Regency Desire: Mistress to the Marquis / Dicing with the Dangerous Lord. Margaret McPhee

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       Chapter Twelve

      Alice did not know how she got through the rest of that musicale. Her hands were still trembling when she got home. She told herself it was because of Quigley, but she knew it was not.

      It was wrong on so many levels. Razeby had rid himself of her without the slightest regard for her feelings. What had been between them was nothing more than sex. He was actively searching for a woman to marry. And yet this afternoon in that ladies’ room made her think she had got it all wrong. It was preposterous. Downright ridiculous. But that look in his eyes, filled with meaning, piercing, as if he could see right through to her very soul. As if he felt, really felt, the same as her. The whole experience had shaken her more than she wanted to admit, stripping all her denials away for the flimsy pretences they were.

      And that realisation made her feel weak and out of control and afraid. Afraid that the mask was in danger of slipping, the threat of all that lay beneath exposed to the world.

       Never let them see how much they hurt you.

      The mantra came easily to her lips. She knew it by heart and had said it to herself a thousand times since that night with Razeby. And yet now she was panicking, gathering her armour around her all the tighter. Telling herself that she had been mistaken in what she felt and what she thought she had seen in his eyes.

      He had taken all she had to give, used it and discarded it. She could never allow herself to forget. All she had left was her pride. She would not let him take that. She could not let him take that. She had no choice but to carry on.

      ‘So, how was Madame Catalani the other day?’ Venetia took a small sip of coffee and glanced across to where Alice sat on the sofa in Mercer Street.

      ‘She’s got a wonderful voice on her. Magical almost.’ So magical that it could make a woman betray herself and imagine things.

      ‘I heard Razeby was there, too.’

      ‘Was he?’ She tried to sound vague, but she could not meet Venetia’s eye.

      ‘Alice,’ Venetia said softly, ‘there is a rumour going around, about you and Razeby, at the musicale.’

      ‘There are always rumours,’ Alice said flippantly.

      Venetia said nothing, just held her eyes, looking at her, knowing she was lying.

      Alice closed her eyes and gave a sigh. ‘It wasn’t like that.’

      ‘What was it like?’

      ‘It was Quigley. He followed me into the ladies’. You know what he’s like.’

      ‘A lecherous old toad.’

      ‘He made a pass at me. He’s got a strength in him that you wouldn’t credit, Venetia. I thought he was just an old man. I never thought that he’d actually use force.’

      Venetia paled. There was a look of horror in her pale eyes, even though she was trying to hide it and her voice when she spoke was calm. ‘Did he… hurt… you, Alice?’

      ‘No. He tried to kiss me. I don’t know how far he really meant to go, but he got nowhere. Razeby stopped him.’

      ‘And how did Razeby come to be in the ladies’ withdrawing room?’

      Alice glanced away. ‘He was just passing.’

      Venetia raised her eyebrows and Alice could see the scepticism in her friend’s expression. ‘Are the two of you back together?’

      ‘No.’ Alice closed her eyes with a weariness. The confusion milling in her brain since that day seemed like it was sapping the very life from her. ‘How could we ever be back together? After all he di—’ She caught back what she had been about to say and stopped herself. ‘He’s searching for a bride. He was there with Miss Althrope.’

      ‘You still have feelings for him, don’t you,

      Alice?’

      ‘Yes. No.’ She glanced away. ‘How could I?’

      ‘We feel what we feel, Alice, regardless of sense or logic.’ Venetia paused. ‘I know you have no wish to avoid him, but maybe you should, just for a little while.’

      ‘No. I can’t.’ She shook her head, feeling more afraid than ever. ‘I won’t, Venetia.’ Because to do so would be to admit the truth. Never turn your face from the thing you fear. Be bold and brave. And never, never let them see how much they hurt you. ‘In fact, what I need to do is the very opposite.’

      ‘Alice…’ Venetia cautioned softly.

      ‘He saved me from Quigley. But it doesn’t change anything,’ Alice said. ‘I mean, I’m grateful for his intervention, of course I am. But—’ Her heart was beating faster even at the memory of his eyes staring down into hers, of all that had strained and trembled between them. And the dreams and nightmares that had made sleep impossible. And the thoughts that jibed at her all night and whispered in her ear every day. ‘It changes nothing,’ she said again, more firmly. ‘I have to get on with my life. I have to show them all Razeby doesn’t matter to me. I have to show him he doesn’t matter to me.’

      There was a small silence.

      ‘Then be very careful, Alice.’

      ‘I will,’ she replied softly.

      The doors of her wardrobe were wide open. Alice stood before them, looking in at the line of new silk evening dresses hanging there. They were both beautiful and expensive. They were her fresh start, bought with the money she had won at Dryden’s that night.

      Her eyes moved to the emerald silk dress at the very end of the wardrobe, hanging slightly separate from all the others. The one dress that she had taken from the house in Hart Street. The dress she had had made with Razeby in mind. The dress that he always swore he could not resist her in.

      She reached out and lightly touched her fingers to the long flowing green silk of the skirt and the images flashed in her mind—vivid and real enough to make her gasp: Razeby’s mouth on hers, his hands peeling СКАЧАТЬ