“The tutor did not wake for a day and anight. The outraged Jesuit reported to my father at the exact time,Anthony’s lab exploded. Anthony had been mixing chemicals,perfecting a new experiment and left seconds before. Both he andAbby might have been killed. We were disciplined for our misdeedsto the tune of no weekend activities for six weeks. Pure purgatory,reciting Latin phrases over and over.Amo. Amas. Amat.Amamas.”
She listened as he conjugated the Latinverb,to love. His voice had a pleasant sound that couldcommand in such a way as to compel obedience. Oh, he would make afine duke with that voice, his baritone possessing a quality thatcould woo seductively and caressingly, most of all her.
“Abby is the youngest. We were very closeand I always protected her, often taking the blame for her schemes.When she was eight summers, Abby maneuvered me on a prank to foolher best friend, Lord Humphrey. Humphrey loved noodles. Abbyconvinced the cook to make noodles, loads of them. With thefootman, we hung them all over a tree. When Humphrey came up thedrive, his eyes popped wide as saucers watching us go up and downladders, harvesting baskets of noodles. Every time he visited, hestared at the tree, waiting for noodles to sprout.”
“You sound like a charming horde of imps.”Her heart panged. “You are so lucky, to have brothers and sistersto share joys and camaraderieto take away any loneliness.”
His voice deepened and there was a touch ofsympathy. “Were you lonely, Alexandra?”
If he knew the poverty of loneliness thatinhabited her soul, would he think differently about her? Could shebe honest with him? Bare her soul?
“Deconshire was so isolated and we lived sofar from town. I didn’t fit there. Do you know how that feels? Tobe caught in a world where you don’t belong, feeling like aforeigner and not understanding the language.”
“Molly and Samuel were wonderful and dideverything they could to make me happy. But all my life, I washaunted by dreams, had visions of a handsome man bouncing me on hisknee…a secret…a latch…a desk…a trap door…papers. The man would holdmy face in his hands, telling me it was important.
“None of it made sense until the night Ibroke into my father’s library. Polished wainscoting, a largedesk…even the smell of leather from the many volumes collected onthe shelves. Everything flooded back. This was my home. But beforeI could tinker with the desk, Lady Ursula discovered me.
“Samuel had said, my stepmother passedrumors my mother had cuckolded my father and I was ill-legitimate.Samuel was convinced Ursula had papers forged, showing my fatherhad established her son as the heir and inheritor of the SutherlandBaronetcy.”
“Back-up, Alexandra. Why would yourstepmother go to all the trouble, spreading rumors of yourillegitimacy? Why bother blackballing you, if the papers wereforged to secure her son’s standing? Estates will go to the closestmale heir…unlessand by some rare occurrence when there is no maleheir, a title would pass automatically to the female heir. I canassume Lady Ursula is hiding something and that is why she isafraid of you, and that is why she had Molly killed.”
Alexandra grew silent mulling Nicholas’sconclusion, the same calculations that had churned in her mind.Life was full of mysteries she’d never solve, the least of whichwas proving her ancestry. Oh, to rightfully claim what was hers bybirthright.
She clenched her hands. “I want justice,Nicholas. I want justice for my father and Molly. Bringing Ursulaand Willean before a magistrate for their crimes burns in me like afever.”
“I can help you by petitioning theCrown.”
Alexandra leaned over and snorted. “Thechance of wild pigs on this island, sprouting wings and flying usto England has a higher likelihood than the King bothering to hearmy case. I suppose you are going to next tell me you are related tothe King.”
“He is my father’s cousin.”
Alexandra fell back on her pillow. “Never ina million years would I have guessed that possibility. But I cannotprove who I am. Molly is dead and the only witness to Ursula’scrime.”
“What about the night you broke in? Did aservant see you? What about on the docks? Were there anyeyewitnesses?”
“None that I saw.”
Nicholas said nothing. His silence spokevolumes. Tears of frustration burned the back of her throat. Therewas no answer to her dilemma. Even if they were rescued, her futurewas bleak. Never could she take her rightful place in society. LadyUrsula had made sure of that.
And then too, her life would be in danger ifher stepmother discovered her whereabouts. Samuel too. Alwayslooking over her shoulder…living in fear.
“Alexandra, I will find a way, I promisedyou before and I promise you now that you will get back whatbelongs to you, and your stepmother and brother will pay for theircrimes. However, there is a condition”
“A condition?”
“You must promise the first dance to me atthe Summer’s Eve Ball.”
To dance with Lord Nicholas? To pretend whathe said was true, even for a little while was a wonderful dream. Atleast she’d fantasize a little. “The Summer’s Eve Ball?”
“It is the grandest display of balls that myfamily puts on at Belvoir on the eve of the summer solstice. Noexpense is spared. Indeed, the surroundings are beautiful. Lanternshang in the gardens; a riot of roses bloom and the scent driftseverywhere. The music is soft and lilting and the smiles andchatter of all the celebrators mark the evening to be every triumphLondon society imagines. All eyes would be focused on you.”
Her breath hitched. Her hands were stainedand calloused from working in the gardens. Not a lady’s hands. Shefingered her linen shift, no more than a rag. Never could sheafford a ball gown let alone slippers. Oh, Nicholas, you paint sucha pretty picture. To step into your world for just a second. Awhite ball gown that shimmered as she descended a stairway. Movinginto Nicolas’s arms, and swaying to a waltz. She closed her eyes,surrendering to the miraculous scope of human generosity. Nicolashad given her a gift of flowers and sunshine, a castle in thesky.
The cold reality was that when they returnedto England, she’d resume her life, hiding in Deconshire, alwaysfearing Lady Ursula would attempt to get rid of her again, andNicholas would go back to claim his responsibilities.
She clutched her chest. Her chequered pastreared its vile head again. Ursula’s damning defamation creatednegative moral judgment. Even coming from a small town, she knewhow vicious the wagging tongues were. Multiply that a hundredfoldby an aristocracy who sought gossip as recreation. To be associatedwith a woman who was considered illegitimate would put a stain onLord Nicholas. No. She would not jeopardize him with any censorshipdriven by his association with her.
The terrible and absurd sting of emotionswould not let her rest. The longing of the impossible lay heavy inher heart. The same longing of another soul to cling to, to watchthe evolving tides, and the laughter of the rain, a body to keepher warm, to pour herself into. Just as the man lying next toher.
