Intimate Betrayal Page 6

  “Oh, Mavis.” Alyssa rushed over and gave the plump woman a reassuring hug. “I’m a far cry from a beauty and long since past my youth. And I would like to believe I have the intelligence and fortitude to make my own way in the world.”

  “ ’Tis not proper,” Mavis retorted. “You are a lady born and bred. You should be married, with children of your own to love and a husband to look after and protect you. Not worrying about earning your keep.”

  “Mavis, you must not upset yourself. I shall be perfectly fine. I’m sure if I cannot find a position as a governess, I’ll be hired as a companion.”

  “That sounds dreadful.”

  “There really are no other options for a woman in my circumstances.” Striking a saucy pose, Alyssa quipped, “Of course, I could always try going on the stage.”

  “Lady Alyssa!” Mavis’s mouth opened in shock.

  Alyssa laughed heartily. “Good. Now I’ve stopped your crying. No more gloomy thoughts. We’ve too much work to finish and I want to be done with all this before the duke takes possession of the house.”

  “Still no word on when that will be?” Mavis inquired as she pulled out a moth-eaten pair of breeches from the wardrobe.

  Alyssa shook her head. “I’m sure we shall hear all too soon.”

  Alyssa’s only contact with the duke had been a short note she received four days after he departed Westgate Manor. The simple note stated she was to take as much time as necessary before vacating the property. It was a brief message, but the duke penned it himself instead of delegating the job to his secretary. He signed it informally, and the intimacy of seeing Morgan Ashton signed so boldly at the bottom of the parchment had captivated Alyssa’s attention for the entire afternoon.

  Alyssa knew she was being foolish, but she was unable to exorcise the duke’s parting embrace and kiss. She was a woman not used to being touched, much less kissed, by a man, and it was an incident not easily forgotten.

  Alyssa opened a large traveling trunk, piling clothes on the floor as she sorted through them. The majority of clothing was worn and stained with wine and food. It was an awful mess; several of the trunks hadn’t been opened for years. The room depressed Alyssa, the decay, the dreariness. Mavis’s worries about her uncertain future had shaken her too, more than she wanted to admit. Alyssa didn’t relish the idea of spending the rest of her life with strangers, hardly more than a servant.

  “There’s a carriage coming up the drive,” Mavis announced, looking out the bedroom window. “Were you expecting anyone?”

  “No. I don’t recognize the crest on the door. Do you?” Alyssa craned her neck out the open window to catch a glimpse of the vehicle as it proceeded up the drive.

  “I can’t make it out from up here,” Mavis remarked. “These old eyes don’t see as well as they used to, but it must be someone important. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a coach that grand around these parts.”

  Both women watched from their vantage point as the large vehicle came around the drive and drew to a halt in front of the main entrance to the house. A lanky footman jumped down from the back of the coach and opened the carriage door.

  The first person to alight from the impressive vehicle was a man, followed quickly by two women. Even at that distance, Alyssa could see they were fashionably and expensively dressed. They could be neighbors coming to pay a condolence call, she thought, but it seemed unlikely.

  Suddenly a rider entered her vision, thundering down the drive. He was mounted on the largest black stallion Alyssa had ever seen. He reined up alongside the coach and spoke to the three who had just descended.

  Alyssa leaned farther out the window in hopes of hearing their conversation. As she leaned forward, part of the wooden window casing, rotted from age and neglect, gave way and she began falling. She cried out in alarm as she felt herself helplessly pitching forward. Alyssa flayed her arms wildly in an attempt to regain her balance, her voice rising in panic. Mavis heard her cries and managed to pull Alyssa back to safety by placing two large hands on the younger girl’s waist.

  At the sound of Alyssa’s cry, all four heads below turned up to the window. Mavis stood Alyssa upright, and she swayed dizzily for a few seconds. Alyssa smoothed down her tumbling hair and glanced out the window. Four pairs of inquisitive eyes stared back. She immediately recognized the Duke of Gillingham as the mounted rider.

  He gave her a jaunty salute in greeting, and Alyssa felt her cheeks flush with humiliation. How utterly mortifying to be caught hanging out the window like a disobedient child.

  “Why, look here, the wood is rotted right through,” Mavis exclaimed as she examined the splintered windowsill. “This whole place is falling to ruin. You could have tumbled right out onto the drive and broken your neck.”

  “I am fine, Mavis. Nothing wounded except my dignity.” Alyssa took a deep breath. “How awful for them to have seen me.” She groaned. “The duke certainly has a talent for catching me at my worst.”

  “It is the duke then?”

  “Yes. I’d best be getting downstairs. Perkins is helping Mrs. Stratton inventory the storeroom. I’m not sure he can hear the front door from back there.”

  When she entered the front hall it was empty. Alyssa was about to start searching for the unexpected guests when Perkins emerged from the front parlor.

  “The duke wished to be shown to the front parlor,” Perkins explained. “He has instructed me to bring refreshment.”

  Alyssa sighed in vexation. They were hardly prepared for visitors. “I’m sure Mrs. Stratton will be able to create something appropriate. Tell her to make tea and sandwiches, and bring wine for the gentlemen.” She touched the older man’s arm in reassurance. “It will be fine.”

  “Ahhhh, now that is quick service,” a male voice spoke as Alyssa entered the room.

  She turned toward the young man who had spoken, and favored him with a chilling stare. He wasn’t the least bit affected by her coldness, and returned her stare with a heart-melting, smile. Alyssa instantly realized her mistake. His strong resemblance to the duke proclaimed him a relative, most likely his younger brother, Tristan. This was the one person Alyssa could ill afford to offend if she harbored any hope of placing her small staff in Tristan’s household.

  “Miss Carrington, how pleasant to see you again,” the duke said, walking forward to rescue her from the awkward silence. “I trust you are uninjured from your little mishap?”

  “Oh, quite unharmed, I assure you, Your Grace,” she answered him tersely. “How very kind of you to be so concerned.”

  Her comment, meant to chastise, instead amused him. She looked thinner, and rather pale in her black crepe mourning gown that was customarily ill-fitting. But her spirit had not suffered. Morgan was inordinately pleased to see her.

  “Miss Carrington, may I present my brother, Lord Tristan Ashton; his betrothed, Miss Caroline Grantham; and Caroline’s sister, Lady Priscilla Ogden.”

  Alyssa dipped a curtsy in greeting. They certainly were an impressive party. Tristan was not as tall as the duke, but he was comparably built, with broad, powerful shoulders. He was exceedingly handsome in his dark-blue velvet double-breasted coat that matched his sapphire-blue eyes.

  He did not possess the air of authority and command his older brother carried so naturally but he was clearly a man to be reckoned with. His fiancee, Caroline, was pretty and petite, all blond curls and rosy cheeks. She was dressed flatteringly in a pink satin traveling costume, complete with a large straw hat trimmed with a matching pink satin band and curtain veil of white lace. She was the very picture of feminine gentility. Alyssa felt perfectly dowdy beside her.

  Alyssa could see little family resemblance between the two sisters. Lady Ogden was as dark as her sister was fair, and while not as pretty as Caroline, she was nevertheless a handsome woman. She was dressed entirely in mourning black.

  “We were not informed of your impending arrival, Your Grace,” Alyssa said keenly. “Had we known, we would have been able
to prepare a more comfortable greeting for you and your guests.”

  “I’m afraid that’s my fault, Lady Alyssa,” Caroline said in a soft, sweet voice. “When Morgan told us of his wonderful wedding gift, I insisted to Tris we come at once to see the estate. I do hope we have not inconvenienced you?”

  Alyssa was unsure how to respond. She certainly had no right to be annoyed; the house now belonged to the duke. By rights, it was Alyssa who was intruding.

  “The staff wanted very much to make a good impression,” Alyssa said slowly, her manner less sharp. “I do hope you will not judge them too harshly.”

  “Goodness no,” Caroline assured her. “Morgan has already told us of the efficient staff. We shall only be here a few short hours. The duchess is expecting us at Ramsgate Castle this evening.”

  The duchess? The duke’s wife? A strong rush of regret curled through Alyssa, and it annoyed her to feel a sharp pang of disappointment deep within her heart. Naturally a man of the duke’s stature would be married. She wondered how many children he had. Alyssa stole a quick glance at the duke, but his expression was unreadable.

  “Will you show us around the house later?” Lady Ogden formally requested.

  Alyssa stared at her, tongue-tied. What could she possibly say? How could she refuse without looking churlish? Yet how could she comply without feeling degraded, taking these strangers through a home that was no longer hers?

  Alyssa nervously clutched at the black fabric of her gown, balling it up in her fists. She eyed the duke warily, but his expression remained unchanged. There would be no help from that quarter.

  The occupants of the room waited expectantly for her to agree. Seeing no graceful way out, Alyssa conceded defeat. She forced her features into a bright smile. “I shall be pleased to attend you after tea. If you will excuse me, I must see what is keeping Perkins. Just ring when you are ready.”

  Alyssa gave a hasty curtsy to no one in particular and bolted out the door before anyone had a chance to stop her.

  Escorting everyone through the manor house proved to be a more depressing, rather than embarrassing, task for Alyssa. They started the tour on the very top floor, first inspecting the attic rooms normally used as servants’ quarters. Alyssa could not ever remember any servants actually living there and the many years of disuse were obvious.

  They encountered loose floorboards, cracked windowpanes, broken furniture, and endless clouds of dust. In the corner of one room a small family of mice was discovered, which gave Caroline a mild case of hysterics. She actually squealed when the rodents ran across the room, and she clung to Tristan as if she were in danger of being eaten alive. Tristan seemed to think it was all great fun, and received tremendous satisfaction from “spotting” mice in nearly every room they entered.

  Lady Ogden, a woman apparently unaffected by mice, reprimanded her sister.

  “Caroline, will you please stop acting like such a ninny,” Lady Ogden scolded. “And you are no better, Tristan, encouraging her like that.”

  “I’m merely protecting my beloved,” Tristan replied easily, clearly not the least bit offended by his future sister-in-law’s remarks.

  “Nonsense, Tris,” the duke interjected with a grin. “You are enjoying having Caroline leap into your arms each time you discover a mouse.” Morgan gave Caroline a broad wink. She responded with a pretty blush and a shy smile.

  Alyssa was tired and felt a headache coming on when they finally reached the main floor. She paused hesitantly in front of the drawing room doors, mentally berating herself for not dismantling the “treasure room.” The house would have appeared less shabby and run-down if some of the beautiful items stored in the drawing room had been restored to their original locations in the house. She simply could not fathom Caroline’s and Lady Ogden’s reactions when they saw the collection housed in the room. Reluctantly Alyssa swung open the doors.

  “My goodness,” Caroline exclaimed, her blue eyes round with wonder.

  “What in the world is all this?” Lady Ogden cried in amazement. Both women turned toward Alyssa.

  Alyssa stared stonily ahead, refusing to give an explanation. What can I tell them? she thought peevishly. Here is the room where I settled Lord Carrington’s gambling debts? Of course, that was before he shot himself.

  “Morgan informed me you were going to inventory the estate for us,” Tristan said in a casual voice, breaking the awkward silence. “I must commend you on an excellent job, Lady Alyssa.”

  Alyssa gazed at the duke with some surprise, but he was looking at his brother with equal astonishment.

  “This is for us?” Caroline gasped in disbelief. “All of it?”

  Everyone turned to the duke for confirmation. He cleared his throat. “Nothing but the best for my brother and his lovely bride,” he remarked in an offhand manner.

  There were a few seconds of complete silence, and then the room erupted with chatter as everyone began talking at once. Alyssa’s eyes met Tristan’s and he gave her a conspiratorial wink. She felt a warm flush of gratitude at his kindness and favored him with a small smile.

  Alyssa led the group outside to the rose garden, the only garden on the entire grounds that was properly maintained. The sky was ominously dark as they headed for the overgrown boxwood maze. The wind gusted mightily, and suddenly, without warning, the storm clouds burst. Everyone gave a mad dash for the terrace and rushed through the French doors into the morning room trying to avoid a soaking.

  The duke latched the doors securely against the torrential rain and swirling winds. “I’m afraid if this storm doesn’t let up soon, we shall be forced to stay the night.”

  Alyssa rubbed her temples absently as the pounding increased in her head. What next? she thought wearily. What next.

  The rain continued with a vengeance, and Alyssa spent the next three hours with the maids, Molly and Lucy, trying to prepare suitable bedchambers for everyone. Caroline graciously insisted she and her sister would be perfectly fine sharing a room. Alyssa decided to give them her bedchamber. She would move a small bed into Mavis’s room for herself, remove her few personal belongings, and have fresh linens put on the bed. The room would be acceptable.

  The duke could stay in the master suite, as he had on his first visit. With some basic housekeeping and fresh sheets, the room could be made ready for him. That left Tristan. The remaining four bedrooms in the east wing were a sorry lot at best. They were all in various stages of disrepair. In one room the fireplace smoked badly; in another there was no bed. The third room contained the best furniture—it even had a rug—but the mattress was a disgrace and the drapes smelled of mildew. The fourth room was the barest, but had the basics and boasted a comfortable bed. Alyssa decided on the fourth room for Tristan, choosing comfort over furnishings. Tristan had admirably demonstrated his good humor and easygoing charm. She doubted he would complain about his less than luxurious bedchamber.

  After the rooms were finally prepared, Alyssa instructed Perkins to show everyone to their respective rooms so they could change for dinner. Next she went to the small servants’ wing off the kitchen to make arrangements for the duke’s coachman and footman. She took Lucy with her and left Molly with Caroline and Lady Ogden to assist the two gentlewomen as best she was able.

  In the kitchen, Alyssa consulted with Mrs. Stratton about the dinner menu before proceeding to Mavis’s bedchamber to freshen up before the evening meal. The duke had insisted she join them for dinner, and Alyssa had been unable to refuse.

  Alyssa met Morgan accidentally outside the salon doors. Morgan skillfully smoothed over the awkward moment with a gracious greeting, and her heart began pounding erratically at the sight of him in his formal black silk evening clothes. They entered the room together, but Alyssa was no longer listening to the duke’s comments about the weather. She was staring openmouthed at Tristan and Caroline. They were standing in front of the fireplace, locked in a heated, passionate embrace.

  Tristan was holding Caroline tightly against h
is body while nibbling down the side of her neck to the hollow of her throat. Caroline’s arms were wrapped tightly around Tristan’s shoulders, and she was standing up on her toes to give him easier access to her body.

  Tristan’s hands delicately cupped her breasts, rubbing against the soft curves as he moved up to take her lips in a seductive kiss. Caroline responded with a soft moan and pressed herself even closer to him.

  Alyssa felt herself flush with a yearning she couldn’t name. A tightness gripped her throat as she envisioned herself locked in a similar embrace with Morgan.

  The duke gave a loud cough, bringing Tristan’s head up. Still holding Caroline tightly against his lean body, Tristan turned his eyes toward the sound. “Morgan, Lady Alyssa, good evening,” he said in a cursory voice.

  “Good evening, Tristan,” Morgan answered casually, clearly implying he was taking no notice of the ardent scene he and Alyssa had just interrupted. “Would you and Caroline care for a glass of sherry before dinner?” Morgan walked to the satinwood table where the wine stood and began filling glasses.

  “Sherry would be just the thing,” Tristan said. “I’m sure Caroline would enjoy some.” He answered for his fiancee, who had her face hidden in his shoulder and apparently was trying to compose herself.

  At first embarrassed to be caught in such a compromising position, Caroline had tried to pull away from her betrothed. Tristan had held on to her, his strong arms never relaxing their grip. So she waited, knowing Tris would release her when he was ready. Not that she wanted him to let her go. She loved him with a passion that frightened her sometimes with its intensity.

  “Sherry?” Morgan held a glass up to Caroline’s ear. She choked back a laugh, then pushed gently against Tristan’s shoulder to free herself.