A Dream of Desire (8 page)

His pulse sped up as Alice glanced at him with those blue eyes like marbles. He’d been working on the Shipton Fields bill for more than a year, anticipating having management of his own prison and finally escaping life with his miserable uncle. He also wanted the approbation that would come with the governorship of a brand-new prison, the approval of Lord Thurlow and other peers that might one day lead to his own knighthood for service to the Crown. He wanted the salary that the position would earn, the income from his prisoners’ labor.

But not until he met Alice did William realize
why
he wanted all that. He’d thought about it for himself, for the success and recognition he’d long deserved, especially after Elizabeth’s betrayal.

Elizabeth.
His gut clenched at the thought of her rejection. Her resistance. If she hadn’t resisted, he wouldn’t have had to force her. If only she’d accepted him, his love, his need for her…instead she’d been horrified by “what he did to her”—ignoring the fact that she had first
let him
touch her—and had refused to see him again.

Then she’d told everyone that he was depraved and of course she could never marry him…well, that had smeared his name all over Lewes, and he’d moved to London shortly thereafter to get away from it.

Elizabeth could rot in hell, for all he cared. The lying cow was nothing compared to the sweet-tempered Miss Alice Colston with her soft, blond hair and eyes the color of cornflowers.

She
was now the reason William craved the success of Shipton Fields. With the prison under his command, his newfound association with the peerage, the salary of the governorship…he could court and marry Miss Alice Colston with nothing to stand in his way.

Except, perhaps, her brother, Peter.

“Have you considered asking Lady Talia or Mr. Fletcher for their advice about a new prison for juveniles?” Alice asked.

William choked back a laugh. “I’m afraid we are not in agreement for how best to manage criminals, Miss Colston. I believe in fair treatment, but also that one must pay when one commits a crime. Lady Talia has far too soft a heart when it comes to lawbreakers.”

“I don’t know that it’s possible to have too soft a heart, Mr. Lawford,” Alice murmured.

“Soft hearts are easily crushed, Miss Colston.”

“They’re also resilient, aren’t they?” Faint amusement curved her lovely mouth. “Wouldn’t you rather have a heart like a pillow rather than one made of crystal?”

William stared at her lips, not caring what material constituted his heart as long as he could give it to her.

“Of course,” he murmured.

Her smile faded a bit as she turned her face forward again and continued walking. William stepped closer to her, his arm brushing the sleeve of her coat. As much as he disliked the idea of using her, he thought it would be helpful if she were to say good things about him to Lady Talia and whatever other member of the
ton
she might happen to encounter.

Alice would never be cruel enough to speak ill of another person—least of all William Lawford, who had been nothing but kind to her and her brother.

He just had to ensure Peter Colston did nothing to ruin that impression.

J
ames
smiled and nodded in response to whatever the chit beside him was saying. He took another swallow of champagne, his eyes narrowing as he tracked Talia’s progress across the ballroom. He’d been back in London for three days and had already determined Talia was definitely hiding something. Not only from her father and brothers, but now from James as well. He intended to find out what it was.

“An
elephant
, he said,” the young woman went on, her eyes wide with amazement. “Is that true, my lord?”

“It is, Miss Dunnett.” James forced his gaze away from Talia and smiled at Miss Dunnett. Wouldn’t do to have the woman feel slighted by his lack of attention. Wouldn’t do to have anyone think ill of him.

Society had been scathingly critical of the Halls following Lady Rushton’s affair and the earl’s subsequent petition of divorce, so James had seen the vile nature of scandal. He also knew well how people could ignore what was right before their eyes. How they could pretend nothing bad was happening so they wouldn’t feel guilty for not trying to stop it.

James would not be at society’s mercy the way the Halls had been. He would not be ignored the way his mother had been. He would court society with smiles and rollicking tales of adventure, never giving anyone reason to think he disliked them all. Never giving them reason to think he had anything to hide.

“Do you know, my father was once nearly trampled to
death
by an elephant?” Miss Dunnett continued. “He was in India, the Deccan…oh, perhaps four years ago, and he accompanied several game hunters—
shikarees
, aren’t they called?—to hunt wild boars in the most treacherous
jungle
you can imagine. Oh, isn’t that silly of me to say, though? You’ve probably
charted
that very jungle, haven’t you?”

James chuckled, hoping he looked attentive enough as he tried to find Talia in the crush again. Miss Dunnett’s musical voice drummed in his ears. He caught a glimpse of Talia’s chestnut hair, smooth as silk, her dark blue gown a contrast to the lacy dresses in shades of pink and green worn by other young women.

She will listen to you.
Northwood’s certain words rang like a ship’s bell in his mind. Even North knew of James’s influence over Talia. James had known her since she was a child, yet he was not her brother. That fact alone meant that Talia had at least always listened to his advice.

Only now did he realize that her professed love had also likely contributed to her trust in him.

Regret seized him. He hated remembering that afternoon at Floreston Manor. Hated remembering how he’d hurt Talia. How he’d reacted with uncontrollable pleasure to the press of her mouth and—

His spine stiffened. Lord Margate, a young, insolent heir to a marquess, had approached Talia, his gaze on her face, a smile tugging at his mouth. She stopped as he spoke to her, but her posture was tense.

“…then hunting tigers on
foot
,” Miss Dunnett was saying.

“Do forgive me, Miss Dunnett,” James muttered, shoving through the crowd to Talia’s side.

Just as he reached her, Margate put his hand on Talia’s arm. She jerked away.

“There are you, Lady Talia.” James stepped slightly in front of her, putting himself between her and the younger man. He kept his tone pleasant, but narrowed his eyes. “Margate isn’t disturbing you, is he?”

“Of course not.” Margate moved back, holding up a hand in defense. He glanced from Talia to James with a frown.

“Good. My lady, your aunt is looking for you.” James extended his arm to Talia as the other man slunk away. “I’ll be pleased to take you to her.”

“I don’t wish to be taken, my lord,” Talia replied.

The chill in her voice did nothing to stop a blatantly provocative image from appearing in James’s mind. An image of him
taking
her. He inhaled a hard breath before turning to face her. Talia’s expression was set, her eyes lit with irritation.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped.

“Helping you,” he retorted. “Margate is an insufferable rogue. You should not be speaking to him.”

“You’ve no right to tell me what to do, James.” She retreated a few steps. “I was speaking with Lord Margate about a business matter.”

“Then why did he try to touch you?”

She didn’t respond, but he saw the pain flash in her green eyes.

“Still?” James spoke through clenched teeth. “Men like him still treat you as if you’re no better than…”

…your mother.

He bit off the words when Talia paled. James despised Lady Rushton for what she’d done to her family, but the woman would always be Talia’s mother. James knew well how complex feelings toward one’s mother could be.

He stepped closer to Talia and lowered his voice. “I’d understood the matter had been put to rest.”

“The
matter
is not your concern, James,” Talia snapped. “Just as
I
am not.”

Anger flared in his chest. “You will always be my concern, Talia.”

“No. Your concern will always lie with responsibility, won’t it, James? With loyalty to my brothers? You wouldn’t have even come to see me if it hadn’t been for Alexander.” She paused, her mouth compressing. “True or false, James?”

James fisted his hands, hating his cowardice. “It had nothing to do with you, Talia. I’m here for just a few weeks to—”

His voice broke off. He stared at her, his heart thudding. He’d looked into her eyes countless times over the years, never failing to notice how they were composed of multiple shades of green—emerald, jade, viridian. Her eyelashes were black and glossy like the wings of a crow, a striking contrast to her pale skin.

God, she was a beauty. How was it possible that no man had moved heaven and earth to marry her? To claim her as his own?

Regret stabbed him. He couldn’t give her what she sought, couldn’t leave a wife behind while he explored the world. And he wouldn’t allow marriage to tie him to London either, this wretched city where bitter memories lingered like smoke.

He’d given Talia an honest, honorable response, but he would forever hate himself for hurting her.

“True or false, James?” she repeated.

“False.” His throat nearly closed over the lie. “Of course I’d have paid you a visit, poppet.”

A shadow crossed her expression. He cursed inwardly.

“Talia, I don’t want this to be difficult.”

“Then don’t lie to me! You said you wanted things to be as they were before, but you didn’t write me one letter, and you would not have come to visit me if Alexander hadn’t asked you to. I heard you say as much to Aunt Sally.”

His heart sank. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you meant, James, so stop trying to convince me you’re here because you want to be.” She stepped away from him. “Stop trying to pretend nothing has changed.”

“What would you have me do then, Talia?”

“Go and find someone else to fulfill your responsibility,” she replied as she turned and walked away. “And leave me alone.”

I can’t.

James pushed through the crowd and found Margate heading toward a group of young women clustered by the terrace doors. He grabbed the other man’s arm.

“What did Lady Talia speak with you about?” he asked.

Margate tried to dislodge James’s grip. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“She said it was a business matter. What did she mean?”

“She wants a patron for her bloody school, of course.”

“What school?”

“For poor children or something like that,” Margate said. “She’s such a humanity-monger, always trying to pinch our pockets for one cause or another. Thinks she can escape her mother’s shadow, I expect.”

James shoved Margate hard enough to send the other man back a few steps. He curled his hands into fists, wishing he could strike a blow as Margate smirked, straightened his collar, and continued on his way.

Taking a breath to quell his anger, James followed the path Talia had woven through the crowd. He found her speaking to another man…only this time, she looked as if she wanted to engage in conversation. James eyed the man warily—tall with blond hair and a somewhat arrogant look about him.

Suppressing the urge to intercede again, he grabbed a glass from a passing server just as Talia looked in his direction. Their gazes met, a sizzling glance that jolted a rush of heat through James’s entire body. He swallowed the champagne and tried to smother his desire, tried to remind himself that he had to leave her alone.

James cursed inwardly. The problem was he didn’t
want
to leave her alone. Now that he was here, now that he’d seen her again…he remembered how much he’d always wanted her company.

Talia had always been the one steady presence in his life as he’d moved from one place to the next as fast as he could, never able to settle in one place, but always knowing she was
there
. She didn’t even realize what a bright, pretty light she’d been in the darkness of his childhood and again in the days following his mother’s death.

She didn’t know how much he’d always loved writing her those long, news-filled letters. Hunched in a tent on an African plain, pitching to and fro on a ship…he’d clutched a pencil and written
My dear Talia
countless times, always picturing her curled in a chair beside the fire, her hair gleaming with gold light as she read about his adventures and mishaps.

How he’d missed writing to her this past year. Every day he’d thought of her as he reached for a pencil and his notebook.

I must tell Talia about that…Talia will laugh when I tell her…Talia will never believe it when I…Talia would love this…I’ll save that pretty rock for Talia…

Then he’d fought the urge to write her a letter and scribbled in his journal again, a damned coward afraid of what he’d inadvertently tell the woman who had fearlessly declared her love for him and then borne the brunt of his rejection.

Not once had he thought his lack of correspondence would hurt her.

What an idiot he was. He’d left Talia with the dictate that everything would be the same between them, yet he’d been the one to sever contact with her because he was scared. And that had just hurt her all over again.

He had to set things right between them. Not just because of his promise to Alexander, but for the sake of his and Talia’s friendship. Because he had to fix what he’d broken.

He had no idea how he’d do that while also determining what she was hiding, but he’d find a way.

He stared at her. She blinked, her lips parting, her skin flushed with warmth from the overheated room.

James wanted to kiss her again. Wanted to taste her, to strip that gown from her shoulders and expose the pale expanse of her skin and rosy-tipped breasts—

Stop.
A growl spread through his chest. He would not do this. Not with Talia.

Bloody hell. It had been too long since he’d been with a woman. That was the problem. He’d never been one to frequent brothels like other young men, preferring instead to indulge in discreet affairs. Not always easy when one traveled so often, but he’d never had trouble finding a woman willing to satisfy his needs.

Except that for…what, eight months now…he hadn’t even wanted to look for one. The summer following Talia’s confession of love, James had tried to forget her by engaging in an affair with a nurse in New South Wales, but that had ended when he’d left for the outback. And there, in the rocky, wind-whipped plains with stars sprinkled like sugar overhead, his all-consuming thoughts of Talia had begun.

“Fancy a game of cards, Castle?”

James took a breath to get himself under control before glancing to his right, where Benjamin Walker, Lord Ridley, had stopped. A fellow student at university, Ridley was an affable young man with brown hair and a wide, open smile that made him a favorite among society’s mothers.

James pointed his chin toward the blond man who was still speaking with Talia. “What do you know of him?”

“Lawford? Decent sort of chap, I suppose. He is persuading Lord Thurlow to help with a proposal for a new prison.”

James jerked his head around to stare at Ridley. “A prison?”

Ridley nodded. “He’s deputy governor at Newhall in Middlesex.”

“What is Newhall?”

“Prison for juveniles. Old building, but they reopened it to get rid of juvenile wings in other gaols because they were getting too crowded with other criminals.”

A combination of fear and anticipation flared in James’s chest. He was getting closer to finding out the truth, but he still hated the words
prison
and
criminals
being anywhere near the name
Talia
.

“Do Lawford and Lady Talia work together in any way?” he asked.

“Don’t think so, though I know she’s been asked to give evidence at the House meeting later this month.”

“What meeting?”

“Something to do with prisons. Other than that, one doesn’t hear much about Lady Talia Hall these days.”

James didn’t know whether to be pleased or angry about that statement. He’d kill anyone who spread malicious gossip about Talia. But how could society ignore a woman so lovely and intelligent, a woman whose qualities far surpassed those of anyone else in the
ton
?

“Cards?” Ridley asked again.

James nodded. “Just going to get a drink first.”

“I’ll be at the vingt-et-un table.” Ridley sauntered toward the card room.

James grabbed another drink and glowered at the deputy governor, sensing Lawford was the key to unlocking whatever Talia was hiding.

And not liking that thought one bit.