An Affair Downstairs (18 page)

One strong arm curled around her waist and pulled her tighter to him as his mouth opened hungrily on hers. Her knees weakened. Without the strength of his arm around her, she might have stumbled. The fiery curl of desire licked at her core, replacing the hollow ache. She wanted him. She would always want him. And as soon as she could free herself of her unfortunate entanglement with Lord Ralston, she meant to have him.

“Good night, Logan. I think it best I leave you here and find my own way to my room.”

She woke early the next morning, far too early. Sleep had eluded her. The comfort of the bed, luxury of the room, and quiet of the night did not matter next to her endless thoughts of Logan. Did he love her like she loved him? Did it matter? They couldn't be together. He had his family and his home again. Perhaps he had Julia back, too. What would he need with Alice anymore?

If that was the case, she might as well marry Lord Ralston. As soon as Sophia found her and insisted on her return to Thornbrook Park, they would announce the engagement. But perhaps she needn't think of marriage as a prison. As a married woman, she would be more freely able to travel alone, not less. Perhaps she and Ralston could come to some sort of agreement on what their marriage would entail. She would be willing to share his bed and give him heirs, as long as she were free to embark on adventures once the nursery was filled. A modern marriage. Why not?

She knew why not. Her heart was engaged elsewhere. Would she bare herself to Ralston, picturing Logan in his place all the while? Now that she knew what it was to love, could she be intimate with a man for whom she held no genuine affection? She supposed women did it all the time, but she couldn't be one of those women now that she knew real love. Not at all. Instead of lying in bed wondering, she got up, washed, and dressed. It was early, too early to ring for a maid. She managed on her own and set out to explore Stratton Place.

In one of the small parlors, she ran into the housekeeper. “I was having a look around,” she explained. “It's too early for breakfast, so I thought I might explore.”

“I'm Mrs. Morrison, Lady Alice. My apologies that you were not properly shown around yesterday, but I understand it was late when you arrived.”

Mrs. Morrison, a little on the plump side, had a round face and wispy white hair that reminded Alice of Aunt Agatha. She inspired confidence, and Alice took a chance to ask her about Logan.

“I'm interested in Mr. Winthrop.” Alice came right out with it. “Have you been with the family long enough to know what he was like as a boy?”

“Oh, yes.” Mrs. Morrison nodded. “Logan was a quiet boy, very shy. He kept to himself most of the time, though John, six years older, doted on his younger brother when John wasn't off at school. Logan came out of his shell a bit once he became friends with Miss Julia Kirkland. The Kirkland family lived in a manor house across the green. You might have passed it when you arrived.”

“It was dark.” She'd been concerned only with getting to Stratton Place safely.

“Of course. It was just Julia and her parents, an older couple. Her father ran a textile mill over in Bainsbridge. They say his lungs went bad from inhaling all the fine fibers that fill the air at the mill. He was ailing most of the time. Julia was a lively child, a beautiful girl with long, blond hair.”

“Like Grace's.”

Mrs. Morrison smiled. “Grace is the very image of her mother. Those two, Logan and Julia, were always underfoot in the house when they were not running wild outside. From the day they met, the two of them became inseparable companions, but of course the time came when Logan had to go off to school.”

“The separation must have been hard on them. Especially Logan, suffering from shyness.” Alice could picture him, a brooding boy with dark eyes and tousled hair.

“I believe it was.” Mrs. Morrison paused as if considering how much to reveal, but fortunately she went on. “While he was away, Julia became enamored of the Earl of Stanhope. The earl was off at school when Logan and Julia were younger and had returned to Wenderton, his estate not far from here, upon the death of his father. He met Julia at one ball or another and swept her off her feet. He was a man. Logan was yet very much a boy. Still, when Logan came home from Harrow, he proposed to Julia expecting to be accepted.”

“He must have been devastated when she turned him down.” Alice could imagine the crushing blow to a shy young man who trusted and loved as completely as Logan would have. “She did turn him down?”

Mrs. Morrison nodded. “She hoped they would remain friends, but he went months without speaking to her. He refused to attend her wedding.”

“How could she have expected him to? It must have felt like a betrayal.” Poor Logan, rejected and alone, isolated from his only friend—his closest friend, anyway.

“At some point, they became friends again. I couldn't tell you how it happened.”

Alice suspected Mrs. Morrison knew exactly how. Servants always did. Out of respect, Mrs. Morrison would hold back that part of the story.

“And shortly after, Stanhope was killed?” Alice asked.

“Such a scandal. He was a powerful man from a respectable family. Some say his downfall was in loving the wrong woman. Those are the ones who blamed Logan.”

“But Logan didn't kill him. Not really. He must have been covering for someone.”

“I've said too much. It's his story to tell.”

“I'm sorry. I've kept you far too long. Thank you for everything, Mrs. Morrison.”

“You're welcome. Can I get you anything?”

“Yes. I left something in the pocket of my coat. If you could get my coat for me and direct me to Logan's office or study, if he has such a nook in the house?”

“He does. He shares it with his brother, but I believe Logan is there now. Like you, he was up very early.”

The news didn't surprise her. “Excellent, Mrs. Morrison. I will be grateful if you lead me to him.”

***

Logan hadn't slept. How could he get a moment's rest knowing that Alice was under the same roof, that she'd slipped away from her likely disapproving sister just to come and see him? He wanted to spend every waking moment with her, but she'd had a long day and she'd barely regained her health. Reluctantly, he'd watched her go off to bed. In the morning, his heart picked up speed when someone knocked on his office door and he saw that it was Alice.

“Come in, Alice. Good morning. I trust you slept well?” He rose to greet her.

No one else was up yet, as far as he knew. Not even the girls, and they usually scampered through the halls at the crack of dawn with the nanny chasing after them.

She started to smile and nod, then shook her head instead. “Not a wink.”

“I'm sorry. Is your room sufficient? I can have another prepared…”

“The room is ideal.” She placed a hand on his arm. “I simply had too much racing around in my head. A good thing, really. It has been too long since my thoughts have been clear enough to keep me awake.”

“You're dressed for walking?” He noticed she held her coat. “It's a beautiful day, especially for this time of year. The sun is shining and I daresay it's even a little warm outside. Let me call Barnett for my coat and I will join you for a walk.” He rang for the butler.

“In a moment. First, I've got something for you.” She took a small box out of her pocket and placed it on the desk between them.

“For me?”

“I wanted you to have something to remind you of me.”

“I don't need reminders, Alice. You're on my mind all the time. I could never forget you.”

“Still.” She shrugged as if that was to be expected, but it was news to her. She was on his mind all the time? “I first had the idea to get you something a while ago, when I was trying to seduce you. But then I—well, things went along as they did, and I never got around to it. On my way here, I saw these in a window while I was passing a shop, and I knew I had to buy them for you. I just knew. Go ahead. Open the box.”

He opened it to see a matched pair of onyx cuff links with diamond studs in the middle, tasteful but extravagant. He felt heat rise to his cheeks. “Alice, it's the man who is supposed to buy jewelry for his lady. This is most unusual.”

“But do you like them?” Her eyes widened expectantly.

“I do. Very much. But I'm sure they were too expensive.”

“Don't say you can't accept them. I won't bear it. I need you to have them. Please.”

“All right, Alice. But I wish I had something for you. It's not even my birthday.” Her lips began to form a slight pout, and he realized he was saying all the wrong things. He changed his tone. “Thank you. I love them. I will treasure them forever, as I treasure you.”

She applauded his gracious performance of acceptance. “Well done. You're welcome. I'm so glad you like them.”

“But you shouldn't have, you know.”

“I did. It's almost Christmas. A gift is hardly out of line, and you can't give them back now.”

He laughed and stepped around the desk to take her in his arms, where he felt that she belonged. It was good to have her back. “I never could stop you, Alice, when you set your mind to something. I'm not sure anyone could.”

Before Logan could kiss her, as he so badly wanted to, the butler interrupted, appearing at the doorway with Logan's coat as if he'd anticipated Logan's request. Once Logan helped Alice into her coat and donned his own, he held out his arm to escort her to the grounds. They ambled to a lane that wrapped around the back of the house and wandered through the three garden hedgerows that were carved into arches along the way.

“I thought about doing something like this at Thornbrook Park.” He gestured to the hedges. He couldn't remember having so many silences with Alice in the past. She'd been a veritable magpie. And now, so quiet. Had her feelings changed so much? “Sturridge changed my mind. Too much upkeep, he said.”

“I find them rather charming.” She let go of his arm, walked through one arch, and spun around the outside to go through again. “It's a shame that Sturridge lacked the bravery to execute the idea. The lemon trees are thriving, though.”

“At last? Truly? When I left, I worried we would lose them both. They were dropping brown leaves by the hour.”

“All green now with some buds. Perhaps we'll have lemons by spring.”

“Probably not. They can take a few years to bear fruit. I read one of Brumley's books on the subject. I wish I'd read a book on you instead,” he said, stopping to take her hands. “What's going on with you, Alice? Are you really well?”

“Of course. I'm much better now. I know I'm quiet. The accident left me quite shaken. Afterward, I didn't know what to think. I knew I wanted to see you. That was the one thing of which I'm certain. And then everything dissolved into the fog.”

“The fog has lifted, though? It hasn't come back?”

“No. I'm free of fog. I am dying of curiosity, though. Where are you taking me?”

“We're reliving some of my past.”

She stopped in her tracks. “If you're taking me to meet Julia, Logan, let's turn around now. I don't want to go. I can barely stand the thought of losing you, but I won't be able to meet the woman who will share your life instead of me.”

Her words racked him so that he felt physically shaken. He managed to remain on his feet, but he felt as if her hand had reached right into his chest and gripped him by the heart. In two strides, he was at her side, pulling her into his arms and holding her as tightly as he dared. “Alice.”

“Logan?” She remained in his arms, waiting.

“Alice, you'll never lose me. Not unless you want to, and even then…you'll always be a part of me, deep down.” He took her hand and placed it on his chest, inside his coat. “You're in here, rooted like a weed. You've tunneled your way in and I can't rip you out.”

“A weed?” She tilted her head, examining her hand on his chest. “At one time, I thought your heart was made of stone. But perhaps it was only frozen earth, now melted.”

“You melted it to damp, fertile soil.”

“A weed, though? You could have at least said, ‘Like a tree.' Rooted like a tree. It sounds a tad more romantic, doesn't it?”

“I'm no romantic. Maybe with a little more work. You do bring out the best in me. Although, ‘My heart is made of damp soil' wouldn't exactly inspire poets, either.” He laughed with her. The feeling of laughing with Alice again sent his spirit soaring. She could barely stand the thought of losing him? She thought Julia was still alive. “Trust me. Come with me. We're taking a walk through my past, not my present.”

She nodded. “I trust you, Logan.”

They walked past the brook, half frozen, and the tree he used to climb and sit on top of for hours all alone.

“You climbed way up there? Could you still climb it?”

“I'm not inclined to try. I was a bit more agile in those days.”

“You're still very agile. I've watched you climb the eaves to clear clogged storm drains.”

“Aha, I always felt like I was being watched.” He turned to her, one eyebrow arched. “I supposed it one of Agatha's ghosts.”

She tapped his arm playfully. “You've somehow grown a sense of humor since you've come home. It becomes you.”

“If I've grown a sense of humor, it's something else you planted in my damp soil heart.”

“We'll have to be careful with that. It's remarkably fertile.”

“Or you're that remarkable a gardener. You've never tried your hand at it enough to know.”

“Touché, Logan. I confess that I watched you all last summer. I could hardly take my eyes off you.”

“I wasn't exactly blind to you. Even before you made yourself unavoidable. I noticed you when you first came to Thornbrook Park, though I convinced myself that I was an old man with no business ogling such a beautiful young creature.”

“Now I'm a creature.” She pretended to be offended. “But you didn't think me beautiful back then. Like everyone, you compared me to Sophia and found me wanting.”

“Not at all. Alice, you've no idea how striking you are. When the sun hits at the right angle to bring out the red glints in your hair, we're all like moths to your flame. Your sister might be compared to Aphrodite, but you're my Artemis, a far more interesting goddess, one who hunts versus one who swans around looking pretty.”