An Impossible Attraction Read online

  Praise for

  BRENDA JOYCE

  and her de Warenne dynasty

  A Dangerous Love

  “The latest de Warenne novel is pure Joyce with its trademark blend of searing sensuality, wild escapades and unforgettable characters. You’ll find warmth and romance alongside intense emotions and powerful relationships. It’s a story you won’t easily forget.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  The Perfect Bride

  “Another first-rate Regency, featuring multidimensional protagonists and sweeping drama…Entirely fluff-free, Joyce’s tight plot and vivid cast combine for a romance that’s just about perfect.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Truly a stirring story with wonderfully etched characters, Joyce’s latest is Regency romance at its best.”

  —Booklist

  “Joyce’s latest is a piece of perfection as she meticulously crafts a tender and emotionally powerful love story. Passion and pain erupt from the pages and flow straight into your heart. You won’t forget this beautifully rendered love story of lost souls and redemption.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  A Lady at Last

  “Romance veteran Joyce brings her keen sense of humor and storytelling prowess to bear on her witty, fully formed characters.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “A classic Pygmalion tale with an extra soupçon of eroticism.”

  —Booklist

  “A warm, wonderfully sensual feast about the joys and pains of falling in love. Joyce breathes life into extraordinary characters—from her sprightly Cinderella heroine and roguish hero to everyone in between—then sets them in the glittering Regency, where anything can happen.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  The Stolen Bride

  “Joyce’s characters carry considerable emotional weight, which keeps this hefty entry absorbing, and her fast-paced story keeps the pages turning.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “A powerfully executed romance overflowing with the strength of prose, high degree of sensuality and emotional intensity we expect from Joyce. A ‘keeper’ for sure.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  The Masquerade

  “Jane Austen aficionados will delve happily into heroine Elizabeth ‘Lizzie’ Fitzgerald’s family…Joyce’s tale of the dangers and delights of passion fulfilled will enchant those who like their reads long and rich.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “A passionate tale of two lovers caught up in a web of secrets, deceptions and lies. Readers who love the bold historicals by Rosemary Rogers and Kathleen Woodiwiss will find much to savor here.”

  —Booklist

  “An intensely emotional and engrossing romance where love overcomes deceit, scandal and pride…an intelligent love story with smart, appealing and strong characters. Readers will savor this latest from a grand mistress of the genre.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  The Prize

  “A powerhouse of emotion and sensuality, The Prize weaves a tapestry vibrantly colored with detail and balanced with strands of consuming passion.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  BRENDA JOYCE

  An Impossible Attraction

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoy reading An Impossible Attraction as much as I enjoyed writing it. I wanted Stephen and Alexandra’s story to be a bit off the beaten path, and hopefully you’ll be intrigued by their trials and tribulations. And now I am happy to announce that the story you have been waiting for—and asking me for—is on its way to you! I am halfway through Alexi and Elysse’s epic love story, which will be released later in 2010.

  This is truly a thrill ride! As you know from A Dangerous Love, Alexi married Elysse in 1833—then left her at the altar and hasn’t seen his bride in the six-year interim. In An Impossible Attraction, Elysse and Alexi are ecstatically together, with a child on the way. So what happened, exactly?

  I always follow my muse. That is why I wrote these stories out of order; I simply wasn’t ready to delve into Elysse and Alexi’s incredibly intense and passionate love story. The novel opens in the spring of 1833, with Alexi returning home after a two-and-a-half-year absence. Elysse can’t wait to see him, and to get his attention, she flirts shamelessly—with his friend. Her reckless flirtation leads to murder and marriage—and to Alexi coldly and furiously leaving Elysse right after their wedding vows are exchanged.

  Six years later, Elysse is one of London’s reigning socialites. And Alexi has become a national icon—a China trader, he has set the record for the Canton to London run, and has been the first ship home two years in a row. Outwardly, Elysse is the woman every other woman wishes to be—beautiful, gracious, witty and wealthy, and not only are her invitations fought over, she is married to one of the country’s most dashing men. But Elysse has spent six years maintaining a terrible pretense—that her life is exactly as she wishes it to be, and that her marriage is a successful one. But that lie is about to be exposed….

  That spring, when Alexi’s ship is spotted off Plymouth, Elysse is convinced by her friends to greet him at the docks. Obviously he is not expecting her; obviously he has gone to great pains to avoid her. After six years, their reunion finally takes place. And nothing has changed. He is furious with her—and she is furious with him. But now he intends to stay in London, and she instantly realizes he must play the role of a proper husband, because her pride is at stake….

  And so begins the clash of love, pride and passion!

  I can’t wait to share their story with you!

  Happy reading,

  Always,

  Brenda Joyce

  Also by New York Times bestselling author

  BRENDA JOYCE

  and HQN Books

  The de Warenne Dynasty

  A Dangerous Love

  The Perfect Bride

  A Lady at Last

  The Stolen Bride

  The Masquerade

  The Prize

  The Masters of Time®

  Dark Lover

  Dark Victory

  Dark Embrace

  Dark Rival

  Dark Seduction

  For Sue Ball, one of the most generous and caring spirits I have ever known. My heartfelt thanks for so many years of kindness, friendship and support to me and my family.

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  PROLOGUE

  THERE WAS SO MUCH LIGHT, and Alexandra hesitated, confused.

  “Alex…andra?” her mother whispered from the bed.

  Gold-and-burgundy wallpaper adorned the walls, and dark draperies were closed over the bedroom’s two windows. The bureau was a dark, rich mahogany, as was the bed, and the bedding was wine and gold. The room’s single armchair was a dark, intense red. Yet the light within almost blinded her. “I am here, Mother,” she whispered back.

  And then, because Elizabeth Bolton was dying and would not last another night, because she had wasted away from the cancer eating at her, because she was so frail and weak now that she could barely see, much less hear, Alexandra hurried forward. She held back the tears. She hadn’t cried, not even once, not even when her fathe
r had told her that her mother had a terrible and fatal disease. It hadn’t been a shock. Elizabeth had been fading away before Alexandra and her younger sisters’ eyes for months. Being the eldest—all of seventeen—meant she had to hold the family together now in this crisis.

  Alexandra rushed to her mother’s side, her heart clenching as she looked at her gaunt, unrecognizable face and frame. Elizabeth had been so beautiful, so lively, so alive. She was only thirty-eight years old now, but she looked ninety.

  Alexandra sat, reaching for her thin, frail hands. “Father said you wished to see me, Mother. What can I get you? Do you want a sip of water?”

  Elizabeth smiled wanly, lying prone on the large bed, dwarfed by the pillows behind her, the blankets over her. “Angels,” she whispered. “Can you see them?”

  Alexandra felt the tears rise. She batted her lashes furiously. Her mother needed her, as did her two sisters, who were only seven and nine. Father needed her, too—though he was locked in the library with his gin. But now she understood the odd light in the room, and the equally strange warmth. “I can’t see them, but I can feel them. Are you afraid?”

  Elizabeth shook her head ever so slightly, and just as slightly, her grasp on Alexandra’s hands increased. “I don’t…want to go, Alexandra. The girls…are so young.”

  It was hard to hear her, so Alexandra leaned even closer to her mother’s face. “We don’t want you to leave us, but you’ll be with the angels now, Mother.” Somehow she managed to smile. “I am going to take care of Olivia and Corey—you needn’t worry. I will take care of Father, too.”

  “Promise me…darling…promise.”

  She laid her cheek against her mother’s bony face. “I promise. You have done everything for this family, you have been its guiding light, its rock and its anchor, and I will do everything for Father and the girls now. We will be fine. They will be fine.” But it didn’t feel as if anything would ever be fine again.

  “I am so proud…of you,” Elizabeth whispered.

  Alexandra had straightened so they could look into one another’s eyes. She was the oldest, the firstborn, with years separating her and her two younger sisters, and she and her mother had always been close. Elizabeth had taught Alexandra how to manage the household, how to entertain and how to dress for tea or for a ball. She had taught her how to bake cinnamon cookies and how to make lemonade. She had shown her how to smile, even when upset, and how to behave with grace and dignity, no matter the occasion. She had shown her the true power of love, of family, of diligence and respect.

  Alexandra knew her mother was proud of her. Just as she knew she could not bear this last moment with her. “Don’t worry about the girls or Father. I will take good care of them.”

  “I know.” Elizabeth smiled sadly and fell silent. And it took Alexandra a full moment to realize that her eyes had become sightless.

  She gasped, hard, the intense pain blinding her. The tears finally overflowed, even as she fought them. She grasped her mother’s hands more firmly and lay down beside her, already missing her acutely, the pain unbearable now, and that was how her fiancé, Owen, found her.

  “Alexandra.” He gently lifted her to her feet.

  She met his concerned, searching gaze and let him guide her from the death room. It was dark and somber now—the warm light long gone. In the hall, he held her for a long time. Alexandra let him, even as her heart broke all over again.

  Because she knew what she must do.

  Owen was her best friend, her one and only true love, but that didn’t matter now.

  “Why are you looking at me that way?” he asked, eyes wide.

  She clasped his beautiful cheek. “I love you, Owen.”

  He was alarmed. “You are in shock. This is the time to grieve.”

  She began shaking her head. “I can’t marry you, Owen. I told her I would take care of this family, and I meant it. My life is no longer my own. I can’t marry you, I can’t be your wife, or the mother of your children. I can’t. I have to take care of my sisters.” And in that moment, she knew it was the truth and was overwhelmed by the turn her life had taken.

  “Alexandra!” he cried. “Allow yourself a period of mourning. I will wait for you. I love you, and we will get through this together.”

  But she pulled away, the hardest thing she had ever done. “No, Owen. Everything has changed. Corey and Olivia need me, and so does Father.”

  “I am going to wait for you,” he warned, and tears glistened on his lashes.

  There were no choices now. She would hold the family together, no matter what it meant or what it took. “Goodbye, Owen,” she said.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I CAN NO LONGER AFFORD YOU,” the Baron of Edgemont said.

  Alexandra Bolton stared in some surprise at her grim, rather disheveled father. He had just summoned her and her two younger sisters into the small, shabby library where he occasionally looked at the estate’s books. Oddly, he seemed sober—and it was almost half past four in the afternoon. What did he mean, exactly? “I know how precarious our finances are,” she said, but her smile was reassuring. “I am taking in additional sewing, Father, and I should be able to earn an extra pound every week.”

  Her father made a discouraging sound. “You are exactly like your mother. She was tireless, Alexandra, tireless in her efforts to reassure me—right up until the day of her death.” He walked away, his posture slumped, and took his seat behind his equally worn and tired desk. It was crooked. One leg needed repair.

  Alexandra was becoming vaguely alarmed. She had been doing her best to hold the family together ever since Elizabeth Bolton had died—no easy task, considering her father’s terrible penchant for gaming and whiskey, which only their mother had been able to restrain. The last time her father had asked her and her two younger sisters into the library, it had been to tell them that their mother was fatally ill. Of course, Elizabeth had been fading before their very eyes. The news had been heart wrenching, but not a surprise.

  Elizabeth had died nine years ago. Since then, her father had lost all self-restraint. He did not even try to refrain from his bad habits. Corey was tempestuous by nature, and did as she pleased when away from Alexandra’s watchful eyes. Olivia had withdrawn into her world of watercolors and pastels, and although she seemed content, Alexandra despaired. She herself had given up true love to take care of them all. But there were no regrets.

  “Someone must be cheerful,” she said with a firm smile. “We may be short on funds, but we have a fine home, even if it could use some repairs, and we have clothes on our backs and food on the table. Our situation could be worse.”

  Corey, who was only sixteen, choked. After all, every rug in the house was threadbare, the walls needed paint and plaster, and the draperies were literally falling apart. The grounds were as bad, for their staff had been reduced to one manservant and the gardener let go last year. Their London townhome had been sold, but Edgemont Way was within an hour’s drive of Greenwich, fortunately or not.

  Alexandra decided to ignore her rather reckless, very outspoken and terribly beautiful little sister. “Father? Your demeanor is worrying me.” And he was not yet foxed. He was always foxed well before noon. What did this turn mean? She couldn’t be hopeful. She knew he had no reason to try to change his dissolute ways.

  The baron sighed. “My last line of credit has been squashed.”

  Her unease escalated. Like most of their peers, they lived on rents and credit. But her father’s obsession with gambling had forced him to sell off their tenant farms, one by one, and there were only two tenants left. Those rents might have been enough to support the family if he didn’t game compulsively almost every single night. But he did game excessively and obsessively, so within a few years of their mother’s death, Alexandra had turned her love for sewing into a source of income for them, though it was, at times, humiliating. The very women they had once enjoyed teas and dinner parties with were now her customers. Lady Lewis enjoyed personally han
ding over her torn and damaged garments, while making a huge fuss at how “sloppy” the repairs were upon their return. Alexandra always smiled and apologized. She was actually excellent with a thread and needle, and until the downturn, she had enjoyed sewing and embroidery. Now, given a choice, she doubted she would ever thread a needle again.

  But they did have clothes on their backs, a roof over their heads and food on the table. Their clothes were out of fashion and well mended, the roof leaked when it stormed, and their diet was generally limited to bread, vegetables and potatoes, with red meat on Sundays. But that was better than nothing at all.

  And her sisters did not recall a time of luncheons and balls. Alexandra was grateful for that.

  But how would they get on without credit? “I will take in more sewing,” she said, determined.

  “How can you take on more sewing? You are already up all night with the customers you have,” Corey shot back. “You have calluses on your thumbs!”

  Corey was right, and Alexandra knew it. She was only one person, and she simply couldn’t manage more work, unless she forwent any sleep at all.

  “Last summer Lord Henredon asked me if I would paint his portrait. I refused,” Olivia said quietly. While Corey was a true golden blonde, Olivia was that indistinct shade that was neither blond nor brown, but she was also very pretty. “But I could offer my services to the shire as a portrait artist. I think I could make quite a few pounds within a very short time.”