Raw anger pulsed within her. Ally’s skin tightened, and her heart surged. No. No. No. Absolutely not. She opened her mouth to speak, but again she was rendered mute. His harsh presence frightened her, and also aroused her. Oh, he was a formidable man, a man whose very existence could light fires.
“I wash my hands of this.” Evan walked from behind his desk and left his office.
Ally sank into a chair, her eyes misting with tears. Dear Lord, what have I done?
* * *
Later that night, Ally sat in her hotel room in Bath. She had waited until both Evan and Sophie had retired for the evening, and then she had sneaked to the stables and paid one of the servants handsomely to take her into the city. She would leave on the rail at first light and be in London by the afternoon. She had packed her best gowns, and if her plan went accordingly, within a few days she would be Mrs. Nathan Landon.
She munched on the roast beef and potatoes for which she’d paid dearly to get the cook out of bed after hours. She shouldn’t have bothered. The meat was dry and the potatoes were lumpy and soggy.
She hated how she had left things with Evan. He was high and mighty and controlling, but he didn’t deserve to be accused of rape. She would never have gone through with it. But now, because of her hasty words, she was facing a forced marriage. She was of age and could legally marry whomever she wished. Still, it would behoove her to find a husband before Evan’s plans fell into place. There was a ball tomorrow eve. Mr. Landon would no doubt be in attendance, and so would Ally.
She sighed. Once lunch rolled around tomorrow and she hadn’t surfaced, Sophie would begin making inquiries. Ally had thought of that however. She’d left a note on her pillow stating that she was spending the day out walking the estate and had taken a picnic lunch with her. It wouldn’t keep Sophie at bay for long, but no one would notice she was truly gone
until she didn’t come home for the evening meal, and by then it would be too late to get to London until the next day. Not a great plan, but she had been pressed for time.
She pushed the tray away. She really had no hunger.
Would Evan be able to forgive her hasty words? She bit her lip. Within a few days, she would be someone else’s problem, as he wished. And whatever had been between them would truly be over.
Her body still aching a bit from the bumps and bruises caused by the accident, Ally fell into bed.
* * *
Evan lay in bed, thoughts of Alexandra plaguing him. Every time he thought that perhaps he had been wrong about her, that he had misjudged her, she proved him wrong. Would she really accuse him of rape? She knew damned well that it hadn’t been rape. His father would likely disown him. Not that it mattered. He wouldn’t be inheriting anything of his father’s anyway, being a second son. Still, he loved his father, and the relationship meant a lot to him. He could not allow Alexandra to sour his father against him. He would find a suitable mate for her and have her out of all of their hair by the time his father and new wife returned.
But what would Iris think? She would hardly be pleased that he had married off one of her daughters while she was abroad. What to do? Alexandra would be the death of him. Mr. Nathan Landon seemed to be interested. Of course he was interested in any beautiful woman in a skirt. No way would he agree to marry Alexandra. Women had been trying to drag him to the altar for years, ever since he’d made his fortune, and not one had succeeded yet. Of course, Alexandra was in a league of her own. How could any man resist her? She had beauty, she had intelligence, she had cunning, she had passion, and she had fire… The woman had everything—everything that Evan wanted but had never thought he wanted, if that made any sense at all. Never in one million years had he imagined he would have any interest in a woman like Alexandra.
He had courted Lady Rose Jamison for a couple of months. She had been the epitome of what he thought he wanted—socially adept, from a good family of peers, beautiful, intelligent, soft, and gentle. Alexandra might be beautiful and intelligent, but she certainly didn’t fit in any of the other categories he’d thought were so important to him.
None of it mattered now anyway. She had proven what kind of person she was.
He was done.
Done or not, though, he did need to speak to her. He had to make sure she didn’t go running to Mummy and new Daddy crying rape. He slipped on his robe and poured himself a brandy. Rather than sipping, he swallowed the amber liquid quickly, burning his throat.
He walked out of his suite and down the staircase to the second floor. The hallways were dark, and he hadn’t brought a candle with him, but he knew this place like the back of his hand. Alexandra was probably sleeping, but he didn’t care. They needed to talk. When he got to her room, he knocked gently.
No response.
He knocked harder. Still no response. “Alexandra?” He knocked again.
Still nothing.
He inched open her door a bit. “Alexandra?” he said again.
He walked through the sitting area and stood at the doorway into her bedchamber. He knocked again. Still nothing.
This had gone far enough. He opened the door and walked in. “Alexandra,” he said, “I need to speak with you.”
He lit a lamp on her bed table.
No!
She was not there. His heart beat rapidly and his breathing accelerated. He looked around the chamber. A small piece of parchment lay on her pillow. He unfolded it.
Sophie,