t drink away the jealousy that ate at him, jealousy he’d never felt in his life over a woman. Why had he showed Emmeline his emotions? Now sheknewhe was jealous, and would think she had a hold over him. If he wasn’t careful, he was still going to have to leave London for a while—taking some future mistress, of course.
Because there would be a mistress, he thought, looking dejectedly at the tavern maids. He would not make a fool of himself over a noble maiden he couldn’t have; he’d done that enough while posing as Spencer. He still remembered when he’d first visited Lady Margaret, daughter of a duke, after his true identity had been discovered. They had danced and flirted and kissed for months, and she was the first person he was actually relieved to reveal himself to. But what he’d thought had been feminine interest on her part had been only a lusting for power and wealth. Her father expected a brilliant match, she told him coolly, and she expected no less for herself.
Women like Lady Margaret—and Emmeline—were for men with titles and power. Though Emmeline desired him, she had already learned long ago that desire didn’t matter. She would be a dutiful daughter and marry as her father told her to.
Chapter 21
Lady Rutherford’s card party was going to be a sedate, relaxed affair, Emmeline realized, as she came through the doorway. At her side was Blythe, who had arrived home in time to dress for the event. On the coach ride over she’d told Emmeline about the people she’d seen in Kent, the parties she’d attended, but all the while Emmeline had gotten the impression that Blythe was almost relieved to be back in London.
Guilt swamped Emmeline as her sister rushed forward happily to a table occupied by her female friends. She hoped Blythe wasn’t looking for Alex, because how could she tell her that Alex wasn’t interested in her anymore? Blythe would want to know how she knew, and Emmeline would have to say—because he’s trying to seduce me!
Blythe waved her over and Emmeline shook her head, pointing to the refreshment table. She stood there alone a moment, sipping wine handed to her by a servant, until Maxwell joined her.
Perspiration shone on his forehead, and his normally pristine appearance seemed hastily put together.
“Maxwell?” she said uncertainly.
He seemed to force a grin. “A good evening to you, Lady Emmeline.”
Before she could say another word, he burst out, “I cannot do this.”
She slumped with disappointment. “Oh, Maxwell, what am I to do with you? YouknowAlex is right.”
“Yes, but I feel so foolish. Surely I will be the joke of the party.”
“Never. You are a well-respected man. So let us see who’s at the spinet.”
They both turned and saw that Blythe had just taken the bench, and was now looking through the sheet music.
“How perfect!” Emmeline said, though she could see him swallow and tug at the high ruff beneath his chin. “Go ahead, Maxwell.”
“But…surely her friends will help her.”
“Then you’d best sit beside her before they do.”
She turned him about by the shoulders and gave him a little push toward the spinet. He stumbled, then straightened and walked determinedly to the instrument. Blythe looked up and smiled at him, easing Emmeline’s nerves.
Maxwell took Blythe’s hand and bowed over it, pressing a kiss that made Blythe blush. Emmeline could barely contain her glee. Maxwell spoke to her sister, leaning over, and suddenly Blythe was making room for him on the bench.
Emmeline could have clapped and shouted her praise. Oh, good for Maxwell!
She didn’t want to spy on them, so she turned her back and looked out over the room. Little tables were scattered about, and already people were engrossed in card games, while servants wandered about with wine and food.
At the table behind her, a man said, “Did you hear? Viscount Thornton has returned to London. I just spoke with him tonight.”
Emmeline barely stopped herself from rudely interrupting for details. Alex’s brother was back from the Isle of Wight? She could not wait to see the man Alex had successfully impersonated for almost two years. Were their personalities as alike as their faces?
