Midnight My Love (18 page)

Biting her lip, Alex turned to stare out the
window.

Jenny took hold of her hand. "It's been ten
years, Alex. You've met many eligible men, but the pendulum always
swings back to Rochdale, doesn't it? I know I've said Carlisle is
the worthier man, but that was before I became better acquainted
with the viscount. He has hidden qualities and you must learn to
accept him for what he is."

Alexandra mutely shook her head as Jenny
continued. "I believe Rochdale loves you. I've seen his eyes follow
you whenever you're in the room. He's a proud man, Alex, and
something Robert let slip about Rochdale's mother makes me believe
he has good reason to despise women."

Alex jumped up and paced
around the room. "
If
Rochdale loves me, how would I know it isn't a fleeting
passion? He liked me when I was a child, but he withdrew his
friendship. I've never understood why. What kind of a husband would
he make? I caught a maid coming from his room the other evening.
She said he'd grabbed her and . . ."

"What did Rochdale say?"

"He denied it, of course"

"Can't you give him the benefit of the
doubt?" Jenny asked.

Alex sighed. "He's made the worst reputation
for himself. If only half is true, it still proves he's a confirmed
rake." "Yet he's your brother's best friend," Jenny reminded her.
"And think how he's helped during Robert's convalescence."

Alex wiped a wisp of hair from her forehead.
"Don't you think I've been over all of this again and again? My
brain's in a whirl," she cried. "I'd made up my mind to try and
break through that hard wall Rochdale surrounds himself with, and
then I found out about the maid."

Jenny lifted her chin.
"Well, I don't think even Rochdale would molest an unwilling maid
and whatever else the viscount is, he is
not
a liar. If he said he's
innocent, then I believe him," she stated firmly.

"Do you really?" Alex asked, remembering
Rochdale saying he'd never lie to her.

Jenny nodded. "Yes, I do. Think a moment.
Would Robert tolerate dishonesty in a friend?"

Alex shook her head slowly. "No, I don't
believe he would."

"Well, then Rochdale must be telling the
truth," Jenny replied sensibly. "Look, Alex. We've both waited far
too long to find love. I don't know about you, but I'm through
waiting. I refuse to sit silently and do nothing. I'm going to try
for Robert's love. I may not win, but I will not be a bystander any
longer. First of all, I must get him out of Lady Felicia's
clutches."

"How will you do that?" Alex eyed her friend
with renewed admiration.

"I don't know," Jenny said. "But I'll think
of something."

That night, Damien stood
in the observatory and adjusted the telescope for a better view of
the
Georgium Sidus
. It was late, almost two o'clock, but he wanted to observe
the planet a little while longer.

Looking at the stars in the quiet of the
night always instilled in him a feeling of peace. Whenever he was
feeling out of sorts, Damien knew he could find solace in the
heavens. Yet whether he was in his own observatory at the Abbey or
here at Willowmede, images of Alexandra seemed to take hold of his
mind. Sometimes, he wondered if it was the stars or Alex's
invisible presence that leant him comfort.

He focused the metal cylinder and stared at
the black sky. He couldn't rid himself of the picture of
Alexandra's face when he had said they could never be friends.
Damien knew he had hurt her deeply.

But damn it! She'd blamed him for that
incident with the chambermaid and he had not been at fault. Not
this time. He barely remembered what the girl looked like. He
certainly had no desire to take her to bed.

Damien closed his eyes. It was Alex he
wanted in his bed. He dreamed of igniting her smoldering passions
until her emerald eyes glowed. He yearned to see her lovely body in
all of its glory, with her magnificent hair unbound, tumbling down
around them as they lay together.

Straightening abruptly, Damien shook the
images from his mind. He knew he couldn't take Alexandra without
committing himself to marriage. Fight as he would, the insidious
notion of spending his life with Alex had begun to look more and
more enticing.

Naturally, he'd wanted to postpone marriage
as long as possible. He knew he'd have to marry eventually for the
sake of an heir and always believed when it could be put off no
longer, he would choose someone with excellent bloodlines--someone
for whom he felt not the slightest affection. A marriage of
convenience only.

But the longer he stayed at Willowmede, the
more he wanted Alex. He was beginning to see what a good marriage
could be like. He enjoyed the day-to-day contact with Alex and
looked forward to the nights when they could be alone in the
observatory.

It was a powerful lure. A potent
aphrodisiac. A sweet torture.

Damn it! He could never marry Alex. Even if
he did, could they ever trust one another? No, she detested his way
of life and he knew better than to trust a beautiful woman.

For the first time in his life, Damien
experienced a feeling of regret for his past. He had never bothered
about his reputation before. In fact, from the moment he'd come
into his honors at the age of sixteen, he'd done everything
possible to blacken his name. Maybe Alexandra had good cause not to
trust him.

He shrugged and released the mechanism that
closed the domed ceiling of the observatory. Sitting at the
workbench, he looked through Alexandra's papers. The thesis was
finished and should be sent to the Royal Society soon.

The outer door opened, and Damien glanced
up. Alexandra halted and stood staring at him. Her blue satin
wrapper clung to her supple body; her chestnut hair hung over her
shoulder in a long thick braid. A charming nightcap of matching
blue satin sat pertly on her head.

"Come in, Alexandra," Damien said.

"I think not." She turned to go.

"I never thought you were a coward, my
love," he said, tauntingly.

Alex whirled around. "I'm
not
your love
,
and I don't care what you think, my lord." She walked purposely
toward the telescope. "I awoke and came to check on the George.
What are you doing up here so late?"

"Observing the stars, what else?" He watched
as she pushed the lever to open the ceiling. She pointedly ignored
him, going straight to the telescope.

"When are you going to send your thesis to
London?" he asked, abruptly.

She shrugged a delicate shoulder and
positioned the cylindrical tube. "I've decided not to send it."

Damien gazed at her in
disbelief. "You can't be serious. This could be a major
breakthrough in scientific circles. I know of no other astronomer
who has this particular theory, just yet. You
must
send it to the Royal
Society."

Alexandra turned flashing eyes on him.
"Fortunately, you have no authority over my actions. I appreciate
the time you've spent helping me, but I am not going to present the
thesis. I have my reasons."

Damien laughed derisively. "Yes, I can
imagine what your reasons must be. I thought you were different,
but I was wrong. You're fickle, like all women. If you're doing
this to avenge yourself on me, you're wasting your time. Don't let
what's happened between us keep you from fulfilling your promise to
your father. Or have you forgotten you gave your word?"

Alex merely stared, and Damien desperately
wished to know what she was thinking.

"Your father spent his life hoping to make a
significant contribution to astronomy," he continued. "Forget
what's between us, Alexandra. I certainly have. Send the
thesis."

She raised her chin. "I'll send it when I'm
good and ready. And no, I haven't forgotten my promise to Papa. I
don't believe I have enough data to support the theory and I don't
want to appear the fool before the members of the Royal
Society."

"I see," Damien said. "And how much more
data do you think is necessary, my dear? You've made meticulous
entries in your journals for over five years. Your father's
journals date even further back. Plenty of data, if you ask
me."

"Well, I'm not asking you," she said. "It's
my thesis and I'm not ready to send it."

"You may do as you wish, but if you don't
send it now, you may regret it for the rest of your life. And you
will have broken your promise to your father." Damien looked at her
as she stood before him. Beautiful. Spirited. Stubborn. "I've
always known a woman's word was worthless," he said scathingly.
"Somehow, I thought Robert's sister would have a finer sense of
honor."

Alex trembled with fury.
Damien knew he had pushed her too far. Her eyes raked him from head
to toe. "Honor?
You
speak of honor? I won't stand here and be insulted by the
likes of you. It is no concern of yours, whether I choose to send
the thesis or not." She gathered her wrapper close about her and
walked toward the door.

Damien grabbed her wrist and yanked her to
stand before him. Her nightgown and wrapper were thin--revealing
every curve of her body, and the shimmery material afforded little
protection as she fought to break free from his grasp. Silently he
held her, easing his hold so as not to bruise her tender flesh.
Finally, Alex ceased struggling and stared at the floor. Damien
touched her chin and tilted her head, forcing her to look at
him.

Tears glittered in the depths of her green
eyes. Her beauty literally took his breath away. Damien pulled her
against his hard chest and held her for a moment. Why did she
affect him so strongly?

Quickly, he kissed the top of her head and
pushed her away. "Go to bed, Alexandra," he said, roughly.

Not wanting to see her leave, he turned to
the workbench and idly picked up the thesis. He heard a muffled
sob, the slam of the door. And he was alone . . . once again.

****

Tuesday dawned clear and bright. Alexandra
awoke to the cheerful chirping of the birds outside her window. She
turned over and covered her head with a pillow.

Today they were going to Bramble Court. Lord
Thane, Rochdale, and Garr Fleming were probably already there. The
fishing was best in the early morning hours, and the earl had
wanted to get a good start. Robert planned to stay behind and
escort the ladies after breakfast.

Alexandra's head pounded. After her
encounter with Rochdale last night, she had cried herself to sleep.
He wasn't worth the tears, she thought, but knew she was fooling
herself.

Alex remembered him berating her about the
thesis, then holding her in his arms. Whether he'd meant it to be
or not, his embrace had been comforting. She'd felt a strange sense
of contentment with his heart beating in her ear. Contentment mixed
with desire. A dangerous combination.

And what in the world had come over Damien?
Why the uncharacteristic restraint? The friendly hug, the fleeting
kiss on her head. Would she ever understand him?

Maggie bustled into the room, setting a tray
of hot chocolate near her mistress's bed. Humming a gay tune, the
maid flung open the bed curtains and smiled a greeting.

"Go away, Maggie," Alex grunted.

"Now, Miss, do get up," Maggie said. "Tis a
lovely day for a picnic." She straightened the covers as Alex sat
up to drink her chocolate.

"I don't feel up to a picnic today," she
mumbled into her cup.

Maggie eyed her mistress. "You do look a bit
pale, Miss. Do you have the headache?"

"Yes." Alex leaned back against her pillows
and wiggled deeper under the covers.

"I'll get the powders. We'll set you to
rights in no time." She hurried downstairs.

Several minutes later, Aunt Haygood appeared
at the door.

"I've brought some hot willow tea, my love.
Maggie told me you were suffering with one of your headaches." She
tiptoed into the room. "Drink this and take the powders, dear. I'll
close the curtains, so you can rest. You don't want to miss the
picnic. It's another couple of hours before we leave. Plenty of
time to get rid of your headache." Kissing her niece on the
forehead, she left the room.

Alex lay in her darkened chamber, a
lavender-soaked handkerchief over her brow. She didn't know what
she was going to do about Rochdale. She was beginning to believe
she loved him, had always loved him in fact.

Alex took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
Yes, she could admit it now. She loved Damien. A sensuous, bold
warmth spread throughout her entire body. She loved Damien Avenall;
she had loved him for a long time.

Drat the man! His tenderness last night had
been her undoing. She longed for his touch even when she was
furious with him. If he'd tried to kiss her, Alex knew she would
not, could not have resisted.

Then what? He didn't love her, couldn't love
her. Damien had spent his life distrusting women. He was a rake, a
libertine.

Alex sighed. Somehow, she must find a way to
break through that hard, cynical shell he surrounded himself with.
Somehow, she had to find a way to make him love her back.

****

At a quarter past one, the Turlington
carriage pulled to a halt in front of Bramble Court. Alexandra's
headache had faded to a dull twinge, and she was ready to enjoy the
promised picnic expedition. Although, enjoy might be too strong a
word. Endure was probably better.

Carlisle stood on the stone steps
overlooking the drive. He appeared to be in his element as he
waited to receive his guests.

Bramble Court was a handsome early Georgian
house of pale Bath stone. The large park had been landscaped by
Capability Brown in the last century. Sir Howard employed numerous
gardeners to keep the formal gardens surrounding the house lush and
green. Everything at the Court was neat and precise. Just like
Carlisle himself, Alex thought.