Filed To Story: Alessia Mistaken as Mistress Book PDF Free
It had been months seen she’d been to the theater, since she’d been anywhere, and she planned to enjoy herself. Nicholas Halliday and his tests and his kisses be hanged. She gathered her skirts and stepped past him. “Not in the least.”
The production was one she’d seen done with more skill, but that didn’t lessen her pleasure over being there.
Edward Coughlin’s second wife, Elizabeth, was only a few years older than Alessia, a petite, vivacious brunette with a melodious laugh and her banker husband wrapped around her little finger. When their escorts disappeared during the intermission, Elizabeth seated herself beside Alessia and carried on an entertaining, if one-sided, conversation. The Coughlins had two young children, and Elizabeth was involved in a variety of women’s organizations.
“I’m having a charity luncheon for the Ladies’ Aid next week, Claire. You must come.”
“Thank you,” Alessia replied. Nicholas must have arranged this so she’d become involved. Or to gauge her reaction to society functions. “I’d love to.”
The men returned, the scent of imported cigars clinging to their clothing, and the theater darkened once again.
A few minutes into the act, Alessia glanced over and noticed Elizabeth cuddled against her husband, his hand lovingly holding hers. The intimate sight gave her a start. Not because she was shocked-she had already seen how much the couple cared for each other in spite of the difference in their ages-but rather because she recognized the grim jolt as longing. As loneliness. Their happiness made her feel all the more alone.
She had planned to have a loving husband one day. Her dreams had included an adoring man in her life, children to raise together.
What would happen to her and William once they left the security of the Halliday residence and name?
She would have to pretend to be a widow, otherwise they would be scorned wherever they settled. More lies. But she couldn’t provide a decent environment and education for her son if she lived the truth. No one would rent to them or hire her to work.
William would be her only family. And she was responsible to do the very best for him.
Staring blankly at the performers on stage, Alessia became aware of Nicholas’s gaze from beside her. She glanced over to find him watching her, and quickly banished her self-pitying thoughts.
“I should have realized this would be a painful reminder of Stephen,” he said softly, and to her astonishment, he took her cold hand and warmed it between his palms.
The sensation raised gooseflesh up her arm and across her shoulders, and she wanted to fold her entire body into his inviting warmth. Oh, but she was a pathetically desperate creature if she drew any measure of comfort from this hard-hearted man. Was she so love-starved that she’d accept attention from just anyone?
Let him think she’d been pining for Stephen. The ruse gave her an advantage she sorely needed.
Halfway through the next act, when he still hadn’t released her hand, a surprising question ran across her mind:
Or was he drawing comfort from her?
Alessia chanced a surreptitious glance at his profile. No. Surely not the great Nicholas Halliday, man of steel. Then again, she’d witnessed his tender moments with his mother, so she knew there had to be more to the man than he’d ever revealed to her.
She drew her gaze from his face and her hand from his. No. Everything he did, each action and word and plan had a motive. She was under his scrutiny and at his mercy at all times.
Do exactly what Claire would do, she reminded herself with strict caution.
That task would be so much easier if she only knew who Claire was.
They had reservations for dinner, and after the play ended Gruver drove them the short distance to the elegantly furnished restaurant the Coughlins had chosen. Alessia declined the wine, and sipped at a flute of white grape juice. Her full breasts decidedly uncomfortable, she wished she could excuse herself and leave without causing a scene.
Elizabeth entertained them with stories of their trip to Europe a few months before. She looked up with delight as several performers from the play passed their table. “Oh, I so enjoyed your performances this evening!” she said, gesturing to the party.
A willowy redhead came close and replied with a smile. “Thank you.” She wasn’t nearly as striking offstage with her makeup removed and wearing a camel-colored organdy suit.
The redhead, Patrice Beaumont, introduced the troupe and Elizabeth introduced their small group.
“Halliday?” a well-endowed brunette named Judith Marcelino questioned, moving to the front of the group. “Are you related to
Stephen Halliday?”
Nicholas appeared decidedly uncomfortable with the association. “Yes,” he replied, standing and hesitantly taking the hand she proffered. “I’m his brother.”
“I performed in one of Stephen’s plays in New York last winter,” she said. “We were all devastated to hear of his death. Please accept my sympathies.”
The others added their condolences.
“And
Claire, of course,” she said, stepping closer and leaning down to press her powdered cheek against Alessia’s. “Sweet Claire. You must be lost without our dear, dear Stephen. Tell me, what can I do for you?”
“Well, I-I-” Alessia stammered, hating the limelight, and wanting to bolt from the restaurant. “Nothing. Stephen’s brother is taking care of us.”
“Us?”
“Claire has a baby,” Elizabeth offered.
Judith’s pale green eyes inspected Alessia’s face and hair, then took stock of her dress. She reached for Alessia’s hand, and her thumb encountered the emerald bracelet. “What a lovely piece of jewelry,” she commented, and her assessing gaze slid to Nicholas.
Alessia pulled her hand away, experiencing sudden nausea. “Thank you.”
“Where are you from?” Judith asked, her narrow brows raised.
Alessia’s cheeks burned. She’d tried to lose her Boston accent, but the speech undoubtedly gave her away from time to time. “New York, mostly,” she replied.
“Ah, I do love New York. You meet the most interesting people there.”
“Thanks for coming to the production,” Patrice said with a wave, and the group departed.
Alessia didn’t look up again until certain they were gone. When she did, she met Nicholas’s flint-hard stare. “Did Stephen give you that bracelet?” he asked, low enough so the others couldn’t hear.
She shook her head and swallowed hard, fighting the nerves in her stomach. “It was my mother’s.”
His brows rose in surprise, and Alessia bit her tongue. She shouldn’t have said that. “Extravagant gift for a mill worker to give his wife,” he commented. “Or for a seamstress to buy herself.”
“It-it was in her family for years,” she replied quickly.
He lifted one dark brow as though he still didn’t believe her.
“Where do you think I got it?” she asked. “Do you think I stole it?”
“I don’t think you need to steal anything,” he replied, his tone lowered to a smoothly modulated accusation. “Who you were with before Stephen is your business, isn’t it?”
Slow anger whipped her senses to a barely restrained froth. “I don’t particularly care what you think. The bracelet was my mother’s. It’s all I have left of her, and it gives me pleasure to wear it.”
“You speak like your mother is dead,” Nicholas whispered.
His penetrating stare pinned her to her chair like a trapped moth. If Claire had a mother, he must wonder why she hadn’t contacted her! Heat careened though her body. Her stomach lurched. “I need to leave now,” she said abruptly. “I don’t feel too well.”
“But our food has just arrived.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not hungry. Just send me to the house and Gruver can come back for you.”
“Claire, that would be rude. The Coughlins invited us as their guests.”
She turned to Elizabeth. “Elizabeth, I’m sure you’ll understand if I need to leave right away. I’m not used to being away from William for so long.”