Scandals of an Innocent (11 page)

“I understand, ma’am,” she said. “Although Lord Vickery has not spoken of his younger brother to me…no doubt not wishing to influence me unduly—” she cast an ironic look at Miles “—it would be unnatural indeed for him not to be moved at the
horrid
thought of the Curse of Drum falling upon him.”

Lady Vickery smiled. “I
knew
you would understand,” she said again. “My very dear Miss Lister, you are indeed a charming young woman, and so I shall tell your mama….” She let go of Alice and extended a hand to Mrs. Lister, who had swum up to them, very much like a swan, Alice thought, in her regal purple with white feathered headdress.

“Dearest madam,” the dowager said theatrically, “I am so pleased to make your acquaintance. Your daughter is delightful and it is my
greatest
wish that she marry my son!”

“Oh, indeed, it is mine, too!” Mrs. Lister said in heartfelt tones. She cast Alice a look in which hope and incredulity were all too clearly at war. “I can scarce
believe that Alice is going to accept Lord Vickery,” she said, failing to eradicate the doubt from her tone. “She has been distressingly recalcitrant in even considering her previous nineteen proposals, but then Lord Vickery is a marquis and no one of higher rank than an earl has proposed before….”

Alice sighed. There had never been any point in trying to explain to her mother that neither she nor Lowell shared Mrs. Lister’s social-climbing ambitions, and anyway, Alice could see the nervous look in her mother’s eyes fading as the dowager encouraged her to take the seat beside her. She knew Mrs. Lister had been half expecting a rebuff, for it was the normal response of most titled ladies to the upstart in their midst. But Lady Vickery was talking animatedly and Mrs. Lister was beaming at her as though they were lifelong friends, and really, Alice thought, it was exactly the happiness she would have wanted for her mother if only the circumstances had been different. The bitterness caught in her throat. It was difficult to see her mother’s joy and not resent that it had been bought at the high price of her own freedom and desires. And of course if—
when
—Miles failed to meet Lady Membury’s conditions and this sham betrothal was at an end, Lady Vickery would no doubt drop Mrs. Lister like a hot brick and Mrs. Lister would be inconsolable.

“Nineteen suitors?” Miles said to her, claiming her attention. “How sought after you are, Miss Lister.”

“You mean how sought after is my money,” Alice corrected him. “It would have been twenty refusals,” she added, lowering her voice so that only he could hear, “had you not found the means to coerce me, my lord.”

“Thank you for the reminder, Miss Lister,” Miles
said dryly. “I would not wish to forget that this is no ordinary betrothal.”

“At least Mama is happy,” Alice said, sighing. “One of us is.”

“I adore your gown,” Lady Vickery was saying to Mrs. Lister.

“I love your shoes,” Mrs. Lister responded.

“And the feathers—so chic!”

“And your diamonds. Are they a family heirloom?”

“Paste,” the dowager said briskly. “But with your daughter’s money…”

“Oh, quite,” Mrs. Lister said. “And in return, your son’s title—”

“Absolutely!”

Alice shook her head and turned away. “I can scarce believe that they are bosom bows already,” she said.

She saw the smile curve Miles’s firm lips, and it made her stomach flip and her toes curl within her slippers. “They are united by a very powerful desire, Miss Lister,” he said softly. “They both want to see you as Marchioness of Drummond. We all do.”

“For all the wrong reasons,” Alice said bitterly. She looked at him. “Tell me about your brother, Lord Vickery,” she said. “I was fascinated by what your mother was saying.”

Miles laughed harshly. “Is this your revenge for my blackmail, Miss Lister? To ask me awkward questions about my family and oblige me to tell you the truth?”

“If you wish to see it like that,” Alice said. “Indulge my curiosity, my lord. How old is Philip?”

There was a pause. Miles’s face was blank of expression, but Alice could sense a conflict in him, one she could not understand.

“Philip is sixteen,” he said, after a moment.

“Hmm,” Alice said. “Your mother swears you are attached to him. It would be a callous man indeed who did not care for the fate of a sixteen-year-old boy.”

“It would,” Miles said.

Alice moved a little closer to him. “Could you be such a man?” she asked.

“I could quite easily,” Miles said. He grabbed Alice’s arms so suddenly that she could not prevent the gasp that escaped her lips. Several people standing nearby turned to look at them with mingled curiosity and surprise. “Do not look for gentleness in me, Miss Lister,” Miles ground out, his fingers digging into her skin. “You will not find it. I care for no one.”

“But your mama—” Alice began.

“She deludes herself.” He let her go as swiftly as he had captured her. “It makes her happy to think that I love my family, so—” she saw him shrug “—I let her believe it. The truth is that she is the one who worries about what might happen to Philip, not me.”

Alice rubbed her arm where he had gripped her. “But surely you must care, too! They are your family.”

“And I have already told you that I barely know them and have no desire to change that.” Miles sounded cold, as though she was trespassing on dangerous ground.

Alice knew that she was stubborn. Obstinacy was one of her besetting sins. She knew she was persisting long after it would have been polite and politic to give up, but some tenacious instinct pushed her on to challenge him further.

“You are not as cold and unfeeling as you claim,” she said, wanting to make him admit it. “You want to
marry money not only for your own sake but to save Philip from inheriting crippling debt and to spare your mother the humiliation of seeing your birthright sold.
That
is the reason you are a fortune hunter—”

Miles laughed. He sounded genuinely amused. “Do not endow me with qualities or motives that I do not possess, Miss Lister,” he said. “What you mean is that you
wish
I was not so cold and unfeeling.” His hazel eyes were hard as they appraised her face. “You want to find an acceptable reason for my behavior. Sadly there isn’t one. I cannot fulfill your faith in me. I
am
as callous as I appear, I have no affection for my family and I wish to marry you solely to save myself from the Fleet and in order to bed you. Is that honest enough for you?” He smiled grimly at Alice’s look of shock. “Now—” his voice eased “—would you care to dance? We are, after all, pretending to the perfect courtship.”

Alice moved a little away from him. She tried to breathe calmly and steady her erratic pulse. It was true—he had shocked her. She had wanted to make him admit that he cared for something worthwhile. Instead he had confirmed that he cared for nothing—and no one.

I wish to marry you solely to save myself from the Fleet and in order to bed you.

The bluntness of it stole her breath and bruised her feelings.

“I can pretend to a devotion to your title,” she said sharply, wanting to retaliate, “or even at a pinch to pity you because of your family curse, but I
will not
pretend that this is a perfect courtship nor that I am in love with you, my lord.”

Miles’s hand tightened suddenly on her arm. He
drew her out of the heated ballroom and through the doors that led to the conservatory. The cooler air was soothing against Alice’s hot skin. Through the glass roof she could see the stars pricking the black, winter sky and she could hear the faint splash of a fountain in the depths of the shadows. Miles led her away from the ballroom door and deep into the darkness. His hold on her was unrelenting and he did not release her until they were well away from all prying eyes. The only light in this dark corner was from one lamp high on the wall, and by its glow Alice could see Miles’s expression was harsh and uncompromising.

“Perhaps I did not make myself clear enough yesterday,” Miles said. His voice was level but there was a hard undertone to it now. “Privately we are betrothed. I am your official suitor. As such we shall be in each other’s company a great deal and I expect you to behave as though you are glad of my attentions.”

“There is not the least chance of that, my lord,” Alice said. Her feelings were so bruised by now that she was not even prepared to try to be diplomatic.

“That,” Miles corrected, ignoring her protests, “is precisely how it will be. If you do not manage to summon at least a modicum of enthusiasm for my presence, I will kiss you in front of anyone who happens to be about until it is quite clear that you are
extremely
happy to be courted by me.”

Alice was outraged. “How dare you.”

“I also expect you to address me by my given name,” Miles continued, as though she had not spoken. “When you call me
my lord
you sound like a servant.” He saw her flinch. “I appreciate that you do not like being reminded of your past.”

“I am not ashamed of my past!” Alice retorted. The anger she had been suppressing all evening flared up. “What I do object to, however, is the fact that if I were still a housemaid I doubt you would even look at me, whereas now I am an heiress you think to
pay court
to me for my money.” She invested the words with all the scorn that was in her heart. “You are a hypocrite, Lord Vickery, amongst other things.”

“Oh, you need be in no doubt that I would have looked at you,” Miles drawled, infuriating her further. “I would probably have touched you, as well.”

“Not with marriage in mind,” Alice flashed. “You disgust me.”

“No, I do not,” Miles said. “That is your difficulty, is it not, Miss Lister?” He took her hand. Even through gloves, his touch scalded her. “You know that I desire you,” he said. His voice had softened, and his tone raised shivers along her skin. “Why not be honest and admit that you want me, too, and that there would have been lust between us whether you were a maidservant or an heiress.” He moved a little closer to her so that his thigh brushed the silk of her gown. “I may have forced your hand with this marriage, Alice, but you know you will surrender to me in the end because, deep down, you want to.”

His words and the slippery glide of his leg against her skirts sent a shiver of awareness sliding along Alice’s veins. He was right, of course. Through all her disillusionment and betrayal the one stark fact that she could not deny was that she was deeply, helplessly,
disturbingly
attracted to Miles Vickery. She always had been, right from the moment she had met him. There was no sane and rational reason for it. She might logi
cally expect that her dislike for him would cancel out any attraction she felt. It did not. It infuriated her.

A second later she realized that he had read her thoughts with disconcerting accuracy, for his eyebrows lifted and a smile that was as sensual as it was teasing lifted the corners of his firm mouth.

“Alice,” he said again. There was a rough edge to his voice now, like the rub of steel against silk. Alice shivered again. She was so close to him that in the lamplight she could see that his eyelashes were golden at the roots fading to dark at the tips, and that his eyes had the same gold color sprinkled deep in the hazel. She stared at him as though she was trying to commit his face to heart, captured in the moment and by the desire in his eyes, knowing that in a minute he was going to kiss her.

Miles had kissed her before, the previous autumn, and she had been dazzled and overwhelmed. Looking back, she could see that that had been the moment when Miles had undermined her defenses and she had started to surrender her guarded heart to him. Now she felt afraid, as though there was so much more at stake. She did not want to be hurt again. She had been foolish and trusting before, but that had not made the pain any the less. She had no illusions now that Miles would ever love her, so in that respect she was armored against him, but she also knew that her perfidious body responded to him with a need and a desire that was as insatiable and seductive as his own.

She freed herself from his grip and stepped back, escaping before it was too late. “I do not want to talk about this,” she said. She sounded breathless even to her own ears. “Don’t seek to dictate to me, my lord. I
will accept your attentions with as much enthusiasm as I can summon up—until you break the terms of the will and I am free of you.”

She walked quickly away, slipping open the catch on the long windows and stepping back inside the ballroom. Miles did not follow her and she felt an immense relief. She wanted to retire from the ball, to go home to the privacy of her room where she could vent her frustration and her anger. She hated being in Miles’s power. She could not bear to be coerced, and the insidious attraction Miles held for her confused as well as mocked. And yet what alternative did she have? She was bound to this hollow travesty of a betrothal for as long as Miles was able to fulfill Lady Membury’s terms and conditions. God forbid that he should succeed completely and that she should be obliged to wed him.

Her heart bled for the naive young girl she had been the previous year. She had built Miles up into such a hero and all her hopes and beliefs had been blighted. Not only was he like every other last scoundrel who had ever seduced and betrayed an innocent young girl, he was without heart and without feeling. She thought of the Dowager Lady Vickery and of Celia and Philip. Miles was blessed to have a family who cared for him and yet he pushed them away, scorning their affection. There had been a moment when he had been telling her of his feelings for his family, when instinct had made her think that there was some terrible secret there, some hidden truth that had wounded him so badly in the past that he could never recover. Yet when she had pressed him on it he had shown no weakness. He had scorned her sentimentality as much as he seemed to
reject his family’s love for him. So the truth was that he had no capacity to love and she had better remember that for her own good. She would never make the same mistakes again, thinking that she loved him, risking disillusion. Miles Vickery was not worth it and he never had been.