An Affair Downstairs Page 14

  “Yes,” she called out on a moan, urging him deeper. He added a finger and continued to stroke her fiery nub with his thumb. She fell to the blankets and spread her legs wider. He fell atop her, his hands parting her wider.

  “Remember, this is what you wanted,” he said before lowering himself, his gaze never moving from her. “It might hurt.”

  He was all tenderness now, entering her slowly. Welcome as the pain had been only a moment ago, the intensity of it took her by surprise and she gasped. He froze.

  She cupped his buttocks. “No. Go on. Please. All the way.”

  “All the way,” he repeated, easing completely inside her.

  She released her breath, the pain more bearable until it was barely anything at all. Her muscles clenched around him. “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  He stroked her cheek, her forehead, her hair, until she began to move with him again, savoring the feel of him, every inch. Their urgency increased as they rocked faster, in unison. His fingers laced with hers. The fire flamed up inside her, spreading and filling her with overwhelming heat, lightning in a bottle.

  He called her name and the bottle broke, shattering around her in shimmering fragments that danced behind her dazed eyes.

  “Logan.” He remained atop her, fingers laced with hers, until their ragged breathing steadied.

  With a sigh on his lips, he rolled off her to sit beside her as his breathing returned to normal. She placed a hand on his back. He hadn’t wanted to do it, she knew, guilt starting to rise. She’d pushed him until he’d had little choice. For a man who valued his principles, he must feel some sense of disappointment in himself. Her temporary feeling of triumph dissolved to remorse.

  “It is what I wanted, Logan. I thank you. One day, you’ll see that you did me an incredible honor. I’ll always treasure the memory.”

  He turned to her with a smile that did not look at all forced. “I hope you never regret it. I wish I could say that I did, but…I find that I don’t. You’ve reminded me what it is to be truly alive. I think I’d almost forgotten.”

  His candor surprised her and flooded her with relief. No regret. No remorse. He got up and walked to the door.

  “Logan?” she called after him, worrying when she heard the sound of the door opening and relieved when it closed again a minute later. He padded back across the floor with bare feet, his hands full of snow. He placed it in a small pile by the fire, then ripped a corner off the blanket with his bare hands. She had no idea what he had in mind until his hands were on her, gently smoothing over her feet and legs with the damp cloth. He inched up toward her mound and tenderly rubbed between her legs, cleaning all traces of him from her. The simple act was so stirring, so achingly sweet and considerate, that she found herself on the brink of tears.

  This was Logan Winthrop, the kind of man who would always care for others before he took time for himself. And she loved him. But she had to let him go. Nothing could change the fact that he would always be her first lover, and she was glad. She’d chosen well.

  He covered her with the blanket, wrapped himself in the tarp, and stood to check on their clothes. “Almost dry. Another hour or so.”

  “Come back to bed.” She patted the blankets beside her. “Even with the fire, it’s still cold. We’ll be warmer together.”

  “I’m not the kind of man who can take intimacy lightly.” He sat beside her. “You said that you don’t want to marry, but I will marry you, Alice, if your sister grants her approval. I know she was hoping for a title and a grand estate, but she’ll always have you close, at least.”

  She smiled and reached out for him. “Ever dutiful. Of course you would marry me. Thank you for saying so. No, Logan. I’m sorry. It’s a lovely offer, and if I ever planned to marry, maybe. But I meant what I said. I have no intention of ever marrying. I have an inheritance, not large but quite enough, and I plan to see the world.”

  “You really don’t plan to marry?” He sounded honestly surprised, like her choice had never occurred to him as a genuine possibility. “Never?”

  “I don’t want a husband. I have my independence, so why would I? It’s why I wanted to do this. I really wanted to know love once, and I’m so glad I’ve done it with you.”

  He still looked shocked. “I see.”

  She laughed. “Am I too modern for you? I’m sorry. But you don’t want to marry me, either. Not really. We’re much alike that way, happiest on our own.”

  “Are you? Are you really happy?”

  “I am.”

  “I’m glad for you, then.”

  “We’re still friends?” She raised a brow. “Your friendship means the world to me. I hope that in doing this, we haven’t lost that.”

  “Friends.” He nodded and slipped into the blankets beside her. “Though, I’ve never had a friend who felt so good beside me.”

  “Get some rest, Logan. I have a feeling you’ll be very busy come morning.”

  ***

  Rest? As if he could rest knowing he’d taken her innocence, and she had no intention of marrying him. Not that he wanted to get married. Did he? No. She was right. She was better off on her own. He didn’t rule out the fact that she would find someone more suitable and change her mind. But perhaps he could breathe a little easier knowing he hadn’t damaged her, to her way of thinking. Alice was the kind of woman who would not rest until she got what she wanted. She wanted to make love to him, but she didn’t want his love. So be it.

  It was a beautiful dream, though, Alice in his bed every morning, greeting each day with her ebullient laughter. She’d given him a reprieve from the darkness he carried inside him. It was time that he stopped letting the terrible weight of his past drag him down. But how could he see Alice every day and resist the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless? He turned to face her, sweet Alice, her back to him, already asleep. He put an arm around her and pulled her close, determined to make the most of the little time they had left.

  He woke some time before dawn and went to the window. All was dark and quiet. The full moon reflected off the snow. Deep, but not impossible. He dressed in dry clothes and then woke her.

  “Sweet Alice, the time has come.”

  “Mmm.” She tugged the blankets tighter around her. “Can’t we stay a little longer?”

  “I dare not. I would like to get you home before morning, when Finch will certainly sound the alarm if I don’t report back on your safety.”

  She sat up. “The last thing we need is a frantic countess. How much snow did we get? Will we be able to get back to Thornbrook Park?”

  “Come, it’s quite a sight.” He held a hand out to her. Not as lovely a sight as his Alice rising from sleep, her glorious red hair hanging loose about her pale white shoulders. He thought of the Botticelli painting he’d seen in books, The Birth of Venus. But she was more Artemis than Venus to Logan. She would always be his huntress, and he her very willing prey.

  “It’s extraordinary, Logan, every branch heavy with snow, the world done over in pure white. How deep do you think it is?”

  “We had over a foot the other day, and it looks like we have another eight inches on top of it. It will have compressed down. We’ll manage. I’ll tend the horse while you dress. I hope he stayed warm enough through the night.”

  By the time he got her back to the Dower House and headed for Thornbrook Park, the sun was beginning to rise. Grady didn’t ask many questions when he returned the horse, but Logan had a feeling Mr. Finch would be more curious.

  “Good morning, Mr. Winthrop.” Finch met him in the kitchen. “I trust all is well? I expected to hear from you before bed last night. I confess, I was a tad uneasy about you and Lady Alice.”

  “Lady Alice is well. She was at the pond, but she had the good sense to seek shelter at the old McGinty place. I stayed with her there through the worst of it. Thank goodness I had the hearth repaired. We were able to build a fire.”

  “Thank goodness indeed.”

  “No need to mentio
n it to anyone. I believe the young woman was embarrassed at her lack of judgment, waiting too long for her suitor to show up. She will be relieved at your discretion in not alarming the whole house.”

  Logan was surprised at how easily he lied, but it was more that he wasn’t telling everything than that he was dishonest. What had happened between him and Alice was no one’s affair but their own.

  “Have some breakfast, Winthrop. You look tired. Perhaps take the morning off.”

  “I will take some time once I check on the lemon trees in the conservatory. They were looking worse for wear after the drop in temperature, and I have my doubts they’re going to survive through the winter.”

  He allowed Mrs. Mallows to make him some eggs and coffee, though it was early for the servants to eat. Up with the dawn, they usually worked until eight in the morning before having a chance to sit down briefly. Logan was shocked by his own hunger. He ate like a man who couldn’t get enough. He ate like Alice, he thought with a laugh.

  “Mrs. Mallows, thank you. Your eggs have never tasted better. I’m a man restored.”

  She smiled at the compliment and went on about her work. Expecting that disaster awaited him, Logan went to check on the lemon trees.

  ***

  Alice was careful not to wake Agatha on the way to her room. She was grateful that Mary was not yet up and about for the day. Her plan was to sleep a bit, give Mary time to start on Agatha’s breakfast, and then request a bath. She ached in places she’d never ached before, but it was a delicious secret pain. She was truly a woman, able to check off one of the things to accomplish on her list.

  But doing it once and moving on was not as easy as she’d supposed. Logan stayed on her mind. To see him again would be to want him again, and she couldn’t afford for him to get caught. She would not be responsible for Logan losing his position.

  And now she had Lord Ralston to contend with. On the way home, she’d finally asked Logan how he’d known where to find her. He told her about Finch’s message. He knew Ralston had taken Alice to the pond on their ride, and he could only assume that was where they’d planned to meet. Good sense led him to check the only possible nearby shelters, and there she was. Alice wasn’t sure anyone else would have known where to look. Logan was attuned to her fate, as Agatha would say.

  Alice had taken a lover. She imagined how shocked her sister would be. She wondered if she should seduce Lord Ralston next, to know how one man compared to another in making love, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not so soon after Logan. Logan was the only one she wanted now, and she would consider herself lucky if they could find a way to be together again.

  She supposed she would have to turn Ralston down gently. Then again, perhaps he had already rejected her. He’d made a date and then hadn’t turned up. Had he been stuck in the snow? Or perhaps he had made plans with another. Lady Matilda Furbish? Alice had already decided to ride with Ralston in the Holcomb fox hunt, provided they still held it with all the snow, but Matilda could have him after the hunt. Alice didn’t want to take any more of the earl’s time without intending to marry him. It wouldn’t be quite fair.

  It seemed equally unfair to leave a catch like Ralston in the hands of a mousy, boring girl like Matilda. She had no conversational skills and nothing to mark her as interesting besides her family name and money. Obviously, Ralston’s aunt preferred the match, but why? Why did it matter to Alice? Ralston could handle his own affairs.

  She knew her sense of competitiveness was rearing up and that would be her undoing, as Agatha had once predicted. Alice couldn’t bear for people to think Ralston preferred another woman. She wanted to be the one to turn him down, and she wanted everyone to know she’d been the one to turn him down. The idea of being jilted left a sour taste in her mouth. She would use the fox hunt to at least build the reputation of being in demand.

  Thirteen

  In a week, she hadn’t managed to bump into Winthrop once. It was as if he remained two steps ahead of her at all times. Could he be avoiding her? Alice supposed she couldn’t blame him if he was. But the truth hit her unexpectedly when she was talking to Sophia at breakfast one morning.

  “With Winthrop gone home, who is to say what will happen to the lemon trees? Sturridge says they’re hanging on, but I would much prefer that Winthrop return to tend them. Gabriel’s mother will blame me if they don’t survive.”

  “What do you mean, gone home? Thornbrook Park is his home. I thought he had some dark secret in his past that prevented a return to his family.” Suddenly, Alice wished she knew where Logan’s family home was. They’d never talked about it.

  “His brother has taken ill, poor man. Winthrop rushed home to be at his side. I had no idea he had a brother to rush home to, but Gabriel says they have kept in occasional communication all these years.”

  “How long has he been at Thornbrook Park?”

  “Five, maybe six years. The previous agent retired and recommended him. His brother is a baron. Did you know?”

  “I’ve heard, yes.” She wondered why he hadn’t at least told her that he was leaving. They were friends, were they not? “How long will he be away?”

  “Until his brother is out of the woods, I imagine. If his brother doesn’t improve, I suppose Winthrop will become Baron Emsbury and we’ll have to look for a new estate manager.”

  “Is it as bad as all that?”

  Sophia shrugged. “I imagine it can’t be all that good. It’s the first time Winthrop has left us in all these years.”

  “I suppose,” Alice agreed. Winthrop, a baron? She knew he had the ability to live up to any title, but did he have the desire? She’d never bothered to ask what he dreamed for himself. Did he wish to leave Thornbrook Park? Was he not happy with his lot? She could have been a better friend. “I hoped he would be here for the fox hunt. I wanted his advice in hunting etiquette.”

  “Gabriel will stay by you, and Grady will be on hand as well. Poor little fox. Do you suppose it will be easier for him to hide now that most of the snow is melted? Red fur would certainly stand out in all the white.”

  “It will be easier on the horses without the snow. I care more that we avoid injuries among the riders and horses than that our fox gets away unharmed. What’s one fox to dozens of men and horses? And women,” she corrected herself. Matilda Furbish would be riding, or so she’d heard from Lady Holcomb. And probably the Sentledens. They welcomed any opportunity to show off, except perhaps for June, who no doubt was eager to cater to the wishes of her fiancé, Brumley, poor thing. She was cornered more surely than the fox.

  “Speaking of the hunt, be sure Mary packs your things,” Sophia reminded her. “We’re to leave this evening.”

  “The hunt isn’t for two days yet.”

  “Did I forget to tell you?” Sophia smiled, clearly pleased with herself. “When the Holcombs were here for dinner, they invited us to stay for a few days. I agreed for us all, of course.”

  “Knowing this would keep me in proximity to Lord Ralston. Oh, Sophia, really.”

  “He’s a good match. You said yourself that you like him. Why should Matilda Furbish get all the advantages?”

  “The Furbishes are staying over, too?”

  Sophia nodded. “Unfortunately, yes, but don’t worry. Mattie is such a droll, toady little thing. She’s nothing to you.”

  “Perhaps Lord Ralston likes droll.” Alice had always found Miss Furbish more dull than droll.

  “Lady Holcomb likes her, for some reason. I suppose it’s the enormous Furbish fortune, but Ralston doesn’t need it. He has plenty of his own.”

  “I don’t care about his fortune.”

  “You shouldn’t. Leave that to me. Your job is to just relax for once and allow yourself to fall in love with the man. He has much to recommend him. I don’t know what’s taking you so long.”

  “Taking me so long to fall in love with him? I’m sorry. I’ll move it up on my list of priorities.” Alice couldn’t possibly fall in love with Ralst
on when she remained preoccupied with Winthrop.

  Besides, Ralston freely admitted that he’d allowed himself to be distracted by his aunt and a luncheon with Matilda Furbish instead of meeting Alice at the appointed time for a date that he’d made with her. She could have died out in the cold if not for Winthrop. She hadn’t quite forgiven Ralston for his neglect, and she wasn’t sure she ever would. Even if she did secretly thank him for putting her in a position to get exactly what she wanted with another man.

  ***

  Winthrop was at his brother’s side when the fever broke. He’d hardly left John’s room the entire time he’d been at Stratton Place, and not strictly out of devotion. Logan had a strong desire to avoid running into young Grace, or any circumstances that would require him to explain his role in her life or his absence.

  Better she had no idea that he’d come. John and Ellen had adopted her as their own, and they were far better parents to her than anyone could be—with the exception of her own mother who’d died giving birth to her. Through Mrs. Leenders, the nurse, Logan had made sure that Grace knew about Julia and how much she’d loved Grace even before she was born. As far as he was concerned, Grace didn’t need to know the rest. No doubt she’d heard of him as the villain in her parents’ story, and he didn’t mind assuming the role as long as it kept her from the unfortunate truth.

  “John.” He refreshed the cloth on his brother’s clammy forehead and waited for some sign of recognition. John’s eyes were open but struggling to find focus.

  Eventually, he pinned his gaze on his brother. “Logan? Is that you?”

  “It is. Let me ring for Barnett to inform Ellen that you’re awake.” Uncertain what had caused John’s sickness, Logan had tried to keep Ellen and their daughters from the room as much as possible. No sense in all of them becoming sick. The doctor had finally declared it to be a very strong case of bronchitis and had started John on the proper medication.