The Season

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."

"Really." 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. "All 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. "Really?"

"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, finally, 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 sally 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 th

oughts 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 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 hall way, 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.

Alex held up a turquoise-colored riding habit for Vivi and Ella to consider. "Am I that obvious?"

"Only to those who know you best," Ella said, wrinkling her nose and shaking her head at the dress and pointing, instead, to the buttercup-colored Empire walking dress that Vivi was holding. "That one."

Within minutes, Alex was dressed and the three girls had made their way to the terrace of the manor, where they joined the duchess and will , who were seated under a large linen canopy, out of the sun. As soon as they dropped into the chairs set out for them, Alex announced, "I'm famished!"

The duchess reached for a nearby teapot and poured her daughter a cup of tea while continuing to list the tasks she needed to complete prior to the arrival of several early guests that afternoon. "I'm still not entirely sure how to arrange all the rooms — I thought I had it all complete, then realized that I placed Lady Twizzleton and Lord Vauxwel in adjoining rooms. That won't do." She placed two biscuits on the saucer and passed the makeshift breakfast to her youngest child.

"Why can't you just move one of them to an unused room?" will queried.

"My dear boy, there aren't any unused rooms."

"Mother!" Alex exclaimed around a mouth filled with biscuit. "Whatever do you mean, there aren't any rooms? There are twenty-three bedchambers in this house."

"Twenty-four, actually. It seems the party has grown in size."

"It certainly has! How many young, eligible men did you invite?" Alex's exasperation showed.

"Not as many as I would have liked," the duchess replied. will snickered, only to stop immediately when she explained, "I had to invite eligible young ladies as well ... and their parents, of course."

Alex smiled sweetly at her brother. "Of course. Ah, sweet justice. You have to deal with girls and mothers."

Will scowled. "At least I'm not the only eligible male in attendance."

"To that end, where are Nick and Kit and Blackmoor?" Alex queried, attempting to sound casual.

"Christopher and Nicholas are still abed," the duchess r

eplied, shaking her head. "I'm sending their valets to wake them in a quarter of an hour if they fail to emerge on their own. As for Blackmoor, he was up very early to go back to Sewell hall and check on some estate affairs. I expect him back before this evening's dinner."

"Indeed," Will agreed, "Blackmoor swore he'd not leave me to face the wolves alone."

Alex sipped her tea to cover her disappointment that she wouldn't see Blackmoor until the evening. She had been hoping to spend some part of the day with him — she would have settled for seeing him at a distance. She sighed quietly into her teacup, wondering if he would come back sooner rather than later to see her.

Her brother gave her a wry look. "I feel exactly the same way," he said sympathetically, clearly thinking that she was accepting her fate as the unmarried daughter of an inveterate matchmaker.

Alex understood his meaning and smiled to herself, amused by his misinterpretation. "Somehow, I doubt that."

«Well, both of you will have to endeavor to overcome your disappointment," the duchess said distractedly, looking down at the list in her hand. "Eleanor, Vivian, do you girls mind my moving you to the adjoining rooms? That way, I can put Lord Vauxwel between Gavin's uncle and Lord and Lady Waring, and Lady Twizzleton next to the Stanhopes."

Alex's head snapped up at her mother's words. She met Ella's gaze to confirm that she'd heard correctly. Ella nodded mutely.

"Mother, did you say Lucian Sewell will be here?"

"Indeed, I did. I know he's an odd man, but I couldn't very well invite Blackmoor and leave him off the list. especially since he's been such a help since the earl's death."

Vivi coughed to cover her innate response to the duchess's words. Alex, a chill running down her spine, spoke, choosing her words carefully. "Of course. I was merely surprised. When do you expect him to arrive?"

"My understanding is that they are on their way presently and should be here not long before dinner."

"They?" Ella blurted out.

"He and Baron Montgrave. They seem to be very close. I thought it might make Lucian more comfortable."