“What is he doing here?”
Alyssa breathed a prayer of thanks to God and all of her guardian angels for the note of irritation in her mother’s voice, for it could only mean that the man waiting inside the library with her father was not His Grace.
Praying that it was Lord Abernathy, Alyssa straightened to her full height, held her head high, and beamed, hoping that, this time, her papa had managed to live up to her expectations.
“Here you are, my dear.” Tressingham ignored his wife’s rude outburst. He opened his arms wide in a gesture of welcome and goodwill.
Lady Tressingham surprised Griff by stepping into the circle of her husband’s arms.
Tressingham gave his wife an affectionate hug. “That’s my girl,” he pronounced, opening his arms wide once again and gesturing for his daughter to join them in a family embrace. “Come here, Alyssa, and say hello to Lord Abernathy.” Tressingham gave his daughter a nudge in Griffin’s direction.
Alyssa did as her father instructed. “Hello, Lord Abernathy.”
“What is he doing here?” Lady Tressingham asked again, this time in a stage whisper.
Tressingham shushed her. “All in good time, Puss.”
Griff stared at Alyssa, nearly dumbfounded by the sight and the scent of her as the memories of the kisses they’d shared in the ladies’ retiring room the night before came roaring back. He sucked in a breath. Her light brown hair curled in tiny ringlets about her face, and her cheeks were pink, providing her flawless complexion with a most becoming blush. He would never have believed it possible for any woman to look as if she’d just spent all morning or all evening making love with a man—unless she had. But Alyssa Carrollton had that flushed, slightly disheveled look about her that set his heart racing and sent blood pooling in his groin. And her scent…she smelled of roses. Acres and acres of roses. Fields of roses. The scent emanated from her hair and her dress and her skin as if she were made of rose petals instead of flesh and blood. He’d never smelled anything as softly delicate or as powerfully erotic, and Griff knew with a certainty that he would never again be able to smell the scent of roses without thinking of Alyssa. His mouth went dry, and Griff fought to form the simple words he needed. “Hello, Lady Alyssa.”
Alyssa couldn’t stop smiling. He was every bit as gorgeous in his buff doeskin trousers in the light of her father’s study as he had looked in knee breeches, stockings, and buckle shoes beneath the bright gaslight in the ballroom at Almack’s. But it was her memory of the way he’d looked beneath the softened gaslight in the ladies’ retiring room that was the most powerful. It seemed impossible, but she was quite certain he was more handsome now—for he was standing before her after having spent the majority of the afternoon in the company of her father negotiating for her hand in marriage.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Lord Abernathy.” She kept her voice low, but she couldn’t keep her bottom lip from trembling.
“You knew I would come.” He focused his attention on her mouth and the way she bit her lip to stop its tremor.
“I knew you would come,” she answered, “but I didn’t know if you would prevail.”
He smiled at her. “Then, you’ve much to learn about me, my lady.”
“Have I?”
“Yes,” he answered. “And a lifetime in which to learn it.”
“Enough!” Lady Tressingham’s single word broke through the rosy haze and soft conversation surrounding Griff and Alyssa.
“Enough suspense,” she continued, glaring at Lord Tressingham. “I want to know why Lord Abernathy is here and His Grace, the Duke of Sussex, is not.”
Lord Tressingham took a deep breath. “I decided to accept Lord Abernathy’s offer and grant him our daughter’s hand in marriage.”
“What!” Lady Tressingham practically vibrated with outrage.
“Lord Abernathy is about to become our new son-in-law,” Lord Tressingham repeated in a firmer, no-nonsense tone.
“We agreed, Johnny.” Lady Tressingham ignored the no-nonsense tone in her husband’s voice and continued to take him to task as only a wife could do. “We agreed that His Grace was the best husband for Alyssa.” She shot a disapproving look at Griffin. “Lord Abernathy is from a fine family, and I am certain that he possesses many admirable qualities—not the least of which is a desire to marry our daughter—but the fact remains that he is only a viscount, while His Grace—”
“I know we discussed it, Puss. I know we decided upon His Grace. I know young Aberna
thy is only a viscount. But he’s the Earl of Weymouth’s viscount.”
“What has that to do with anything?” she snapped, before the answer began to dawn. Lady Tressingham closed her eyes for a moment and gritted her teeth, then glanced up at the portrait of Fancy hanging over the mantel. She eyed Griffin with renewed irritation mixed with the tiniest hint of admiration. Outranked and outmatched by His Grace in every way that counted, Lord Abernathy had found a way to stack the deck in his favor. “Weymouth owns—”
Tressingham beamed at his clever wife. “King George’s Prince of a Fellow.”
“I see.”
Everyone who was anyone in the ton knew Johnny Tressingham’s obsession. Few, except few his circle of loyal cronies, could tolerate it. Most wondered how his wife managed to do so. But few members of the ton understood the depth of love the former Miss Penina Sykes felt for her husband. When they’d met, she was in her first season. He was Lord Carrollton then, and heir to his father, the Earl of Tressingham. She was a poor relation by marriage of the Viscount deLancere. Her status, or lack of it, hadn’t mattered to Johnny, He’d been instantly smitten. And if it had taken her a fraction longer to fall in love with him, it had only been because she couldn’t believe her good fortune.
Johnny was the kindest and gentlest man she had ever met. A man who understood his shortcomings as a husband and who went out of his way to please her in other ways, especially at night in the marriage bed. He was the first man she had ever met who treated her with kindness, who treated her as if she were more than the sum total of her looks. Johnny Tressingham treated her as an equal. He admired her not just for her beauty but also for her brains, and he had always been proud of her. Proud that she was clever and accomplished, and so well liked and accepted. And, although he didn’t know how to show it, Johnny was equally proud of the four daughters they’d produced, never once expressing disappointment or displeasure over the lack of a son and heir. If he loved his horses and hounds as much as he loved her, Lady Tressingham thought that was a small price to pay for all he had given her.