Filed To Story: Alessia Mistaken as Mistress Book PDF Free
Fate had entwined their lives.
And desperation still drove Alessia to astounding lengths.
She prayed her resourcefulness carried her into the coming weeks, into finding a job and a place to five and a way to care for her son.
Alessia snuggled into the covers and disciplined herself to sleep.
The following night’s dinner was more elegant than the first, with candlelight and crystal, courses chosen to complement one another, and Claire a lovely and cordial hostess.
After dessert, she gently invited their guests into the music room, where a string quartet and pianist performed a chamber concert for them. Even the music had been chosen with eclectic tastes in mind.
Nicholas observed her from his position on the opposite side of the room. No one could carry off unrelieved black like Claire. This evening she’d done something different with her curly mane of hair, a cluster of long sausagelike curls hanging against her neck.
Occasionally Ellen Gallamore on her right, or Milos on her left, spoke to her, and she’d lean in to hear the whisperer. She said something back to Milos, one of the curls brushing his shoulder, and he replied with a tilt of his head.
Claire graced him with an amused smile.
That faint smile played havoc with Nicholas’s senses. She’d casually invited him to attend William’s bath one morning if he wanted to see her smile, not mentioning he might observe her smiling at his friend at any given moment.
Nicholas crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t care if she grinned herself silly at Milos.
He studied them, her the picture of grace and femininity with the sheen of the gas lamps illuminating her pale hair, Milos the only friend Nicholas had ever known. He couldn’t help but wonder at what they spoke of so easily. How did Milos know what to say to bring a smile to those lips?
Her watchful gaze touched upon the guests, checked the clock, the coal fire in the grate and in passing stumbled across Nicholas’s stare.
Against his will he wished she had a smile for him, one that spoke of intimacy or friendship or even tolerance. But then why should she? He’d been nothing but critical and accusing since she’d made his acquaintance. And as much as he’d wanted to think it, she just didn’t seem the type to wile her way into his good graces with feminine posturing.
Her attention to this evening’s meal and entertainment showed more savoir faire than even his mother had ever displayed. Claire possessed polished sureness when it came to social manners and activities. He could find no fault in any of the preparations or her dress or comportment.
After last night’s fiasco, he’d thought his guests would pack and leave, or at least hold themselves in reserve, but they had seemed to sympathize with Claire’s embarrassment and had dismissed the incident. She’d won them over with her gentle beauty and seemingly sincere apology.
But he had to wonder how she had come by this innate sense of dignity and ability. It made no sense. Fortunately, the Galamores and Kleymanns and McCauls didn’t know she’d come from the back streets of New York, that her father had been a penniless factory worker, so they’d overlooked her mother. Even a family of quality had its skeletons.
But Nicholas knew better. And he couldn’t deduce how she’d pulled it off. She never referred to him as anything other than Mr. Halliday in front of the guests. And though she was smart as a whip, she hadn’t larded conversation with references to literature or science, but instead practiced quiet reserve as a true lady would. She even handled the servants as though she’d done it all her life.
The musicians ended their set, and Claire gently guided the guests toward the parlor for coffee and liqueur. Nicholas followed behind as she walked with her hand on Milos’s sleeve.
Even if she’d learned it all in preparation for marrying Stephen, she’d have bungled something by now. Yet she behaved as though she’d done this dozens of times, as though she were born and bred to the life.
And he’d been patient He’d watched and given her all the rope she needed to hang herself.
He truly hadn’t expected this.
He’d expected his mother to do all the work and Claire to take credit. But he knew it wasn’t so. In fact his mother had never been so rested, so relaxed, so happy.
Grudging respect wormed its way into his attitude toward Claire. If she’d gone to such lengths to win Mother over,
Nicholas could only imagine what she’d done to win Stephen.
They’d reached the parlor, and the guests seated themselves, the drone of conversation picking up. Claire moved toward Nicholas. “Will you be serving the liqueur, or shall I ring for one of the servants?”
“I’ll do it.”
She nodded. The dress she wore revealed the generous swells of her ivory breasts. Another woman would have worn a priceless gem around her neck to display her wealth and draw attention to those lush features, but Claire herself was the jewel, needing no adornment. Crafty as she was, she’d no doubt used that to her advantage.
Without another word, she slipped back among the guests.
Nicholas poured spiced brandy and discussed the day’s business with Monty Gallamore. But his attention never left Claire. If she felt she needed to stay in his good graces, to what extent would she go to please him?
The question sent a rippling wave of heat through him. She’d passed the test with the food and the entertainment. But what if he were to test her loyalty rather than her abilities?
Anyone could learn tasks or fake knowledge.
But one couldn’t pretend love and fidelity.
If she loved and adored Stephen the way his mother believed, the way she pretended, she would not fall into another man’s arms.
She’d already allowed him to kiss her. Did she think kissing him would secure her place?
The thought sickened him.
The idea intrigued him.
The image enticed him.
The true test of her love for Stephen. Afterward there would be no doubt.
Nicholas couldn’t wait for his guests to leave.
Somehow, between directing the servants during the day, entertaining Nicholas’s guests each evening and catering to Celia’s demands, Alessia found the time to travel into Youngstown and send messages and a retainer to the Pinkerton Agency. She instructed the telegraph office that any return messages were to be held for her and not sent with anyone from the Halliday house who might make the trip to town.
During one of their afternoons together, Alessia and Kathryn Kleymann played with William on Alessia’s bed. Over the past few days they’d spent many pleasant hours together and Alessia had grown fond of the young woman. The sweet woman deserved the affection she shared with her husband, and Alessia prayed for their happiness.
“Perhaps next time we visit we’ll have our little one along,” she said happily. “You can visit us in Virginia, too. The children can be playmates.”
Alessia smiled at the wistful thought If only that were possible.
After five full days and nights, the guests took their leave. Alessia was so bereft to see Kathryn go, she ran up to her room and cried.
Leda followed, entering without knocking, and sat on a chair near where Alessia perched on the window seat.
“What’s wrong, sweet girl?” she asked tenderly.
Ashamed, Alessia dried her face and blinked into the sunlight streaming through the glass panes. “Nothing.”
“I see. You don’t want to tell this old lady.”
Swiftly Alessia moved to sit at her feet. “It’s not that. I just don’t want you to think me foolish.”
She took Alessia’s hands. “I’ve never thought you foolish.”
Alessia spared her a smile, and accepted a violet-scented hankie to wipe her nose. “It’s just that I grew so attached to Mrs. Kleymann, I hated to see her go.”
“Why, that’s perfectly natural,” Leda assured her. “Women need other women their own age to talk with. All you’ve had for months is me.”
And now the horrible mother confined to her rooms, Leda probably thought. “I love you,” Alessia said quickly. “Please don’t think I don’t appreciate your friendship.”
Leda stroked her hair from her temple. Tears shone in her gray eyes. “I don’t think that. I understand loneliness, child. But you’ll see Kathryn again. We meet up with the Kleymanns at least once a year.”