Jacquie D’Alessandro - Whirlwind Affair

And now she'd gone off with that fancy toff. He set off swiftly on foot to follow the carriage carrying his quarry. Curse the saints, his employer would not be pleased that she weren't already dead. But I'll see to it that she s taken care of I've never failed in a job before, and I ain't about to start now. By this time tomorrow, she'll be dead. And I'll be a very rich man.

As the carriage slowly wended its way through the crowded streets toward Mayfair, Robert observed his companion, wondering at her demeanor. She sat ramrod straight, her gloved hands clenched in her lap, and although her eyes were trained on the passing shops, it seemed as if she looked through them. He noticed a muscle jumping in her cheek, indicating she was clenching her jaw. It struck him that she was more than merely sad. She appeared genuinely distressed.

He recalled Lady Gaddlestone's comment about Mrs. Brown being her companion during the voyage. Was Mrs. Brown suffering financial problems that would necessitate hiring herself out? His gaze roamed over her mourning gown. The garment was well made and of good material, but showed subtle signs of wear. He had no way of telling if it was fashionable, as he knew nothing about American styles. Still, based on English fashion, he judged the garment to be several years old.

Curiosity pulled at him, but he firmly tamped it down. Her financial status was none of his business, and he sensed she would not welcome any inquiries. Nor would he under similar circumstances. His duty was merely to look after her and make her feel welcome until he delivered her to Elizabeth at Bradford Hall. And the sooner he accomplished that, the sooner he could resume his search for a wife. Certainly he could make good use of this unexpected time in London. A visit to his solicitor to go over the latest accounting for the payment of reparation monies…

Determined to play the perfect host to his reticent companion, he cleared his throat and forced a smile. "Other than today's mishap, did you enjoy your ocean voyage?" he asked.

She continued gazing out the window. "Yes."

"Did you encounter any bad weather?"

"Some."

"Were you frightened?"

"No."

His lips twitched. "Do you think if I keep trying I'll hit upon a question that you'll answer with more than one syllable?"

Finally she turned and looked at him. "Perhaps."

"Ah, see there? I've already succeeded." He smiled at her, but she merely looked at him, studied him actually, and he wondered if she were again thinking that he reminded her of her husband. "Is there anything besides your business that you'd like to do while you're in London?" he asked. "Attend the opera? Visit the shops?"

He'd hoped that the mention of the shops might spark interest in her eyes, but she merely murmured, "No, thank you," then returned her attention to looking outside.

Pity hit him again, lodging a lump in his throat. Within months of each other, he'd lost his beloved father, and then Nate-a man who'd been more than a longtime family servant. He'd been a dear friend. Yes, he knew the horrible, aching loss that death brought. But how wrenching it must be to lose the one person you love above all others. What had she been like before her husband's death?

He tried to force his gaze away from her, but in truth, he found her appearance unexpectedly… compelling. Something about those huge, dark-lashed, brandy-colored eyes, with their golden depths reflecting such haunted melancholy-it was almost painful to look at her, yet impossible to look away.

His gaze drifted down to her mouth, and he watched in fascination as she worried her full bottom lip between straight, white teeth. Bloody hell, the rest of her might look like a grieving widow, but that incredible mouth looked stolen from a courtesan. He instantly recalled brushing his lips over hers, and that punched-in-the-gut sensation he'd experienced.

An aberration, he told himself firmly. Any man with eyes would agree her lips were lovely. Besides, he always felt that way when he kissed a beautiful woman. No, you don't. You've never felt anything like that before.

A frown creased his brow, and he forced his gaze away from her to stare at the passing scenery. Damn it all, this was turning into one bloody long ride. And he suddenly had a sneaking suspicion that this day or two in London with Mrs. Brown was going to feel more like a decade or two.

When they arrived at the elegant Bradford town house, Allie breathed a sigh of relief. Normally she did not mind silence, but somehow the lack of conversation with Lord Robert had become uncomfortable. The blame, of course, rested squarely on her shoulders, and she made a mental vow to be more polite once she'd taken care of her business and could concentrate on something else. Of course the "something else" would certainly not be Lord Robert, but she would at least find it easier to make conversation once her mind was free.

After alighting from the coach, he escorted her through an elaborate wrought-iron gate, then into the stately brick town house. Standing in the black-and-white marble-tiled foyer, Allie tried not to gape at the luxury and elegance surrounding her, but she was not the least bit successful. Hundreds of glittering prisms reflected from where the sunlight touched the largest chandelier she'd ever seen, casting the cream, silk-covered walls with tiny starbursts of sunshine. Corridors fanned off to the left and right, and a wide staircase curved gracefully upward. It was incredible to think that her hoydenish childhood friend now lived amidst such luxury.

An image of the lovely house she'd shared with David flashed in Allie's mind. The high ceilings, freshly painted walls, the unexpected nooks tucked into cozy corners. Nothing as grand as this, but she'd loved every inch of it… until she'd learned it was bought with lies and deceit.

The sound of Lord Robert's voice yanked her attention back to the present. "Mrs. Brown will be a guest for several days, Carters," he was saying to the butler who stood at stiff-shouldered attention. "I'll send off a note to the family informing them of the change in plans."

"Yes, Lord Robert. I shall have Mrs. Brown's belongings placed in the green guest chamber. Shall I arrange for tea?"

"Yes. In the drawing room, please. And please see to it that water is heated for a bath for Mrs. Brown."

Carters bowed, then turned smartly on his heel and departed.

"This way." Lord Robert inclined his head toward the right, then led her down the corridor. Her head bobbed back and forth, trying to take in the exquisite porcelains set on cherry-wood tables and the collection of paintings lining the walls.

"This is a beautiful home."

He grinned. "It keeps the rain off Austin's and Elizabeth's heads." He halted at a wide oak door, turned the knob, then indicated she should enter.

Allie stepped over the threshold and a pleasure-filled sigh escaped her. Sunshine poured into the room from the tall windows on the far wall, highlighting the warm, golden hue of the entire room. Her gaze skipped around, absorbing everything at once. Pale yellow walls. A brocade settee and a pair of gilded wing chairs arranged around a marble fireplace. Gleaming oak parquet floor dotted with two spacious Persian rugs. An ivory-and-gold escritoire. A pianoforte nestled in the corner.

"Lovely," she murmured, her shoes tapping against the polished floor, then sinking into the carpet as she crossed the room. Her gaze riveted on the gilt-framed painting hanging above the fireplace, and a lump lodged in her throat. It was Elizabeth, wearing a simple ivory gown, sitting in the midst of a lilac-strewn meadow, with several kittens and a puppy prancing around her. An auburn tendril drifted across her cheek, as if blown by a spring breeze, and her face expressed sheer happiness along with an unmistakable whiff of mischief.