My Heart's Desire Read online

  Drake raised his somber gaze to Smitty’s. “Everyone. It was no secret. Anyone who had access to the stables would know I use that saddle for Jupiter.” He swallowed deeply, then looked back at the groom. “Thank you for coming to me with this, Winthrop.”

  The groom nodded. “I’m sorry ’bout this, yer grace. I ’ave no idea who would do such a thing.”

  “Nor do I. But I intend to find out,” Drake replied in a hard tone.

  Smitty closed the door carefully behind the retreating head groom, then turned back to Drake.

  “Do you know what this means?”

  “It means that someone is trying to kill me.”

  They stared at each other as the full impact of Drake’s words struck them.

  Smitty walked toward Drake and sat down in a chair. “The question, your grace, is who?”

  Alex was humming as she left the drawing room, and the chattering women, behind. She could not concentrate on their idle gossip, for her thoughts were still of the fall Drake had taken. Even though she had left him barely ten minutes past, she decided to check on him again, just to assure herself he was as well as he professed to be.

  She walked lightly up the stairs, heard herself humming, and smiled. The fear she had felt earlier served only to remind her how very much Drake meant to her, how deeply she loved him. She grinned, thinking of their easy banter. It had been months since they had been able to tease each other so freely. She was healing, Alex realized. At last she was healing. Soon they would be able to talk. And then, perhaps, forgiveness would follow.

  On the second-floor landing she passed Winthrop, who was on his way down. He was visibly upset.

  “Hello, Winthrop,” Alex greeted him. “Is everything all right?”

  He jumped. “Oh … yer grace, forgive me. I didn’t see ye.” He managed a weak smile. “’is grace is doing well. I just left ’im,” he assured her, then bolted down the steps.

  Alex looked after him in surprise, then shrugged. He was probably just shaken by Drake’s close call. And he had said that Drake was all right. She continued on her way, her heart feeling lighter than it had in months as she neared Drake’s bedchamber. She could hear the deep cadence of his voice, followed by Smitty’s quiet replies. Her hand was on the door handle when Drake’s next words made her freeze in her tracks.

  “You know, of course, that this casts a whole new light on the destruction of La Belle Illusion,” he said grimly. “Apparently you were correct in your assumption that the men were not to blame for missing their target.”

  “That does not surprise me, your grace,” Smitty answered. “I suspected that the powder must have been tampered with. But it never occurred to me that it was an attempt to murder you. I suspected a traitor to Britain. But now …”

  “Yes … now,” Drake echoed thoughtfully. “Now it appears that someone would like to do away with me. Badly enough to murder a whole crew of men in order to accomplish it.” He paused. “And badly enough to try again in my own home by cutting the strap of my saddle.”

  “Dear God …” Smitty whispered.

  Alex repeated his words silently. She leaned against the wall outside the room, feeling the hallway spinning around her. Someone had tried to murder Drake—not once, but twice.

  Memories of the fateful naval battle sprang to Alex’s mind in vivid detail. She had been there, on the main deck, when the men had tried time and again to hit the American ship. She had heard their cries of surprise, of confusion, when their cannon volleys fell short each time. Unknowledgeable about sea battles, Alex had given it no further thought. But now she realized that Drake’s crew was of the finest caliber. Their aim could not have been consistently poor. The only explanation was that the gun powder had been weak—too weak to propel the balls to their target.

  And Drake’s accident today. He and Smitty were saying that the strap of his saddle had been cut. That explained Winthrop’s strange behavior on the stairs. He must have discovered the treachery. Someone had gotten into the stables and tampered with the strap in the hope that it would break, causing Drake to fall to his death.

  Someone wanted Drake dead. And that someone was here at Allonshire.

  Smitty heard a soft thud just outside the door. Hurriedly he opened it and gasped as he saw Alex’s crumpled body on the polished floor of the hallway.

  “Smitty? What is it?” Drake was standing, walking toward the doorway as Smitty stooped over Alex’s body.

  “It’s the duchess. She has fainted.”

  Drake nearly knocked Smitty over in his haste to reach Alex’s side. With his uninjured right arm he gathered her to him and, with Smitty’s assistance, carried her into his room. By the time he had laid her on the bed her eyelashes were fluttering open.

  “Drake?” She felt confused. Why was she lying on the bed when he was the one who was injured?

  He smoothed her rumpled hair off of her face. “Are you all right, love?” His dark face was tight with concern.

  “Yes … I’m fine. Why?” She wished she could get her bearings.

  “Apparently, you fainted just outside my bedroom.”

  A cold wash of memory slapped her in the face, and she gasped.

  “What is it, princess?” He was watching her face carefully, trying to assess how much she had overheard of his conversation.

  In a fraction of a second Alex decided not to let him know that she had heard. He had enough to concern himself with, without worrying about her as well. She needed time to think, to plan her strategy. It never occurred to her not to get involved; this was Drake’s life, and she would protect it with her own.

  She smiled weakly. “I suppose it is the excitement of the day—first the party and now your accident.” She took a deep breath and sat up. “I’m fine … really I am. I was just on my way to make sure you were all right.”

  He studied her face carefully. She was so pale. It worried him. He stroked his thumbs across her cheeks. “These have been difficult months for you, haven’t they, princess?” The tenderness in his voice was so real that Alex found it hard to remember when he had called her by that name in mockery of her way of life.

  “They’ve been difficult for all of us,” she answered lightly, standing up. The room was still wobbling a bit, and she blinked to stabilize it.

  Drake caught hold of her arms. “I think you should take your own advice, princess.”

  “What advice?”

  “I want you to lie down and rest until dinner.”

  “But our guests …” she protested.

  “You will have plenty of time to entertain our guests this evening.” Alex knew that firm tone, just as she knew it would be useless to argue. Besides, she needed time alone to sort out everything she had just learned.

  She nodded meekly. “Very well. I will go to my chambers.”

  “I will send Molly up at once,” Smitty announced, hurrying out the door.

  Drake wrapped his right arm around her waist and guided her to the door. “I’ll take you to your room.” He led her across the hall.

  “It’s really not necessary, Drake.”

  “Humor me,” he answered, drawing Alex into her room. “I will feel better knowing you are safe in your bed.”

  He stayed with her until a clucking Molly scurried in to prepare her mistress for a nap. She gaped at the duke’s half-naked state, turning several shades of pink and red.

  “I’ll let you rest now,” Drake told Alex quietly, his eyes twinkling at Molly’s predicament.

  Alex nodded and yawned, suddenly overwhelmed by sleepiness.

  Drake grinned. “Sweet dreams, princess.” He walked toward the door.

  Alex stared at his retreating back; the corded muscles that rippled across his broad bare shoulders, the powerful thighs that were emphasized by his buff riding breeches. A flood of feeling washed over her as she realized how close she had come to losing him.

  How much she loved him.

  “Drake … ?” She didn’t realize she had said his n
ame aloud until he turned to give her a questioning look. Without a word she went to him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed her forehead against his strong chest.

  “Princess?” He lifted his hand to stroke her hair. She knew she wasn’t making any sense to him, but it didn’t matter. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, that she needed him, that they would resolve their problems. But Molly was standing just behind her, muttering disapprovingly under her breath. Now was not the time.

  Alex raised her face to look up at him. “Are you certain you are not badly hurt?” she whispered. He gave her a slow, devastating smile, then leaned over and touched his lips lightly to hers. “Get some rest, sweetheart,” he murmured, for her ears alone. “Later tonight, when our guests are all asleep, I’ll show you just how totally I’ve recovered.”

  She smiled back until the door closed behind him. Then she allowed her mind to begin working, trying to solve the terrifying puzzle of who wanted Drake dead.

  When Molly had gone, Alex lay down, fighting the sudden need for sleep that tugged insistently at her body. She had to think this through … to determine who was behind the attempts on Drake’s life.

  Anyone could have tampered with the gunpowder. There was no way to narrow down the possibilities. She frowned, forcing her eyes to remain open. But the saddle … Very few people had access to the stables. She refused to consider the servants. Never had she seen a more loyal and dedicated group of employees, not even at Sudsbury. That left the guests … and the family. The family was more preposterous than the servants; so that left the guests.

  What did any of the wealthy, influential people present at Allonshire have to gain by causing Drake’s demise? It didn’t make sense. Yet it had to be one of them. No one would suspect a member of the ton to be guilty of murder. She certainly couldn’t accuse any of them.

  But then, none of them knew they were suspected of anything. Drake would never tell them that his fall had not, in fact, been an accident, but an attempted murder. Therefore, the true culprit would not feel threatened. He might be caught off guard. Alex smiled slowly. It was time to utilize all the charm and feminine wiles that she had been taught but had disregarded all these eighteen years. What was it they said about catching more flies with honey?

  She yawned again, rubbing her eyes in annoyance. Why did she suddenly require an afternoon nap? She had no patience with physical weakness. Yet, today alone, she had experienced several dizzy spells, been seized by acute nausea, and had fallen pray to the hateful female practice of swooning. She was not under that much stress.

  It struck Alex suddenly, like a blow. Tossing the bedcovers aside, she rose and, in the same movement, tugged her chemise off and dropped it carelessly onto the floor.

  The afternoon sun peeped through the draperies, casting more than enough light on Alex’s naked body as she stood before the mirror. Slowly she ran her hands over the contours of her body, staring at her reflection as if seeing herself for the first time. Her breasts were heavier than normal, the nipples having darkened to a deep rose color. She continued her exploration, smoothing her palm over what had been the concave surface of her stomach. She felt the slight rounding with a sense of awe and amazement.

  How could she have been so blind? She had been so preoccupied, so utterly consumed with her own emotional turmoil, that she had paid little attention to her physical self. And each night, when she and Drake came together, it was always in the dark, for neither of them was ready to read what was in the other’s eyes. Now she frantically searched her mind, realizing that she had not bled in over four months … since her marriage to Drake.

  Alex closed her eyes as the realization took hold, the absolute knowledge inserted itself in her shaken mind.

  She was pregnant with Drake’s baby.

  Chapter 27

  THE BALLROOM WAS VIBRANTLY aglow, the brilliant chandeliers scattering fragments of light, the highly polished floor reflecting the golden cast of the gilded ceiling. Liveried footmen scurried about, seeing to refreshments and pouring champagne into crystal glasses for Allonshire’s guests.

  Alex sipped at her champagne, watching the twelve people who laughed, talked, and danced in the elegant room. They had dined at seven o’clock; then everyone had gone on to the ballroom to continue the festive evening.

  The men had been introduced to Alex at dinner, and despite Drake’s disapproving frown, most of them still hadn’t taken their eyes off her. In a flowing gown of rich red satin trimmed with delicate lace at the low-cut neckline and along the edges of the full skirt and sleeves, she looked like a radiant and majestic queen.

  She felt, however, as if she might spill out of her bodice, and judging from the interested looks she was receiving from the gentlemen, she was not far from wrong.

  Satisfied that she was unobserved, she gave a dainty squirm and a discreet tug at the uncooperative, square-cut neckline. It didn’t budge. This particular gown had not been designed for a woman who was almost four months pregnant. She gave a resigned sigh just as a smooth masculine voice sounded from behind.

  “Never have I seen a more beautiful woman.”

  Alex turned cool gray eyes to Sebastian’s admiring face. “Never have I met a man more well versed in ineffective flattery,” she responded pointedly. Her tone was light; her gaze was not.

  Undaunted, he gave her a charming smile. “Not flattery, Alexandria, but fact. Surely you know how desirable you are to men?”

  Alex considered tossing the contents of her glass into his arrogant, suggestive face, but she had no time to make a scene or to dodge Sebastian’s amorous flirtations. Tonight she had a special mission.

  “Sebastian,” she asked softly, careful to retain her brightest smile, pretending to be enjoying a most delightful conversation, “have you not learned that desiring something and acquiring it are two very different things? Remember that even the loveliest of roses has thorns with which to protect itself.”

  He leaned closer. “And if the thorns are plucked?”

  “Then the rose has no choice but to connect its knee to the appropriate part of the offending male’s anatomy,” she purred.

  Sebastian gaped, then covered his shock with a hollow laugh. “You are by far the most outspoken female I have ever met.”

  “Now that I will accept as a true compliment, sir,” she replied, prepared to end their conversation and resume mingling with her guests.

  Sebastian caught her arm. “How is my brother feeling? Any ill effects from his accident?” The question was casual enough, but his gaze was oddly penetrating.

  Alex glanced across the room to where Drake was chatting with Eric Ravensley. Her husband looked breathtakingly handsome tonight in a black dress coat that fit snugly across his broad shoulders and a contrasting white waistcoat. Above his frilled shirt was Smitty’s handiwork—a perfectly tied white silk cravat that made Drake’s tanned face and raven hair seem even darker in comparison. He laughed at something Eric was saying, exuding that inexplicable, charisma that made Alex weak. Even from this distance, Alex could feel the unique magnetic allure that was Drake’s alone and was responsible for devastating women’s hearts effortlessly.

  She realized that Sebastian was watching her expressions with great interest. Schooling her features, she replied, “As you can see for yourself, Drake is unharmed. He did suffer a dislocated shoulder and some minor cuts, but that is all.”

  “He is quite lucky, then. He could have been killed.”

  Again, Alex added silently. There was something about Sebastian’s tone, a certain sarcasm, that riled her. She drew herself up to her full height, prepared to defend her husband. “Luck had little to do with it, Sebastian. Drake is a splendid horseman. He made certain his fall caused minimal injury to himself and none to Jupiter.”

  Sebastian raised his glass in a mock toast. “Of course. Drake is superb at everything he does. There has yet to be invented a skill at which he does not excel, a feat that he cannot accomplish—not to mention
a woman whom he cannot conquer. A most fortunate man, my brother.” He sipped at his drink.

  Alex had never witnessed such blatant envy within a family. There was no doubt in her mind that Sebastian wished nothing but ill for his brother. It angered and sickened her. She knew for certain that she could never confide in Sebastian her suspicions that someone was trying to kill Drake. He was no ally, but an adversary.

  Sebastian interpreted Alex’s dark silence to mean that his barb had hit its mark, that she was infuriated by the possibility that Drake might still have other women. Good. If his implication had made her doubt Drake’s fidelity it would drive her to his own bed that much sooner.

  Discreetly he brushed the bare skin atop her bodice with his fingers. “Do not look so mortified, my thorny little rose,” he soothed. “As I have told you before, I will always welcome your attentions. It is charming and refreshing to see so lovely a woman champion Drake’s cause. I much admire your display of loyalty.”

  Something inside Alex snapped. “Then perhaps you should acquire some yourself, you unprincipled snake!” She recoiled from his touch and walked off, not turning to see his reaction to her words.

  Sebastian looked thoughtfully, expressionlessly, after her. For now he would let her play her little game of indignant virtue. But in time she would be his.

  Alex took deep breaths to control her temper. She would not allow Sebastian to deter her from her purpose. Come hell or high water she would uncover the identity of the person who had tried to kill Drake.

  With a dazzling smile she approached Alicia and Stephen Lyndale, who were engaged in light, breathless chatter, having just finished a frolicking reel.

  “Oh, Alexandria,” Alicia said, still laughing. “This party is delightful! Stephen and I were just saying that it is a pleasure to enjoy a dance together without colliding with other couples. A small gathering like this one is a welcome change after the rapid pace of the Season and the cluttered house parties of the fall.”

  “I am pleased that you are enjoying yourselves,” Alex said with sincerity. She truly liked Alicia, and had taken to Stephen immediately as well. He was the only man in the room, save the elderly Lord Kensgate, who looked at Alex without lust burning in his eyes. In fact, Stephen was totally absorbed in his wife. The tender glances he bestowed upon Alicia revealed his obvious and deep love for her. Seeing their closeness, Alex felt a momentary twinge, of envy. How she wished Drake would gaze at her with such love.