An Impossible Attraction. Brenda Joyce

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he was gone, Corey whispered, “I think we should leave.” She was pale with distress.

      Alexandra faced her, a firm smile in place. “We will not cry over spilt milk, we will merely clean it up.”

      “These people are hateful,” Corey continued in a whisper. “Who cares about being at this party?”

      “Everyone is not hateful. A handful of these women are mean-spirited, that is all. Wasn’t it nice to see Lady Harrington and her daughters again?” Blanche Harrington had been kind and concerned, and her daughters had actually seemed pleased to renew their acquaintances. Sir Rex had been equally magnanimous. “And, Corey, you remain the interest of several young gentlemen here.”

      “I don’t care,” Corey said, meaning it. “When can we leave?”

      Alexandra exchanged a glance with Olivia and caught her staring at the same blond man she herself had noticed earlier. Her heart clenched. Whoever that gentleman was, he was not for her sister. “Who is that?”

      Olivia flushed. “I don’t know. I overheard someone saying he’s been in the wilds of America for the past two years.”

      Alexandra sensed her sister’s interest, and she took her hand and squeezed it sadly. Then she looked at Corey. “We can’t leave this early. That would be grossly insulting to our hosts. And it would be rude to the squire, as well.”

      Corey was grim. “I know,” she said. “But one can hope, can’t one?”

      “I think we should try to resurrect this evening—and enjoy the next few hours,” Alexandra said.

      Her sisters did not buy her optimism for a moment. Olivia said, “Where is Father?”

      Alexandra froze. She hadn’t seen him in an hour, and no good could come of that. If he was drinking, she would wring his neck when they got home, and this time she meant it. She could not bear any more disgrace. “Maybe we should look for him,” she said, setting down her cup of tea.

      Olivia pinched her—hard.

      As she did, Alexandra felt his stare. She inhaled hard, tensing. The sensation of being watched by the Duke of Clarewood was unlike any other. And slowly she turned.

      It remained unbelievable that she had almost fainted and that he’d caught her before she collapsed. It remained as impossible that he’d been gallant—and that he had even flirted with her. Just as impossible was the fact that a moment later she had caught him staring closely at her, as he was doing now. Their gazes locked.

      Her heart leaped, lurched and then raced wildly.

      She could not quite breathe.

      He was speaking with several gentlemen, but his gaze was most definitely on her, at once confident and intense. Alexandra knew she would never forget the feeling of being in his strong arms. As for his interest, she was fairly certain she knew what it signified.

      He was unwed, and so was she—but she was not in his league. She was too old for him, too impoverished, the family name too disreputable. His interest could mean only one thing.

      She was stunned, but also dismayed.

      “That is Clarewood,” Corey breathed, clearly in awe and, just as clearly, having no comprehension of the situation.

      “I am in his debt,” Alexandra said tersely. She glanced at Olivia, who stared back. Surely Olivia understood that he would never be interested in her in any honorable way. And she still couldn’t fathom his interest, not even in any dishonorable way. Why did he find her interesting? There were many beautiful women in the room. And then, from the corner of her eye, she saw their father heading toward them.

      She froze. He was lurching. She had prayed things would not get worse, but clearly her prayers had gone unanswered.

      Olivia saw him, too, and she gasped. Then, “Now we have to leave.”

      There was nothing Alexandra wished to do more. However, running now, with their tails between their legs, would leave a terrible impression. “The two of you stay here. I am sending him home, and I’ll be back in a moment.”

      Olivia’s regard was imploring. “Why?”

      “I don’t think Denney has noticed how foxed Father is. And we are staying until the squire is ready to leave—we are his guests.”

      Edgemont swayed toward her, grinning. “My beautiful daughter! Are you enjoying yourself?”

      She took his arm, moving him into the corner. “You promised not to imbibe.”

      “I haven’t. Alexandra, I swear. Not one drop.”

      “You reek of whiskey, and you’re staggering,” she accused. She was livid, but even more, she was humiliated and dismayed.

      “I did not take even one drop of whiskey,” he slurred. “’Twas gin.”

      “And that makes it better?” She looped her arm firmly through his, but even so, he almost fell on her. She hit the wall, flushing, his weight too heavy for her to bear. “You have to leave, Father. You cannot remain in such a state.”

      “Too shoon to go, my dear. There’sh cards in the game room.” He tried to push her away and almost fell again.

      Alexandra knew that they were being remarked. She seized his arm and tried to get him to stand upright. As he stood up, swaying, she did not know if she would ever forgive him for this.

      “You’re having a good time, aren’t you?” he asked, grinning.

      “Yes, I am having a splendid time,” she snapped, wondering if she should try to drag him bodily from the room. She did not think she was strong enough to do so.

      “Good.” He suddenly pulled free of her and crashed into the wall himself. “Whoops.”

      Furious, her cheeks on fire, Alexandra seized his arm and threw it over her shoulders. “We are leaving,” she said, trying to speak as calmly as possible, no easy task when she was furious.

      “Don’t want to go,” he said, balking. “Cardsh.”

      She looked at him, and when he smiled back at her, she wanted to cry. So this was how he was once he left the house every night? It was simply heartbreaking. And the most heartbreaking part was that she was certain that, had her mother lived, his propensity for alcohol would have never become so out of control.

      “May I?” the Duke of Clarewood asked.

      She went still. Then, her father’s weight half on her, his arm over her shoulders, her hair now coming down in absolute disarray, she looked up.

      His brilliantly blue gaze met hers. There was no scorn on his handsome face, no condescension. He seemed suitably grave, and in that moment he seemed like the Rock of Gibraltar.

      Alexandra felt her heart explode. “I beg your pardon?”

      “May I be of some assistance?” He sent her a dazzling smile.

      It

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