Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(96)

Entering the residence, Gideon was immediately met by his valet, who had some rather surprising news to convey. “Sir…it seems that Mr. McKenna did not depart for New York as scheduled. He came here, as a matter of fact. Accompanied by a woman.”

Gideon gave the valet a blank look. Considering the information for a long moment, he frowned inquiringly and rubbed his jaw. “Dare I ask—was it Lady Aline?”

The valet nodded at once.

“I’ll be damned,” Gideon said softly, his surliness replaced by a slow smile. “Are they still here?”

“Yes, Mr. Shaw.”

Gideon’s smile broadened into a grin as he speculated on the unexpected turn of events. “So he finally got what he wanted,” he murmured. “Well, all I can say is, McKenna had better get his hindquarters back to New York soon. Someone’s got to build the damned foundry.”

“Yes, sir.”

Wondering how long McKenna was going to make use of his rooms, Gideon headed to the bedroom and paused at the door, discerning that no noise came from within. Just as he turned to leave, he heard a brusque summons.

“Shaw?”

Cautiously Gideon opened the door a crack and ducked his head inside. He saw McKenna propped up on his elbow, his tanned chest and shoulders contrasting with the gleaming white linens. Little was visible of Lady Aline, save for a few locks of dark brown hair that draped over the edge of the mattress. She was snuggled in the crook of his arm, sleeping soundly as McKenna drew the bedclothes protectively over her bare shoulder.

“Missed your ship, did you?” Gideon asked mildly.

“Had to,” McKenna replied. “It turns out that I was about to leave something important behind.”

Gideon stared at his friend intently, struck by the difference in him. McKenna looked younger and happier than Gideon had ever seen him. Carefree, in fact, with a relaxed smile on his lips and a lock of hair tumbling over his forehead. As Lady Aline stirred against him, her sleep disrupted by the sound of their voices, McKenna bent to soothe her with a soft murmur.

In the past Gideon had seen McKenna with women in far more licentious circumstances than this. But for some reason the brilliant, unguarded tenderness of McKenna’s expression seemed unspeakably intimate, and Gideon felt an unfamiliar heat creeping up his face. Damnation—he hadn’t blushed since the age of twelve.

“Well,” Gideon said flatly, “since you’ve helped yourself to the use of my rooms, it seems I’ll have to find other accommodations for the night. Of course, I wouldn’t think twice about putting you out…but for Lady Aline, I’ll make an exception.”

“Go to Marsden Terrace,” McKenna suggested with a sudden gleam of mischief in his eyes. His gaze returned compulsively to Lady Aline’s sleeping face, as if he found it impossible to look away from her for more than a few seconds. “Westcliff is there alone—he might welcome the company.”

“Oh, splendid,” Gideon replied sourly. “He and I can have a lengthy discussion about why I should stay the hell away from his youngest sister. Not that it matters, since Livia will have forgotten all about me in six months.”

“I doubt it,” McKenna said, and grinned. “Don’t give up hope. Nothing’s impossible—God knows I’m proof of that.”

Epilogue

The blustery February wind whistled against the parlor window, diverting Livia’s attention from the letter in her hand. Curled in the corner of a settee with a cashmere blanket over her lap, she shivered pleasantly at the contrast of the damp, bitter winter day outside, and the cheerful warmth of the parlor. A mahogany letter box sat open beside her, one side of it filled with a neat stack of letters, and the other side stuffed with a far more ungainly pile tied with a blue ribbon. The smaller stack was from her sister Aline, whose letters from New York had been surprisingly regular, considering her notorious laxness in matters of correspondence.

The other mass of letters was from an entirely different source, all written in the same masculine scrawl. By turns playful, touching, informative and searingly intimate, these letters told the story of a man’s struggle to change himself for the better. They also spoke of a love that had deepened and matured during the past months. It seemed to Livia that she had come to know a different man than the one she had met at Stony Cross, and while her attraction to the original Gideon had been impossible to resist, the former rake was turning into a man that she could trust and depend on. Reaching down to the blue ribbon, she stroked the satiny surface with her fingertip, before turning her attention back to the letter from Aline.

…they say the population of New York City will reach a half-million in the next two years, and I can well believe it, with foreigners such as myself pouring in every day. This blend of nationalities gives the city a wonderfully cosmopolitan aspect. Everyone here seems to take a large, liberal view of matters, and at times I have actually felt a bit provincial in my opinions. I have finally begun to adjust to the pace of things here, and have caught the New York mania for improving oneself. I am learning a great many new things, and have acquired the art of making decisions and purchases with a rapidity that will no doubt amuse you when we meet again. As you can imagine, Mrs. Faircloth has a firm command of the household staff, and seems quite enamored of the markets west of Manhattanville, where every conceivable variety of produce is available. It is remarkable, really, that two miles away from towering eight-story buildings, one can find rural country with an abundance of miniature farms. I have barely begun to explore this handsomely built city, and I am pleased to say that I generally accomplish more in a week here than I did in a month back at Stony Cross.