An Impossible Attraction. Brenda Joyce

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СКАЧАТЬ LADY AT LAST

      THE STOLEN BRIDE

      THE PERFECT BRIDE

      A DANGEROUS LOVE

      For Sue Ball, one of the most generous and caring

      spirits I have ever known. My heartfelt thanks for so

      many years of kindness, friendship and support to me and my family.

      Prologue

      THERE WAS SO MUCH LIGHT, and Alexandra hesitated, confused.

      “Alex…andra?” her mother whispered from the bed.

      Gold-and-burgundy wallpaper adorned the walls, and dark draperies were closed over the bedroom’s two windows. The bureau was a dark, rich mahogany, as was the bed, and the bedding was wine and gold. The room’s single armchair was a dark, intense red. Yet the light within almost blinded her. “I am here, Mother,” she whispered back.

      And then, because Elizabeth Bolton was dying and would not last another night, because she had wasted away from the cancer eating at her, because she was so frail and weak now that she could barely see, much less hear, Alexandra hurried forward. She held back the tears. She hadn’t cried, not even once, not even when her father had told her that her mother had a terrible and fatal disease. It hadn’t been a shock. Elizabeth had been fading away before Alexandra and her younger sisters’ eyes for months. Being the eldest—all of seventeen—meant she had to hold the family together now in this crisis.

      Alexandra rushed to her mother’s side, her heart clenching as she looked at her gaunt, unrecognizable face and frame. Elizabeth had been so beautiful, so lively, so alive. She was only thirty-eight years old now, but she looked ninety.

      Alexandra sat, reaching for her thin, frail hands. “Father said you wished to see me, Mother. What can I get you? Do you want a sip of water?”

      Elizabeth smiled wanly, lying prone on the large bed, dwarfed by the pillows behind her, the blankets over her. “Angels,” she whispered. “Can you see them?”

      Alexandra felt the tears rise. She batted her lashes furiously. Her mother needed her, as did her two sisters, who were only seven and nine. Father needed her, too—though he was locked in the library with his gin. But now she understood the odd light in the room, and the equally strange warmth. “I can’t see them, but I can feel them. Are you afraid?”

      Elizabeth shook her head ever so slightly, and just as slightly, her grasp on Alexandra’s hands increased. “I don’t…want to go, Alexandra. The girls…are so young.”

      It was hard to hear her, so Alexandra leaned even closer to her mother’s face. “We don’t want you to leave us, but you’ll be with the angels now, Mother.” Somehow she managed to smile. “I am going to take care of Olivia and Corey—you needn’t worry. I will take care of Father, too.”

      “Promise me…darling…promise.”

      She laid her cheek against her mother’s bony face. “I promise. You have done everything for this family, you have been its guiding light, its rock and its anchor, and I will do everything for Father and the girls now. We will be fine. They will be fine.” But it didn’t feel as if anything would ever be fine again.

      “I am so proud…of you,” Elizabeth whispered.

      Alexandra had straightened so they could look into one another’s eyes. She was the oldest, the firstborn, with years separating her and her two younger sisters, and she and her mother had always been close. Elizabeth had taught Alexandra how to manage the household, how to entertain and how to dress for tea or for a ball. She had taught her how to bake cinnamon cookies and how to make lemonade. She had shown her how to smile, even when upset, and how to behave with grace and dignity, no matter the occasion. She had shown her the true power of love, of family, of diligence and respect.

      Alexandra knew her mother was proud of her. Just as she knew she could not bear this last moment with her. “Don’t worry about the girls or Father. I will take good care of them.”

      “I know.” Elizabeth smiled sadly and fell silent. And it took Alexandra a full moment to realize that her eyes had become sightless.

      She gasped, hard, the intense pain blinding her. The tears finally overflowed, even as she fought them. She grasped her mother’s hands more firmly and lay down beside her, already missing her acutely, the pain unbearable now, and that was how her fiancé, Owen, found her.

      “Alexandra.” He gently lifted her to her feet.

      She met his concerned, searching gaze and let him guide her from the death room. It was dark and somber now—the warm light long gone. In the hall, he held her for a long time. Alexandra let him, even as her heart broke all over again.

      Because she knew what she must do.

      Owen was her best friend, her one and only true love, but that didn’t matter now.

      “Why are you looking at me that way?” he asked, eyes wide.

      She clasped his beautiful cheek. “I love you, Owen.”

      He was alarmed. “You are in shock. This is the time to grieve.”

      She began shaking her head. “I can’t marry you, Owen. I told her I would take care of this family, and I meant it. My life is no longer my own. I can’t marry you, I can’t be your wife, or the mother of your children. I can’t. I have to take care of my sisters.” And in that moment, she knew it was the truth and was overwhelmed by the turn her life had taken.

      “Alexandra!” he cried. “Allow yourself a period of mourning. I will wait for you. I love you, and we will get through this together.”

      But she pulled away, the hardest thing she had ever done. “No, Owen. Everything has changed. Corey and Olivia need me, and so does Father.”

      “I am going to wait for you,” he warned, and tears glistened on his lashes.

      There were no choices now. She would hold the family together, no matter what it meant or what it took. “Goodbye, Owen,” she said.

      Chapter One

      “I CAN NO LONGER AFFORD YOU,” the Baron of Edgemont said.

      Alexandra Bolton stared in some surprise at her grim, rather disheveled father. He had just summoned her and her two younger sisters into the small, shabby library where he occasionally looked at the estate’s books. Oddly, he seemed sober—and it was almost half past four in the afternoon. What did he mean, exactly? “I know how precarious our finances are,” she said, but her smile was reassuring. “I am taking in additional sewing, Father, and I should be able to earn an extra pound every week.”

      Her father made a discouraging sound. “You are exactly like your mother. She was tireless, Alexandra, tireless in her efforts to reassure me—right up until the day of her death.” He walked away, his posture slumped, and took his seat behind his equally worn and tired desk. It was crooked. One leg needed repair.

      Alexandra was becoming vaguely alarmed. She had been doing her best to hold the family together ever since Elizabeth Bolton had died—no easy task, considering СКАЧАТЬ