Thorpe watched her as she examined the things in the cabinet. Her face glowed as if lit from within, making her even more beautiful. He wondered if she would glow like that, her eyes soft and lambent, when she was making love. He knew, with a heat low in his abdomen, that it was something he would like to discover. Her fingers moved over the objects sensually, as though she gained as much enjoyment from touching them as from looking at them. Thorpe imagined the cool, smooth feel of the jade and ivory beneath her skin. He imagined, too, the warmth of Alexandras skin as she touched them, the softness and the faint texture, and the fire deep in his loins grew. This was a woman who used and enjoyed her senses, a woman who could dwell in the physical plane as easily as the intellectual. Nor did she try to hide her pleasure behind a cool mask of sophistication. She would be a passionate lover, he thought, as uninhibited in bed as she was in her speech, as eager to taste all the pleasures of lovemaking as she was to enjoy the beauty of his works of art.
Was she experienced? She was a woman of some wealth and position, at least in her country, and she was not married. Normally he would assume that she was, indeed, a virgin. But there was little that was normal about Miss Ward, he knew, and therefore he wondered if in this regard she flouted convention, also. It would be an interesting topic to pursue.
Alexandra laid the knife down with a sigh and looked around her one more time. They are all exquisite. Thank you so much, Lord Thorpe, for allowing me to see them. She smiled. I realize that I pushed myself on you quite rudely. I have no excuse except my intense desire to see your treasures for myself. You have acted in a most generous manner.
It was a pleasure, he responded truthfully.
Thank you. I should be leaving now. My aunt and mother will be expecting me.
You are visiting London with them? he asked, strolling with her out of the room and down the stairs.
Yes. Mama was somewhat reluctant to come, but I could not leave her behind. And Aunt Hortense would never have forgiven me if I had come here without bringing her, too. Besides, even in America, we have rules about what a young lady may or may not do, and generally I find it easier to obey them. Traveling by oneself is not one of the things one may do.
Miss Ward They were approaching his front door, and Thorpe found himself filling up with an odd feeling of loneliness. Would youthat is, I would be most honored if you would accompany me to a ball this evening.
What? Alexandra stared at him. The last thing she would have expected from him was this. He had been quite forward, of course, in the doorway of his study, but once she had made it clear that she was not a loose sort, she had assumed he would have no interest in seeing her again.
I am asking you to a dance. He had not planned on going to one, but he felt sure that he could pull an invitation to one ball or another out of the pile of invitations on his desk.
But I She realized that she wanted very much to go. She had little interest in London society, but the thought of dancing with Lord Thorpe set up a jittery, excited feeling in the pit of her stomach. But surely your hostess would not wish you to bring a stranger to her party. Someone uninvited.
A cynical smile touched his mouth. My dear Miss Ward, no hostess would object to my bringing whomever or whatever I wanted to a ball, provided it meant she was able to score the coup of having me there.
My, Alexandra said mockingly, it must be marvelous to be so important.
He let out a short laugh. You think me arrogant again. Let me assure you it is not self-importance, only an acquaintance with London Society. I am a hostesss prize for two reasons only. He held up his hand, ticking off the points. One, I never go to parties, therefore it is considered an accomplishment of the hostess to get me to come. Two, I am a prime candidate on the marriage mart, being both titled and wealthy. It matters not at all that very few of these same hostesses have any liking for or knowledge of me. In fact, I am considered something of a bad apple, but that is overlooked for the sake of my fortune.
Goodness. I dont know which is worse, your arrogance or your cynical view of the world.
No doubt that is why I am not a well-liked guest.
Alexandra had to laugh. No doubt. She hesitated, then gave a little nod. Yes. Yes, I would like to go.
ALEXANDRA LEANED BACK AGAINST THE cushioned seat of Lord Thorpes carriage, a small smile playing about her lips. She could imagine the look on her aunts face when she told her she was going with a lord to a London ball. Aunt Hortense, who had grown up during the war with England and the incendiary time period before that, had a deep-seated suspicion of Britain and all things British. Her dislike had only been strengthened during the last few years, when the British, in the midst of their war with Napoléon Bonaparte, had been stopping and impressing American sailors and impounding ships that were bound for France. Ward Shipping had lost a number of men and two ships that way. Aunt Hortense had been insistent upon accompanying Alexandra to London, stating flatly that she had to protect and help Alexandra, who would, in her words, be like a lamb among the wolves.
Of course, her dislike of the British was not as unswerving as that of Alexandras mother, who had argued steadfastly against her making the trip. Alexandra sighed. She didnt want to think about her mother right now. She turned her mind to what gown she would wear tonight.
When she stepped inside the front door, however, all such pleasant thoughts fled. One of the maids was standing on the stairs, crying, with another maid trying vainly to soothe her, while her mothers companion Nancy Turner stood apart from them, looking disgusted, her hands on her hips. From upstairs came the sound of pounding, punctuated by her aunts voice, calling, Rhea? Rhea? Let me in!
Mercys sake, child, stop all that blubbering! Nancy Turner exclaimed, her voice filled with exasperation. Youd think nobodyd ever gotten mad at you before.
The girls only response was to cry harder, and her companion said sharply to Nancy, None of her employers has thrown a teapot at her head before! Its not her fault. Its you and your heathen American ways, all of you.
Exactly what heathen American ways are those, Doris? Alexandra inquired icily.
Doris gasped and whirled around. When she saw Alexandra, she blushed to the roots of her hair and bobbed a curtsey. Oh, miss, begging your pardon. I wasthat is, I wasnt thinking clearly. Im that distracted. I didnt meanwell She wound down lamely in the face of Alexandras coolly inquiring expression. It aint what were used to, and thats a fact! she declared defiantly.
Presumably not, if it involves flying teapots. Thats not exactly accepted behavior in the United States, either. Alexandra turned toward her mothers companion, a sturdy American servant they had brought with them and who had worked for their family for years. Nancy?
Mrs. Ward didnt want her tea, miss, and she, well, flung it, but Im sure she wasnt aiming at the girl. You know Mrs. Ward couldnt aim that well. Nancy sent the snuffling maid a hard look. It wasnt even hotand I must say, I dont know what she expects when she brings a pot of barely warm tea to the missus.
Probably not to have it thrown at her, Alexandra said with a sigh. I take it that Mother is in one of her moods?