Midnight My Love (22 page)

"I see how it is," she spat viciously.
"You've set your lustful sights on Alexandra Turlington. I saw you
watching her today." Marcella paced around the room, returning to
stand directly in front of him. "You'll never have her, Demon.
She's too proper a lady for you. She prefers a more stable,
comfortable man--like Carlisle."

Carlisle be damned. Damien's chest tightened
painfully. He would see the squire in hell before he let him wed
Alex.

Dangerous thought, that.

"You should really try to curb this hard,
aggressive nature of yours and strive for a softer temperament,"
Damien said. "No wonder Nugent accepts so many long assignments in
outlandish places." He watched as she visibly controlled her rising
temper.

Marcella smiled archly. "Please, Demon," she
said, leaning toward him, closing the distance between them. She
ran her hands up his sleeves and clasped them around his neck.
"Indulge me tonight. You were always an exciting lover. I've never
found anyone quite like you."

Taking hold of her hands, he pried them
loose. "I fear I must decline your generous offer. I'm sorry,
Marcella."

"My God, you must love
her," she said, wrenching away. "I've never known Demon Avenall to
refuse an invitation to someone's bed." Marcella marched to the
door and flung it open. "I hope she leads you a merry chase, my
lord. Alexandra Turlington is one woman who'll not fall into your
bed so easily. And now I must bid you
adieu
."

Damien smiled as he passed through the
doorway. "Give my regards to Nugent," he said over his shoulder.
"And tell him he has my sympathy."

****

Retrieving his mare from the stables, Damien
started off in the direction of Willowmede. He was aware of a
feeling of relief, yet something foreboding nagged at the back of
his mind. Marcella had accused him of loving Alexandra. Could it be
true? He had sworn he'd never allow himself to love anyone.

Riding through the village, he stopped at
the Duck and Drake. Throwing his reins to a waiting ostler, he
strode into the inn and ordered a brandy. The innkeeper ushered the
viscount into the private parlor and hurried to serve his noble
customer.

Damien sank into one of the chairs near the
fireplace. Propping his booted feet on the fender of the grate, he
leaned back into the cushions and stuffed his hands in his
pockets.

On the window seat by the bookcase, a large
orange tabby stretched languorously. The cat sauntered over and
rubbed its body against Damien's gleaming Hessians. After a moment,
it hopped onto his lap. He stroked the orange fur and scratched
behind the animal's ears.

The innkeeper bustled into the room. "Here
you are, my lord. The best in the house--" He stopped short. Seeing
the resident rat catcher lying comfortably on such an important
guest was too much for the landlord of the small establishment.

"Here now, Missy. Get off his lordship, do.
He don't want the likes of you shedding on his britches." The
innkeeper started to whisk the cat away, but Damien forestalled
him.

"Leave her. She's not bothering me. I'll
enjoy her company while I drink."

"Are you sure, my lord? She can be a pesky
creature," warned the landlord.

"I'm sure." Damien sipped his brandy and
caressed the soft fur. The tabby purred contentedly.

"As you wish, my lord." Shaking his head at
the ways of the quality, the landlord left the room.

Damien sat for a long while staring at the
empty grate, absently stroking the cat. The innkeeper came in
several times to refill his glass and once to light the tapers.

The tabby stood on Damien's chest, rubbing
her head against his chin. The cat's emerald eyes glistened in the
candlelight, reminding him of another pair of green eyes he'd grown
to love.

Love
. What had he, Damien Avenall, to do with love? He'd thought
himself incapable of such sentiment. He'd taken pride in believing
his heart was made of stone, impenetrable to tender feelings. All
of his life, he had refused to trust women. He used them to relieve
his lust. Not one had ever kindled any feeling stronger than
desire.

But when he had held Alexandra in his arms
and kissed her for the first time all those years ago, strange and
powerful emotions had caught him up in a whirlwind. Even then, he'd
wanted to cherish and protect her; she was so young and innocent.
And beautiful. For almost ten years, Damien had fought against
those feelings, despising himself for his weakness.

He had thought being with Alex, day in and
day out, would exorcise the hold she had over him. He'd been
mistaken. If anything, she was more desirable than ever. After
working closely with her on her thesis, he 'd come to know her in
ways he never dreamed possible.

And when he'd kissed
Alexandra behind the water fall, her response to him had been
devastatingly sensual. She
must
feel something for him. He knew she wasn't like
other women. She was pure and chaste. Honest and good.

Could he bring himself to trust her? She was
so damned beautiful! His mother had been just such a one, and
Damien could never forget or forgive how she'd treated his
father.

But Alex was nothing like
his mother.
Then why had she kissed
Carlisle?

Damien stood abruptly, and the cat jumped to
the floor eyeing him with reproach. Squatting on his haunches, he
stroked the animal one more time.

"Why did she let Carlisle kiss her?" he
asked his feline companion. He must be getting drunk if he was
talking to a cat. Shrugging a shoulder, he rang for more
brandy.

The landlord came in with the bottle. "Would
your lordship care for some dinner? The wife has a partridge pie in
the oven and a leg o' lamb done up nicely."

"No, thank you. All I want is this." He
indicated the decanter with a nod of his head.

"Yes, my lord." The landlord bowed himself
out of the room.

Contemplating the amber liquid, Damien
thought about Alex and Carlisle. Surely to God she didn't love the
man. What would he do if she really wanted to marry the squire?

She couldn't. They had absolutely nothing in
common. It wasn't Carlisle who had watched the charming little girl
grow up to be a ravishing woman. It wasn't Carlisle who had spent
long hours at her brother's bedside, or stayed up late at night to
study the stars and help with her thesis.

Looking back, Damien realized Alexandra had
been an important part of his life for many years. Robert was not
the only reason he'd visited Willowmede so often in the past.

Damien knew Alexandra was disturbed by his
kisses. He also knew she believed he had betrayed their friendship
with that first kiss so long ago. Maybe he had. Maybe he had
started out to ruin their relationship because she had scared the
hell out of him with her exquisite beauty.

But now . . . now, he wanted her. He wanted
to love her. He would not be content with mere friendship. She had
trusted him as a child. She must learn to trust him as an adult.
Just as he must learn to trust her.

The cat hopped back onto Damien's lap. The
soft vibrations of the animal's purrs soothed him. He took another
sip of brandy.

He knew Alexandra was uneasy about his
background. She never let him forget his reputation. Why couldn't
she see his past had nothing to do with her? That it would never
touch her.

Because she didn't know he loved her, that
he wanted to marry her.

Good God, he
was
drunk.
Love her? Marry her?
He
splashed more brandy into his glass and tossed it off quickly. He
moved from the chair to the sofa, where he stretched out his long
frame as he lay down.

He'd been alone all of his life. The future
had always extended endlessly, boringly before him. If he married
Alex, his life would change.

Clasping his hands behind his head, Damien
stared sleepily at the ceiling. If he married Alex, he wouldn't be
alone anymore. To hell with Carlisle; he wanted Alex for himself.
He could admit it now. He lived for her smiles and laughter,
admired her conscientious study of the George, adored how her
beautiful eyes flashed with anger and glimmered with passion.

Yes, he'd ask her to marry him as soon as he
returned to Willowmede. He felt the heavy burden he had carried for
so long lift from his shoulders. The cat pounced on his chest, then
settled down, purring warmly. With one hand on the silky fur,
Damien closed his eyes and slept.

****

When the Willowmede party returned from the
picnic at Bramble Court, Robert led Lord Thane to his study. Half
leaning, half sitting on the oaken desk, he watched the earl pace
back and forth in front of him. Lord Thane, his fat cheeks flushed,
ran pudgy fingers through his thinning hair and cast a harassed
look at his host.

"A fine kettle of fish you've thrown us
into, Turlington," scolded his lordship. "You're engaged to my
daughter, and I find you making love to another."

Guilty as
charged
. Robert studied the toes of his
highly polished boots. "Yes, sir. I have nothing to say in my
defense, except that your daughter and I don't love each other, and
I do love Miss Sedgewicke." He stared at the earl. "Felicia can
barely stand to look at me and she's uncomfortable with my loss of
an arm."

Lord Thane shook his head. "It's been a
shock to one with such delicate sensibilities. If Felicia cries
off, she'll be labeled a heartless flirt. The ton talks, m'boy. I
told her she must cease behaving in a scandalous fashion. Not that
she's done anything really bad--nothing more than any spirited
young chit would do." He stopped pacing. "To tell the truth,
Felicia has thrown out lures to several ineligible bucks, who have
taken the bait--hook, line, and sinker. Of course, her fortune's
the bait; she has only to cast line and she's got a bite."

The earl peered at Robert from beneath bushy
eyebrows. "I thought she'd hooked a keeper with you, m'boy, because
I knew you weren't after her fortune. Guess I was wrong."

"Your daughter is a
beautiful, lively young woman," Robert said. "She freely admits she
fell in love with my regimentals. She would end the engagement in a
minute, if she thought we could avoid the tattle-mongers,
and
if you approved the
decision."

A knock on the door caused
both men to turn. Felicia entered the study. "Here you are, Papa.
I've been looking all over for you." She hesitated, as if she
didn't know quite how to continue. Glancing at Robert, she gave a
thin smile, then spoke to her father again. "Papa, I've made a
dreadful mistake. I refused to release Robert from our betrothal
because you warned me not to cause another uproar and I was afraid
of what people might think. I've decided I don't care if there is a
scandal. I
cannot
marry Lord Turlington. We don't love each other, and it has
nothing to do with his disability."

She tugged the diamond engagement ring from
her finger and handed it to Robert. "You were right, my lord. We
shan't suit, after all."

Robert took her hand and closed her fingers
over the ring. "Keep it, my dear. And if anyone says anything next
Season, tell them I jilted you."

Felicia smiled and kissed his cheek. "I
don't think that will be necessary. By next Season, I'll probably
be engaged in earnest and buying my bride clothes."

Robert looked amused. "Carlisle?"

She blushed, but lifted her chin proudly and
nodded.

"I wish you luck, Felicia."

"Thank you," she said quietly. "And I hope
you find happiness with Miss Sedgewicke."

Robert raised an eyebrow. Felicia threw him
a pert look before turning back to her father, who looked ready to
explode.

"What's all this about Carlisle?" shouted
the earl, aghast at the possibility of his daughter tied to such an
indifferent fisherman. "You can't mean to marry that
spoilsport."

"He's
not
a spoilsport, Papa. He's a fine
man, and I think he cares for me."

"At least he's not a fortune hunter," Robert
put in, enjoying the scene hugely.

The earl cocked his head to one side. "Yes,
by Jove--and he's older, too. Maybe just the one to tame my little
vixen here."

Felicia's eyes sparkled dangerously, but she
managed a strained smile. "Let's go to the Lake District for the
summer, Papa," she said, changing tactics. "Sir Howard says the
fishing is prodigiously fine this time of year. He told me there's
plenty of trout just waiting to be caught in the lakes and streams.
He and Jonathan are going there for a few weeks."

Lord Thane's eyes lit up as he envisioned
fishing in the renowned Lake District. "Haven't fished up north in
three, maybe four years. Which lake did Carlisle say he was going
to, my dear?"

Tucking her hand in the crook of his arm,
Felicia shepherded her father through the door. "I don't know
exactly. We can leave early tomorrow morning and stop at Bramble
Court to ask him. It wouldn't take long to hire a house and find
the best fishing spots. Carlisle could then join us in a day or
two."

Robert breathed a sigh of relief as he
followed them down the hall. Now all he had to do was find Jenny
and tell her he was a free man at last.

****

Jenny stood in the gardens watching the sun
set over the Valley of the Avon. The orange radiance of the evening
sky matched her own inner glow because she now knew Robert returned
her love. For many years, she had dreamed of his kisses. Today, her
dreams had come true.

A crunch on the gravel walkway alerted her
to someone's approach. Jenny's cheeks warmed when she spied Robert
coming toward her.