Mistress to the Marquis by Margaret McPhee

Author:Margaret McPhee [McPhee, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: ROMANCE - HISTORICAL
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Alice’s hand was in Razeby’s and it did not matter that all of London was watching them, the sole couple on the dance floor—it made everything feel right. It warmed the coldness. It filled the void. It lit the light within her heart, just to be with him for these few moments.

Their steps were perfect, their bodies moving in perfect time, each a perfect complement to the other. It was their dance. And as the music, so sweet and melodic, played on she knew that she would never dance this dance with anyone else.

She looked up into his so-beloved face. ‘You have created a scandal,’ she said, but she could not stop herself from smiling.

‘All for a good cause.’ He smiled, too, that same smile of old.

And that attraction, that same connection that had existed between them from the very start, bound them stronger than ever.

‘You have been avoiding me, Alice.’

‘It is for the best, Razeby.’ Their eyes held and the dark liquid warmth and tenderness that she saw in his sent a thrill right through her body to her heart.

‘You admit it, then?’

‘I admit nothing.’

‘You did not answer my letter.’

‘What letter?’ she said teasingly, but her heart missed a beat and her stomach gave a little somersault.

‘You know very well, Miss Sweetly.’

‘You must be mistaken, Lord Razeby.’

He smiled. ‘Over many things, but not this.’

‘I get so many letters.’

‘I am sure you do.’

‘Refresh my memory. What did the letter say?’ She bit her lip while she waited to hear.

He lowered his voice so that it was soft and dark and smooth as black velvet. ‘Do you really want me to say it aloud, Alice? Here?’ The smoulder of sensuality in his eyes stroked a shiver down her spine.

She felt a faint blush warm her cheeks. ‘Maybe not here,’ she conceded.

They danced on.

‘I know why you did not take the dresses from your wardrobe.’

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. ‘Because I wanted a new wardrobe,’ she replied smoothly.

‘Really?’ He arched an eyebrow.

‘Now that I’m a famous actress I’ve got to be keeping up with the fashion.’

‘And the diamond bracelet?’

‘Diamonds are so passé. Didn’t you know?’ she teased.

‘And the cheque?’

‘Such an inadequate amount.’

‘Why don’t I believe you?’

‘Because you’ve a mind that runs to suspicion.’

He smiled. ‘I have another theory.’

‘That I knew that you had taken to wearing ladies’ dresses?’

He laughed. ‘You did tell me that I looked good in your old polishing apron and nothing else.’

She couldn’t help herself. She laughed, too.

And when the laughter died away and their eyes held, both were filled with the simple joy of just being together.

‘No, my theory is a little different to that,’ he said quietly.

Her smile faded. She swallowed, suddenly afraid. Her eyes clung to his.

‘Do you not want to know what it is, Alice?’

‘Not here, Razeby. Please.’

‘Not here,’ he said, soft as a breath against her ear.

They danced on together as all of London looked on.

* * *

Venetia sat beside Alice on the sofa of the little drawing room in Mercer Street.

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