Forever My Love(69)

"Surely not," Mira protested, knowing that Berke­ley wouldn't refuse his wife anything she truly desired. "Well, he might not forbid it," Rosalie conceded after a moment's thought, "but I do know that he would insist upon accompanying me, which would spoil things altogether. I can picture what it would be like to try to talk with Brummell, who is so easily upset anyway, with Rand in the background scowling at us both."

"I see what you mean," Mira said, and they ex­changed a wry smile.

"The reason I'm telling you all of this," Rosalie continued, "is that I received word from Brummell yesterday morning that he is coming to England in a few days, and this will probably be his last visit. He is coming to speak to his attorney about some secret funds of his that still exist in London, and also to talk with a publisher about a book he has been writing on costume and dress. He is the acknowledged expert on the subject, and perhaps the proceeds of the book sale will help to cover his debts and expenses."

"How are you going to manage seeing him without Lord Berkeley's knowledge?"

"The same as the previous times—I'll tell Rand I'm visiting my mother, who lives in a terrace house in Lon-don. But this time, I'd rather not go alone. Would you consider—?"

"I would like to accompany you," Mira said.

Rosalie visibly glowed with pleasure. "I'm so glad! Thank you. You will enjoy meeting Brummell, I as­sure you." She closed her eyes briefly, as if trying to suppress an overwhelming tide of excitement. "I'm going to see my father soon," she whispered, as if trying to convince herself that it was true. "I could die of happiness. It's been so very, very long since I've seen him. You must think it's terribly odd of me to love someone I barely know," she said huskily.

"Not at all," Mira replied, looking away and biting her lip. "Not at all."

After a pleasant but unmemorable supper at Bed­ford House, the guests retired to the ballroom, which was flanked on either side by small orchestras. Now unencumbered by Lady Georgiana Bradbourne, Alec was officially considered to be the most eligible bache­lor in London, and the inconvenience of such a posi­tion was forcibly brought home to him as the evening progressed. He could not look around without meet­ing the inviting glances of scores of women. He had not engaged in a single conversation that failed to include probing questions about his romantic life, his intentions toward this woman or that, his future plans for marriage. Fielding the barrage as best he could, Alec began to wonder if he would be hunted in this way for the rest of the winter.

"It will get even worse when the Season begins," a voice intruded on his thoughts, and Alec turned to meet the clear, intelligent eyes of Lord Melbourne.

"Explain, if you please," Alec said, allowing a faint smile to cross his mouth. He liked Melbourne for his frankness and easy laughter. Melbourne was a states­man who thought whatever he liked and said whatever he thought, but he was so engaging that even when hisopinions were displeasing, he was still respected and regarded with affection. Tact and honesty were rarely so comfortably combined in one person.

"You're done for," Melbourne remarked laconically, waving his white hand gracefully. "Come spring, you won't last a week. They'll be after you like seamen around a harpooned whale. I would bet my fortune that you'll be married within a year."

"Risk your fortune on a worthier cause," Alec said, his eyes sparkling with laughter. "I have no intention of marrying anyone."

"Dear fellow, you'll have no choice. No man ever intends to marry, yet sooner or later most of us end up that way. Curse it. I didn't intend to marry anyone either, and yet one morning when I awakened I dis­covered that the woman sleeping next to me was my wife."

"And so ended the pleasant dream of bachelorhood with the rude awakening of matrimony?"

"Exactly," Melbourne said, about to continue when his eyes fastened onto a sight beyond Alec's back. His face froze. "Good God," he said softly, a small inden­tation of confusion appearing between his sandy eye­brows. "Who is that? I thought it was…"

Alec turned and cast a quick glance at the man who had just walked in. His fingers tightened around the glass of port he held, and then he returned his atten­tion to Melbourne, who was rapidly recovering himself.

"That is Carr Falkner. Late as usual," Alec said lazily, his attitude relaxed although his eyes were hard. "Just returned from a long trip abroad. Holt's younger brother, about twenty-two or so."

Melbourne nodded, his handsome face flushed slightly. The likeness between Carr and Holt must have startled Melbourne to no small degree, since he was usually one to maintain his composure at all times. "I was acquainted with your late cousin," Melbourne said quietly, "but lamentably not with his immediate family. I had no idea that he had a younger brother who resembled him so closely."