Filed To Story: Alessia Mistaken as Mistress Book PDF Free
And, oh Lord, he’d be naked.
And wet.
She reached the door and tested the knob, hand trembling. It opened. She inched her way into the hall and stealthily closed the door, her frantic gaze darting up and down the corridor.
She was blessedly alone.
For the time being.
Grateful for the carpet that muffled her erratic steps, she made her way away from the wing as quickly as possible.
Mrs. Trent was awake, but working on her needlepoint when Alessia entered her room.
“He’s just begun to stir,” Mrs. Trent said, and if she thought it odd that Alessia had been gone, she said nothing.
For all she knew, Alessia was the young mistress of the house. She had every right to her freedom and to come and go as she pleased.
Alessia patted the letters in her pocket. She would read them when she was alone that evening.
She’d had a baby, but she’d never seen a naked man before. Alessia couldn’t look at Nicholas over dinner without picturing his muscled backside and well-molded torso and shoulders. The memory inspired a darting little flame that quivered in her stomach, then spread up through her chest and filtered the heat of embarrassment to her cheeks.
No matter how hard she concentrated on the roast lamb and the conversation about the accident at the foundry, she couldn’t shake the image of all that glistening flesh and muscle. How wondrously a man was created…and all that hidden beneath his clothing. Alessia studied his charcoal-gray serge suit and bright white shirt with new respect.
Mercy!
Alessia remembered the unfathomable way he looked at her from time to time, and wondered if he had the same thoughts about her! Surely not! He thought she was his sister-in-law!
“Claire?”
At the sound of his low-pitched voice, she glanced up.
“Will you come to my study after dinner?” he requested.
Her throat grew tight. What did he want? Had he discovered she’d been in his room? Had he found the letters missing? “Yes, of course.”
“Are you feeling all right, dear?” Leda asked. “You’re quiet this evening, and you’re flushed.”
“I feel fine,” Alessia hastened to assure her.
“You’ll learn to live with the loneliness,” the older woman said. “You will find other things to occupy your days and your thoughts as time passes. And there is quite a let-down feeling after the birth of a baby that has nothing to do with losing Stephen.”
Alessia nodded in agreement and kept her eyes lowered. It was almost unfair how many excuses she had for her moods, her silence, her very presence here. As Claire she had an excuse for everything.
As Alessia Thornton she was responsible for all the lies and deception. Life as Claire was a lot easier.
Mrs. Pratt took away her untouched dessert.
“Are you ready to join me?” Nicholas asked.
Alessia’s heart jumped, and she nodded.
“Mother? Care to join us?”
“No, thank you, darling. Gruver is taking me to the Austins’ for a cribbage game.”
“See that he stays and waits for you.” He kissed his mother’s cheek and escorted Alessia through the house to his study.
“Will the smoke bother you?”
She looked up to see the narrow cigar between his thumb and forefinger. A gentleman always asked a lady’s permission, and Nicholas was above all a gentleman. “No. My father smokes a pipe.”
“Smokes? It was my understanding that your father was dead.”
She wanted to bite her tongue. “He is. I meant to say he smoked a pipe.” And before he could grill her any further or torture her with waiting to know what he’d asked her here for, she asked, “What was it you wanted to discuss with me?”
Kneeling casually before the fire, he lit his cigar with a piece of kindling. The rich aromatic smell of fine tobacco filled the room. He stood and faced the flames.
Alessia’s distracted mind carried her back to the shocking vision of him through the keyhole. She would never be able to look at this man the same way again. Once again warmth flooded her chest, but this time it sank to her abdomen and created an unsettling, restless feeling.
He turned to face her. “I want to discuss the responsibilities I touched on last time we spoke.”
“All right.” She seated herself in the wing chair farthest from the fire. She was warm enough already.
“As Stephen’s wife and William’s mother, you have obligations to the family.”
Alessia waited for him to continue, knowing intuitively he had another test planned.
“Stephen didn’t always live up to his responsibilities,” he said.
Why did he always find it necessary to tell her of Stephen’s shortcomings? “Perhaps it was your expectations he didn’t live up to.”
“Stephen owned just as much of Halliday Iron as I do,” he bit out. “He shirked that responsibility.”
The full impact of his words and his resentment resounded like cannon fire, and she felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. She hadn’t grasped the entire reason why Nicholas didn’t trust her. “Exactly how much of Halliday Iron did Stephen own?”
“A third. Mother and I own the other two thirds. Upon her death, her third was to be divided between Stephen and I.”
The money. This was all about the money Claire and her child would have inherited. “And now that Stephen is dead? What about his third?”
“As if you didn’t know.”
“How could I know? I haven’t spoken with anyone but you and Leda, and neither one of you have told me.”
“And Stephen didn’t tell you?”
“Stephen didn’t plan to die!” She heard the disgust in her voice, and knew he’d heard it, too. “His married life had just begun.”
His dark-eyed gaze traveled her hair and face before he abruptly turned and flicked an ash into the fireplace. “William inherited Stephen’s third. When Mother dies he will inherit half of her third as well. Half of Halliday Iron will be his.”
Of course. Stephen planned well for the welfare of his wife and child. One thing she was certain of: Stephen and Claire had loved each other deeply. Why wouldn’t Stephen have wanted to make certain Claire and their baby were secure if anything should happen to him? “He wasn’t so irresponsible, after all, was he?” she said, unable to prevent the smug little smile that surged to her lips. “He saw to it that his son would be taken care of.”
His deep brown eyes shot sparks.
“And-” she stopped herself from saying ‘Claire’ “-me?” she asked. “Where do I figure in?”
Nicholas gave her a look that could have lacerated even the thickest skin. “You have accounts set up in your name. They’re paid into annually from company profits.” He blew smoke into the air. “Are you going to tell me you weren’t aware of this?”
Anger welled in Alessia’s chest on Claire’s behalf. How dare this man accuse the kindhearted woman she’d known briefly of the underhanded manipulation he was suggesting! “Would you like to come out and accuse me of staging a train wreck to get at Stephen’s money?”