An Impossible Attraction. Brenda Joyce

turned. Stephen smiled coolly at him. As he discerned a challenge, Jefferson’s gaze narrowed.

      Julia whirled. “Stephen!” She took his hands and kissed his cheek. “I am so glad you are here. This is Mr. Tyne Jefferson, and this is my son, His Grace, the Duke of Clarewood.”

      “I am honored, Your Grace,” Jefferson drawled. But Stephen knew from the American’s tone that the man was not awed by him, or even impressed. “Mr. Jefferson. And are you enjoying my country?” Stephen returned, smiling. He gestured at the lavish room. “I imagine you do not attend many balls in California.”

      Julia stepped closer to Stephen and sent him a look that said very clearly that she was becoming angry with him.

      It didn’t matter. He had to protect her from disaster and heartache, at all costs.

      “No, we don’t have balls like this in California. The scenery here is quite a welcome change, as well.” Suddenly Jefferson looked at Julia, the gaze direct, and she flushed.

      Stephen was briefly shocked—and uncharacteristically speechless—by how obvious her feelings were for this man.

      “I am enjoying my stay here,” Jefferson added. “And I very much appreciate being invited to attend this ball.”

      Julia smiled at him. “It would have been remiss of me, sir, not to invite you to join me.”

      Stephen glanced sharply at her. What was she thinking? He turned back to Jefferson. “And what brings you to Britain?”

      The American seemed amused. “A personal matter, actually.”

      He had just been told to mind his own affairs, and he was not pleased about it. “Sir Rex told me that you have some business with Cliff de Warenne.” His uncle—Alexi’s father—had built up a global shipping empire over the years.

      “Stephen,” Julia said swiftly. “I know you wish to become further acquainted with Mr. Jefferson, but we have only just arrived. There are still a number of introductions I wish to make.” She was firm.

      Stephen knew he must stand down—for now. But he would begin an investigation of the man, and tomorrow, first thing, he would summon Julia to Clarewood to find out what she was doing by promoting an acquaintance with such a man. “Perhaps I can be of some help in your business affairs, for not only am I on good terms with the de Warenne family, I am well connected throughout the realm.”

      “Nice of you to offer,” Jefferson said, mockery in his tone but his expression as cool as a cube of ice. “And I’ll definitely think about it.”

      Julia gave him another warning look, but Stephen barely saw it. He wasn’t sure he had ever encountered such arrogance, and in spite of himself, he felt the dawning of a grudging respect for the American.

      “HERE, A SIP OF TEA will undoubtedly help,” Squire Denney said with concern.

      Alexandra smiled gratefully at him, aware that she was still being stared at and, at times, whispered about. She had not dreamed of such a reception to her first social event in nine years. No one had spoken with her since they had arrived at Sara’s birthday party other than her sisters, her father and the squire. She had done her best to pretend that all was well—she did not want to distress the squire or, worse, chase him off. But surely, once he realized what was happening and what society thought of her, he would flee.

      They’d been at Harrington Hall for about two hours, and her headache was so bad now that she’d finally confessed to feeling a bit under the weather. Denney was being kind. She had the feeling that compassion was a large part of his nature. “Thank you,” she said, accepting the tea and knowing he’d gone out of his way to find a hot cup at this hour.

      She took a sip. She felt as if she had been standing in that corner of the ballroom forever, but it was only nine o’clock. She wasn’t sure she had ever felt so humiliated. She couldn’t believe she’d been so naive as to think she could appear in society when she made a living as a seamstress now. As for the vicious gossip that she’d been jilted by Owen, she couldn’t bear to think about it. At least she could console herself with the truth. Even so, surely the squire would decide that he wanted a socially acceptable wife, ruling her out.

      She glanced at her sisters, dismayed. They should have been out on the dance floor; instead, they refused to leave her side. They should have been having the best time of their young lives; instead, they were anxious and frightened, and determined to defend her from further slander and prevent another disaster.

      Her glance wandered. And she knew she was looking for him.

      Her heart thundered. Her cheeks felt hot.

      “I will get you a small bite,” Denney said, his concern as vast as ever.

      Realizing he would leave her side for a moment, and that she might speak privately to her sisters, Alexandra nodded. “Thank you.”

      When he was gone, Corey whispered, “I think we should leave.” She was pale with distress.

      Alexandra faced her, a firm smile in place. “We will not cry over spilt milk, we will merely clean it up.”

      “These people are hateful,” Corey continued in a whisper. “Who cares about being at this party?”

      “Everyone is not hateful. A handful of these women are mean-spirited, that is all. Wasn’t it nice to see Lady Harrington and her daughters again?” Blanche Harrington had been kind and concerned, and her daughters had actually seemed pleased to renew their acquaintances. Sir Rex had been equally magnanimous. “And, Corey, you remain the interest of several young gentlemen here.”

      “I don’t care,” Corey said, meaning it. “When can we leave?”

      Alexandra exchanged a glance with Olivia and caught her staring at the same blond man she herself had noticed earlier. Her heart clenched. Whoever that gentleman was, he was not for her sister. “Who is that?”

      Olivia flushed. “I don’t know. I overheard someone saying he’s been in the wilds of America for the past two years.”

      Alexandra sensed her sister’s interest, and she took her hand and squeezed it sadly. Then she looked at Corey. “We can’t leave this early. That would be grossly insulting to our hosts. And it would be rude to the squire, as well.”

      Corey was grim. “I know,” she said. “But one can hope, can’t one?”

      “I think we should try to resurrect this evening—and enjoy the next few hours,” Alexandra said.

      Her sisters did not buy her optimism for a moment. Olivia said, “Where is Father?”

      Alexandra froze. She hadn’t seen him in an hour, and no good could come of that. If he was drinking, she would wring his neck when they got home, and this time she meant it. She could not bear any more disgrace. “Maybe we should look for him,” she said, setting down her cup of tea.

      Olivia pinched her—hard.

      As she did, Alexandra felt his stare. She inhaled hard, tensing. The sensation of being watched by the Duke of Clarewood was unlike any other. And slowly she turned.

      It remained unbelievable that she had almost fainted and that he’d caught her before she collapsed. It remained as impossible that he’d been gallant—and that he had even flirted with her. Just as impossible was the fact that a moment later she had caught him staring closely at her, as he was doing now. Their gazes locked.

      Her heart leaped, lurched and then raced wildly.

      She could not quite breathe.

      He was speaking with several gentlemen, but his gaze was most definitely on her, at once confident and intense. Alexandra knew she would never forget the feeling of being in his strong arms. As for his interest, she was fairly certain she knew what it signified.

      He was unwed, and so was she—but she was not in his league. She was too old for him, too impoverished, the family name too