Seduced by a Scoundrel by Barbara Dawson Smith Page B

charm he’d used to win over a vulnerable woman. But like it or not, she would have to endure his presence in her life. She knew her duty. She had taken him on the requested tour of the house—his house now. He had behaved with perfect courtesy, though she trusted him about as far as she could throw the contents of a chamber pot.
    “His name is Drake Wilder.” She bit her lower lip and tasted the metallic zest of blood. Earlier, she had forced herself to pen a note to Lord Hailstock, informing him of the news. Now she must tell her mother. “You’ll be seeing more of Mr. Wilder from now on. Today … we became betrothed.”
    Those papery eyelids blinked. Like clouds parting to blue sky, Lady Eleanor’s drowsy eyes grew slowly lucid, focusing on her daughter. “Alicia?” she said wonderingly. “Did I hear you right? You are to be wed?”
    The elegant, aristocratic voice startled Alicia. Overjoyed by the transformation, she sank to her knees beside the bed. “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, Mama. Mama. ”
    Her eyes brimming, she smiled at her mother. She never knew when to expect these rare episodes of sanity; they might last mere moments or long, treasured hours. But why now? Why when she didn’t dare pour out her fears and uncertainties?
    The countess groped for Alicia’s hand. “My darling girl, that is wonderful news. Who is this Mr. Wilder? Why haven’t I made his acquaintance?”
    “It all happened rather quickly,” Alicia said evasively. “I suppose you could say we had a whirlwind courtship.”
    Her mother’s brow pleated. Horror flirted with her fragile features, and she raised herself on one elbow. “Oh, dear. I’ve been drifting again, haven’t I?”
    “You’ve been … ill. But I’m sure you’ll feel better now.”
    “What day is it? What month?”
    “April the eleventh.”
    “Dear heaven. Last I recall, ’twas Candlemas Day and Gerald brought me the most beautiful bouquet of snowdrops.…” Sinking back onto the pillow, the countess shook her head in despair. “God have mercy. Whatever is happening to me?”
    Willing her hand not to tremble, Alicia stroked her mother’s slender forearm. “You’ll be fine,” she soothed. “You’re weary, that’s all, and it’s difficult to focus your mind. Close your eyes now and rest. I’ll answer all your questions later.”
    The countess’s eyelids drooped. “Such a sweet daughter you’ve always been. I don’t mean to be a burden.”
    “You’re not! You’re my pride and joy,” Alicia said fiercely, leaning down to kiss her mother’s pale cheek. The faint comforting fragrance of lily of the valley clung to her skin. “How ridiculous to think otherwise.”
    “I am silly, aren’t I? Your papa always teased me about my fancies.” A dreamy smile smoothed the lines of tension from Lady Eleanor’s face. She shifted onto her side and rested her cheek on her folded hands. “In the morning, we must plan your nuptials. And you must promise to invite your betrothed here to meet me. If you love him, then so shall I.”
    “Of course,” Alicia said woodenly.
    “It shall be the event of the Season. Gerald will escort you down the aisle at St. George’s. You’ll carry lilies trimmed with white satin ribbons…” Her voice drifted off, and her breathing became quiet and regular with slumber.
    A familiar twist of melancholy encircled Alicia’s heart. She couldn’t be certain her mother would even remember the news come morning. The countess’s recollection of the distant past could be sharp and clear, while present events often slipped through her muddled awareness like water through a sieve. Though perhaps in this case, her tendency to forget was a blessing. Heaven forbid Mama should learn the true circumstances behind the marriage. Or the brutal nature of the man Alicia intended to marry.
    Before the Season is out, you’ll come begging to share my bed.
    Too restless to sleep, she snatched up the candlestick and hastened to the