When We Meet Again (26 page)

"Did I say that?" He drew his brows together. "It does not sound at all like me."

"I know." She heaved an exaggerated sigh. "You are annoyingly proud of your reputation. But you did indeed say that."

"Ah well"—he shrugged—"apparently I have forgotten."

"I have not."

"Interesting, do you not think"—his voice was matter-of-fact, but his gaze locked with hers—"that I would forget something so recent and yet other occurrences from rather long ago are as fresh as yesterday?"

"Are they?" Her heart thudded in her chest.

"They are." He stared at her as if trying to see into her very soul. Time seemed to stretch and stop altogether. She was conscious of nothing beyond his dark eyes, the heat of his body close to hers, the feel of her blood throbbing in her veins. And a yearning that threatened to overwhelm her. It was a mere second or an entire lifetime, but at last he shook his head slightly, like a man awakening from a deep sleep, and smiled. "It occurs to me that we have never danced together. We should have made it a point to do so before now. Part of the charade and all that."

"Of course." Her voice was oddly breathless.

"It is rather unusual for a man never to have danced with the woman he intends to marry after all." He sighed in an overly dramatic way. "Yet another thing that has slipped my mind in recent days. It appears, Pamela, you have the remarkable ability to befuddle my mind."

She tilted her head and cast him a flirtatious smile of her own. "Just your mind?"

"No," he said in a manner that indicated this particular discussion was closed. "They are playing a waltz, and there is little in the world that I like quite as much as dancing the waltz with a lovely lady in my arms." He held out his hand. "Would you do me the great honor of this dance?"

"I should like nothing better." She placed her hand on his and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor. A moment later she was in his arms.

He held her in the correct manner, with precisely the proper amount of space between them, but it scarcely mattered. They fit together as if they were cast from the same mold. Moved together as if they were one. Halves of the same whole. But then she knew they would.

The glittering lights, the festive gowns, the crowded ballroom, the colors and the music all swept her back to another ball and another time. Venice. A night of improbable magic. And even with the mask she'd worn, then as now, his gaze never faltered from hers. He led her perfectly through the steps of the dance, and they moved together with an ease that could only have come through practice. Or fate. Far too soon the music faded, and they stopped. He escorted her off the floor.

"Your father wishes to announce our engagement before we go into supper." She drew a deep breath. "Alexei, regardless of my aunt's threats I cannot hold you to your agreement. If you do not wish—"

"My dear Pamela, I have nothing to lose in this endeavor and very little else to occupy my time at the moment." His gaze searched hers. "However this comedy of ours ends, the risk is truly yours and yours alone. This is your world and has little to do with me. If the truth of our engagement is made known, you are the one who will suffer the scandal. Even now we have dug too deep a hole to climb out of with any measure of grace. As your aunt pointed out, the moment your mother and sister believed we were betrothed, any number of others knew as well."

"They have never been known to keep anything as interesting as this to themselves."

"I shall not abandon you to face another scandal alone. I gave my word, and I shall not go back on it now. I am entirely at your disposal."

"Are you?" She smiled slowly. "I should warn you, Alexei, I will take full advantage of your generosity."

"Will you indeed?" His dark eyes twinkled with amusement. "I shall look forward to it." She studied him for a long moment. "If you are certain—"

"I can think of nothing else I would rather do than pretend to be in love with a beautiful woman. And better yet, have a beautiful woman pretend to be in love with me.

"Besides, I have yet to leave a well-acted play before the final curtain." He grinned. "I would so hate not to see how it all ends."

Eleven

If I ever see George again, I can only pray I see him before he sees me to enable me to avoid himaltogether. It is a dreadful thing to come face-to-face with the stupidity of one's youth. Or in thiscase, George.

Miss Pamela Effington

"Pamela dear, I must speak with you at once. " Aunt Millicent hooked her arm through her niece's and propelled her toward one of the open doors that led onto the terrace.

"Aunt Millicent, I am waiting for His Highness. " Pamela craned her neck to look back over her shoulder. "It is nearly time for supper and—"

"Goodness, Pamela, there are far greater matters to be concerned with at the moment than food. " Aunt Millicent steered her through the doors, barely slowing until they had reached the stone balustrade at the far end of the broad terrace to a discreet, secluded spot as far from the doors as one could get. But even here, flower-filled urns scented the night air, and candelabras cast a warm glow.

"There now. " Aunt Millicent glanced from side to side as if to make certain they were alone. "This will do."

"This will do for what?"

"I need your assistance. I am in something of a quandary. " Aunt Millicent wrung her hands together. "Do you realize virtually everyone who is anyone is here? As well as a great number of those who are no one in particular?"

"It is quite the crush, " Pamela said slowly. "Amanda is beside herself with excitement."

"Yes, yes, of course she is. An enormous success and all that. " Aunt Millicent waved away the comment. "But you don't understand — everyone is here. Everyone!"

"We've just established that. " Pamela drew her brows together in confusion. "And you're right, I don't understand."

"Obviously, I am not making myself clear. " Aunt Millicent turned and paced a few feet in one direction, through the flickering circle of light cast by the candelabra, then turned on her heel and paced back.

"When I say everyone is here I don't really mean everyone. Although it certainly could be everyone given the vast horde in the ballroom. Goodness, we are packed in there like pigs to slaughter. Indeed, I thought it was really rather warm and quite stuffy, didn't you?"

Pamela stared. "Aunt Millicent, you're babbling."

Aunt Millicent pulled up short and gasped. "Have you ever heard me babble before?" Pamela bit back a grin. "Not that I can recall."

"God help me then. " She resumed her pacing. "I used to babble, you know, when I was younger. I babbled all the time. Indeed, my sister often threatened to smack me if I did not stop."

"I can certainly understand that, " Pamela murmured.

"I knew I should never have returned to London. I knew this would happen if I returned for any length of time at all. First babbling, then, well, in truth the babbling did not come first, but rather—"

"Aunt Millicent, what are you talking about?"

She stopped in the light of the flickering candles, drew herself up, and proclaimed in an overly dramatic manner. "He is here."

"He? Who?"

"Winchester Roberts."

Pamela shook her head. "Who?"

"Sir Winchester actually."

"I'm sorry but I don't—"

"The man I didn't marry!"

"The man you didn't... " At once Pamela realized what Aunt Millicent was trying to say. "The one you left waiting at the church?"

"The very one. " Aunt Millicent twisted her hands together. "I don't know that he has seen me, but I saw him. I've managed to avoid him thus far, but it is just a matter of time. He probably knows I am here. Pamela"—she clutched her niece's arm—"you must help me escape."

"Escape what? The ball?"

"No, not the ball. " Aunt Millicent shook her head. "London. I must leave London at once. Italy is nice at this time of year. Or Switzerland. Or perhaps China? I've never been to China and it's very, very far away. I could—"

"Don't be absurd. " Pamela pried Aunt Millicent's rather painful grip from her arm. "It's been what?

Twelve years now? Why, the poor man probably doesn't even remember you."

"Of course he remembers me. " Indignation sounded in her aunt's voice. "He was in love with me. Even if I hadn't publicly humiliated him, he would certainly remember me for that reason alone. Not remember me indeed."

Pamela tried not to laugh. Aunt Millicent was deadly serious about this. "Perhaps it's time you faced him then? Even apologized?"

"Apologized? Oh, no, I couldn't. I should of course, but..." Aunt Millicent resumed her pacing. "You see, he was such a very nice man, and I was extremely fond of him—"

Pamela raised a brow. "Fond?"

"Possibly more than fond. I might have loved him as well but he simply... well he didn't... and I wasn't... " She paused and met her niece's gaze. "He deserved better, Pamela."

"Better than being left waiting at a church?"

"Well, that, of course, but better than I. " Aunt Millicent blew a long breath. "You see, Charles had been dead a mere two years. Not a very long time really to become accustomed to being without the first true love of your life."

"No, two years is not long at all, " Pamela said softly.

"I fully thought I was ready to go on with my life, but I wasn't. And marriage is such a very permanent thing after all. Even though I did have feelings for Winchester, it simply didn't seem fair to saddle him with a wife for the rest of his days, and I was unsure of whether or not I wished to be a wife again. At least the kind of wife he should have. Did I say he was a very nice man?"

"You mentioned it."

"Yes, well, he was. Possibly, he still is. Which is precisely why I cannot face him. " Genuine despair sounded in Aunt Millicent's voice. "If I stay in London, it's inevitable that eventually our paths will cross. And I have no idea what to say to him."

Pamela considered her aunt for a long moment. The only other time she had seen her this flustered was a few days ago, right before they'd discovered Alexei had taken up residence in their house. Then, as now, it was because of this one particular gentleman. Certainly Aunt Millicent had been involved with any number of gentlemen through the years, but none, to Pamela's knowledge, had ever produced this effect on her. How very interesting.

Pamela chose her words carefully. "Surely, through the years, you have thought of what you might say?"

"On occasion, perhaps. In those odd moments when one's mind is not otherwise occupied. When one is soaking in a tub or awaiting sleep at night, one's thoughts might drift to what might have been and what, under the proper circumstances, might be said. " Aunt Millicent sighed. "I have thought that I might say I'd been a fool. That leaving him was an enormous mistake, possibly the biggest of my life and that I deeply regret my actions. Offer my apologies, of course, ask for his forgiveness, that sort of thing."

"You could also say that you missed me, " a deep, masculine voice said from the shadows. Aunt Millicent sucked in a sharp breath and stared at a point over Pamela's shoulder. Her eyes widened, and even in the faint light Pamela could see her aunt's face pale. Pamela turned to meet the owner of the voice, obviously Sir Winchester.

A tall gentleman, perhaps a year or two older than Aunt Millicent, stepped into the light. He was distinguished in appearance, indeed, quite handsome really, with dark hair touched at the temples with silver. Very dashing.

Aunt Millicent stared in total disbelief and obvious shock.

Pamela stepped toward him and extended her hand. "Sir Winchester, I presume?"

"And you must be Miss Effington. " He smiled and kissed her hand. It was an extraordinarily nice smile.

"Must I?" Pamela returned his smile. She liked him immediately. "Couldn't I be someone else?"

"You could, I suppose. " He nodded thoughtfully. "However, when I saw your aunt dragging you out here and asked a gentleman who you were, he was quite positive as to your name."

Pamela laughed. "You have me then."

"Would you two stop being so cordial to one another, " Aunt Millicent snapped. "It's most annoying." He scoffed. "And I would certainly not wish to annoy you in any way." Aunt Millicent crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you doing here?"

"I was invited."

"No, I don't mean here in general terms. " She huffed. "I mean specifically here on the terrace. Where you were not invited."

"We have a great deal to discuss, " he said firmly. "I have waited twelve long years for this discussion, Millicent, and I shall not be put off another minute."

"I should probably take my leave now. " Pamela edged toward the ballroom door.

"You most certainly will not. " Aunt Millicent grabbed Pamela's hand and yanked the younger woman firmly back to her side. "I need witnesses. Possibly even protection. He could... he could shoot me. Or worse."

Pamela stared. Her aunt's behavior made her earlier babbling appear positively normal. "What would be worse than shooting you?"

Sir Winchester chuckled. "Do you really think I would shoot you?"