The Season (24 page)

She made it
all
the way to her bedchamber and had one hand on the door handle before she realized that Blackmoor had
followed
her abovestairs.

She knew before she looked back that she would find him silhouetted in the light, and when she did, her heart began to pound.

"What are you doing up here?"

"Retiring to my chamber."

"Why aren't you doing that at your own home?" The question came out more harshly than she'd intended.

"Are you disappointed? I shan't bother you, Alex."

"No! No. I just thought ... since ... you live next door ..." She stopped, feeling rather idiotic, then pressed on, "I ... I don't care where you sleep."

"
Excellent.
Then if it's
all
the same to you, I think I
shall
stay here."

"It's fine with me."

"Good."

She turned back to her door and pushed it open as he moved down the
hall
. She started to step forward into the room; she meant to go in and close the door behind her. Instead, she turned just as he was moving past. "Wait."

He stopped just inches from her, so close that she had to step into the doorway to keep from burning him with her candle. His voice was no louder than a whisper when he spoke, "Yes?"

"I..." she paused again, mute with the flood of words that had rushed to her tongue. What should she say? Where should she start? Was this the place to take her risk? Did she
really
care? "I have something I want to say."

"I sensed that," he teased.

"Perhaps
I’ll
just retire instead."

"I'd rather you didn't." He raised an eyebrow. "I apologize, Alex. Please. Go on."

"This just doesn't seem the ... proper place."

"It seems proper enough to me."

"It's a darkened
hall
way. In the middle of the night."

"Do you have a better locale in mind?"

She looked from one side of the
hallway
to the other quickly, then reached out and grabbed his arm and
pulled
him quickly into her bedchamber, closing the door behind them. They both paused for a moment, equal
l
y shocked by her rash behavior.

He spoke first, saying slowly,
«Well,
I'm fairly certain
this
isn't the proper place."

She blushed. "It's
well
lit. That makes it more proper than the
hall
way." She hoped that sounding like she knew the rules would cover up the fact that he was absolutely right.

"And the fact that it's your bedchamber?"

"Irrelevant."

"Real
l
y." The word came out in a slow drawl. "Why do I have a feeling that if any one of your family members wandered in, they might feel differently?"

She held up her hand, effectively stopping him from saying anything more. "Either way. You're here now."

"So I am."

"
I’ll
try to be quick."

"No need. I wouldn't like to be caught leaving this particular room. Suffice to say, I'm here for an hour or so, until your brothers have almost certainly retired themselves." He moved farther into the room and sat on a pink ruffled stool. Alex couldn't help but chuckle at the picture he made. Looking down at his seat, he joined her in laughter, saying, "Not exactly the portrait of lordliness?"

She covered her smile and shook her head. "Not exactly."

He leaned back and looked at her frankly. "I miss you, Alex."

Her breath caught at his words.
"I
was supposed to say something to
you."

"You waited too long. I decided to speak first."

Alex sat tentatively on the edge of the bed, facing him. "Al
l
right, then. You go first."

"Happily." He paused briefly, and then plunged forward. "I miss you. Everything about you. Since that night at your house, at your mother's dinner, I've mucked up everything. I've lost a handle on how to be near you ... how to speak with you."

"You appear to be doing quite
well
presently," Alex pointed out, teasingly.

He smiled. "Minx. I owe you a tremendous apology. In attempting to better understand everything that has happened in the last few months, I somehow lost my way with you. What can I do to find it again?"

Her heart began to pound as she detected the earnestness in his tone. She didn't know what to say. Earlier in the evening, she had wanted to force him to hear her thoughts on Lucian, but now she couldn't bring herself to draw his uncle into the conversation. She didn't want to risk his closing himself to her again.

She worried her lower lip, wondering if she shouldn't just forgo the topic with him. But what of her resolution in the carriage? What of her commitment to being honest and open with him to test the mettle of what they may or may not have together? She had sworn to herself that she'd speak to him about everything. Vowed that she would make him understand.

She didn't have to. He spoke before she could find her voice. "The things you were trying to
tell
me about my uncle ... I should have listened."

Her eyes flew to his in disbelief. "Real
l
y?"

"I did not treat you fairly. I would have listened to your brothers if they had come to me with such a story." He smiled, continuing, "Perhaps not believed them, but listened nonetheless."

He rested his forearms on his thighs and leaned toward her. "I would like to make it up to you now. If you'd
still
like to discuss it."

She took a deep breath, looking into his clear grey eyes, and realized that choice had been removed from the situation. She was going to have to take the risk she'd promised herself she'd take.

"I would
still
like to discuss it," she said quietly. "I am listening."

And so she told him everything, trying to be calm and relay facts rather than suspicions. She again recounted the conversation she overheard, again relayed what she had witnessed in the corridor beyond the orangery and in the garden outside his study, and then, steeling herself for his anger, told him about the trickery with Bingham, their reconnaissance of the Blackmoor House study when they knew he'd be away, her encounter with Lucian, and, final
l
y, the note they'd found from the late earl.

He had remained silent, though his spine had grown straighter as she recounted her tale. When she was finished, he had only one question. "Do you have the note with you?"

She did, of course, and rose from the bed to find it in her trunk, which had arrived with them that evening,
still
tucked inside
A History of Essex.
She handed the book and note over together, not knowing what more to say.

Opening the parchment, his face was stony as he read the words of his father
—
words that seemed as though they'd come from beyond the grave. Alex winced, knowing what pain they must be causing him. He held
still
for a long moment, then looked up at her with a question in his eyes. "What name is at stake?"

"We could only believe that he was referencing the
Sewell
name. The Blackmoor line," she said
carefully
, uncertain of his thoughts.

He nodded, looking back at the letter. "And the book?
A History of Essex?
Every household in the county must own a copy."

"We don't know. There must be something particular to this copy. Do you remember your father ever speaking of it?"

He shook his head, turning the book over in his hands and studying it. After a few moments, he raised his eyes to hers. "Alex, I should have thought twice when you told me about the conversation you witnessed. I should have asked more questions, listened more
carefully
." Gavin's voice wavered, as he fought his emotions.

"Gavin
—
" She stopped, unsure of what she could say to help.

He stood and walked toward her, taking the spot next to her on the bed. He took her hand in a simple, beautiful act. She stayed quiet, waiting for him to speak.

Long minutes later, he did. "I believed in him. Believed that, despite his oddities, his coldness, he was first my uncle. My father's brother. My family. I suppose I wanted to believe in him because he brought me that much closer to the father that I no longer had. I searched for something about him that would remind me of my father. I was desperate to find that similarity. I haven't been able to. And now ... I find that not only is he nothing like my father ... he's the reason I lost my father."

The sadness and shock in his voice devastated Alex, and she wrapped her arms around him. He remained
still
, not responding to her attempt to comfort him for the first few seconds until, consumed by emotion, he caught her in an intense embrace, burying his face in her neck. They stayed that way, wrapped tightly together, sharing their strength in the silence.

And then, after what seemed like an eternity, he
pulled
back, loosening but not releasing his hold. Brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, he asked,

"What should I do?"

She smiled softly, placing her hand on his roughened cheek. "You mean what should
we
do."

He shook his head. "No, Alex. It is too dangerous for you. He's already threatened you."

"Nonsense. I'm the one who discovered everything. We can do this together! We can discover his deeds and make sure he is punished for them, together! I've already been thinking about what we might be looking for at
Sewell hall
."

He shook his head. "Absolutely not. You are forbidden from going within a quarter of a mile of
Sewell hall
. Whatever I do, I
shall
do it alone. I won't risk anyone else I love."

Her voice shook with indignation. "And what am I to do? Simply watch someone
I
love sall
y off to save the day without helping you succeed? The concept is as ridiculous as it is impossible. I should like to see you attempt to forbid me from helping you. I am no delicate flower, Gavin."

He offered a half smile at her reference to her governess's lesson. "You are certainly no delicate flower right now, Alex. That much is true. We
will
discuss this in the morning, when we are both calmer," he said, ignoring her eyebrow raised in ire, and continuing, "Do you not think we should take this time to consider the minor fact that we seem to be in love?"

Her eyes widened slightly at the words and she played the last moments of their conversation over in her head.
We are in love.
He met her gaze, not letting her look away as he spoke. "You appear to have missed my meaning.
allow
me to repeat myself more plainly. I love you, Alex."

She looked at him, shocked by his words, which chased
all
thoughts of their disagreement from her mind. She had been so wrapped up in making sure that he would include her in his plans that she had glossed over the meaning in his words. She opened her mouth, then closed it, scared to speak for fear of ruining this perfect moment.

He leaned forward and placed his forehead against hers, smiling as he spoke in low, liquid tones. "I adore you. I adore your laugh and your wit and your
intelligence
and your confidence. I cannot think of another woman I would rather have by my side than you. You are as
brilliant
as you are beautiful and I probably should have realized it years ago, but I seem to be rather
dull
-witted."

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 exponential
l
y 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.