An Unsuitable Bride (36 page)

He lay holding her, watching the firelight flicker on
the ceiling, thinking how best to extricate her from a situation in which he knew she would fight tooth and nail to remain. He knew his Alexandra by now. She would not give up until she had completed what she had set out to do. But there was no need for her to do that now. So, how to convince her?

Chapter Sixteen

Alexandra awoke from a sleep as deep and relaxing as any she could remember. She rolled onto her side and looked at the sleeping Peregrine. He lay on his back, his arms flung above his head, his breathing deep and regular. He seemed as untroubled as she felt herself to be that morning. She touched his mouth with her fingertip, and his eyelids fluttered. She leaned over and brushed his lips with her own, a light butterfly kiss, and with the growl of a bear awakened from hibernation, he seized her and rolled her beneath him. He leaned over her, his eyes wide awake and filled with laughter.

“Beware the sleeping beast,” he said, nuzzling her neck, his hand sliding down her body to part her thighs.

She laughed and opened her body for him, curling her legs over his hips as he entered her, pressing her heels into his buttocks with the rhythm of his thrusts. It seemed so deliciously familiar now, this lovemaking, familiar and yet always different. She found that she approached her peak from many different angles, and the intensity was as varied. Sometimes she felt as if she
were torn apart, her body disintegrating into a diffused scatter of little pieces, and other times it was as if she was sliding gently into a warm whirlpool of delicate sensation that left her soft and formless. But this morning, it was a long and wonderful climb as the ultimate promise built within her, ever tightening, growing ever closer. She heard herself beg her lover not to stop, not to slow his movements, to keep the tightness building within her. The glorious explosion hung just on the periphery, and when she reached the edge, she heard her own cry, mingling with Peregrine’s as he fell heavily atop her, gathering her up tightly against him as their bodies throbbed and pulsed in unison.

At long last, Perry rolled sideways, lying on his back, his breathing still fast, his skin damp with sweat. He turned his head to smile at Alex, who lay prone in a similarly exhausted condition, her own skin glowing, her eyes dreamy with fulfillment. He moved a hand to rest indolently on her belly.

“I think I died a little,” Alex murmured when she could catch her breath again.

“Le petit mort,”
he said. “It happens sometimes when one is incredibly lucky.”

“Did it happen to you?” She put her own hand over his as it rested on her stomach, twining her fingers with his.

“I do believe it did,” he murmured with a soft chuckle. The little clock on the dresser chimed. “Eight o’clock. I think ’tis time to put on the day.”

Alexandra groaned in faint protest as he swung himself out of bed. “I don’t have anything to do until this afternoon, when I have to meet someone at Berkeley Square. He wishes to look at the volumes then, and after him, there is one other gentleman at four o’clock. I am hoping they will bump into each other, just to stimulate a healthy rivalry. It should drive up the price.”

“Well, I have a few things to do this morning.” Perry thrust his arms into a dressing gown. “You may stay abed for as long as you wish.” He bent down and kissed the corner of her mouth. “I’m going to ring for hot water, so stay where you are behind the curtains while Bart is in here.”

Alex lay back against pillows in the seclusion of the bed curtains, her tranquility disturbed as the image of her mother drifted into her mind. Just what was Luisa doing in London? Was she still married to the Count? Did she know how her daughters’ legal status had changed when her husband divorced her? It was not a fact that would have interested her particularly, and it was equally possible that she didn’t know that Sir Arthur had died without making provision for them. Quite simply, it wouldn’t have occurred to her to ask about them. And she wouldn’t be interested now, even if her curiosity had been momentarily piqued by seeing her daughter at the theatre. She would soon forget or assume she’d been mistaken. But the thought that she might accidentally bump into her mother again in town was an alarming one.
She couldn’t risk it, so her outings with Peregrine would have to be curtailed.

But in a few days, she’d have to return to Combe Abbey, anyway, and this delightful idyll would be over. But maybe only temporarily over, she thought with a little frisson of excitement. Why shouldn’t she be the Honorable Peregrine’s mistress? When she’d first had the thought, it had seemed both exciting but impossible; now, however, she could see nothing impossible about it. She would be her own mistress financially, no burden on Perry’s already overburdened finances. There was no reason at all why she shouldn’t lead her life exactly as she pleased. That had been the aim of this charade from the very beginning, although then she had thought only of a quiet, comfortable, independent life with Sylvia and Matty.

Now she remembered how Sylvia had expressed reservations at that vision, at least as far as Alex was concerned. And Sylvia was, as usual, probably right. Alex needed more in her life than rustic tranquility. She was still a very young woman with her life ahead of her, once the reins of that life were firmly in her own hands.

So, when would be the right moment to present my vision to Peregrine?

She heard the door open and Peregrine’s voice talking to the lad, Bart. The sounds of movement in the room were followed by the door closing again, and the bed curtains were opened once more. Peregrine was fully dressed. “I’m just going out. But there’s hot
chocolate, and the fire’s ablaze.” He tossed a brocade dressing gown onto the bed beside her. “That should keep you warm when you’re ready to leave the bed.”

“How long will you be?”
Would this morning be the right time?

He considered. “It depends . . . but an hour, maybe a little more.”

She nodded. “Hurry back. I shall miss you.”

He laughed and kissed her lightly. “The sooner I go, the sooner I’ll be back.”

The door closed behind him, and Alexandra pushed aside the coverlet. She reached for the gown, thrusting her arms into the sleeves. When she stood up, the garment enveloped her and puddled around her feet, tripping her as she walked to the fire. The rich material was imbued with Peregrine’s special scent, and she buried her nose in the crook of her elbow, inhaling deeply, smiling a reminiscent smile. She poured herself a cup of hot chocolate from the jug on a tray by the fire and sat down on an ottoman.

She was still sitting there, contemplating the glories of her grand plan, when Peregrine returned within the hour. “Good Lord, are you still abed, lazybones?” he greeted her as he came in, bringing the coldness of the fresh air with him, his blue eyes sparkling, diamond bright.

“Not exactly,” she defended herself. “I am up, in a manner of speaking.” She lifted her face for his kiss, running a caressing finger along his cold cheek.

“In a manner of speaking,” he agreed. “Have you broken your fast?”

She shook her head. “The hot chocolate is sufficient. Where have you been? Or may I not know?”

“Oh, ’tis no secret,” he responded easily, shrugging out of his riding cloak. “I went in search of your mother.”

Her face paled, and the dream exploded. “You’re doing it again . . . prying and spying.
Why
? I told you everything you wanted to know.”

He sighed. “I was not spying, Alexandra. There was nothing underhand about it. I thought you would probably wish to know where your mother was living, how long she was staying in town, and maybe even what her circumstances are. On the principle of better the devil you know.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Was I right?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“No buts,” he declared. “You may cease your castigation forthwith, unless you don’t wish to know what I have discovered.” The smile in his eyes belied the mock sternness of his tone. He pulled the bell rope by the fireplace.

“You didn’t let her know it
was
me last night?” She couldn’t hide her anxiety.

He shook his head in reproof. “Don’t be silly, I didn’t speak to her myself, just asked a few questions of those who might know. The Contessa della Minardi is putting up at Grillons, a suitably fashionable spot and a
most expensive one, I should add. Oh, Bart.” He turned to the door as the lad came in. “We’ll take breakfast in the parlor in half an hour. And bring me a tankard of ale up here as soon as possible, if you please.” The door closed behind the boy, and Peregrine resumed his account. “I gather she has been staying there without her husband for a week, and when the Count arrives, they are intending to travel to Paris.”

“Oh.” Alexandra stretched her toes to the fire, wriggling them in the warmth. “How did you find out?”

“I have an Aunt Anne who is a notorious gossip. She knows everything about anyone who is anyone . . . or who thinks they are,” he added with a sardonic smile. “And if there’s ever a breath of scandal attached, Anne’s interest is even more likely to be piqued. I reasoned that an Italian countess of dubious reputation would probably attract some attention in town, particularly as she goes out in public. And I was right. Anne knew everything there was to know about the Contessa. Of course, she wouldn’t acknowledge the lady in public; that would not do for a Blackwater at all.” The sardonic smile deepened.

Alexandra couldn’t help flushing. “She’s unlikely to acknowledge me, then.”

Perry regarded her for a moment with his head to one side. “Well, that remains to be seen, my dear. I am sure you bear little or no resemblance to your mother except physically. You are, if you don’t mind my pointing out, her living image.”

Alexandra looked down at her fingers curled in her lap. She had to acknowledge that, just as she had to acknowledge that she had found the realization pleasing the other day. There was nothing to be ashamed of in resembling an undeniable beauty, and her mother was ever that. “Well, for as long as she’s in town, I cannot go out,” she stated, moving the subject down a different path. “I must complete my business here as soon as possible and go back to Combe Abbey.”

Peregrine hesitated, wondering if this was the right moment, but maybe there was never a right moment. “You no longer need to continue with this criminal and dangerous charade, Alexandra. Take what you have, use it to ensure Sylvia’s well-being, and call it a day.”

She shook her head. “I can’t do that. I must finish what I began. How else am I to live?”

He scratched his ear, looking for the right words. “You will live with me. We will be married as soon as I can procure a license, and you will resume your real identity. No one will associate the downtrodden Mistress Hathaway with the wife of the Honorable Peregrine Sullivan. You’ll be free and clear.”

“For God’s sake, Peregrine!” she exclaimed, jumping up from the ottoman. “Didn’t you hear anything I said last night? You cannot marry a bastard, quite apart from my criminal activities in the last months.”

“I can marry whom I choose, ma’am,” he returned smartly. “As can you.” He looked at her in silence for a moment, watching her expression. It was difficult
to read. Was there hope there? Or simply incredulity? He took a step towards her, his hands outstretched. “Love conquers all, they say, Alexandra. If you’ll let it.” He took her hands. They were cold, but her fingers twitched against his.

“Come, what do you say?” he pressed.

After a moment, she said so softly he could barely hear her, “I say ’tis a pipe dream.”

“Then indulge it.” He tipped her chin, looking deep into her eyes. “I promise it is no pipe dream. I wish to marry you more than anything I have ever wished for, Alexandra.”

“It will ruin you,” she stated flatly.

He shook his head, and now a flicker of laughter appeared in his eyes. “Not so, my dear. Oddly enough, it will do the opposite.”

“How?” She looked at him with an arrested expression.

He chuckled richly. “It is the most perfect concatenation of circumstance. Do you remember my mentioning my perverse Uncle Bradley and the devious conditions he has written into his will?”

Alex looked bewildered. She remembered something he had said about an uncle but hadn’t really taken it in. It hadn’t seemed particularly relevant. What could some Blackwater uncle have to do with herself and Peregrine?

“My uncle, Viscount Bradley, is a man of immense wealth. He was a nabob in India and the Far East and
amassed a huge fortune. He is also debauched, even to the point of depravity, and he has taken it into his head to be avenged upon our somewhat straitlaced family for their ostracism by offering to leave his fortune to Blackwater, Sebastian, and myself in equal parts, on one condition.”

Alexandra gazed, fascinated, into the deep blue eyes fixed upon her countenance. “What condition?”

“That we each wed a fallen woman, for want of a better description.” This time, his laugh was short and humorless. “The idea, as I understand it, is that Bradley will force the family to accept a woman of neither status nor reputation into its holier-than-thou bosom. So far, Jasper and Sebastian have managed to find ways to satisfy that condition, but if I do not do so before our uncle’s death, then none of us will inherit. The devil of it is that Blackwater needs the money to tow the family out of the River Tick. Our father’s gambling debts and general profligacy have brought the estates to the verge of ruin. Bradley is prepared to settle all the mortgages on the estates, in addition to leaving the remainder of his fortune to the three of us.”