The Season(55)

She tugged on her hand, attempting to remove it from his arm. He wouldn’t allow it. “Where are we going?”

“You were feeling peaked. I thought, perhaps, you might like some fresh air.”

“I find that I’m feeling much better. I wouldn’t like to catch a chill.”

“Oh, I don’t think there’s a chance of that.” She detected a hint of humor in his voice again.

They arrived on the balcony, which was deserted of others, and he released her. “Now, would you care to tell me what has you so distressed?”

“I told you—”

“Yes. You did. Tea.” He smiled. “You’re a terrible liar in a pinch, Minx.”

“It’s not a lie!”

“No?” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the marble banister edging the balcony.

“No!” she exclaimed. He looked at her. Waiting. “All right! Yes! It’s a lie. If you must know, I’m rather…nervous around you.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

She offered him a quelling look. “Stop looking so amused.”

To give him his due, he did stop. “Very well. Why are you nervous?”

She couldn’t help but look at him as though his brain were addled. “You honestly cannot imagine why?”

He did not respond, but waited for her to continue. She gripped the cool marble banister and looked out into the darkened garden. What should she say? In her mind it was not only obvious why she was nervous—but expected. Hadn’t their relationship undergone a tremendous shift over the past few days? Was she wrong to believe that there was something new and fresh and different and rather terrifying between them?

He clearly didn’t think so. And as much as she wanted to appear as calm and collected as he was, she couldn’t do it. She whispered, “You kissed me.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled. “I did.”

“And, that night, everything seemed that it was somehow going to be different. Only it wasn’t. It was all the same. In a good way…I suppose. But…I just…” She turned her large, clear emerald eyes on him and whispered again, “You kissed me. And you cannot erase that.”

“You’re right. I cannot take it back. I wouldn’t even attempt to erase it. Because it would be impossible.” He sighed, standing up straight. “But kissing you again would be one of the biggest mistakes I could make.”

He saw the flash of pain in her eyes but, before he could explain, Vivi burst through the doors. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here! Grabhands quite awkwardly cornered me on the way to the refreshment room. I had no choice but to escape—I saw you two on your way out here and made for you!” She offered a broad smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but I need a savior.”

Alex’s emerald eyes were glassy with unshed tears as she looked at Blackmoor. “Well, you’re in luck. Savior is a role in which Blackmoor feels more than comfortable.” Turning toward the ballroom, she continued, “If you’re all right, Vivi, I have to get back inside.”

And, with that, she fled.

seventeen

Alex pushed back into the ball, desperate for a spot where she could be alone to nurse her wounded ego. Of course, with more than five hundred people in her home, that desire wasn’t the easiest to fulfill. She hadn’t spent her entire life sneaking around this house on nights just like this one for nothing, however.

Slipping through the ladies’ cloakroom to access the servants’ passage that would lead her to the unoccupied part of the house, she wondered if she could simply take to her bedchamber without attracting notice. The idea hadn’t even fully formed in her mind before she realized that she would never escape her mother’s wrath if she did anything close to that. By her calculations, she had less than a quarter of an hour to be by herself before she would have to return to the ball.

She exited the servants’ quarters into a darkened passageway, heading for the orangery, which had always been her favorite room in the house. The sounds of the orchestra faded into the distance as she moved quietly through the hallway, thanking her maker that the duchess had decided to keep these particular rooms free from visitors, only to be replaced with quiet murmurings coming from behind one of the closed doors of the corridor. Wondering who had snuck away from the ball and, more importantly, why they were behind closed doors deep in the inner recesses of the house, Alex paused outside the door, pressing her ear to the rich, dark wood, attempting to make out the voices inside, which appeared to be discussing politics.

“Napoleon gains strength. He’s garnering support across France. If the Crown is going to strike, it will do so soon. We don’t need informants to tell us that.” The voice, laced with disdain, sounded foreign, but Alex couldn’t identify it through the thick door.

“No, of course not. I wasn’t suggesting that you did. I was simply pointing out that I have many strong connections that could prove useful in your search for information. If a strike is planned, I can help you predict it. I think I’ve done more than prove my commitment to your cause.” Alex put a hand to her mouth in surprise, recognizing that she was eavesdropping on a particularly dark conversation. She stayed quiet, trying to hear over the pounding of her heart.

“Indeed. You have made your…commitment…more than clear.”