The Season(74)

She shook her head, “I think that, at this particular moment, you are rather a genius.”

“Oh, you do?” he said teasingly. “And what else are you thinking?”

She smiled softly at his obvious attempt to entice her into revealing her feelings. “I’m thinking you have the most beautiful eyes in the world. And that your shoulders have grown exponentially broader since last year. And that your smile is the only thing able to make me forget myself and do things that are thoroughly inexcusable.

“Mostly, however, I’m thinking that you’ve been my savior for years…since before I can remember…my friend for the same length of time. And I honestly believe that there is nothing that could have stopped me from falling in love with you. It was only a matter of time.”

“Say the words,” he prodded.

“I love you, Gavin. I love the boy you were and the man you have become.” She had never been so certain of anything in her life.

“Capital,” he pronounced, and kissed her roundly, threading his fingers through her hair, scattering her hairpins and setting her heart racing.

After several moments, she stopped the kiss, meeting his gaze directly for several seconds before saying firmly, “Gavin. Promise me you won’t do anything rash about your uncle. Promise me you won’t do anything by yourself. Promise me you’ll ask for help.”

“I promise. If you promise not to get yourself any more involved in this than you already are, Alex. I will tie you up in a linen closet if I think I must to keep you safe.”

“All right.”

“Say the words.”

“I promise.”

They sat together long into the night, basking in the glow of their newly professed love, talking until the light of day began to creep over the horizon in deep purple streaks and Alex was unable to keep her eyes open. Placing one final kiss on her forehead, Blackmoor snuck into the hallway and, unseen, found his own chamber.

twenty-two

He watched the Essex countryside roll past beyond the carriage window. He had been traveling all night—seething with anger.

He had lost everything. All because of that brat. His French partners had broken contact with him. Stopped using his services. It was only a matter of time before they came for him; he knew too much—their identities, their plans, their location.

The girls had to be dealt with. He would not be bested by a gaggle of irritating children.

He knew, without question, that they had been searching the study of Blackmoor House. They had been looking for the same thing he had been looking for—information that could lead to his capture and the capture of his contacts. Information that would see them all hanged.

While he was certain the girls hadn’t found anything—after all, if he had failed to find the evidence designed to incriminate him, he was sure that three silly girls playing at investigators could do no better—but now he was concerned about Blackmoor’s suspicions being raised.

He was growing more desperate. Everything he had worked for was lost. He could not risk losing his life as well. The ridiculous young earl was proving to be no sort of threat; he was just as much of a lapdog as his father had been. But those girls…they had to be silenced. Starting with that meddling Worthington chit, who seemed fearless. If anything happened to her, it would devastate the earl.

He smiled darkly, willing the horses forward.

Alex woke, stretching luxuriously, keenly aware of the sun high in the sky, marking the lateness of the hour. Outside her chamber, she could hear two maids chattering as they moved down the hallway, clearing away any stray dust that might take away from the imposing stature of the manor. One laughed, the sound tinkling through the door, and Alex felt a jolt of happiness at the sound.

Of course, it would have been difficult to dampen her mood on this particular morning, after such a wonderful night shared with Blackmoor. Her Blackmoor. She smiled to herself as a wave of eagerness coursed through her. She wondered if she’d missed the chance to see him at breakfast, if he was still in the house, if she could catch him before he left on whatever excursion her brothers had likely cooked up to avoid the arrival of her parents’ guests. She threw back the covers and bounded from the bed, pulling the bell for Eliza.

She was deep in her wardrobe, poring through clothes, when the knock sounded on her door. She called out, “Enter!” expecting Eliza. Instead, Ella and Vivi entered, then stopped short just inside the room, surprised by the scene they had disturbed.

Vivi spoke first, unable to keep the curiosity from her tone. “Begging your pardon, whatever are you doing?”

Alex stepped back, exclaiming, “Oh! Thank goodness! I don’t have any idea what to wear! You have to help me. What should I wear to make me look”—she waved her hand in the air as she searched for the word—“beautiful? The green walking dress? The lavender day dress? Something else? Help!”

“Whatever for? When have you ever been concerned with fashion?” Ella asked, unable to keep the confusion from her tone.

Vivi understood immediately. “Ella, you really can be dense at times.” She walked toward Alex, pushing her way into the wardrobe beside her. “Looking to impress Blackmoor, are we?”

Alex blushed prettily, peeking around a cream-colored evening gown. “Yes. How did you know?”

“You’ve hardly been the model of discretion,” Vivi pointed out.