Sadly, they would be. Not looking away from the sky, Alex spoke. "We should make our way back."
"I suppose so."
They stood and fluffed their skirts, then crossed the lush gardens to the
ball
room. As they ascended the steps to the open doors, where several couples were standing in the fresh air,
Ella
spoke a touch louder than usual, "It was a lovely walk we took, don't you agree?"
Alex smiled at her friend. "Most calming indeed. Thank you very much for thinking of it." She nodded at Lord Denton, who bowed as they passed, clearly hearing their conversation.
"Think nothing of it,"
Ella
offered with a grin as they stepped over the threshold and into the
ball
room.
The two had paused just barely, attempting to get their bearings, when the hairs on the back of Alex's neck rose. She knew before looking that Blackmoor was standing nearby.
There he was, an appropriate distance from her, a combination of boredom and anger in his eyes. She had a feeling the boredom was affected, but she was quite certain that the anger was entirely real.
Ella
glanced over and noticed him with a smile, offering a quick, "Good evening, Lord Blackmoor," before remarking to Alex, "I see Vivi by the refreshment table.... I'm going to join her. I
shall
see you inside?"
"Yes." Alex's response was lost in the crowd as
Ella
pushed through. She sighed and muttered to herself, "You know, for someone so observant,
Ella
, you can be rather oblivious when you want to be." She turned back to Blackmoor and spoke up, "If you are here to scold me, I assure you it's unnecessary."
"I'm here to
tell
you that I'm leaving. If you would care for transport home, you should say your good-byes." His voice was cool and distant.
She briefly considered refusing him and asking the Marquess of Langford to bring her home, but she knew that would make Blackmoor even more irritated, and she wasn't in the mood to push him any further.
"Very
well
, my lord"
—
she made her voice as cool as his own
—
"I
shall
only be a few minutes."
The two rode home in stony silence, neither interested in forgiving or forgetting the events of the evening. When the carriage arrived at Worthington House, Blackmoor, ever the gentleman, exited the carriage to help Alex down from the vehicle. Once on solid ground, Alex offered a quiet, "Thank you, my lord."
He did not respond, except to offer a short bow, at which point she turned and entered the house, closing the door behind her and not waiting to see if he returned to the carriage or not. She thanked the night footman who had been
waiting for her return home, and relieved him of his duties so that he could find his bed. Just as she'd done that, her mother's voice
spilled
into the foyer from the library. "Alexandra? Is that you?" And, with a sigh, Alex went to find her.
"Indeed, 'tis I, the princess returned from the
ball
," she quipped as she threw herself into a leather chair, kicked off her slippers, tucked her feet up under her, and began unbuttoning her elbow-length gloves.
Her mother and father were seated in identical chairs in a ritual she had witnessed hundreds of times before. When one of the children was out of the house and expected back late, they would stay awake and keep each other company as they waited for the child who was due home. Her father would nurse a glass of scotch while her mother read, but they always ended up chatting. Alex had
fallen
asleep on the floor of the library to the sound of their discussions countless times as she was growing up. As difficult as her evening had been, it comforted her to join them.
Her father spoke first, his rich voice gently questioning, "That doesn't sound like the response of a young lady home from a thoroughly amusing evening."
"Was the
ball
not enjoyable, my love?" This from her mother.
"The
ball
itself was lovely," Alex shared, peeling one long sheath of satin down her wrist and off her hand, draping it across the arm of the chair. "Nicola was gorgeous and entertaining as ever, and Lord and Lady Salisbury were ...
well
, Lord and Lady Salisbury." The last drew a smile from both her parents.
"If that's the case, why are you so subdued?" her father queried, teasing. "Did some oaf step on your toes during a
quadrill
e?"
Alex offered him a half smile she didn't quite feel. "I wish that were the case. No, if you must know, Blackmoor and I had a
fall
ing-out."
"Whatever about?" asked the duchess.
Sighing, Alex focused entirely on her glove as she tugged each satin finger from her hand.
«Well,
everything was fine until I danced with someone of whom he did not approve."
"Who?" The duke perked up.
Yanking the glove from her hand, she waved it in frustration. "Freddie Stanhope! Thoroughly innocuous Freddie Stanhope."
"I thought Stanhope and Blackmoor were friends?" The duchess looked to Alex's father for confirmation. He didn't speak as Alex continued.
"So did I, until this season.
will
, Nick, and Kit seem to enjoy Freddie's company as much as ever, but Blackmoor thinks him a rogue and not to be trusted around females.
especially
me. Which is ridiculous, considering Freddie and I have been friends for ages."
"It is rather strange. I've always rather liked young Stanhope," said the duchess.
This elicited a laugh from His Grace. "I imagine that's exactly why Gavin thinks the way he does. For generations women have rather liked' the Stanhope men." Turning back to Alex, he asked, "Has young Stanhope been inappropriate in your presence?"
"Never," Alex spoke vehemently. "To the contrary, Freddie's been a capital friend
—
certainly a bit of a rake
—
but harmless. After
all
, I've known him for years and he's very close with Nick. We just have fun together and Blackmoor seems out to ruin anything that seems to entertain me. He takes his role as surrogate brother too seriously, and tonight he overstepped his bounds, leaving me a touch
—
"
She stopped and returned to working the fabric of her skirts. Her voice quieted as she finished her sentence on a whispered, "
—
incensed."
The duke laughed at the sheepish way she spoke her final word, but her mother did not seem so amused. "Oh, Alexandra," she spoke knowingly, "what did you do?"
"Nothing!" Alex's face and tone were the combination of perfect defensiveness. "He started it by implying that he was my keeper ... as though I were some animal! He doesn't trust me to know what's best for myself or how to care for myself, and so I told him
exactly
what I thought!"
"Intriguing," spoke the duke, his tone laced with amusement. "In private, I hope."
«Well —
you see
—
that's the problem."
Alex felt a blush rising as her father laughed out loud and her mother gasped, "Alexandra Stafford!" The duchess spoke to her husband sharply. "This is because you are too lenient with her." Turning back to Alex, she queried, "Where did you 'tel him
exactly
what you thought'?"
The answer sped out, "On the
ball
room floor ... but no one heard!"
"Alexandra!" her mother cried.
"No one?" This from the duke.
«Well,
no one except Freddie."
When her father spoke next, he did so with a tone of humor. "I'd lay odds that, considering Blackmoor's opinion of Stanhope, he hardly thinks of him as
'no one.'"
"Quite," Her Grace added. "Yes,
well
, that would explain why you and Gavin had a
fall
ing-out."
Alex was about to again defend herself when the sound of Harquist clearing his throat interrupted her. Alex turned in surprise, as Harquist rarely had much to say this late in the evening. The old man spoke quickly, "My lord and ladies, Lord Blackmoor is here and requests an audience."
Alex turned a stunned look on her mother and father, who looked surprised and curious respectively. She spoke in an urgent whisper. "Father, don't accept him, please? I can't have another moment of his overbearing attitude this evening."
"I most certainly
will
accept him, Alexandra," replied the Duke. "You
’ll
have to suffer through. Send him in, Harquist, thank you."
Alex sent a pleading look at her mother, who made no move to rescue her youngest child and only daughter. Alex wondered if she had enough time to escape the room before Blackmoor arrived.
"My lord," Gavin spoke as he crossed the threshold, "forgive me for
calling
at such a late hour."
Drat. No escape,
Alex thought to herself as she patently avoided looking at him.
"It's never too late an hour for you, Gavin." Alex's father stood. "You look like the Devil. What's happened to you?"
Alex couldn't help but look up at Gavin upon hearing the tone in her father's voice. He did indeed look the worse for wear. His face was flushed and he was breathing heavily, as though he'd run
all
the way over. Was it possible he'd come to apologize? One of her eyebrows rose in curiosity as he opened his mouth to speak.
"I never would have bothered you had it not been a matter of particular import. You see
—
" Alex leaned forward. Could it be that he was going to confess his actions at the Worthington House dinner? What could he possibly be here for in the middle of the night?
"It's Blackmoor House. I've been robbed."
He stalked his rooms, furious.
This night had been essential to his plans. He'd convinced his partners that they should give him one more chance
—
one more day to discover what they were desperate to find. He'd promised that he would find the documents they now knew the deceased earl had possessed. He'd sworn he could complete this
—
the
smallest
of tasks. For he knew that if anyone else found the information before him, his would be the first neck placed in the hangman's noose.
And he had failed.
He'd not given the study as thorough an inspection as he'd wanted. He'd started ... he'd emptied the desk and searched the cupboards. He'd just begun to examine the bookshelves when he saw the carriage lanterns in the drive of Worthington House and realized that his time had run out.
If only the brat hadn't come home early from the
ball
. If only he'd stayed out with the rest of the
shall
ow, debauched members of the ton, celebrating in excess, as though there were nothing in the world to worry about. What could have happened to force him to come home hours before he was expected?
Maybe the Worthington twit had taken
ill
... leaving
Blackmoor little more to do than escort her home. What good manners. He sneered at the thought.
And then, in an instant, he was struck with an undeniable sense of calm. The solution was clear, as though there had never been any doubt.
Without information, there was no way he could be caught, and the boy was the only person convinced there was more to the earl's death than
appeared at first glance. The boy was the problem
—
always had been. The Earl of Blackmoor was all that was left between him and his safety. His
freedom. Without him, no one would care to search for answers about the happenings on the Essex estate. No one would care to discover the truth
about the earl's death.
The solution was clear.
He already had Blackmoor blood on his hands. What was a little more?
***
Several hours later, Alex was
still
in the library with her mother, only now they were waiting for the return of her father from Blackmoor House, where he'd gone immediately
following
Blackmoor's startling announcement.
Blackmoor's words were
still
hanging in the air when the duke had leapt into action, asking Harquist to wake the footmen to take messages to the Bow Street Runners, the private investigators who kept the peace in London, and to the Marquess of Langford, who was one of the best investigators in Britain. Once the messengers were dispatched, the duke and young earl returned to Blackmoor House to assess the situation. His Grace had said little, except to
tell
his wife and daughter that they should not wait for him to return before retiring to their beds.
Of course, the Stafford women had no intention of taking to their bedchambers before they knew what exactly had transpired that evening at Blackmoor House and what was going to be done to find the criminal who had robbed Gavin.
Alex had alternately attempted to read, to embroider, and to catch up on her correspondence to cousins on the Continent, to no avail. Instead, now she found herself awake at quarter past three in the morning, listening to the sound of her mother's breathing as the duchess napped in her chair.
The waiting gave her plenty of time to reflect on her behavior at the
ball
, at the Worthington dinner, and in the two weeks that separated the events,
as well as
on her own feelings for Blackmoor, which she was terrified to admit.
The more she thought about him, the more she worried
—
not about the burglary, which was unfortunate, to be sure, but would be addressed by Bow Street and her father. No, she worried about the fact that they were so clearly growing apart; she worried that they seemed to have a markedly different relationship now from what they'd ever had before; and she worried that she'd ruined whatever relationship they might have by losing her temper in front of Freddie. She simply hadn't been herself since they'd nearly kissed.
They
had
nearly kissed, hadn't they?
Torturing herself, she replayed the scene on the Worthington House balcony over and over in her mind, each time wondering if she'd been mad to think that he was
actually
going to kiss her. Perhaps
all
this emotion was for naught. Perhaps she'd misread the situation
—
after
all
, it was not a situation in which she commonly found herself. Perhaps they
hadn't
been close to kissing. Perhaps it was
all
in her head. She hadn't
really
wanted to kiss him anyway.
Of course she had.
Yes, she had wanted the kiss. She
still
did. No, she wanted more than that. She wanted him to want her back. When on earth had that happened? She sighed, dismayed by the fact that the season had made most things in her life unpleasantly complicated.
The clock in the
hallway
chimed half past three, marking two hours since her father and Gavin had left the house to meet the runner. Alex looked up at the ceiling, wondering how much longer she would have to wait before her father came home with news.
She had just decided to send a footman over to Blackmoor House to check on the status of the evening when she heard the front door open and her father's rich tenor. "It's no trouble at
all
, Gavin. You know that. Your mother would have our heads if we didn't offer you a roof tonight, of
all
nights. More important, the duchess wouldn't stand for anything else. This I know."
Alex stood and walked to the door of the library to find the duke and Blackmoor handing their topcoats and walking sticks to Harquist, who had stayed awake to await his master. "Thank you, Harquist. Please have a chamber made for Lord Blackmoor, and then that
will
be
all
, my good man. You have outdone yourself this evening," the duke said warmly.
Blackmoor chimed in, "Indeed, Harquist. Thank you for
all
your help."
"My lords, it was my pleasure," spoke the old man. "Lord Blackmoor, the crimson chamber already awaits you. Her Grace expected you would join us this evening." With a short bow he took his leave.
The duke offered Blackmoor a weary smile. "You see? You are quite welcome here tonight, my boy." Turning, he noticed Alex. "Stil
l
awake, moppet?"
She nodded seriously. "Of course. Mother and I stayed awake to make certain that everything was set to right." With a nod over her shoulder she corrected herself.
«Well,
Mother and I stayed
downstairs
to make certain that everything was set to right. Awake is another matter."
As if on cue, the duchess emerged from the library to wrap Blackmoor in an enveloping hug as she said, "I know you're an earl now, Gavin, but even earls need some mothering now and then."
Gavin's arms caught the duchess in a firm hold as he hugged her back and said, "Indeed, they do."
The duchess
pulled
back and placed a kiss on each of Blackmoor's cheeks. "You
will
stay with us tonight." It was not a question.
"Yes, thank you, Your Grace."
The duchess waved away the thanks. "The crimson room is already prepared. Alexandra
will
remind you of the way."
Gavin nodded. "Thank you, Your Grace."
"Nonsense. We
shall
see you at breakfast." T
urning to Alex, she spoke regall
y, "Alexandra, I should think Gavin has had enough excitement for one evening. Endeavor not to add to it."
A blush rose high on Alex's cheeks as she accepted her mother's kiss. "Yes, Mother."
"Good night."
And, with that, the duke and duchess took their leave of Alex and Blackmoor, and climbed the stairs to their bedchambers.
Shaking herself out of her trance
following
her parents' departure, Alex turned and re-entered the library to put out the candles and prepare a light to guide them to the upper floors of the house. The task kept her from thinking too seriously about the fact that she was, once again, alone with Blackmoor.
She turned from her task, candle in hand, to find him leaning against the doorjamb, rubbing the back of his neck and watching her intently.
Alex spoke quickly, eager to
fill
the air. "My lord, is all
well
?"
He offered her a brief, tired smile. "As
well as
can be expected, I imagine. I confess, I am happy to be here tonight."
"We are happy to host you. I imagine things
will
look better in the morning ... or at least brighter."
"One can certainly hope."
"Neither my mother nor I would have stood for your being alone at Blackmoor House this evening."
Gavin smiled wearily. "The two of you are an irresistible force. I shan't put up a fight."
In the pause that
followed
, Alex searched for a safe topic
—
one that would offset her nervousness about being alone with him. "Was much taken in the burglary?"
He shook his head quickly. "No. In fact, nothing that I could discern. It seems that the intruder was interrupted. I'm left with
all
my possessions, but quite a mess to clean up."
"You mean the intruder was in the house when you arrived home?" The idea sent a
chill
down Alex's spine.
"I imagine so." Seeing the alarm on Alex's face, Gavin stepped toward her. "But I did not see him. So
all
is
well
."
"Aside from the fact that you could have been
kill
ed, you mean ... and
all
because of me!"
"Because of you?" His confusion was obvious in his tone.
"Of course! If we hadn't quarreled ..." She trailed off.
"If we hadn't quarreled, I wouldn't have surprised the intruder and I could
well
be missing valuable items from Blackmoor House. As it is, I've lost only the time it takes to set the study to right."
"Still
..." She paused, then spoke, looking down at her feet. "I'm sorry."
"There's no need for you to apologize."
"There is. I'm not just sorry about the burglary
—
although I am sorry about that. I'm sorry about this evening, and about Freddie, and for making you so very angry, and ... for everything." By the end of the sentence, her voice was barely a whisper.
"Alex."
She couldn't look up at him.
"Alexandra. Look at me."
With a sigh, she did, meeting his gaze as he spoke firmly. "You don't have to apologize for any of that. I incited you ... I know that now as much as I knew it then. I'm sorry that I was boorish. I should have checked my behavior long before it came to our arguing in the middle of a
ball
." He reached out and took the candle from her hands, setting it on a nearby table before taking her hands in his.
"I'm
the one who should be apologizing. I don't know what got into me about Freddie. I've always quite liked him. But this season ... seeing him flirting with you ... it's been ... difficult to watch. And I
know
my behavior has been reprehensible."
"You have to stop thinking of me as your sister, Gavin."
He offered her a half smile. "That seems to be the singular problem." Confusion clouded her emerald eyes as he continued, "You see, I
haven't
been thinking of you as my sister. In fact, the way I've been thinking when it comes to you is the very
opposite
of brotherly."
The words hung in the air and Alex's eyes widened as understanding dawned.
He offered a self-deprecating smile. "I see you take my meaning." He let go of her hands and ran his fingers through his hair as though he didn't know what to do with them. "You needn't worry. I'm not going to act on my feelings."
"Why?" Alex asked the question without thinking.
"If only I knew why. It began at the start of the season, and at first I chalked it up to my missing you while I was in mourning. Which I did. But instead of the feelings dissipating as I spent time in your company"
—
he slashed a hand through the air in frustration
—
"they only seemed to grow stronger."
Alex looked up at him, meeting his frustrated grey eyes. "Not why are you feeling the way you are, Gavin. Why aren't you going to act on those feelings?"
He froze. Neither of them moved, each afraid to take the next step. The first step.
The moment stretched out into what seemed like an eternity and Alex began
to feel awkward
, as though she had said the wrong thing. "I
—
I'm sorry. I
—
I don't know what prompted me to ask such a thing." She started to take a step backward.
"No." The word was soft, but brooked no refusal. She went
still
as he continued, "There are a dozen reasons why I shouldn't act on them." He lifted his hands to cradle her face between them. "A hundred reasons why I should turn around and walk out of this room." He leaned down until he was a hairbreadth away from her. "But I'm through listening to them." And, with that, he kissed her.
The instant she felt his lips touch hers, feather soft, Alex couldn't stop herself from returning the kiss, from reveling in it. His lips were warm and firm, and the feeling of them so wonderful that
all
thought escaped her. This was it, her first kiss
—
and with such an unexpected person in such an unexpected place at such an unexpected time. But it was perfect... and she never wanted it to end. She wanted to stand here forever, basking in the glow of this perfect moment
—
the feel of his hands on her cheeks, the warmth of his body, the sound of his breathing, the way her head was spinning.
Of course, it did end. Too soon. But, when it was over, he placed his forehead against her own, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, as though steadying himself before letting her go.
"I've been waiting to do that for weeks," he said with surprise in his voice. "I'm rather shocked that it happened."
She smiled shyly. "No more shocked than I, I imagine."
"So you don't want to stomp on my foot and run from the room?"
"Not at
all
. I rather enjoyed the whole experience." He chuckled. "I'm happy to hear that."