My Heart's Desire
“Mother”—Alex had heard enough—“I don’t know what Father told you, but—”
“Countess?” Drake’s sudden appearance at Alex’s side cut off her admonishment. He was all magnificent masculinity and charm as he kissed Alex’s mother’s hand. He was a damned duke.
“Hello, your grace,” she addressed him in return. “I am so terribly sorry about your father,” she crooned.
I’ll just bet you are, Mother, Alex fumed inwardly, I wonder how many of your friends you’ve already regaled with tales of your daughter, the duchess.
“Thank you, Countess. And please call me Drake. After all, we are family now.” His smile would have melted one of Greenland’s icebergs.
Constance simpered prettily. “Thank you, Drake. And may I tell you how thrilled I am about you and Alexandria? I was just telling her how lucky she was that you found each other.”
That did it. Alex was going to choke her.
“I am the lucky one.” Drake’s restraining hand stopped Alex in her tracks. “Your daughter is a rare and precious gift. You should be very proud of her.”
Alex looked up at him with startled surprise, realizing what he was doing. He hadn’t forgotten their conversations about her mother, and he was reminding the older woman of Alex’s virtues.
“Oh, I am,” Lady Sudsbury assured him. “Terribly proud. I hope that all I have taught her over the years will contribute to her being a suitable wife to you and mistress of Allonshire.”
“Oh, Alexandria’s assets were obvious right from the start,” he drawled back. “I never doubted that she would satisfy all of my requirements.”
Constance beamed. “I am delighted to hear that.” Remembering where she was, she lifted the edge of her black gown and dropped her eyes. “I will take my leave now, for this is not the time for joy. Please accept my condolences on the part of my husband and myself. Your father was a fine man.”
“Yes, he was.” Drake gave her a tight smile. “And I thank you for your understanding. Perhaps, when our mourning period is at an end, you will be our guest at Allonshire for a few days?”
“It will be my pleasure.” Always aware of the right time to make her exit, Constance turned to embrace a rigid Alex again. “He is smitten,” she whispered in Alex’s ear. “Now all you need to do is provide him with a son and he will give you the world.” She stepped back. “Good-bye, darling,” she said with the right amount of emotion in her voice. After all, one never knew who was watching, now, did one?
And in a fragrant cloud of jasmine she was gone.
Alex turned slowly to her husband.
“Remember that we are being watched by countless eyes, my love,” he reminded her softly.
She nodded. “I am uncertain whether to thank you or be ill.”
“I would prefer the thanks.”
Alex cocked her head. “You can be quite charming, your grace. I commend you on your performance.”
Drake did not smile. “I only did for you what you have done for me all day. Support and loyalty are what a partnership is all about, are they not?”
He didn’t wait for her reply.
“The coach is awaiting, Alexandria,” he reminded her.
She nodded, emotion welling up inside her once more. Without a word she accompanied Drake to their mourning coach and to the burial that lay ahead.
Utterly spent, Alex leaned against the cool wall of the hallway for a moment’s rest. Samantha had been put to bed, needing consolation and soothing words like a small child. Alex had sat with her until she drifted off, then made certain the manor was duly prepared for a lengthy mourning period.
Now she shook her head until the brief dizzy spell had passed, then walked down the hall, past the dining room and into the gallery where she knew she would find Drake. He stood within the pillared walls, surrounded by rows of high-backed chairs, with a drink in his hand, staring up at the portraits of his ancestors.
Alex walked in quietly, coming to stand beside her husband.
“You are looking at all the previous Dukes and Duchesses of Allonshire,” he told her, without taking his eyes from the portraits, “of which I am the eleventh.” He took a deep swallow of whiskey. “Dignified-looking group, wouldn’t you say, princess?”
Alex glanced up at him with concern. “Are you all right, Drake?”
He gave a harsh laugh. “Now, that is an excellent question, my love. Am I all right? I suppose I shall be. The will to survive is strong.” He downed the rest of his drink in one gulp and placed the empty glass on the mantel over the fireplace. “Let me be honest with you.” He raised a dark, sardonic brow in her direction. “You did want honesty, did you not?”
“Drake, you’ve had too much to drink.”
He shook his head in denial. “Quite the contrary, my sweet. I have had but one drink. You are hearing the ramblings of a tortured mind.” He stared up at the wall again, inhaled deeply. “It is not only the loss of my father we are discussing,” he said in a defeated voice, “but the loss of my life as I have known it. I know what is expected of me. And in order to fulfill my obligations, I have to forfeit most of what I care for”—he glanced at Alex and amended softly, “possibly all of what I care for … most in the world.”
“I understand,” she whispered.
“Do you?” he demanded in a firm, quiet tone. “Do you understand that none of what has happened in the last few months has been a lie? That I am nothing more or less than you thought I was?”
His words echoed in her ears. Nothing more or less than she had thought he was? More in some ways, perhaps less in the ways that were more important. But what Alex really focused on was the first part of Drake’s statement. He had said that nothing had been a lie. He was telling her that what they had felt between them, what she had felt for him, had not been a figment of her imagination. It had been real.
Perhaps, then, there was some hope for them. Alex was too tired to be certain. But she was certain that, despite all that had come between them, she loved him. Nothing could change that. Nothing.
Silence prevailed as Drake awaited her answer.
At last she replied, “Yes, I do understand exactly what you are, Drake, possibly even why you are that way. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me.”
“I was a fool.”
“Yes, you were.”
He chuckled, without humor. “Always forthright, my Alex.” He studied her sad face. “And now that you believe me, where do we go from here?”
“I honestly do not know. I feel betrayed and humiliated. It seems the entire world knew who you were. Everyone but the one person who had the greatest right to know … your wife. I believed in you, in your honesty and your integrity.” Her lips trembled. “I was willing to turn my back on my way of life and assume yours, to endure mockery and scorn from people I had decided were less worthy than you. And all at once I find that you are just as they are—if not in your heart, then in fact. I realize that Captain Drake Barrett is very much a part of the Duke of Allonshire. I realize … I comprehend … but I can’t forgive you for lying to me. Not now, maybe never. I just don’t know.”
“Never is a long time to ask a man to wait.” His voice was hoarse, strained.
She met his gaze. “I am not deserting you, nor will I. I am and will continue to be your wife, the mistress of your home.”
“Publicly,” he clarified.
“Of course.”
“And in my bed?” His jaw was set, his eyes green jewels of fire.
Alex let out her breath, closed her eyes, then opened them again, meeting his waiting gaze. “There I cannot deny you.”
“Because it is my right to have you?” he demanded.
She shook her head slowly, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Because I am unable to turn you away,” she said truthfully. “Because I need you.” The admission took all of her courage, made a shambles of her pride. Yet she held her head high and waited for his reaction.
It was immediate.
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Drake walked over to her, took her hand in his. “Come to bed with me, Alex,” he said softly.
Chapter 25
“MOST OF THE GUESTS have arrived,” Samantha whispered, peering over the staircase rail, her green morning dress brushing up against the polished banister. “I just saw Lord and Lady Kensgate make their entrance.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “You cannot miss Lady Kensgate’s perfume. She smells like a cinnamon bun.”
Alex giggled, then, remembering her place, tugged Samantha back from her lookout point.
“Sammy,” she scolded, her lips twitching, “I am having enough trouble calming my nerves without your colorful descriptions of our guests.” She smoothed a shaky hand down the bodice of her soft blue muslin gown.
Samantha grinned. “You have nothing to be nervous about, Alex. All of the guests will love you. They won’t be able to help themselves.”
Alex sighed, wishing her queasiness would subside. But this was her first house party as the Duchess of Allonshire. If it had been up to her, they would have waited a bit longer. They had been mourning Grayson Barrett for only two months. But Drake had promised that the party would be small and intimate; just a few choice guests to meet the new Duchess of Allonshire, his new wife.
Six couples had been invited to Allonshire on this cool November morning. The party would last for several days. During the daytime the ladies would mingle and gossip while the men rode and talked business; the evenings would be filled with elegant dinners and dignified dancing.
Officially this was known as a country house party, but having quietly observed similar social events at Sudsbury, Alex wasn’t fooled for a minute. The truth was that six highly influential women of the ton were coming to viciously dissect her. All of them knew Drake; most of them had probably slept with him.
Her stomach turned over again.
“Alex”—Samantha chewed her lip, studying Alex’s face—“you look so white. Are you all right?”
Alex managed a nod. “Yes, I’m fine. I shouldn’t have eaten quite so much breakfast, though. My stomach is rebelling.”
“You ate next to nothing.”
Alex waved away Samantha’s comment. “What made Drake think of this party, anyway?” she asked.
“That’s the amazing part,” Samantha told her with a twinkle. “Drake didn’t think of it; Sebastian did.”
“Sebastian?” Alex was stunned.
Samantha nodded. “I was surprised, too. But perhaps we have been too harsh in our judgment of him. Perhaps he really does care for the family.”
The only thing Sebastian cared about, Alex thought in disgust, was coveting his brother’s possessions—his land, his position, his title … and his wife.
Countless times over the past weeks she had dodged his less than subtle advances. If he kept it up she would be forced to tell Drake about it, though she hated to do so. Her husband was totally preoccupied with all the businesses he now had to manage and spent hours each day closeted in his study with George Bishop, his steward, wrestling with the complexities of running Allonshire.
The pressure was taking its toll. Drake had been drinking far too much and sleeping far too little. He could not seem to find any peace, except in Alex’s arms. Night after night he buried his body inside hers with the desperation of a drowning man clinging to life. And, unknowingly, in the process, he penetrated her heart and her soul, brought to life all the feelings she was trying so hard to suppress.
She hurt for his pain. And more than ever, she loved him. Helplessly. Totally. Irrevocably.
“Alex? I can see that the idea of Sebastian suggesting this party renders you speechless!” Samantha laughed. “But I was there when he announced he wanted to have a small gathering in your honor. His point was well taken. Papa has been gone since September, and we have to resume our lives. What better way than to welcome my new sister to the family?”
Alex gave Sammy a tender look. In the past weeks they had spent hours talking on Samantha’s new skiff, which she could now proudly maneuver on her own. Alex could not have wished for a more loyal and loving sister.
She squeezed Sammy’s hand. “Thank you for making this easier for me,” she told her. “I could not have endured today without you.”
Samantha threw her arms around Alex’s neck. “I don’t blame Drake for loving you,” she whispered fiercely. “I love you, too.”
Alex felt a slash of pain cut across her heart. Did Drake love her? It was hardly likely.
Samantha drew back, studied Alex’s face with a wisdom beyond her years. “He does love you, Alex,” she said softly. “He just cannot tell you so … not yet. He is still suffering from old wounds and coping with new ones. That is why he broods so much. Give him time, please. He needs you more than he knows … more than he wants to need you.”
Alex’s eyes grew damp. “Need and love are two different things, Sammy,” she said in a voice that trembled. “I know he needs me, but love …”
“He feels both. You’ll see that I am right.” Samantha turned at the sound of laughter drifting up from the floor below. “We should see to our guests.” She gave Alex an impish grin. “Now, remember what I told you. Lord and Lady Kensgate were close friends of my parents. All the other guests are acquaintances of Drake’s. Lady Arabella Ravensley is a tall brunette who giggles too much and is married to Lord Eric Ravensley, a boyhood friend of Drake’s. Lady Claudia Byrnewood is a plump redhead who bites her nails continuously. Her husband is Lord Roger Byrnewood … a bore. Lady Alicia Lyndale is sweet and blond with a beautiful smile, married to that delightful Lord Stephen Lyndale. Lady Lydia Scarborough, the wife of Lord Randall Scarborough, is tiny and treacherous, and Lady Elizabeth Dragmere, Lord Lawrence Dragmere’s new bride, has a sumptuous body and huge blue eyes.” She took a breath. “Lydia and Elizabeth were involved with Drake in the past and would like to be in the future, Arabella and Claudia have had designs on him for years, but Alicia is happily married and devoted to her husband. Any questions?”
Alex frowned. “How deeply involved was Drake with these women?”
Samantha gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “They meant nothing to him. No woman ever has … except you. I didn’t tell you those things to cause you needless worry. I told you so that you would be cautious about whom you trusted.” She smiled, taking Alex’s hand. “There is no competition, Alex; remember that. Drake is in love with you; I know it. Now, let’s go.” She tugged a reluctant Alex down the wide marble steps to make her debut.
The men were already off to the stables, and only the chattering women were present in the drawing room. According to Drake’s plan, Samantha would introduce Alex to the ladies now, and the meetings with the gentlemen would take place in the evening.
The buzz of conversation came to an abrupt halt as the women became aware of Alex’s presence. Six pairs of curious eyes, ranging from interested to resentful, stared at the new mistress of Allonshire, the young woman who had managed to snare Drake Barrett. Alex, aware of how important this first impression would be, abruptly decided to make her own introductions. She held her head high and, calling upon eighteen years of rigid training, sailed gaily into the room.
“Good morning, ladies. Welcome to Allonshire.” She walked up to the round redhead who sat primly on the ice blue settee nibbling on a pastry. “You must be Claudia,” she smiled, trying to control a peal of laughter from breaking loose as the plump woman nodded, licked the last flaky crumb off her finger, and began chewing on her thumbnail. “Samantha mentioned your lovely red hair. I am Alexandria. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She introduced herself to the other five women, making mental notes as to the reactions she received. Arabella Ravensley, buxom and tall, punctuated each sentence with a nervous giggle. Lydia Scarborough was petite and blond, like a tiny angel, but her eyes shot daggers at Alex and her tongue was acidic. Elizabeth Dragmere was breathtaking, with thick auburn hair, huge, melting blue eyes, and a provocative figure that would have aroused
a dead man. Anne Kensgate was a regal silver-haired woman who greeted Alex pleasantly, yet studied her with cool, measured looks over her teacup. Only Alicia Lyndale, with her pale blond hair and warm brown eyes, greeted Alex with genuine warmth and proffered friendship.
Alex sought Samantha’s gaze and raised her brows in a salute to the younger girl’s superbly accurate descriptions of their houseguests. Samantha grinned back an I-told-you-so look, then seated herself in a high-backed chair, ready to watch Alex’s performance at close range.
“Alexandria, please tell us—we’re all dying to know— how did you and Drake meet? It was all rather sudden, was it not?” Lydia wasn’t wasting any time with small talk. Despite her conversational tone, Alex recognized the brittleness of her smile and the sharp challenge in her dark eyes as she awaited Alex’s answer.
Alex gave her a beatific smile. “Actually, yes, it was rather a whirlwind courtship,” she confessed. “After all, this was my very first Season.” Alex gave herself a silent round of applause as Lydia, older by at least five years, winced.
“Then you and Drake met in London?” Elizabeth’s big blue eyes widened in surprise.
Alex was beginning to enjoy herself. “Why, yes,” she answered truthfully, watching as the women exchanged surprised glances. They were obviously nonplussed at having no recollection of Alex attending any of the grand balls. “Unfortunately, the Season was a brief one for Drake and me. My father, the governor of Upper Canada, required my presence in York.” A little white lie couldn’t hurt. “Drake was gallant enough to offer me passage on his ship.” Close enough to the truth.
“Drake took you on his ship to Canada?” Lydia’s incredulous expression was mirrored on five other faces. For Drake to have allowed any female into that part of his life was unprecedented.
“Why, yes.” Alex kept her expression innocent. “He was charming and so accommodating. Why, to spare my reputation he even forfeited his cabin to me for the entire duration of the trip.”
“You were unchaperoned?” Anne Kensgate looked appalled.