Filed To Story: Alessia Mistaken as Mistress Book PDF Free
The thought of tearing up those stairs and giving her a piece of his mind struck him more than once.
Leaning against the mantel, he sipped his brandy. From the corner of his eye, he caught a movement and turned his head.
Claire entered the room with a swish of black satin, her limp more pronounced than usual as the evening grew long. Her cheeks were flushed a becoming rosy shade, and she appeared breathlessly lovely, as though she’d just danced a waltz instead of dealing with a drunken mother.
Having the guts to show herself to his guests, to him, was more than he’d anticipated. Nicholas fought the spark of admiration that flickered.
One by one, the others tried not to make an issue of her arrival, but gave up and glanced uncomfortably from one Halliday to the other.
Leda started to stand and go to her, but Claire halted her with the palm of her hand and a soft command. All eyes focused on Claire.
“I’d like to take responsibility for what happened earlier,” she said, her voice a little quavery. “I’m quite embarrassed. I don’t wish for my mother’s behavior to reflect on Nicholas in any way. He had no idea that she has a drinking problem.”
She glanced solicitously toward him, and he continued to stare.
“I won’t apologize for her. She’s been that way, well, for a long time. Since my-father died. But I apologize for my lack of responsibility, and the fact that I should have taken better care. I know Mrs. Gruver could have been seriously hurt or killed.” Her voice cracked on that word. “I can assure you that the rest of your stay will not be interrupted with any further unpleasantness.”
She looked at Leda. “Nicholas and Mrs. Halliday have been nothing but kind and gracious to me and my son. I owe them a great deal, and I’m sorry to have let them down.”
Her voice had grown soft. Those enormous blue eyes turned directly to him. “I hope you all can find it in your hearts to forgive me.”
Nothing could have taken the wind out of his sails faster. He detested being caught off guard. He hated not being in control of a situation. And this one was totally in her hands. She’d just won the hearts and the sympathy of each person in the room with her sincere voice and those big watery eyes.
It was damned near impossible to resist a plaintive appeal like that.
He’d appear the heel if he drew out her anguish. Oh, she was a sly one: confront him before all these people so he couldn’t rant and rave as he desired. The words and the fury boiled deep inside him.
And admitting her transgression right out loud to everyone concerned! Refusing to accept responsibility for her mother’s problem, but assuming liability for the woman herself. Clever.
Milos cleared his throat, an obvious call to action on Nicholas’s part.
Leda did get up then, and rush over to enfold her daughter-in-law into her cushioned embrace. “We’re going to forget all about it, aren’t we?” she said, hooking her arm around Claire’s waist and leading her forward. She ran a persuasive eye over each of the guests.
They nodded and made appropriate sounds of agreement.
His mother’s intent gaze fixed on him, and Nicholas knew he’d been bested. He gave a curt nod.
Leda beamed and urged Claire to sit on the love seat beside her. Claire arranged her skirts, and slanted him a dubious glance. She knew it wasn’t settled with him. But she’d gracefully saved face for all concerned.
“Mrs. Pratt, will you have Mrs. Trent bring William down to meet our guests now?” Leda turned from instructing the servant to speak to Kathryn. “Just wait until you see our precious boy. He and Claire have brightened the Halliday house. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”
Once Mrs. Trent brought William, the women gathered around him and spoke in silly voices and oohed and aahed. The men drew off to one side, and a discussion of shipping prices ensued.
Ellen Gallamore spilled tea on her skirt, and Claire hurried to bring a damp cloth. Nicholas trapped her as she returned it to a tray in the hallway.
“We are not finished discussing what happened by any means,” he said, grasping her wrist.
She brought her startled blue gaze to his face, the high color draining from her cheeks. Her attention deliberately dropped to his mouth, and he could have sworn the pulse under his fingers leaped. “All right,” she said. “Would you like me to come to your study later?”
“I have no idea how late the others will remain up,” he said. “My study is open to the men at all hours.”
One pale brow rose in question.
“I’ll come to your room. Wait up for me.”
She nodded her consent. Her gaze dropped away.
Nicholas released her wrist and she hurried back into the room.
He would have to be careful not to touch her like that. Not to get close enough to see the fire in her eyes or smell the arousing scent of her skin and hair.
Even when he was angry with her, even after she’d allowed her mother to humiliate him, even though he saw through her manipulations, she set him on fire. Allowing himself to weaken would be a terrible mistake.
Yes. He would have to be careful.
After a day’s work and an evening of entertaining, Nicholas grew ready to call it a night long before his gentlemen guests. They finally left him and headed upstairs, and he threw open the drapes and the remainder of the study windows to air the now stuffy room.
The men would be traveling to Youngstown with him in the morning, and daybreak would come all too soon. He climbed the stairs, determined to take Claire to task without further endangering his resolve.
Carrying a large envelope, he tapped lightly on her door. Mrs. Trent and the baby would be sleeping. She opened the portal immediately and stepped back.
Nicholas strode into the room, which smelled like her, and cursed himself for coming to her on her ground.
No! He pulled his thoughts together. There was no “her ground” here. This was his home, every inch of it! She had only as much as he allowed her.
Guiltily, he walked forward. She was Stephen’s wife. She had as much right to the house as he did. He only bolstered his flagging confidence by telling himself otherwise.
“Do you mind if I sit?” she asked.
He turned. Her pale face revealed her weariness. She lowered her gaze to the envelope as he replied, “No.”
She sank into one of the wing chairs and raised her foot to the upholstered stool.
He glanced down. She wore both shoes. He hadn’t paid attention until now. “You got the cast off.”
“The other day.”
He could see her stockings above her shoes, one ankle visibly larger than the other. “Your foot. It’s swollen.”
“It does that after being on it all day.”
“You should have removed your shoes.”
“I knew you were coming.”
He’d told her to wait up, and of course she hadn’t undressed. He felt like an absolute beast. He set the packet of papers aside, leaned over to unlace her soft-soled shoe and raised her foot. She drew in a breath.
“Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head, her lips in a strained line.
He removed the slipper, gently lowered her foot to the cushion and did the same to the other. “You should have put some ice on it.”
“I sent the servants to bed. They have to be up early.”
He thought of the melting ice in the silver bucket in his study. “I’ll be right back.”
He returned with the bucket, poured ice into a towel and wrapped it around her ankle. “Better?”