The Season

With a sigh of relief, she took the arm he offered, whispering, "That was cruel. I thought you declared a truce?"

As they made their way to dinner, he replied, "On the contrary. I offered a truce. You did not accept."

"Mere words, sir."

"That may be. But this is London in season — words are paramount."

She chuckled. "Either way, I must thank you — you seem to be ever saving me from getting myself into trouble."

With an exaggerated sigh, he replied, "It's a task I resigned myself to long ago, Alex."

She couldn't help but think of the first time he'd saved her. "Lucky for you, you don't have to catch me jumping from trees anymore. I daresay your more recent missions have been rather more easy."

"I wouldn't be so certain," he spoke enigmatically.

She didn't have a chance to ask him what he meant, because they had arrived in the dining hall and were immediately swept up in the energy of the conversation and the extraordinary food.

Alex found herself seated at the far end of the table, to the left of the Marquess of Langford, sure to be a fascinating dinner companion. It didn't hurt that he was the father of one of her closest friends, which served to put her at ease. She sent a silent offering of thanks to her mother for the seating arrangement. On her left was Mr. Sinew, whom she almost immediately decided she liked — the newspaper publisher was clearly intelligent and unpretentious, a welcome change to most members of the ton.

Across the table was Lady Charlotte Twizzleton, a brilliant woman who, at the age of six and twenty, was considered very much "on the shelf" and who very much didn't seem to care. Instead, she had traveled the world, attended salons with the greatest minds of the era, and spent her days talking with whomever she chose about whatever she chose.

Alex had always found Lady Charlotte a particular inspiration and she was pleased to note that, while the duchess was clearly obsessed with seeing her only daughter married off without delay, it didn't seem to have diminished her admiration for such a freethinking young woman ... or else why seat Alex near such a risky influence?

Vivi and Ella were seated farther away, a fact that Alex noted with slight disappointment, but she threw herself into the vibrant conversation, which ran a gamut of fascinating topics, from art to politics to the ever-present war. Her excitement and interest in the discussion were soon joined by the remarkable realization that these particular gentlemen seemed actually to listen to the opinions of the women around them! What was this strange new world that her parents had been hiding from her?

Turning, Alex looked down the table at her mother, who was holding court at the end of the room. She watched with fascination as the duchess said something witty, garnering a round of laughter from her companions. She caught Alex's eye over the feast laid out between them, and with a slow nod of acknowledgment, she shared a knowing look with her youngest child, as if to say, Your mother isn't all she seems, is she?

Alex felt admiration burst in her chest. For all her frustrating qualities, her mother certainly was a remarkable hostess. For the second time that night, she felt very proud to be a Stafford ... and very honored to have received an invitation to this particular gathering.

eleven

After dinner, the guests adjourned to the music room, where the conversation continued, and they were able to mingle with each other. Despite her intense enjoyment of her dinner companions, Alex was particularly happy to be able to ensconce herself in a corner of the room with Vivi and Ella — whom she'd missed during the meal.

"I've heard about these dinners for years." Vivi spoke in a hushed voice but was unable to keep the excitement from her tone. "But I never imagined they would be so ..."

"Different from every other event we've ever attended or been prepared for?" Alex finished for her friend. "I know! Imagine how you would feel if the dinner were hosted by your parents. I'm barely able to recognize them! How was your company?"

Vivi replied, "I was seated with Lucian Sewell , Blackmoor's uncle, and the dowager duchess. He was quiet but charming, and she was positively outrageous! You wouldn't believe the things she's willing to say!"

Looking across the room, Alex watched as the aged character in question swatted Ella's father with the tip of her ever-present walking stick. She pointed out the interaction to the other girls and said, "Oh ... I think we can imagine."

Ella laughed at her father's indignation. "I hope you didn't upset her, Vivi — I wouldn't like to be on the receiving end of that stick."

"I have been on the end of that stick," Alex said. "It's as pointy as you'd imagine. But it doesn't compare to the scolding you receive as part of your punishment for perceived slights."

She hunched over and raised the pitch of her voice, mimicking the old woman — sending the other two girls into gales of laughter at her eerily accurate impression. The laughter drew the attention of the rest of the room and an oddly knowing look from the Dowager Duchess of Lockwood herself.

"Uh-oh ..." Alex gave her friends a sheepish look, making them both snicker. "I've a feeling I've been caught."

A masculine voice interrupted them. "You've definitely been caught — I've received that look one or two times myself. Prepare yourself for a deafening set-down the next time she's got you in earshot."

She turned to Blackmoor. "She’ll have to catch me first."

"Don't let the cane fool you. She's decidedly fleet-footed when she wants to be." Then Blackmoor spoke to the trio. "I've been sent by the duchess and countess to separate the three of you. Your mothers evidently don't trust you to stay out of trouble."

Vivi chuckled. "Unfortunately, they appear to be right. And not alone. My father is looking equally concerned — I seem to be caught as well ." She continued, "I suppose I'm going to have to go make amends. Would anyone like to join me?"

Ella grinned. "I’ll come. After all , your father is far less likely to give us a scolding than my mother is at the moment."

Left alone, Alex turned to Blackmoor and with mock accusation, «Well, you certainly ruined that fun, my lord."

With a short bow, he responded, "It's a particular gift of mine. Would a turn about the room provide you with any entertainment?"

She took the offered arm and answered casually, "I suppose that if I have to take a turn about the room with someone, you're better than most."

"Your ability to flatter is absolutely mind-reeling, Lady Alexandra."

"It's a particular gift of mine, my lord."

He laughed at her use of his own words. "I noticed you were having a good time at dinner. You seemed to be participating in a very exciting conversation."

"I was lucky to be seated with fascinating company. If a little surprised by the entire experience."

"Surprised?"

"I suppose I never imagined my parents to be so different as hosts from how they are as parents. It's silly, really. I mean, of course, they have lives beyond their children."

His voice grew serious. "It's not silly, Alex. It's never easy to discover your parents are more than they seem."

Alex sensed they were talking about something more than the evening at hand. Noticing they had come upon the entrance to the terrace that overlooked the back gardens, she recognized the possibility for a private conversation and said, "I find I am a little warm. Do you mind escorting me outside?"

He gave her a slightly surprised look but nodded in agreement, and they moved through the open glass doors into the cool London night.

They were not alone on the balcony, however, for they found themselves interrupting the Baron Montgrave and Lucian Sewell , who were deep in conversation.

"There is nothing to do." Lucian spoke quietly.

"There is everything!" the baron replied, his voice louder, more excited.

That was all they overheard before the men became aware of their presence and Blackmoor spoke, "Apologies, Uncle. Baron. We did not mean to interrupt." He made a move to tu

rn Alex away from the conversation and return inside, when his uncle spoke.

"No need for apologies. The baron and I were just talking about the war" — he turned toward his nephew with a half smile — "and frankly, you've saved me from some embarrassment."

"I was merely discussing the remarkable part your uncle has played in the war, Lord Blackmoor," the baron added without looking away from Sewell.

Lucian tipped his head in a manner Alex recognized as affected humility. "Baron Montgrave exaggerates. I am hardly the hero he makes me out to be."

"Not so. I assume your uncle has kept silent about his actions over the last few years, Lord Blackmoor. I can only hope that someday you will ask him to enlighten you about his ... exploits."

Lucian shook his head and met the eyes of the baron, Alex noticed. His next words were directed at the Frenchman. "My nephew need not hear of my past, Baron. It is just that. The past." Offering a short bow to Alex, he continued, "Lady Alexandra, a pleasure as always. I think I shall return inside."

With that, Sewell took his leave, the baron quick on his heels, leaving Blackmoor and Alex on the terrace with the cool night breeze around them.

Alex had the distinct feeling that the conversation they had witnessed had been weightier than it seemed ... although she couldn't quite discern why she felt so. Shaking off her thoughts, she looked for a way to lighten the moment for Blackmoor, who seemed lost in his own reverie.

«Well . They certainly were an unconventional pair."

Looking off into the darkened garden, Gavin murmured his agreement. "My uncle seems to col ect companions who don't quite fit him." Distractedly, he continued, "As I was saying ... it's not uncommon to discover that your elders are somewhat different from how they seem. My uncle Lucian exemplifies that point."

"Your time together has not changed that?"

Blackmoor gave a little laugh. "Not in the slightest. He is as much a mystery now as he was when I was a boy — only now ..." He trailed off.

Alex meant to let the silence hang until he was ready to say more. Truly, she did. But, unfortunately, she couldn't help herself. "Now?"

He stayed quiet, and she thought he might ignore her question — so far away he was from this moment, this night. Just when she was about to change the subject, he spoke quietly. "Now he is the only link I have to my father. And, much as I try, I can't seem to find any of my father in him. And I wouldn't be surprised if he said the very same thing of me."

"Why do you say that?" she blurted out before she could stop herself. Once the question was spoken, she qualified it almost immediately. "Not seeing your father in him — I understand that — they are markedly different men, to be sure. But why do you say that he must do the same?"

He turned to look at her and she was surprised by the troubled expression in his eyes, dark grey in the dim light.

"I never had the chance to learn to be like him." This time, she stayed quiet, watching his throat work, his eyes darken, as he attempted to find words that would make sense. "He died so early. So much sooner than I had ever — At night, when I am home in that blasted house, all I can think is that I should have been more attentive. I should have paid him more mind."

The words were tumbling from his lips, and Alex desperately wanted to console him. "You couldn't have known ..."

"I know that. I just wish I'd ... I just wish I'd been more. Better." He took a deep breath, pausing long enough to make her wonder if he was going to speak again. Just when she thought she was going to have to break the silence, to reassure him, he spoke in a whisper, "I wish I'd been a better son."

Her response was instant. "You were a wonderful son. You are a wonderful son. He believed that. I know that as well as I know my own name."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

"How could you?"

He looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time since they'd come out to the terrace, and she was surprised by how much a man he appeared in the darkness. The light shadowed his face, harshening the angles of his straight nose, his strong jaw. His eyes glittered with something unnamed and Alex didn't know if it was a trick of the light, but she couldn't look away from him.

Instead, she reached out, placing her hand on the warm smooth fabric of his jacket where it hugged his arm, not knowing what to say to make this whole situation well again. She settled for a gentle and impassioned, "I have spent much of my life with fathers and sons. I know a good match when I see one. He loved you, Gavin. He was proud of you. And there is so much of him in you — so much of his strength, his humor, his character."

Her touch seemed to pull him out of his daze, and he looked down at her slim, white hand, placing his own on hers before recapturing her gaze. One half of his mouth quirked in an attempt at a smile, and he spoke. "That's the first time you've called me Gavin since the season began." His breath exhaled on a little laugh. "I thought perhaps you'd forgotten my given name."

She tried to ignore the feelings coursing through her at his touch as she replied, "I'm just trying to get used to your being an earl. I have to keep reminding myself."

"You're not alone. I find I have to remind myself most days. And I assure you, I'd much prefer not to be Blackmoor." His voice quieted. "What I wouldn't give to be Gavin again."

Alex searched for the right words. "I cannot imagine how difficult this must be for you." She paused, then pushed on. "In my opinion, I think you make an excellent earl ... I always knew you would. And, more than that, I'm certain your father is very proud, wherever he is.".

He turned his head to look at her, but remained silent.

An emotion she couldn't define flashed in his eyes —- something she'd never seen in them before. She continued, "And, even though you may not recognize him now, Gavin is still there. still as strong as ever."

His eyes darkened as he straightened and faced her. He moved his arm underneath her hand, twisting it and lacing her fingers through his own. She was keenly aware of the heat of his skin on hers, the intensity in his gaze. The moment stretched out between them and Alex had the feeling that something she did not fully understand was happening. She met his eyes and he stepped closer to her, leaving little room between them. As he looked down at her, a lock of his hair fell across his forehead. Her fingers itched to push it back from his face.

"You really believe that?"

"Every word."

Her breath caught as he raised his free hand to her face, tipping it upward toward the light. The touch sent a strange feeling through her, something she'd never felt before this moment.

When he spoke, she could hear the surprise in his voice. "You make me want to believe it." He was mere inches from her and their gazes were locked together.

And all of a sudden, she knew. He was going to kiss her. And she wanted him to. More than she could have imagined. Her breath caught as his gaze moved from her eyes to her lips and her whole body tensed as she watched him move closer.

His lips were so close to her own that she could feel the light touch of his breath on her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed and she waited on tenterhooks ... all her senses screaming, He's going to kiss you!

Only, he didn't.

Instead, just as Alex was sure she was feeling the beginnings of her first kiss, she heard his soft curse. Her eyes flew open as he jumped back from her, loosing her hand. She found herself rather dizzy from his quick movement and the instant loss of his warmth.

"We cannot do this."

"We cannot?" The words came out soft and bewildered.

"No!" He stopped and raked his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath, looking anywhere but at her. She had no idea what to say or how to act — after all , it's not every day one of your dearest friends nearly kisses you. So she stayed quiet.

He cleared his throat and spoke. "We are as good as family." And that was that. "I should escort you back inside."

She willed her voice to remain steady and

was never so thankful as when her response came out sounding as though she experienced this particular situation most every day. "Of course. I shouldn't like to miss any of the festivities."

She ignored his offered arm and brushed past him toward the bright lights of the drawing room, leaving him to follow behind.

twelve

It's all Alex's fault. If it weren't for her, we would be able to carry on as we always have without Mother making us do her bidding." Kit looked across the table at will , who nodded his head firmly in agreement and dealt the next hand of vingt-et-un, the card game they were playing.

Nick looked down at his cards with an air of superiority. "At least I have a legitimate reason to miss the Salisbury ball . Mother can't deny me the trip back to Oxford that's been planned for weeks. The two of you are on your own!"

He flipped his cards, showing them with a confident flourish, and grimaced when he saw that he'd lost roundly to all three of the others.

Blackmoor, who occupied the fourth seat at the table, commented, "I should say that rather takes the sting off, doesn't it, Kit? will ?"

The boys all laughed and continued their conversation as will collected his winnings from the center of the table and began to shuffle the cards for another hand. Kit spoke next.

"She can't force us to go to the ball . We're grown men, for Lord's sake!"

Will cocked an eyebrow at his younger brother. "You don't think she can force us? We are speaking of the same mother, correct? small frame, enormous will ?"

Kit sighed and leaned back in his chair, leveling his older brother with a stare. "How are we going to escape?"

"We're not," said Will . "This is one of those balls that we can't avoid — Nicola Salisbury has been a friend of Alex's for years. She's not going to miss this for anything."

Nick spoke up. "That may be true, but I really am beginning to think that Alex is no more interested in attending the Salisbury ball than we are. She's been rather more difficult than usual in the last few days, don't you think?"