Slowly, Alex pulled his gaze from the corner of the carriage where he’d been staring at nothing for the past hour or so. He couldn’t read her features, for a veil of light lavender hung from a feather-covered bonnet and hid her face.
She was relaxed as she leaned back against the cushioned seat. She was curious, but not nervous. No, she held too much power over him to be worried. Still, he wondered idly how much she actually knew about his family. Was she truly keeping watch over them, or was she exaggerating her influence?
“And if my family is there?” he asked in a calm, steady voice, refusing to show any emotion.
She smoothed down her muslin lavender gown with the tiny white flowers embroidered along the hem and waist. “They won’t be.”
So sure, he almost believed her. “How do you know?”
The carriage slowed and she picked up her small lavender bag, the dangling pearls swaying back and forth. “I know.” She smiled then, a practiced, seductive smile. “I have…connections.”
She was watching his family? Most likely had been all along. The thought should have shocked and unnerved him. Instead, he was merely curious. Why? Why the intense interest in his lineage? There was something he was missing… a reason why he was here and not another man. The longer he twisted and turned the question around in his mind, the more the numbness faded, leaving him exasperated.
His fingers curled against his thighs, his body trembling with the need to demand answers. She’d wanted a reaction, she’d gotten one. “How are they?”
She quirked a brow, amused that he should care, or amused because he had broken his silence. She’d won once again. “Your family?”
He paused, fighting the urge, then nodded, hating the fact that he had to ask her, beg her, really.
“They’re quite well.” The carriage drew to a stop. She glanced toward the window where the break in the curtains allowed a brief peek onto the streets of London. “Ah, here we are.”
Quite well? What the bloody hell did that mean? But the door opened and he knew their conversation was over. She would give him merely enough information to bother him. He wouldn’t beg.
How he hated her.
Alex took hold of the beaver hat settled beside him on the seat and moved from the carriage. Wavers and Jensen had stepped from their perch at the back of the vehicle and surrounded Ophelia. The rush of the crowds was overwhelming, the scent of factories and the Thames nauseating. All he could think about was that Grace was somewhere out there in that crush. Shopping perhaps, strolling through the park. Mayhap she was doing embroidery in the parlor of their crumbling townhome, hoping and praying Rodrick would make an offer.
“Flowers for me lady?” A woman called out, rushing forward with a basket in hand.
Wavers was quick to step in front of Lady Lavender, guarding her from the onslaught of city dwellers. As they started up the wide, shallow steps, Alex trailed behind like a good little lapdog. The crowd was thick. It would be easy… so easy to slip into the fray unseen. To get lost in the hum of the city. Become part of the madness.
“Ridiculous,” Ophelia muttered, sounding rather put out. “A free gallery, as if the poor could possibly appreciate art.”
The comment gave Alex pause. Another piece to the missing puzzle that was Lady Lavender. She’d made snide comments before about the less fortunate. A peek into her character. Could she have possibly been born to a wealthy family? She had received money from someone to start her business. Or was she so incredibly arrogant that she had forgotten a former life of destitution?
His questions were pushed aside as they neared the arched doorway. Alex took in a deep breath, air tainted by the quickly breeding factories, but air all the same. He flicked a glance at the sky. Not even the weather could cooperate and match his mood with gray clouds and fat raindrops. No, for once London was all blue skies and fluffy clouds that floated by the Grecian style museum. How he remembered those skies in Russia. Playing with his brother in the fields while the farmers attempted to grow crops in the hard earth. Days of freedom, days of joy, days of innocence.
He shook aside the thought. He was not here to enjoy the fine day. He was not here to enjoy the art and artifacts stolen from some foreign land. And he certainly wasn’t here to enjoy socializing. He pulled the beaver hat he wore lower, shading his eyes as he made his way up the shallow steps behind Ophelia, always trailing. Never in front or beside her.
He didn’t worry about seeing some long ago childhood friend. He’d had few friends in England and he’d changed enough in appearance that no one would recognize him. They certainly would never suspect him of becoming one of Lady Lavender’s men. Yet, he did wonder if he ran into his mother or father, would they know him? Just the thought sent the bitter taste of panic to his mouth.
Wavers and Jensen hovered around him, formidable walls blocking his exit, should he wish to flee. But Alex wouldn’t run. No, he’d tilt his chin high and accept the fact that people turned away from him and refused to meet his gaze.
Wavers led the way toward the entrance, making sure no one would dare get close to Ophelia. Crowds parted, perhaps sensing her power, or perhaps wanting to get away from the lady of sin. They wanted no association with her, at least not in public. Even the poor kept their distance, but Alex felt the crowd’s presence all the same. A presence that crushed him like a wave taking him under into the darkest pit of hell.
The clamor of carriage wheels gave way to the echo of murmured conversation from the museum crowd. He focused on the inside of the building, resisting the urge to lean against the strength of those domineering walls. He would escort her through the exhibits. Like Wavers, he would keep his stare straight ahead. The whispered words and giggles would not bother him this afternoon. The glares and looks of disgust from the men would not either. Today, he would be those statues they stared at. He would have no emotion, no feelings. And they would not see the way his hands trembled.
Inside the marbled walls, the building was cool, yet the crowds and attention brought a heated rush to his body. They slowed as they entered the long, main hall and Ophelia took in the paintings. Someone bumped him from the side. He didn’t stumble, didn’t even respond to her apology.
“Excuse me.” A beautiful blonde woman raced by him. “Jules!” she cried out, waving toward her friend. She didn’t seem to notice the crush, but thrived in it. And why not? She had nothing to be ashamed of. A young girl in the prime of innocence, filled with hope. Perhaps he would have married someone like her had he not been seduced by Lady Lavender. He might not have given Grace a second glance should they have been introduced. Grace. Quiet and reserved on the surface, would have escaped his notice. And he would have been the worse man for it. Yes, if anything good have come out of his life, it was meeting Grace.
“Good day.”
Alex started, realizing the soft, feminine voice was directed at him. He lowered his gaze to the young woman standing at his side. A familiar golden haired chit on the verge of becoming a woman. Grace’s sister. His heart jumped in his chest, partly fear, partly hope. He darted a glance at Ophelia, making sure the woman was still studying the pastoral landscape painting. Just as quickly, he was searching for that familiar auburn hair.
“Where’s your sister?” his voice came out raspy.
He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh and when she blinked her eyes wide, he realized he might have frightened her. He managed that dimpled smile and attempted to soften his voice.
“Surely you’re not alone.” He dared to glance at Ophelia, making sure she was unaware of his conversation. She was, but not Wavers. No, the man was watching him intently.
The young woman’s lips trembled upward, daring to smile. “No, not alone. Grace is here…” She glanced over her shoulder. “Somewhere.”
She was such a sweet looking child, her face and eyes full of adventure and mischief. An innocent who still believed that anything was possible. Beautiful, with her blonde hair and green eyes. More than one man was glan
cing her way and damn it all, if she was chatting with him as if they were the best of friends. Grace should know better than to leave her younger sister unattended. Hell, she’d ruin her reputation before she’d even gotten a chance to debut.
“Alex,” Ophelia called out, drawing even more attention to them.
He resisted the urge to curse. Ophelia’s curious lavender gaze studied Patience. She would not be rude to the young woman. Ophelia was never rude to another woman for they were always potential clients. “Who do we have here?” Her skirts swooshed, whispering over marble floors as she started toward them.
“The sister of a client,” he decided to tell the truth for once.
She would not ask for names. They never spoke names in public, although with Patience standing next to them her reputation was slowly being destroyed anyway. Ophelia smiled then, looking her up and down like a lion after a lamb. He knew what she was thinking, was the child old enough to start learning about the pleasures of sex? Of course she was. Girls were married at her age. Hell, even younger.
Yet, the thought made him sick. He wanted to usher her away before that innocent gaze was ruined forever. He would not let Ophelia touch her. He knew his desire to protect Grace’s sister wasn’t natural, but he felt it all the same.
“Might I take the girl for a stroll?” he asked, doing his damnest to remain calm.
Ophelia studied him, searching his features for only God knew what. He kept his face passive, he’d had years to learn to control his emotions, at least on the outside. Inside his body was in turmoil, emotions he’d rarely experienced fighting for control. Foremost was the need to see Grace once more.
She gave Patience a practiced smile. “Yes, of course.”
Alex nodded. He knew one of her men would follow at a discreet pace behind him, watching for anything suspicious. Guarding her property. But he’d won this small battle.
He latched onto Patience’s elbow and steered her down the main hall, in the opposite direction were Ophelia stood. “Keep a few paces away from me.” He released his hold.
“But why?” She blinked up at him with wide, trusting eyes.
He resisted the urge to sigh. “Because your reputation is being destroyed even now as we speak.”
She frowned, slowing her pace, thank God, so that she was behind him. “I don’t care about my reputation,” he heard just above the roar of the crowd. “It doesn’t bother me in the least what others think.”
Lord, had he ever been that naïve? “If you don’t now, someday you will. By then, it will be too late.” He wanted to shake her, to make her realize she’d ruin her life with pride.
“I don’t care,” she insisted, so incredibly stubborn, just like her sister.
He slid her a glance from the corner of his eye. “You will. And you’ll be surprised by how quickly your reputation can be shattered, never to be repaired. If you don’t care about yourself, think of your sister.”
She shook her head, blonde tendrils that had been tucked underneath her straw bonnet came loose. “Grace? She has nothing to do with me.”
He laughed, steering her toward an alcove where they were half hidden by a velvet curtain. “Don’t be daft. Every one of your actions influences your sister’s reputation.” He spun around to face her, annoyed with the chit. “You think she wants to be an old maid? You think she wants to take care of you, your mother and stepbrother for the rest of her life?”
Patience’s frown deepened.
“She wants a life, she deserves a life and you’ll ruin it with your carelessness.”
“Enough,” Grace’s sharp voice cracked through the alcove.
His heart slammed madly against his chest, his lungs tightening so he could barely breathe air. Anticipation was sweet and cruel. He’d gotten what he wanted, to see Grace once more. And it was pure torture.
Slowly, he turned. Grace stood before him wearing a soft brown dress that nipped in at the waist and flared to her scuffed black boots. Her cheeks were flushed with anger, her eyes flashing. She’d never looked more beautiful.
“Grace, I—”
“How dare you,” she whispered, her hands fisting at her sides.
He stepped closer, unable to stop himself as if pulled by a string. “I apologize, but your sister needs to understand—”
“I am not an old maid!”
Fortunately the crowd was too thick and loud to overhear. She spun around and started down the hall. For one moment he merely stood there, too shocked to move. Grace had caught Patience talking to a whore in the middle of London for all to see. But instead of worrying about her sister’s reputation, she was upset because he’d called her an old maid? Could it possibly mean she cared what he thought about her?
“Go on then,” Patience whispered. “You’ve done it now. Best apologize before she gets away.”
Alex didn’t need to be told twice.
Chapter 14
How dare he call her an old maid. Alex had gone too far. Last night he’d crushed her soul in that garden, meeting with Lady Sweetin. Now this? Damn him, why’d he have to be here? Why’d he have to look at her with such emotion in his blue eyes that it almost brought her to her knees? And why, damn him to hell, why did her body seem to come awake the instant she’d seen him standing there with Patience? He was ruining everything!
Last night Rodrick had dropped her off at the townhome, pressing his mouth to hers in a gentle, yet possessive kiss. True, the touch of his lips had produced no spark, but it had been pleasant enough. As she’d slipped between the cold sheets on her cold bed, she had told herself that she could live with pleasant. She and Rodrick would be happy.
And now Alex had ruined everything by simply appearing when she’d wanted to do nothing more than get lost in the crush of London.
Desperate for peace, Grace slipped into an alcove, half hidden by a velvet curtain, and pressed her gloved fingers to her throbbing temples, realizing she’d left her bonnet somewhere. Blast, but she’d have to head back down the hall to find it. She’d already lost her gloves to Alex, she would not lose a bonnet as well. But not now. Not yet. No, she needed a moment before seeing him again.
How dare he ruin her life! How dare he make her think that kissing and touching should be more than merely pleasant. How dare he make her hope for more than a simple marriage!
“Grace,” Alex said softly.
Grace bit back her groan of frustration. For the briefest of moments, she closed her eyes and prayed he’d leave her be. She couldn’t see him now. Not when her soul cried out for her to touch him. Not when her heart slammed wildly in her chest as if attempting to break free merely to be closer to him.
“Grace, we must talk.”
Angry, she spun around to face him, but he wasn’t looking directly at her, no, he was staring at an Italian painting, attempting to protect her reputation, most likely, by not making eye contact.
She had the sudden and spiteful desire to slap him, or kiss him. To do something ridiculous to draw attention to them, society be damned.
“I meant no offense,” he whispered, his voice catching in some odd, emotional way that gave her pause, made her almost annoyed. How could she be angry with him?
She glanced up and down the corridor. No one was looking their way. No, the guests were interested in either the art or the latest gossip. Over the many tophats and bonnets, Grace could see Patience speaking with Lady Maxwell. Lady Maxwell, a woman who understood the need to visit Lady Lavender’s.
Would Lady Maxwell acknowledge Lady Lavender should they happen upon each other? Doubtful. So much secrecy, so many lies. She didn’t understand this world any longer.
“Surely you must realize …” His voice broke, the emotion startling her so that she looked directly at him, not caring who noticed their communication.
His jaw was clenched tight, his gaze focused unrelentingly on that painting of Mary and Child. She knew, in that moment, whatever he had to say would change everything. Grace shifted, unsure if she should s
tep away from him, or step closer.
“What?” she whispered desperately.
He turned his head ever so slightly, a mere tilt so he could meet her gaze. “Surely you must know how I think about you.”
She tore her gaze from him, worried the emotion she felt welling within might be visible in her eyes. “How do I know you’re not using your charm on me even now? Lady Lavender wouldn’t want to offend and lose a client, would she?”
She didn’t miss the way his hand lifted slightly, then fell back to his side, his fingers curling against his trousers as if he resisted the urge to touch her. “You know you are no client to me, Gracie. You are more, so much more.”
Her chest felt tight as her heart and soul warred with each other. He would break her heart, but her soul didn’t care… her soul craved the man. A sob of desperation clogged her throat.
Lord, she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t be friends with Alex, not knowing he was kissing…touching…sleeping with other women. She couldn’t do it, knowing she’d never have him for her own. Yet, how could she possibly be without him? When he was near the world changed. The sun was brighter, the day warmer, life seemed full of possibilities.
“Walk with me?” The words burst from her lips before she could take them back.
He closed his eyes, knowing what she offered with that simple demand. “We can’t. Your reputation will be destroyed.”
“I don’t care.” She was being reckless, but need consumed any rationality.
He lifted his thick lashes, determination glinting in those blue orbs. “I care.”
At an impasse they were silent for one long moment, but she wasn’t one to give in easily. Even if it was for the briefest of moments, she had to be with him, to know if his feelings were true. “Come, follow me.”
She started forward, weaving her way around guests, knowing he followed for she could feel his very presence. Desperately she searched for her sister. Patience still stood next to Lady Maxwell. As if sensing her attention, the older woman looked up. Her gaze went to Alex, then Grace and an unspoken acknowledgment moved between them. She would look after Patience. There was no damnation, no judgment. Still Grace looked away, flushing.