ever met and he fell hopelessly in love with her. They say that your resemblance to her at that age is very strong, Miss Broseley, and as soon as I saw you I realised how my grandfather must have felt.’
There was a long silence. Seeing Alicia’s complete inability to reply in kind, Caroline Oxley came to her rescue.
‘A pretty compliment indeed for my friend, sir!’ she observed pertly. Her smile encompassed the whole group. ‘Pity me that the Marquis of Mullineaux has always viewed me as a sister!’
Mullineaux relinquished Alicia’s hand reluctantly and joined in the general laughter at this.
‘Allow me to tell you that you look very fine tonight, Caro,’ he offered, with a smile.
‘Pah, a paltry piece of flattery!’ she replied, with laughing disgust.
‘Then you must rely on Marcus for the necessary compliments, I think,’ Mullineaux commented with a sideways glance at his friend, Marcus Kilgaren. He drew up a chair beside Charles Oxley and the conversation became general again, but Alicia was all too aware of that dark, intense gaze resting thoughtfully on her face from time to time. Her heart was still beating erratically and she felt a frightening breathlessness. Well, she had been warned. She was not to believe a word he said.
Later, Mullineaux cut Peter Weston out for a dance with her and continued to pay her the most outrageous compliments whilst doing so. Alicia had regained sufficient composure to parry his comments quite effectively, but it was proving quite impossible to remain indifferent to him. She was young and fresh from the country and whatever her sensible intentions had been she was hardly proof against the sheer overwhelming magnetism of the man.
What was perhaps more surprising was that James Mullineaux, cynical and notorious breaker of hearts, should have found himself so genuinely drawn to her. Yet he had felt exactly the same as she had. Alicia had known that from the first moment he had looked into her eyes. The feelings wrapped themselves around her again as she slept. It had been recognition and danger, excitement and warmth, security and elation, all mixed up together. It had been perfect…
Alicia woke with a start. The damp and heavy bedspread had somehow managed to tangle itself around her in her sleep and was pressing down on her like a shroud. She struggled out of it and discovered that her face was wet with tears. The warmth of the dream fled, leaving her feeling cold and bereft. Shivering a little, Alicia crossed to the chest of drawers and washed her face again. There was a bitter taste in her mouth and she felt a little sick. The inn was quiet and the storm had died down, no longer battering the corners of the building. The candle had burned down and the room was dark and lonely.
The dream was still in her mind and all thought of sleep had fled as she contemplated the past. What a naive innocent she had been in those days, convinced that because she and James loved each other all would be well! Her father had had different ideas. To him, Alicia’s undeniable beauty and social lustre had just added to her value as a marriageable asset. He had never had any intention of allowing her to choose her own bridegroom. Summoned hotfoot to London by the news of his daughter’s imminent betrothal to one he considered entirely unsuitable,he had wasted no time in acquainting her with his alternative plan for her future.
Alicia stood by the window, staring out into the windy dark. She swallowed painfully. She had resisted his plans with all her strength, but the things that he had done to coerce her into finally agreeing to marry George Carberry were best left unremembered. Strangely, it was not her father’s brutal treatment which had distressed her the most, but the slow, lonely disillusionment about James Mullineaux…
At first, the pain of loss had been excruciating and she had not known how she would survive it. She had lain awake for night after night, going over in
There was a long silence. Seeing Alicia’s complete inability to reply in kind, Caroline Oxley came to her rescue.
‘A pretty compliment indeed for my friend, sir!’ she observed pertly. Her smile encompassed the whole group. ‘Pity me that the Marquis of Mullineaux has always viewed me as a sister!’
Mullineaux relinquished Alicia’s hand reluctantly and joined in the general laughter at this.
‘Allow me to tell you that you look very fine tonight, Caro,’ he offered, with a smile.
‘Pah, a paltry piece of flattery!’ she replied, with laughing disgust.
‘Then you must rely on Marcus for the necessary compliments, I think,’ Mullineaux commented with a sideways glance at his friend, Marcus Kilgaren. He drew up a chair beside Charles Oxley and the conversation became general again, but Alicia was all too aware of that dark, intense gaze resting thoughtfully on her face from time to time. Her heart was still beating erratically and she felt a frightening breathlessness. Well, she had been warned. She was not to believe a word he said.
Later, Mullineaux cut Peter Weston out for a dance with her and continued to pay her the most outrageous compliments whilst doing so. Alicia had regained sufficient composure to parry his comments quite effectively, but it was proving quite impossible to remain indifferent to him. She was young and fresh from the country and whatever her sensible intentions had been she was hardly proof against the sheer overwhelming magnetism of the man.
What was perhaps more surprising was that James Mullineaux, cynical and notorious breaker of hearts, should have found himself so genuinely drawn to her. Yet he had felt exactly the same as she had. Alicia had known that from the first moment he had looked into her eyes. The feelings wrapped themselves around her again as she slept. It had been recognition and danger, excitement and warmth, security and elation, all mixed up together. It had been perfect…
Alicia woke with a start. The damp and heavy bedspread had somehow managed to tangle itself around her in her sleep and was pressing down on her like a shroud. She struggled out of it and discovered that her face was wet with tears. The warmth of the dream fled, leaving her feeling cold and bereft. Shivering a little, Alicia crossed to the chest of drawers and washed her face again. There was a bitter taste in her mouth and she felt a little sick. The inn was quiet and the storm had died down, no longer battering the corners of the building. The candle had burned down and the room was dark and lonely.
The dream was still in her mind and all thought of sleep had fled as she contemplated the past. What a naive innocent she had been in those days, convinced that because she and James loved each other all would be well! Her father had had different ideas. To him, Alicia’s undeniable beauty and social lustre had just added to her value as a marriageable asset. He had never had any intention of allowing her to choose her own bridegroom. Summoned hotfoot to London by the news of his daughter’s imminent betrothal to one he considered entirely unsuitable,he had wasted no time in acquainting her with his alternative plan for her future.
Alicia stood by the window, staring out into the windy dark. She swallowed painfully. She had resisted his plans with all her strength, but the things that he had done to coerce her into finally agreeing to marry George Carberry were best left unremembered. Strangely, it was not her father’s brutal treatment which had distressed her the most, but the slow, lonely disillusionment about James Mullineaux…
At first, the pain of loss had been excruciating and she had not known how she would survive it. She had lain awake for night after night, going over in
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