There was no denying the panic that swamped Alex at those words. If she could only run away from it all. She glanced toward him and as she did, his pleased expression faded. He must have seen the pain upon her face, for he suddenly seemed to take on a look of apology and regret. “Look at me,” he said. His words were soft and gentle.
Raising her gaze toward him, her eyes met his, and as they did he seemed to shiver. The wind perhaps? She couldn’t tell, but for some reason she liked to think that he’d somehow responded to the anguish she felt at that very moment.
“I will do whatever I can to make you happy,” he said, reaching for her hand. “You’ll never want for anything, and . . . you shall never have to endure the embarrassment of a mistress.”
She started a little at his promise. It was unexpected, to be sure, yet somehow, in spite of everything, it filled her with an immense amount of relief. She knew she could never share him, but she also knew that it was not a promise he’d made lightly, as was evidenced by the stunned expression upon his face. He clearly was surprised by what he’d just said, and she appreciated the value of it so much more because of that. She didn’t fear that he might go back on his word either, he was too honorable for that, and besides, he’d spoken the promise in front of her brothers. There were witnesses now.
“Will you ride with us for a bit?” Alexandra asked as she turned to William. She felt emotionally drained. Freedom had been within her grasp. She could almost feel her fingers closing around it, only to have it ripped away so unexpectedly.
William shook his head. “I ought to get back before my absence becomes too noticeable. Nobody’s shown any sign of suspicion yet, and I certainly have no desire to draw attention to myself. I’m an Englishman after all, and I will hang as one if they discover the truth.”
“And what is the truth?” Michael asked him, his brow knit in a studious frown.
William grinned. “I won’t make it that easy on you, Ashford. However, I will give you these invitations.” Reaching inside his jacket pocket, he pulled out three sealed envelopes. “They’re for the ball next Friday.”
“Bonaparte is having a ball?” Ryan asked with no small degree of surprise.
William nodded. “It’s the first since his return from Elba, perhaps his last before his next campaign. Who knows?” He flashed Michael a meaningful look that immediately pushed the cogs in his brain into action. “In any case, it promises to be a big bash indeed. Bonaparte doesn’t do anything in half measure. All the gentry in Paris will be invited, including foreign ministers and ambassadors. Not ours of course, for obvious reasons.”
“Do we even have one here at the moment?” Alexandra asked.
“No. Lord Whitworth was the last, but that was ten years ago.” A moment’s silence hovered over them until William finally tightened his hold on the reins and pulled his horse about. “Enjoy your victory, Ashford. I hope for your sake that it will be the first of many.” He grinned as he looked across at his sister. “She can be a handful you know.”
“I know,” Michael agreed with a heavy sigh. “But if all our disputes can be settled with a duel, then perhaps I stand a fighting chance.”
Alexandra caught herself rolling her eyes. “I am not that difficult to deal with,” she muttered.
“My dear sister,” William announced with great fervor, “you tire even the most energetic of men. Indeed you are the most wearing female of my acquaintance. However, I for one would not have it any other way, for you are truly unique, and I do love you beyond all rhyme or reason. That said, I am thrilled to finally deposit you in another man’s care—absolutely thrilled!”
Ryan grinned while Michael took on an unexpected look of uneasiness. “She’ll give you a run for your money,” William continued. “But I hazard a guess that it will be well worth it. I will see you all at the ball.”
Alexandra watched him ride off in the opposite direction to where she would be going. She gave Michael a sidelong glance. He’d managed to snare her so easily. She hated him for it, but most of all she hated herself and her stupid arrogance for landing her in this mess. The life she’d always imagined for herself, free of society’s strictures, was now out of reach.
Worst of all was the rigid knot of fear that was presently tightening in the pit of her stomach. She took a deep breath to steady herself.
“Are you all right?” It was Michael’s velvety voice that asked the question.
“I’ll be fine,” she managed as a vision of standing at the altar and promising to love this man until death did them part sneaked up on her, filling her with dread. She felt suddenly overcome with dizziness. Bringing her hand to her forehead in response to the pain that now sliced its way through her skull, she couldn’t help but wince. Her heart was pounding so furiously she could almost hear it.
Michael watched Alexandra with a growing degree of concern. She looked panic-stricken and quite ill. Casting a quick glance in Ryan’s direction, he saw that he had noticed the same thing, but before either of them could reach out to help her, her body sagged sideways, and she toppled from her saddle.
“Alex!” they both called out in unison, as if their words would slow her descent to the ground.
“Good God, Ryan,” Michael exclaimed, dismounting as fast as he could manage. “Her foot is caught in the stirrup.”
They were beside her dangling body in an instant.
Scooping her up, Michael cradled her against his chest while Ryan untangled her foot.
“She’s out cold,” Ryan murmured. “I wonder what happened. She’s never fainted before in her life.”
“Hold her for a minute will you,” Michael said as he settled her into her brother’s arms. He got back on his horse, moving as far back in his saddle as he could manage so that Alexandra would have enough room. “You can hand her up to me now,” he told him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It was noon by the time Alexandra’s eyes fluttered open. The early morning rain must have cleared, for the brightness that was blinding her could only be the sun’s sharp rays protruding through the window. She squinted slightly as her hand moved up to clasp her head.
The pain was still there.
“Welcome back.” She recognized Michael’s voice in an instant and immediately groaned her displeasure. Rolling over onto her side, she pulled the pillow over her head.
“Not so pleased to see me I take it.”
There was a question in his statement that she refused to answer.
“What happened?” she asked instead.
“We had a duel. I won, and then you fainted. That sums it up fairly accurately.”
“Just fairly?”
“Well, I could give you a more detailed account of how I beat you, but I’ve decided to take pity on you—because you fainted of course.”
“Of course,” came her sarcastic reply.
She knew he was grinning from ear to ear. She could feel it.
A short silence followed. She could hear him shifting restlessly in his chair before finally getting up and walking across the room. “This did not turn out at all the way I’d hoped it would,” he muttered.
“Oh?” She snatched the pillow from her face and tossed it aside so that she might be able to see him. He was leaning with his shoulder against the wall by the window as he looked down toward the street.
“You annoy me more than any woman I have ever met. You’re as troublesome as an unruly child who refuses do as she’s told—a hoyden in the extreme. You have the breeding of a lady, but choose instead to thwart all rules of polite society. Hell, you curse worse than me for heaven’s sake!”
“I hope that’s not a compliment, for if it is, you’re not only terrible at it but I would also hate to know what it’s like to be insulted by you.”
He threw her a chastising glance, but there was humor in his eyes. “Do you know what the most annoying thing about you is? The thing that has me truly vexed?”
“I shudder to think of it.”
He ignored her jibe. “The thing that irks me more than anything else, is that in spite of all this, for some bizarre reason that I cannot possibly hope to ever comprehend, I actually happen to like you.”
Alexandra knew her heart must have stopped. Her mouth was certainly gaping wide open in dismay. Had Michael Ashford just confessed to liking her?
Impossible.
She knew he desired her. She knew he was honorable enough to marry her to save her reputation, but that he actually might like her . . . with a slow thump, thump, her heart slowly began a steady beat once more. He was right. It was absolutely beyond comprehension—but then, so had been the realization that she liked him.
The worst part was that she liked him more and more the more time they spent in each other’s company. Blast it all. Things weren’t at all moving in the direction that they were supposed to. She watched him turn toward her, his head tilting in a thoughtful pose. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
Never.
Not in a million years.
“I really ought to get changed. My clothes are terribly dirty not to mention bloodied thanks to you.” She shot him a look of irritation. “Would you please excuse me so I might see to it?”
He watched her for a moment without moving, as if considering whether or not to grant her such a wish. There was a quick flicker of something in those dark eyes of his. Pain? Regret? “Yes, of course,” he said suddenly as he straightened himself and strode toward the door. “I shall trouble you no further.”
With that he was gone.
Alexandra sank back down onto the bed, knowing full well that she’d somehow managed to wound his pride again. Could the day possibly get any worse?
Following his disastrous attempt at a conversation with Alexandra, Michael headed for the parlor to seek comfort in a very full glass of brandy. He found Ryan there, his legs thrown casually up on the table while he leaned back in his chair, book in hand.
“What are you reading this time?” Michael asked, though not particularly interested.
“Some nonsense by Molière,” Ryan muttered, snapping the book shut and placing it in his lap. “Funny nonsense, I have to admit, but nonsense all the same.”
“I take it you do not like him much?”
“He’s French,” Ryan mused. “I’m not supposed to like him.”
Michael hid a tentative smile with subtle ease while he took a sip from his glass.
“Any luck taming the shrew?” Ryan suddenly asked with a clear nod in the direction of Alexandra’s closed door.
Michael sputtered a bit at that. Clearing his throat, he brushed the drops of spilt brandy from his breeches. “Not really, no,” he admitted.
Ryan nodded sympathetically. “May I offer a bit of advice?”
“By all means,” Michael told him as he straightened himself in his chair and set his glass on the table.
“Make an effort to show a genuine interest in her. Court her.”
“I beg your pardon.”