The Season

fourteen

He stalked his rooms, furious.

This night had been essential to his plans. He'd convinced his partners that they should give him one more chance — one more day to discover what they were desperate to find. He'd promised that he would find the documents they now knew the deceased earl had possessed. He'd sworn he could complete this — the smallest of tasks. For he knew that if anyone else found the information before him, his would be the first neck placed in the hangman's noose.

And he had failed.

He'd not given the study as thorough an inspection as he'd wanted. He'd started... he'd emptied the desk and searched the cupboards. He'd just begun to examine the bookshelves when he saw the carriage lanterns in the drive of Worthington House and realized that his time had run out.

If only the brat hadn't come home early from the ball. If only he'd stayed out with the rest of the shallow, debauched members of the ton, celebrating in excess, as though there were nothing in the world to worry about. What could have happened to force him to come home hours before he was expected?

Maybe the Worthington twit had taken ill... leaving

Blackmoor little more to do than escort her home. What good manners. He sneered at the thought.

And then, in an instant, he was struck with an undeniable sense of calm. The solution was clear, as though there had never been any doubt.

Without information, there was no way he could be caught, and the boy was the only person convinced there was more to the earl's death than appeared at first glance. The boy was the problem — always had been. The Earl of Blackmoor was all that was left between him and his safety. His freedom. Without him, no one would care to search for answers about the happenings on the Essex estate. No one would care to discover the truth about the earl's death.

The solution was clear.

He already had Blackmoor blood on his hands. What was a little more?

Several hours later, Alex was still in the library with her mother, only now they were waiting for the return of her father from Blackmoor House, where he'd gone immediately following Blackmoor's startling announcement.

Blackmoor's words were still hanging in the air when the duke had leapt into action, asking Harquist to wake the footmen to take messages to the Bow Street Runners, the private investigators who kept the peace in London, and to the Marquess of Langford, who was one of the best investigators in Britain. Once the messengers were dispatched, the duke and young earl returned to Blackmoor House to assess the situation. His Grace had said little, except to tell his wife and daughter that they should not wait for him to return before retiring to their beds.

Of course, the Stafford women had no intention of taking to their bedchambers before they knew what exactly had transpired that evening at Blackmoor House and what was going to be done to find the criminal who had robbed Gavin.

Alex had alternately attempted to read, to embroider, and to catch up on her correspondence to cousins on the Continent, to no avail. Instead, now she found herself awake at quarter past three in the morning, listening to the sound of her mother's breathing as the duchess napped in her chair.

The waiting gave her plenty of time to reflect on her behavior at the ball, at the Worthington dinner, and in the two weeks that separated the events, as well as on her own feelings for Blackmoor, which she was terrified to admit.

The more she thought about him, the more she worried — not about the burglary, which was unfortunate, to be sure, but would be addressed by Bow Street and her father. No, she worried about the fact that they were so clearly growing apart; she worried that they seemed to have a markedly different relationship now from what they'd ever had before; and she worried that she'd ruined whatever relationship they might have by losing her temper in front of Freddie. She simply hadn't been herself since they'd nearly kissed.

They had nearly kissed, hadn't they?

Torturing herself, she replayed the scene on the Worthington House balcony over and over in her mind, each time wondering if she'd been mad to think that he was actually going to kiss her. Perhaps all this emotion was for naught. Perhaps she'd misread the situation — after all, it was not a situation in which she commonly found herself. Perhaps they hadn't been close to kissing. Perhaps it was all in her head. She hadn't really wanted to kiss him anyway.

Of course she had.

Yes, she had wanted the kiss. She still did. No, she wanted more than that. She wanted him to want her back. When on earth had that happened? She sighed, dismayed by the fact that the season had made most things in her life unpleasantly complicated.

The clock in the hallway chimed half past three, marking two hours since her father and Gavin had left the house to meet the runner. Alex looked up at the ceiling, wondering how much longer she would have to wait before her father came home with news.

She had just decided to send a footman over to Blackmoor House to check on the status of the evening when she heard the front door open and her father's rich tenor. "It's no trouble at all, Gavin. You know that. Your mother would have our heads if we didn't offer you a roof tonight, of all nights. More important, the duchess wouldn't stand for anything else. This I know."

Alex stood and walked to the door of the library to find the duke and Blackmoor handing their topcoats and walking sticks to Harquist, who had stayed awake to await his master. "Thank you, Harquist. Please have a chamber made for Lord Blackmoor, and then that will be all, my good man. You have outdone yourself this evening," the duke said warmly.

Blackmoor chimed in, "Indeed, Harquist. Thank you for all your help."

"My lords, it was my pleasure," spoke the old man. "Lord Blackmoor, the crimson chamber already awaits you. Her Grace expected you would join us this evening." With a short bow he took his leave.

The duke offered Blackmoor a weary smile. "You see? You are quite welcome here tonight, my boy." Turning, he noticed Alex. "Still awake, moppet?"

She nodded seriously. "Of course. Mother and I stayed awake to make certain that everything was set to right." With a nod over her shoulder she corrected herself. "Well, Mother and I stayed downstairs to make certain that everything was set to right. Awake is another matter."

As if on cue, the duchess emerged from the library to wrap Blackmoor in an enveloping hug as she said, "I know you're an earl now, Gavin, but even earls need some mothering now and then."

Gavin's arms caught the duchess in a firm hold as he hugged her back and said, "Indeed, they do."

The duchess pulled back and placed a kiss on each of Blackmoor's cheeks. "You will stay with us tonight." It was not a question.

"Yes, thank you, Your Grace."

The duchess waved away the thanks. "The crimson room is already prepared. Alexandra will remind you of the way."

Gavin nodded. "Thank you, Your Grace."

"Nonsense. We shall see you at breakfast." Turning to Alex, she spoke regally, "Alexandra, I should think Gavin has had enough excitement for one evening. Endeavor not to add to it."

A blush rose high on Alex's cheeks as she accepted her mother's kiss. "Yes, Mother."

"Good night."

And, with that, the duke and duchess took their leave of Alex and Blackmoor, and climbed the stairs to their bedchambers.

Shaking herself out of her trance following her parents' departure, Alex turned and re-entered the library to put out the candles and prepare a light to guide them to the upper floors of the house. The task kept her from thinking too seriously about the fact that she was, once again, alone with Blackmoor.

She turned from her task, candle in hand, to find him leaning against the doorjamb, rubbing the back of his neck and watching her intently.

Alex spoke quickly, eager to fill the air. "My lord, is all well?"

He offered her a brief, tired smile. "As well as can be expected, I imagine. I confess, I am happy to be here tonight."

"We are happy to host you. I imagine things will look better in the morning... or at least brighter."

"One can certainly hope."

"Neither my mother nor I would have stood for your being alone at Blackmoor House this evening."

Gavin smiled wearily. "The two of you are an irresistible force. I shan't put up a fight."

In the pause that followed, Alex searched for a safe topic — one that would offset her nervousness about being alone with him. "Was much taken in the burglary?"

He shook his head quickly. "No. In fact, nothing that I could discern. It seems that the intruder was interrupted. I'm left with all my possessions, but quite a mess to clean up."

"You mean the intruder was in the house when you arrived home?" The idea sent a chill down Alex's spine.

"I imagine so." Seeing the alarm on Alex's face, Gavin stepped toward her. "But I did not see him. So all is well."

"Aside from the fact that you could have been killed, you mean... and all because of me!"

"Because of you?" His confusion was obvious in his tone.

"Of course! If we hadn't quarreled..." She trailed off.

"If we hadn't quarreled, I wouldn't have surprised the intruder and I could well be missing valuable items from Blackmoor House. As it is, I've lost only the time it takes to set the study to right."

"Still..." She paused, then spoke, looking down at her feet. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need for you to apologize."

"There is. I'm not just sorry about the burglary — although I am sorry about that. I'm sorry about this evening, and about Freddie, and for making you so very angry, and... for everything." By the end of the sentence, her voice was barely a whisper.

"Alex."

She couldn't look up at him.

"Alexandra. Look at me."

With a sigh, she did, meeting his gaze as he spoke firmly. "You don't have to apologize for any of that. I incited you... I know that now as much as I knew it then. I'm sorry that I was boorish. I should have checked my behavior long before it came to our arguing in the middle of a ball." He reached out and took the candle from her hands, setting it on a nearby table before taking her hands in his. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. I don't know what got into me about Freddie. I've always quite liked him. But this season... seeing him flirting with you... it's been... difficult to watch. And I know my behavior has been reprehensible."

"You have to stop thinking of me as your sister, Gavin."

He offered her a half smile. "That seems to be the singular problem." Confusion clouded her emerald eyes as he continued, "You see, I haven't been thinking of you as my sister. In fact, the way I've been thinking when it comes to you is the very opposite of brotherly."

The words hung in the air and Alex's eyes widened as understanding dawned.

He offered a self-deprecating smile. "I see you take my meaning." He let go of her hands and ran his fingers through his hair as though he didn't know what to do with them. "You needn't worry. I'm not going to act on my feelings."

"Why?" Alex asked the question without thinking.

"If only I knew why. It began at the start of the season, and at first I chalked it up to my missing you while I was in mourning. Which I did. But instead of the feelings dissipating as I spent time in your company" — he slashed a hand through the air in frustration — "they only seemed to grow stronger."

Alex looked up at him, meeting his frustrated grey eyes. "Not why are you feeling the way you are, Gavin. Why aren't you going to act on those feelings?"

He froze. Neither of them moved, each afraid to take the next step. The first step.

The moment stretched out into what seemed like an eternity and Alex began to feel awkward, as though she had said the wrong thing. "I — I'm sorry. I — I don't know what prompted me to ask such a thing." She started to take a step backward.

"No." The word was soft, but brooked no refusal. She went still as he continued, "There are a dozen reasons why I shouldn't act on them." He lifted his hands to cradle her face between them. "A hundred reasons why I should turn around and walk out of this room." He leaned down until he was a hairbreadth away from her. "But I'm through listening to them." And, with that, he kissed her.

The instant she felt his lips touch hers, feather soft, Alex couldn't stop herself from returning the kiss, from reveling in it. His lips were warm and firm, and the feeling of them so wonderful that all thought escaped her. This was it, her first kiss — and with such an unexpected person in such an unexpected place at such an unexpected time. But it was perfect... and she never wanted it to end. She wanted to stand here forever, basking in the glow of this perfect moment — the feel of his hands on her cheeks, the warmth of his body, the sound of his breathing, the way her head was spinning.

Of course, it did end. Too soon. But, when it was over, he placed his forehead against her own, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, as though steadying himself before letting her go.

"I've been waiting to do that for weeks," he said with surprise in his voice. "I'm rather shocked that it happened."

She smiled shyly. "No more shocked than I, I imagine."

"So you don't want to stomp on my foot and run from the room?"

"Not at all. I rather enjoyed the whole experience." He chuckled. "I'm happy to hear that."

She blushed at his laugh and looked down at the floor, wondering what the proper etiquette was for this particular situation. Fast on the heels of that question came the realization that there was absolutely no code of conduct to follow, as their behavior had been highly improper. What happened now?

The question floated through her mind just as the clock in the hallway struck four. She met Gavin's gaze with a startled one of her own.

He responded by picking up the candle from where he'd set it earlier and telling her, "I think it's time to take to our beds, Lady Alexandra. This has been a particularly full evening."

She hid the disappointment from her reply. "Most certainly. You must be exhausted."

He raised an eyebrow at her statement and turned toward the door, "On the contrary, I seem to have an excess of energy now, thanks to you."

She blushed again, thankful for the dim light. What had gotten into her?

He waited for her to pass through the doorway into the foyer before following her with the light. At the foot of the stairs, just before Alex began her ascent, he spoke quietly, "Hold." She looked back at him curiously as he whispered, "I didn't accept the chance to properly escort you home tonight, Alex. At least let me offer you a proper companion now."

He held out his hand, and she took it. They climbed the stairs in silence.

Much later, when Alex was lying in bed, unable to sleep for the pounding of her heart, she imagined she could still feel the warmth of his palm pressed against her own.

Her first kiss. With Gavin. The words tumbled over and over in her head as she replayed the moment, the sound of their breathing, the movement of his hands, the way the firelight caught the gold in his hair as it fell across his forehead when he leaned down to her.

She sighed and whispered his name in the darkness of her bedchamber before turning onto her side and looking out the window at the moonlit treetops beyond. She felt the energy of the evening coursing through her, keeping her from sleep. Her mind was racing; there was so much to think about—so much that had changed. Gavin would never be just a friend again. She would never think of him as a brother again. He would always be the first man she'd kissed.

Now she understood what everyone meant when they talked about romance... this feeling had launched the thousand ships of the Trojan War, this feeling had sent Guinevere into the arms of Lancelot, this feeling had driven Fitzwilliam Darcy to confess his love for Elizabeth Bennett. She giggled in the darkness at her silliness, giddy with excitement. She'd scoffed at it for years... she'd never believed that this kind of wonderful, rapturous romance could exist beyond legend. And yet, that evening, in Gavin's arms, she'd had a taste of it.

Clutching her pillow to her face, she screamed in excitement, then rolled onto her back with a sigh, imagining Gavin sleeping just a few rooms away.

She wondered what tomorrow would bring.