Maybe This Time, page 38
He might think her a fool. She bit her lip and tapped the envelopes into a neat stack. Then again, he might not. Lord, what a risk!
Feeling her confidence waiver, she called out before she could change her mind. “Meg?”
“Yes?”
Lifting her chin, she passed the neat stack of envelopes. “Ask Parks to please see these delivered.”
Her abigail frowned. “You’re going to do it, then?”
Only a dullard could miss hearing Meg’s disapproval. Alyssa’s chin lifted a fraction higher. “I am.”
Meg sighed and took the envelopes. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Still muttering, Meg left the chamber. At her vanity, Alyssa read the invitation from Almack’s that had arrived that morning. “Wednesday,” she whispered to herself, “will be a most extraordinary day.”
She lifted the water lily she’d found on Kevan’s pillow that morning and inhaled its sweet fragrance. Its meaning was not on her little list, but she knew that anything that smelled so heavenly couldn’t be bad. It just couldn’t.
WEDNESDAY MORNING Alyssa met Kevan below stairs for breakfast. As he was already seated at the head of the long mahogany table, she walked to his side, placed a chaste kiss to his cheek, and handed him the written invitation.
One of his brows arched up. “What’s this?”
“Read it, milord,” she instructed, taking her seat at the opposite end of the table. “Tea, please, Parks.”
“Yes, milady.”
“I’m invited to witness a startling metamorphosis—outside your window tonight at precisely six o’clock?”
“Yes, milord.” She nodded. “And, pray, do not forget we go to Almack’s tonight, as well.”
“Alyssa?”
She ignored his puzzled look. “I’ll say no more, Kevan. You must appear beneath my window at the appointed time to learn anything else.”
Tapping the invitation against the tabletop, Kevan gave her a wary look. “Very well, my dear.”
MEG ARRANGED Alyssa’s hair in soft loose curls.
“Are you sure you don’t want it up? It’s grown quite a bit.”
“Not so much as one hair pin, Meg,” Alyssa insisted, remembering Kevan’s specific remark about the woman at Grimsby. Meeting Meg’s worried look in the cheval glass, Alyssa smiled.
“Maybe the doctor wasn’t cork-brained,” Meg said. “When you had the fever, Oh God, maybe he should have bled you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Would you calm yourself? I know exactly what I’m doing.” Alyssa’s stomach fluttered. The doubt that had nibbled at her insides since two minutes after the invitations left her hands progressed to a full-fledge chewing. “I think.”
Meg groaned. “Does his lordship know what you’re about?”
Alyssa worried her lower lip with her teeth. Clenching muscles joined the chewing doubt rattling around inside her. “Not yet.”
“Oh God.” Meg groaned again—deeper.
Alyssa turned a hard look on her. “Would you stop beseeching your Maker? Interrupting Him is practically all you’ve done for the past three days. I don’t want God annoyed, Meg. I’ve enough to contend with here.”
“I can’t help it, milady,” Meg cried. “This scheme will destroy what’s left of your reputation, to be sure.”
Alyssa slumped. “God, I hope so.”
Meg’s eyes stretched wide as saucers. “What?”
Alyssa thought to explain, but Meg already looked sure to swoon. “Never mind. Did you get the flower?”
“James did.”
Alyssa glanced at the mantel clock. “It’s time. Get the flower and check with Parks to make sure he’s ready.”
“Milady, please don’t do—”
“Scoot, Meg!”
“KEVAN?” Standing on Kevan’s lawn, the Lord Chancellor’s brows raised high on his face. “What purpose has this intrigue?”
“I’ve no idea.” He looked at the men present. Sir Duncan, Lewis, Cruikshank, Cobbett—and standing to one side, Parks. “What’s that you’re holding?”
Whist-faced, Parks glanced at Kevan. “‘Tis a cloak, milord.”
“Whatever for? It’s July, man.”
“Yes, milord,” the unperturbed Parks replied, looking up at Alyssa’s window.
“Kevan?”
Hearing Alyssa’s voice, Kevan looked up, too. Smiling, she tossed a flower down to him. He caught it. His heart slammed against his ribs. She couldn’t possibly understand this flower’s symbol. Her calling had him craning his neck to look up at her.
“It’s a narcissus, Kevan,” she said in a solemn little voice. “It means pride, if you aren’t knowing.”
His heart swelled till he feared it would burst. She’d cast her pride aside—for him. For him. He smiled up at her. “I know.”
Worrying her lower lip with her teeth, she nodded. Her gaze shifted to the men assembled. “Gentlemen, thank you for attending. I’ve asked you here to act as witnesses to a startling metamorphosis: Mine.”
She stepped back from sight. Mumbled whispers broke out among the men.
“What is she doing?”
“Kevan, has she recovered?” the Lord Chancellor asked.
Naked as a newborn, Alyssa stepped out onto the window ledge. Shocked gasps escaped the men assembled, and a slow smile spread Kevan’s mouth. “She’s recovered,” he said, his voice thick with poignant emotion. “Thank God.”
“Milord,” she said in a solemn little voice. “I come to you with nothing—not so much as a single pin for my hair. I have no material holdings or possessions, no dowry—and no pride. My only gifts to you this day are these: a reputation stained by impropriety, a spirit sorely tested and weary, and a body exposed to reveal its every imperfection. I cannot offer you my heart, milord, nor my soul. Neither do I possess. Both were given to you long ago.” Her chest heaved, as though all she had said measured naught to what she yet faced. “Do you bid me come?”
Kevan couldn’t speak. Of all she could have done, of the many ways she could have told him of her love, none other could have conveyed her devotion to him with more eloquence. Feeling humble, proud, he held his arms, open to his wife. “Come.”
She graced him with a smile that dimmed the sun, and jumped.
Cradled in his arms, Alyssa clung to him. “I love you, Kevan.”
Beside them, Parks unfolded her cloak, and Kevan draped it around her, unwilling to part with her long enough to properly wrap her in it. Parks stepped back, and Kevan pretended not to see his man’s chin quiver or to hear his sniffle.
“A delight to these old eyes,” Parks whispered the very words he’d said once before. Kevan felt Alyssa smile against his neck and wondered if any man before him had felt so much love for any woman. The words burned his throat, insisting he speak them. “By God, Alyssa.” He waited until she looked up at him. “I do love you so.”
Looking into each other’s eyes, they shared a smile, then Kevan carried his wife across the lawn and into their home.
The Lord Chancellor watched them go. He heard their laughter carry back to him on the warm summer breeze. His vision blurred and a tightness in his throat had to be swallowed down.
“Imagine. A countess jumping like that—bare to the skin!”
It was Monk’s voice, the chancellor heard. “Yes, imagine indeed. We should all be so fortunate.”
“This entire display makes no sense,” Cobbett said, clearly perplexed. “She’s already married to him. Why did she do it?”
“Her father’s debts?” Cruikshank suggested.
“No, they’ve been paid.” Sir Duncan contradicted that conjecture, looking to the Lord Chancellor like he was incredibly satisfied with himself. “What a woman she is.”
Persistent as a hound on a hunt, Lewis crossed his arms over his chest. “Who paid the debts?”
“Lord Buchannan,” Duncan disclosed, his leathery cheeks splitting in a wide grin.
Cobbett scratched his balding head. “Then why did the countess jump?”
A deep sense of rightness, of well-being, suffused the Lord Chancellor. And, he honestly admitted, a healthy touch of envy, too. Duncan was right. Lady Buchannan was a most unusual woman. “This had nothing to do with money,” he told the others. “Come, gentlemen. Allow me to tell you a remarkable story of romantic intrigue. It will answer your questions—outrage you. And it will enchant you.”
“I DO NOT regret my actions, milord,” Alyssa said to Kevan. “But I do not wish to attend Almack’s while news of them is fresh on the tongues of the ton.”
Kevan sent her a stern look that did nothing to settle her quivering stomach. “We’re going.”
“For pity’s sake, Kevan. Why must we?” She clenched her hands into fists. “I—I guess I should not have publicized my metamorphosis after all. Perhaps I should regret—”
“Don’t, Alyssa.” His voice was firm. “You removed the last obstacle between us. Don’t grow weak-spined on me now.”
“Weak-spined?” She glared at him. “It’s not for me that I am concerned.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No.” She frowned and twisted her dainty hanky around her fingers. “Everyone will say you’ve married a chucklehead. My reputation is already smeared beyond reparation. It’s your reputation that concerns me now.”
He wrapped his arms around her, pinning hers between them. “Every man at Almack’s—hell, in all of England—will envy me.”
Alyssa swallowed hard and risked the question that could send her spiraling into the worst case of the blue devils known to woman. “You aren’t ashamed of me?”
“You professed your love for me in a way no man has the right to expect. But any man would gladly die for what you’ve given me.” He paused to touch her face, to let his hands grow tender and drift down her neck to her shoulders. His eyes warmed to molten silver. “I feel many things for you, but shame has no place among them. Your courage has humbled me, dear lady.”
She lifted her gaze to his. “I’ll go with you to Almack’s, Kevan.”
He slid her a wicked grin. “Of course, you will.”
She opened her mouth to complain, certain he’d manipulated her, but he refused her even the hint of an utterance by kissing her quiet. And long before he raised his head, she couldn’t recall just what objection she’d been going to voice.
Alyssa stepped into Almack’s. Her arm linked with Kevan’s, she felt grateful for his unwavering support. Her knees threatened to buckle any moment, and her heart thundered so loudly she was sure that everyone in the crushed assembly rooms could hear it.
At least if they shunned her, she looked her best for it. According to Kevan, the flowing white gown threaded with silver gave her an ethereal look that he found hauntingly beautiful. Between that comment and the warm desire in his eyes, she’d nearly swooned.
That truth brought a smile to her lips. She, Alyssa Cameron Buchannan, who had swooned but once in her life, had merely to receive that look from her husband to become faint.
Lord, how the man affected her. He looked magnificent in black knee breeches and a dress coat with long tails that defined his broad shoulders. Strong, dark, and powerful. Breathtaking. His white neck cloth sported a brilliant diamond pin, but it was no more beautiful than the sparkling emeralds he’d gifted her with earlier this evening. She resisted the urge to touch the stones at her neck, on her earlobes, and at her wrist.
“Ready?” Kevan asked, his voice a sweet caress.
The urge to remind him of her affection just once more—before the fall—overwhelmed her. She touched his arm with her free hand. “Kevan, darling, I do love you.”
“I love you, too, Lady Buchannan.” He squeezed her hand, and she felt her confidence soar. His voice dropped to a whisper between them. “You are a countess, milady. You are polite society. Remember that.” He smiled, and the left side of his mouth crooked up. Her heart skipped, then thudded.
Guarding the staircase, Mr. Willis stepped toward them, then ushered them forward to the landing of the grand stairs.
“My Lord Earl and Countess Buchannan,” he announced in a clear, strong voice.
The ballroom fell silent. Alyssa stifled a groan. Kevan took her arm and, stiffening her spine, she began the long descent.
At the foot of the stairs stood the Prince Regent, looking up at them. Her heart stopped, her stomach sank to her knees. He would order her to leave. Remove her from polite society. Perhaps—perhaps he’d even banish her from England. “Kevan . . .”
“Smile, love,” he whispered. “Everything is fine.”
Stepping from the stairs, Alyssa curtsied. When she rose up, the Prince took her hand.
“My dear Lady Buchannan, I did so hope you’d attend this evening.”
Casting a worried glance at Kevan, Alyssa responded. “Thank you, Your Royal Highness.”
“May I call you Alyssa?”
“If it pleases you.”
“I have heard of your metamorphosis, Alyssa. I am touched by your beauty and equally by your devotion to your lord.”
Sure her cheeks would ignite and flame at any moment, Alyssa fought to find her voice. “You are most kind, Your Highness.”
“Prinny,” he said. “It would please me. I find I am quite awed by you, dear lady. Though ever appreciative of members of your gender, being awestruck is not a position I find myself in often.” He turned to Kevan and lowered his voice so only the three of them could hear. “And I openly admit my envy of you, sir. To be held in such deep regard by one’s wife is a treasure far more precious than any other.” His voice dropped even lower. “And who better than I would know?”
Alyssa smiled. The prince’s discord with his wife was legend. They not only didn’t suit, they despised each other.
Kevan responded with his usual diplomacy. “My wife is my treasure, sir, though I share your dilemma. At times, I, too, am awed by her.”
The Prince Regent and Kevan exchanged a knowing look, then the prince said, “But it is a discomfort you are more than grateful to endure.”
“Privileged to endure,” Kevan amended. “And humbled.”
“Tell me, dear lady,” the prince said. “Loving your husband as you do, have you any love left for your country?”
“Why, of course, sir.” Alyssa couldn’t suppress a mischievous streak that chose this awful time to present itself. “Looking through eyes that love, one cannot not help but see beauty in all things.”
Certain that he’d been insulted, the prince’s jaw gaped open. Alyssa let out a little laugh. “Though I have always loved England, my regard for her is even greater now.”
“Do you know what I think?” the prince asked her.
“I wouldn’t presume—”
“I think you’ve deliberately teased your prince.”
“Though I spoke the truth, I confess I did.”
“I also think, Kevan, that we should be glad this dear lady of yours is not opposed to our crown. She’d either love or tease us out of it.”
“Now it is you who tease,” she told him.
He cast her a shrewd look. “Only a little, my dear.” He brushed Alyssa’s hand against his lips. “Do enjoy your evening.”
“I believe I shall now, sir.”
The prince took two steps and stopped. Looking back over his shoulder, he asked, “Does it subside, Kevan?”
Kevan shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Your Highness. It is a lifelong affliction, I fear.”
The prince let out a wistful sigh, then walked on.
“Kevan?” Alyssa asked. “What did he mean?”
“Your charm, my dear. I fear I’d better watch my step. Our prince is quite taken with you.”
Alyssa smiled up at him. “You have no cause for concern, milord. My heart is yours for all time.”
ALYSSA TURNED on her side and brushed back the crop of silver curls that had fallen to her eyes. “Kevan, it was amazing, was it not?”
Kevan scrunched his pillow and turned toward her, his hand draping her bare stomach. Her eyes still danced with excitement. “What, love?”
“Tonight. The reaction of the ton. I was certain that even your being an earl wouldn’t stop them from cutting me direct.”
Kevan let his hand drift up over her breasts to her creamy throat, then on to her cheek. She scooted across the bed and snuggled closer to him. Did she know how much that telling action pleased him? “I told you they would be envious. And they are.”
“But even the women were gracious.”
“How could they resist such romance?”
Alyssa smiled. His heart flipped in his chest.
“Kevan?”
“Mmm?”
“There’s still something I’ve yet to do to make our love complete.”
“What, my dear?” More complete? Could life get any better than this?
Alyssa took a deep breath and spoke her heart. “I want to make love to you. I’ve a need to share with you all I feel in my heart.” She held his somber gaze, though it was the most difficult thing she’d done in her life. “You’ve not bedded me since the incident. Is it that you don’t want to?”
“Oh, God, Alyssa, no.” He held his arms open. “Come.”
Alyssa met his embrace with an abandon that flared her desire to fever-pitch in an instant. All of the pent-up longing, the need for him she’d borne for months, the fear that he no longer wanted her physically, melted and drained away. With little whimpering cries, she adored his body, telling him of her love.
He drank from her lips, feasted on her body, then buried her head against his thundering chest. His fingers caught in her hair, immersed themselves, and massaged her scalp. “I need you. So much that the ache to hold you has nearly driven me mad. I didn’t think you were ready to forgive me. You’ve been through so much—no small part of which was my own doing. Do you hear my heart, love? It speaks clearly of my wants.”
“I hear it.” She looked up at him, her eyes misty. “I am so happy. It’s almost a dream. You’ve given me so much, and I—I—”
