Lady Alexandra's Lover (Sex and the Season 3)

Evan left the building and got into his carriage. Then he thought better and spoke to the coachman. “We won’t be going home after all. I’d like to take a room in town for the evening.”

“Of course, my lord. Which inn would you prefer?”

“Wherever I can get the best meal. I need a few hours of sleep before I sneak in on the night crew.”

* * *

After gorging herself on the meal Sophie had brought her, Ally changed into her night rail and readied for bed. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon her. She ached all over, though the headache powder had helped a bit. The biggest problem was that she couldn’t get her new stepbrother out of her mind. Though still sore between her legs, she longed for more of him.

She would definitely keep to herself her pact to sleep with Mr. Landon. That is, if he would look twice in her direction after seeing her at her worst. She would have to look spectacularly dazzling the next time they came in contact, and she had every intention of doing just that. Her cousin Lily owned an amazing red velvet dress that she had worn the night her betrothal to the duke was announced. It was audacious, yet Lily had stolen the entire evening by wearing such an outrageous costume. Ally was built quite a bit like Lily—tall, full bosom, narrow hips. She was quite sure the dress would show off her best assets as it had for Lily. Surely Lily would allow her to borrow the dress. The only problem was the fabric was a velvet and really too warm for the summer.

No, the red dress would not work after all. She would have to summon Lily’s modiste to come and make her a new dress, one that would make Mr. Landon’s eyes pop out of his head and make sure he totally forgot the image he had seen of her earlier today.

Of course, Evan would never allow her to leave the house wearing a dress anything like Lily’s red dress. She would have to find a way to get back to London without him. He had mentioned attending a few balls in London. The season would be over in a couple of weeks, when Parliament closed in early August.

Mr. Landon often commented about the events he attended during the season, so she was sure he would be at one or more of the balls signifying its end. In fact, she was counting on it.

If only his kisses stirred her the way Evan’s had. After the debacle with Wentworth in April, she had been certain she didn’t ever want to kiss another man. Mr. Landon had changed her mind. He was lovely to look at, his hair shorter than Evan’s and darker than her own. He had lovely amber eyes. Evan was, of course, taller. Evan was taller than most men. Broader too, and most definitely more defined. The man could have been sculpted by one of the Renaissance artists. He cut quite an athletic figure.

But he was the second son. He would never have an estate of his own, nor a title. Ally didn’t care about the title, but she did care about the estate. She wanted money. As mercenary as she knew it sounded, she had made up her mind long ago that she would never live in near poverty again. Sophie thought her shallow in some ways, mostly because of her determination to marry for money. In truth, Ally was not shallow at all. She loved her family and would move heaven and earth to help them if they needed her. With money, she could make sure she would have the means to help them if they needed it. Mama’s recent marriage had negated the need on her part, but she still had Sophie to consider.

If Mr. Landon would not have her, she would simply find someone else who would. She hoped against hope that he wasn’t shallow and that he didn’t care how horrid she’d looked earlier today.

Ally let out a heavy sigh. Marriage. It was a fate she’d resigned herself to long ago—a fate that didn’t necessarily include love. After all, the only example of marriage she’d had in her short life was her mother’s loveless one. Since her father’s death two years previously, she’d been privileged to see firsthand the marriage between her aunt and uncle. Theirs was a love match, and both her cousins, Lily and Rose, had found love matches for themselves. And now even Mama had found her love match. Ally had never considered the possibility of a love match, and she wasn’t about to start considering it now.

She patted her full tummy. She was fraught with exhaustion and could not wait to sleep in her own bed tonight. But she wanted to do some writing first. She sat at a small table, took a quill and parchment, and began.

* * *

After a hearty dinner and a couple of good brandies, Evan readied himself to return to the printing house. He would damn well find out who was behind the obscene literature.

Evan was very well acquainted with the night staff. They were responsible mainly for daily news journals that had to be delivered at first light. The day staff, under Jenkins, dealt more with books and other such literature, which were Evan’s main interests and why he got into the printing and publishing business in the first place. He had nothing against erotic literature, but he didn’t want his business associated with it because it was illegal under the Vagrancy Act of 1824, more specifically its amendment in 1838.

The carriage pulled to a stop in front of the business. The front door would be locked, of course, since normal business hours were during the day. Though Evan had a key, he chose to go around to the back entrance.

He strode in nonchalantly. “I need to speak with Mr. Charles Gunderson, please.” In actuality, he had never met Gunderson before. All the night staff had been hired by Jenkins and his superior.

“He’s in the back, sir,” a workman said. “May I ask who wishes to speak with him?”

“Lord Evan Xavier. I own this business.”

The young man, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old, arched his eyebrows, his lips trembling—only a touch, but Evan noticed.

“Yes, of course, my lord,” he said, his voice shaking. He went into the back room where the presses were rumbling.

A few moments later, the boy returned with an older man greying at the temples.

“Good evening, my lord. What brings you in at this hour?”

Evan cleared his throat. “I did not realize I needed to have a reason to check on one of my own enterprises.”

“Of course not, my lord.”

“I have had word from a reliable source that a piece of underground erotic literature is being printed here on my presses.”

“I don’t know what material you’re speaking of,” Gunderson said, “but I can assure you that any business we do here is completely legitimate. If any erotic literature is being printed here, you have my assurances that it has been properly paid for, and profit is being made.”

“Let me make something clear, Gunderson. I believe in freedom of expression and all that, but I run a clean operation here, not one that prints what some people consider to be obscene. There are laws against that, you know.”