Page 45 of Daring in a Blue Dress
“Really?” I cast a quick glance at Alden. I had assumed her cover story was just that: a story. “You know her?”
“Actually, we just met.” Lisa stood and stretched, making sure to aim her boobs at Alden as she did so. “Adams, her companion, suggested I help Lady Sybilla. And as I’m working for her, I thought it would be best to accept her dinner invitation. I’m sure we’ll also talk about her memoirs.”
“That memoir sounds like an excellent idea,” Alden said, wholly to my surprise. “I’m sure Lady Sybilla will benefit from having a project with which to focus rather than what I’m doing to the house. If you could convince her to move out to the gatekeeper’s lodge, I’d be grateful.”
“Really?” Lisa drawled. “And how do you plan on thanking me if Idoget her moved?”
Alden looked like a deer caught in headlights.
“I’ll pop upstairs and change my clothes if we’re going to the pub,” Fenice said, casting me a significant glance as she scooted past me. “Be down in a couple of minutes.”
Lisa watched her leave with an amused smile, turning back to us to say to Alden, “Aloneat last.”
“Seriously?” I asked, shaking my head at her blatant flirting. I wanted to tell her to back the hell off, but decided that I wasn’t going to play the jealous other woman. If Alden wanted her, then he could have her... but he couldn’t have me at the same time. “OK, you know what? Clearly you want to be alone with Alden to flirt with him, so I’ll just go wait out back by the car for when you two are done and ready to go to the pub.”
“I’ll come with you,” Alden said quickly, halting me at the door to say to Lisa, “I know you came here to... you came because... but that’s not needed. Mercy is here, you see.” He waved a hand at me. “I’m sorry you traveled all the way to Cornwall, but you see how it is.”
“No,” Lisa said, oiling her way over to us. “How is it,Alden?”
He stiffened, and gestured toward me again. “Mercy is here now.”
“I’m sorry, darlin’, you’re not making much sense. I see that sweet Mercy is here, bless her heart, but what is that to do withus?” She smiled a long, slow smile.
I said nothing. Alden was clearly in a panic, but I felt it was important that he make a decision without me pressuring him either way. “I’m happy to have you at Bestwood,” he finally said, his voice very stilted. “Especially since you are helping Lady Sybilla. But that is as far as it goes.”
His fingers tightened around my arm, not painfully so, but enough to have me flexing my arm. Instantly, his grip loosened.
“I see.” Lisa’s smile faded, and an odd calculating expression took over. “Well,that’sput me in my place,hasn’t it? I wish I’d known about this before I came out to Cornwall. Naturally, I won’t stay where I’m not welcome.”
Alden looked at a loss as to how to deal with that sort of emotional blackmail. I took pity on him, since he’d made it clear to Lisa where his preference lay.
“Oh, for god’s sake,” I said, taking Alden by the hand, and opening the door. “He said he was happy for you to be here and help Lady Sybilla. So stop making a play for him, and go be a secretary. Come on, Alden. I’m starving after a day of teaching people.”
“Thank you,” Alden said a couple of minutes later when we were crunching our way across the gravel drive to where he kept his car. “I couldn’t get the words out to tell her that I wasn’t interested in her in a sexual way. It’s hard enough to talk to women, but to tell themthat...” He gave a little shiver. “It’s beyond me.”
“I’d say we are going to have to work on your ability to reject women, but I don’t think that’s in my best interest,” I said with a tight smile.
He shot me a look. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
“Aw. Thank you.” I let my smile get warmer.
“After all, I can talk to you. If I wanted to dump you, I’d be able to tell you that.”
“Hey!” I whapped him on the arm, but luckily for him, Fenice trotted up to us at that moment, so I couldn’t chastise him any further.
Three hours later we were back in his bedroom, with me on the bed sorting through a collection of Lady Sybilla’s papers that I’d snagged from the library before Adams had locked them up, and Alden at his small deskwith a laptop, working on a spreadsheet that he told me was his renovation budget. I felt a pleasing sense of domesticity in our situation, and allowed myself to wonder for a few minutes what it would be like to have the relationship go on beyond the three weeks I’d be at Bestwood.
What would it be like to live with Alden permanently? To remain in England, at the side of a man who periodically got tongue-tied and frustrated with his inability to express his emotions? To spend my nights with him, snuggled up against him, feeling oddly safe and secure?
I sighed, and he looked up. “Problem?”
“Hmm?” I shuffled the papers, pulling out the small household journal that I’d been deciphering the night before. “No, just trying to read the spidery handwriting in this journal. I will say this for the Georgians—they had beautiful handwriting, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to read. Especially as this journal appears to have been kept by not just the housekeeper and butler, but someone else who evidently wasn’t quite as literate.”
“Ah,” he said, looking back at his computer and a stack of receipts. “Anything interesting about the history of the house in it?”
“So far, not a lot.” I flipped through the journal. “Most of it is inventory of linens and candles and other household items—that’s the part written by the housekeeper. Then there’s a tally of wine and spirits, which I assume is the butler. It’s the part in the third hand that appears to be the most interesting. This right here is an example.” I tapped on a page, and to my pleasure, Alden got up and came over to sit next to me, his head angled close to mine to see the book.
“Good lord. How can you read that?” he asked, getting a glimpse of the handwriting.
