She watched Mr. Runyon from underneathher lashes, wondering again why he wished to marry her. It didn’t reallymatter of course, since she had no intention of actually becoming hiswife. It was a pity, since Mr. Runyon would likely make an excellenthusband for any woman. He was kind, possessed a quick mind and wit andwas thoughtful and intellectual. Exactly what Alexandra, had she anydesire to marry, would wish for in a husband. She glanced again at thetoo perfect room. An ugly thought crossed her mind. Stubbornly, shepushed it aside.
Alexandra reached to the table before herand casually picked up the book on India she noticed earlier. Flippingopen the front cover, she noted that the binding of the book was stiff, as ifit had never been opened. The sherry made her bold. “Are you enjoyingthis book on India, Mr. Runyon? I’ve read several on the Far East.The area is of particular interest to me. I’ve heard all sorts of talesof Macao – what a wicked place it is. Have you –“
“Alexandra!” Her unclesputtered. His moon-like face took on a horrified look.
Mr. Runyon’s turned pale cold eyes toher. A light purplish flush crept up from the top of his cravat, ruiningthe perfection of his skin.
What had she said? Both menregarded her as if she committed murder.
“I beg your pardon, Runyon.” OdiousOliver apologized. “My niece speaks before thinking. This is what comesfrom overeducating women. Letting them read and have opinions.”
Mr. Runyon took a deep breath and pinchedthe bridge of his nose. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment as ifcomposing himself before addressing Alexandra.
“Mr. Runyon?” She leaned forward inconcern. She put down her sherry.
“I’m sorry, my dear.” His eyes opened andhe smiled kindly. “My stomach can be contrary at times and I fear thatthe sherry,” he swished the dark liquid in his glass, “does not agree with meon an empty stomach. Shall we?” He stood and offered his arm toAlexandra. “A bite of food and some of the excellent Madeira I’ve chosen fordinner will no doubt put me to rights.” He patted her hand and leanedcloser. “And I find your opinions on everything quite to my taste.”
Alexandra stood and bit back the retortshe was about to fling at her uncle. She didn’t wish to upset Mr. Runyon.Soon. Soon she would reach Mr. Meechum. Mr. Runyon would assisther. Then she would be rid of Odious Oliver and return to her belovedHelmsby Abbey. She lowered her eyes afraid her thoughts would show as sheallowed Mr. Runyon to lead her to the dining room, in as docile a manner as shecould muster.
***
What a lovely dinner! Alexandraswayed slightly with the movement of her uncle’s carriage as they pulled awayfrom Mr. Runyon’s elegant home. The conversation over dinner ran thegamut of politics, art and history. Alexandra delighted in showing offher knowledge, especially enjoying her uncle’s discomfort. Oliver hadlittle to contribute. Her uncle was ill suited to any type ofconversation that didn’t involve food or drink. She knew he detestededucated women. She quoted Plato just to annoy him! Odious Oliver sat interror all evening, fearful that her display of intelligence would put off Mr.Runyon. Alexandra absolutely adored watching the fat man fidget.
The carriage hit a bump and she floppedback against the squabs, giggling to herself as her head spun a bit. Mr.Runyon kept her glass full of Madeira all through dinner while regaling herwith tales of his travels. The name of the wine escaped her just now, somethingSpanish, but it tasted delicious, like ripe blackberries. Wine was never servedwith dinner at Helmsby Abbey. Her aunt thought it a luxury. A pity.Wine gave one such a different view of the world, a wonderful feeling oflightness, and whimsy. She decided that when she returned to HelmsbyAbbey, wine with dinner would be a necessity.
An excellent host, Mr. Runyon kept theirconversation flowing, asking for her opinions on various topics. Sheenjoyed his company immensely. Perhaps sheshouldmarry Mr. Runyon. Heseemed to value her and she would never lose control with a man like Mr.Runyon. He was nothing like Lord Reynolds, the dark Marquess, who madeher want to throw off her clothes, and act wanton. And Mr. Runyon hadn’t comparedher to an ill-tempered rodent all evening. She thought that a huge pointin his favor.
“You got on quite well with Runyon,Alexandra. He will make you an excellent husband. You’ll be welltaken care of.”
Her uncle’s words surprised her.First, because she was sure he cared nothing for her happiness, and second,because she assumed he had fallen asleep as soon as the carriage left Mr.Runyon’s elegantly furnished town home.
A self-satisfied smile stretched acrosshis face. “Well?”
Apparently the fat man wished her toconverse with him. She decided to have a bit of fun. “Yes, he’s quiteamiable.” Alexandra frowned a bit. She put a finger to her head.“Although, Uncle, he did tell me that when he agreed to the match, he did notrealize exactly how educated I was. He claims you failed to inform himcompletely.” Alexandra said in what she hoped was a demure manner,remembering her uncle’s disparaging remarks before dinner. “I hope it does notput him off.”
Her uncle sat up so quickly she thoughthis backside was on fire.
“What do you mean, girl? Put him off? Yougot on well at dinner.” Spittle formed at the sides of her uncle’s mouth.
Alexandra widened her eyes in an innocentmanner, enjoying her uncle’s dismay. “Oh, just that he said I was a bit moreopinionated then you lead him to believe. He said I didn’t appear to be, nowwhat was the word he used? Pliable. Yes! Pliable. He actuallyneeds a more pliable wife, although he certainly enjoys my company. I took thatto mean he thought me a bit too bookish for his taste.” Kind Mr. Runyon said nosuch thing to her. Her uncle, so consumed with eating everything on hisplate, missed most of the dinner conversation.
She could hear her uncle’s laboredbreathing, as if he’d run down the street. The wine emboldened her.“I’m sure he meant nothing by it, Uncle. After all, Mr. Runyon does notstrikemeas the type of man to go back on his word.” She smiled sweetlyat her uncle, even though she doubted he could see her clearly in the carriage.Alexandra thought this the best night she’d had since coming to London.
***
Oliver Burke watched his drunken nieceteeter up the steps of his town home. If he pushed her down the steps,her neck would snap, and he could end this ridiculous charade. Thefingers of his hand curled into a fist. He should have gotten ridof her instead of trying to marry her off. But that damn solicitor ofEloise’s checked on the girl at regular intervals. Oliver convincedMeechum that Alexandra wished to marry so the solicitor would advance funds forAlexandra’s debut. If she suddenly disappeared, suspicion would fall onOliver. Besides, now he needed her.
Had she put Runyon off? Oliverdidn’t think so. He’d tried to pay attention to their conversation thisevening, but honestly, talk of history and what Parliament voted on bored himto tears.
Sweat broke out on Burke’sforehead as he contemplated the exorbitant amount of money he’d lost to Runyonin faro. Runyon held Oliver’s fate in his hands. But Runyon wasdesperate, too. Estranged from his father, Runyon needed a bride ofunimpeachable virtue to present to his elderly father. Oliver did somechecking on Runyon. None of the families of thetonwould give him theirdaughters, and Oliver knew why. Runyon found Alexandra, his worthlessniece attractive enough to take her in payment of the debt. She wasperfect, Runyon said, for his needs.
Oliver watched Alexandra ascend thestairs and wave goodnight to him. He prayed for her to trip. Shelooked smug. Assured. Little bitch! She wouldn’t be so confidentonce she was married to Runyon. He waddled down the hall to hisstudy. An evening of his niece’s company and his acting her concernedguardian called for a drink. Perhaps he could induce Tilda to joinhim. He had known Tilda for near twenty years, when she had been a ginwhore near the docks. She was never too busy to spend some time withOliver.
He walked into his study and ignored the chippedfurniture and the worn Persian rug. Eloise. This was all herfault. What remained of the Dunforth money, even Helmsby Abbey, should behis. Eloise’s only use to him had been her money. Why else would he havemarried her some squire’s daughter in Hampshire?
Oliver smoothed back the few strands ofgray hair that sprang across his eyes. How he hated Eloise. Twoyears ago, Oliver snuck back to Helmsby Abbey to see his wife as she lay dying.He spent his monthly allowance almost as soon as he received it. Hewas tired of the duns beating a path to his door. Tired of begging Eloisefor money. Her father, crafty old bastard, hadn’t trusted Oliver completely.Eloise held the purse strings. But that was about to end. Oliverwould inherit everything. He would never have to ask her for money again.Eloise, pale and smelling of the sickbed, laughed at him. “Noteverything,”she’d croaked.
Oliver took out a handkerchief and moppedthe sweat from the top of his lip, pausing to run a finger through his mustacheand twist the ends into points. The action helped calm him. Oliver detestedbeing laughed at. Before he realized it, he had a pillow over his dyingwife’s face. He just wanted to shut her up. He didn’t mean toactuallykill her, but he felt no remorse that he had. Just joy. He rodeas fast as he could back to London, neither Alexandra or the staff at HelmsbyAbbey even knew he’d been there. Oliver received notice of his wife’s death thenext afternoon and promptly visited Meechum & Sons for the remainder of theDunforth fortune. Mr. Meechum informed Oliver that while he, Lord Burke, wouldcertainly receive a vast sum, Helmsby Abbey and the remainder of the Dunforthmoney was Alexandra’s upon reaching her majority. Oliver heard nothing afterMeechum said “vast sum”. He directed the solicitor to send the money toOliver’s bank account. Burke cared nothing for his niece and even less forHelmsby Abbey and thus pushed them both out of his mind. He walked out ofMeechum and Sons without a second thought, already spending the Dunforth money.
