evening to know the way things are between you and Stourbridge,” she added kindly. “The sooner the two of you are married the happier I shall be!” Angelina’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh, but—” “The Duke of Stourbridge, my lady,” the butler announced while standing in the doorway, only seconds before Alexander himself strode forcefully into the room.
Angelina was only vaguely aware of the butler withdrawing and closing the door behind him, her attention all on Alexander as he crossed the room to bend and place a kiss upon one of his aunt’s powdered cheeks. He looked every inch the haughty duke this afternoon, his hair tied back meticulously, his dark blue jacket and paler blue waistcoat impeccably tailored above cream silk breeches.
At last, Alexander turned to look at Angelina, frowning darkly as her lashes instantly fanned down onto the paleness of her cheeks and so hiding her expressive blue eyes from his gaze.
“What have you been saying to Angel in order to cause this uncharacteristic demureness, Aunt?” he drawled ruefully, his gaze unrepentant as Angelina’s lashes rose instantly so that she might give him a censorious frown for his levity in the midst of a situation that was obviously causing his aunt some distress.
“I am afraid that your aunt is under the misapprehension that the two of us are to be married, Your Grace,” she informed him worriedly.
“Indeed.” He gave an inclination of his head.
“Yes,” Angelina confirmed breathlessly. “When you arrived I was just about to inform Lady Montague that I am intended as your mistress and not your wife!”
“Stourbridge!” his aunt prompted in alarm at the same moment as Alexander gave an uncontrolled shout of laughter. “I fail to see anything in the least amusing in this situation!” she admonished severely.
Alexander smiled ruefully. “That is because you are you and not me, Aunt.”
She looked scandalized. “Stourbridge—”
“Aunt Elizabeth—” he sobered, his narrowed gaze still fixed intently on the beautiful vision Angelina made in her cream gown “—would you be so kind as to allow Angel and I a few minutes alone in which we might converse privately?”
“Very well. But a few minutes only,” his aunt warned sternly as she rose majestically to her feet. “I am expecting dozens of visitors this afternoon, all of them anxious to meet and gaze upon the young lady who has succeeded in capturing the elusive Duke of Stourbridge’s heart!”
Angelina waited only long enough for the elderly lady to leave the room before rising sharply to her feet, her expression one of alarm as she beseeched. “Xander, you must put a stop to this instantly!”
“Must I?” he drawled mockingly.
“But of course you must!” Angelina chided impatiently. “Your aunt is under the misapprehension that the two of us are to be married. You must go to her and tell her the truth. That I am to be your mistress—”
“I have always found it wiser by far never to lie to my aunt Elizabeth,” he assured softly.
“But you would not be lying in this instance—What on earth do you mean, Xander …?” Angelina now eyed him guardedly.
Alexander’s eyes glowed as he looked across at her. As he took in the glorious gold of her hair. The pale beauty of her face. The depth of her blue eyes, the sprinkling of freckles upon her tiny nose and the full and sensuous curve of her lips. As for the fullness of her breasts …! She really was the most exquisite creature.
St. Claire House, the place Alexander had called home all of his adult life, where he had always been perfectly at his ease, had seemed empty and cold today without Angelina’s warmth and laughter in it. All of which had told Alexander exactly what his future relationship with Angelina must—had—to be!
He drew in a ragged breath. “I mean, my dear Angel, that it is my intention to marry you at the earliest opportunity.”
She gasped. “Xander, you cannot possibly mean to marry me simply because your aunt expects it of you!”
He gave a pained wince. “I do not recall ever saying that was my reason for marrying you.”
“But of course it is the reason—”
“You claim to know my thoughts and emotions so well, then?” he mused.
Angelina frowned her consternation with his behavior. “Of course I do not,” she assured agitatedly. “But I have been … tutored, groomed, these past three years for the role of your mistress—”
“Not at my bidding, I do most fervently assure you!” he rasped. “Not that I am complaining, you understand?” he added gently as Angelina recoiled at his vehemence. “On the contrary—to date I have found your … tutorage more satisfying than anything I have ever before experienced. So much so, that after only a few hours of being apart from you, I find I wish to repeat it every day—and night—for the rest of my life.”
Angelina gave a confused frown. “I fear you must explain yourself better than that, Alexander.”
“You have only been with my aunt Elizabeth a matter of hours and already you are starting to sound like her!” His smile was rueful. “Yes, my dear Angel, I have no doubts whatsoever that you will make a formidable Duchess of Stourbridge,” he added appreciatively.
“Duchess—!” she gasped”—What on earth are you doing, Xander?” she protested as he fell to one knee in front of her.
His eyes glowed darkly gold as he looked up at her. “I believe, Angel, that I am endeavoring to propose to you. If you would be so kind as to allow me to proceed …?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“PLEASE RISE AND cease this nonsense at once, Alexander,” Angelina told him anxiously.
Not quite the response Alexander had been hoping for to his first attempt at a marriage proposal. His last, too, he hoped! “I assure you it is not nonsense, Angel,” he said gruffly, making no effort to stand. “It is perhaps a little soon in our acquaintance for you to know the state of your own heart—”
“Soon? Soon!” Angelina repeated incredulously. “We have known each other but two and a half days, Alexander.”
He raised dark, slanted brows. “During which time we have come to know each other as well, I believe, if not better, than most betrothed couples of the ton do on their wedding days!”
“Oh, please do get up!” Angelina clasped his arm and attempted to pull him to his feet. Unsuccessfully. “You must rise, Xander! What will your aunt think if she comes back into the room and sees you like this?” She shot a nervous glance toward the closed door. “I do not know her terribly well as yet, but I am sure she would not think it at all the thing for the Duke of Stourbridge to be down on his knees in this undignified manner!”
Alexander tried to hold back his amusement—he really did try—but in the end he failed miserably as a bark of laughter broke free, and then another, followed by yet another.
Angelina stared down at him incredulously. “Xander, have you completely taken leave of your senses?”
“Probably.”
