The Season

seventeen

Alex pushed back into the ball, desperate for a spot where she could be alone to nurse her wounded ego. Of course, with more than five hundred people in her home, that desire wasn't the easiest to fulfill. She hadn't spent her entire life sneaking around this house on nights just like this one for nothing, however.

Slipping through the ladies' cloakroom to access the servants' passage that would lead her to the unoccupied part of the house, she wondered if she could simply take to her bedchamber without attracting notice. The idea hadn't even fully formed in her mind before she realized that she would never escape her mother's wrath if she did anything close to that. By her calculations, she had less than a quarter of an hour to be by herself before she would have to return to the ball.

She exited the servants' quarters into a darkened passageway, heading for the orangery, which had always been her favorite room in the house. The sounds of the orchestra faded into the distance as she moved quietly through the hall way, thanking her maker that the duchess had decided to keep these particular rooms free from visitors, only to be replaced with quiet murmurings coming from behind one of the closed doors of the corridor. Wondering who had snuck away from the ball and, more importantly, why they were behind closed doors deep in the inner recesses of the house, Alex paused outside the door, pressing her ear to the rich, dark wood, attempting to make out the voices inside, which appeared to be discussing politics.

"Napoleon gains strength. He's garnering support across France. If the Crown is going to strike, it will do so soon. We don't need informants to tell us that." The voice, laced with disdain, sounded foreign, but Alex couldn't identify it through the thick door.

"No, of course not. I wasn't suggesting that you did. I was simply pointing out that I have many strong connections that could prove useful in your search for information. If a strike is planned, I can help you predict it. I think I've done more than prove my commitment to your cause." Alex put a hand to her mouth in surprise, recognizing that she was eavesdropping on a particularly dark conversation. She stayed quiet, trying to hear over the pounding of her heart.

"Indeed. You have made your... commitment... more than clear."

"I intend to do it again. I expect to, within days, have very specific information about Wellington's movements." Alex's eyes widened as she realized that one of the men on the other side of the door was the worst kind of spy — one who traded secrets from British intelligence.

"I'm sure you think that's true. But you’ll understand that we are unable to trust that you will make wise decisions any longer. We have come too far to risk losing ground. We simply cannot have you involved." The voice was cold, calm, and dismissive; Alex could hear that even through two inches of oak.

"You have acted rashly... and to no avail. You have been unable to discover anything about what is known of our plans. And the knowledge, is directly under your nose. Your involvement is becoming messy. And we simply don't have the time or the inclination to clean up after you anymore."

"Clean up after me? I'm the one who has done the cleaning." Alex started as the voice on the other side of the door shook with barely contained anger.

"If it weren't for me, this entire operation would have been uncovered. You, and everyone else, would have been found and hanged. If it weren't for me, Blackmoor would still be alive."

Alex's mouth gaped in horror as she grasped the importance of what she was hearing. She knew she should run and fetch her father, Vivi's father, and any number of others. But she couldn't bring herself to move from her spot, waiting for the next revelation.

"And even with him dead, you cannot seem to retrieve the information he had. We're lucky that, by now, the young earl hasn't discovered everything and had us all strung up for treason. Between your botched robbery and your almost being discovered, this entire string of events has become far too risky."

"You need not worry. Young Blackmoor will very soon no longer be of concern. I plan to deal with him."

"Forgive me if I have little faith in your ability to follow through on that promise."

Alex was unable to keep the gasp from escaping as she realized what the villain on the other side of the door meant. The noise rent the air, jolting her out of her trance as silence fell on the other side of the door. She flew down the hall way, her soft calfskin slippers lending her a silent tread. Once she reached the orangery, she sank to the ground in the darkened room, all owing the sweet smell of citrus flowers to envelop her. Her heart was pounding with the realization of what she'd just overheard; she could barely think for the sound of her labored breathing.

The earl had been murdered. Gavin had been right. Alex shook her head, as though the action could erase her newfound knowledge. The elder Earl of Blackmoor was dead and Gavin was in danger. Blackmoor would no longer be a concern after this evening, they had said. She had to get to him first.

The thought had barely formed before she leapt to her feet, nothing considered except that she had to find Gavin. She started to exit the orangery when she heard a latch click along the hall way.

Pressing herself against the wall, she offered a silent prayer of thanks for the darkness and shadows that hid her position and she peered down the hallway as one man, then a second, emerged from the room. She couldn't identify either of the figures for a moment — they simply appeared as shadows clad in formal attire — but as they moved closer to the light trickling into the passageway from the ball room, her eyes widened in horror.

While she wasn't entirely certain, she was fairly sure that one of the men was Lucian Sewell, Gavin's uncle.

She stood still for a moment, frozen by the gravity of everything she had overheard, combined with the weight of the probability that Gavin's uncle had murdered his own brother in cold blood. How was she going to tell Gavin that his uncle had killed his father? How was she going to tell him that, if he did not seek help immediately, he was going to be next? She had to get to him. They could be seeking him out right now.

After waiting a brief moment to ensure that the men had indeed returned to the ball and that she would not be discovered, she retraced her steps through the darkened corridor and back to the ladies' cloakroom, increasing her speed as she went so that she was just short of a run when she burst into the ball room... where she was immediately stayed by the crush of people at the ball.

Looking around her, she was desperate for someone she knew. Her brow furrowed as she stood on her toes and searched for Gavin, one of her brothers, Vivi, Ella, anyone.

"Looking for someone?" The voice, close to her ear, startled her and she gave a small shriek, whirling to face a grinning Lord Stanhope.

"Oh! Freddie!" She put a hand to her chest in surprise. "You've no idea how happy I am that it's you!"

"As you can imagine, I hear that from women constantly," he jested, but the wicked gleam in his eye dissolved quickly into concern. "What's wrong with you, kitten? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm afraid it's worse than that. But I can't discuss it. I need to find Blackmoor."

Freddie's tone turned dark and menacing. "Has the rogue done something to hurt you?"

The question would have amused Alex in the past, but this evening she ignored him, waving a hand in frustration. "No. I just need to find him. Help me?"

"I’ll lay him out if he's done something inappropriate."

"Freddie. Stop being such a brute and help me. all right?" He nodded once, although he didn't seem happy about it. "Capital. Go that way," she said, indicating the direction of the orchestra. "If you see my brothers, or Vivi, or Ella, ask them to help find him. It's a matter of great import."

She started in the opposite direction, but he took hold of her arm and stayed her for a moment. "What's going on, Alex?"

"I — I can't tell you now. Please?" Her green eyes pleaded with him. "Please help?"

He locked gazes with her for a brief moment, as if attempting to read her thoughts. Something in her eyes must have convinced him. With a nod, he spun on his heel and disappeared into the crowd. She watched him go for a brief second, admiring his loyalty, before turning to find Blackmoor.

Only minutes later, she came upon Vivi and Ella, who had their heads bent in what looked like a serious discussion... or serious gossip. Alex approached them from behind, slipping her arms through theirs and interrupting, "Thank God I've found you. I need your help."

Both girls looked up at her in surprise before Vivi replied, "We've been looking for you everywhere! What happened out there? You looked like Blackmoor had said something awful, the rogue! Are you all right?"

"He did say something awful. However, that is all quite irrelevant now, as something much worse has come to pass. I need to find him."

"What kind of something much worse?" Ella spoke, concern in her blue eyes.

"I can't take the time to explain right now."

"Not even to us?" Vivi looked hurt.

"Not to anyone. I promise you’ll be the very first to know... after I find Gavin. Which I must do. Immediately."

"Alex..." Vivi spoke with a warning tone in her voice.

"No. Vivi." Alex slashed a hand through the air. "I am asking you for help. I will tell you everything later. I promise. Please, help me find him."

"He left." This from Ella.

"What? Why? Where did he go?" Alex turned and grasped her friend's arms with both hands.

Ella gave Alex a startled look. "He left soon after you disappeared. Said something about balls not being the best places for him this season."

"Did he say where he was going?"

"No. Although he left through the gardens, so I assume he went home."

"I have to follow him."

"I beg your pardon?" Vivi and Ella spoke in unison.

"I told you, I can't explain. There's no time. You have to help me. I'm going out through the gardens. If anyone asks, tell them I had a fallen hem and went to have Eliza repair it."

"Wait. Are you all right, Alex?" Vivi looked concerned.

"I'm all right. Just do this for me? Oh... and find Freddie. Tell him thank you, I found Blackmoor."

"This is becoming more and more curious as the moments pass," said Ella.

"Alex, you can't just go traipsing off to Blackmoor House after him. You’ll be ruined if you're caught!"

"I’ll simply have to risk it," Alex said, wishing she had time to savor their confusion. "I’ll tell you everything upon my return. I promise." She kissed them both on the cheek. "Oh. And if I don't return in three quarters of an hour, tell your father where I went, Vivi."

"What?!"

"I’ll be fine. It's just a precaution."

"What kind of precaution involves my father?"

"I’ll tell you everything upon my return," she repeated. And, with that, she exited the room, making her way to the music room, which had an entrance to the gardens that offered a better chance of her not being caught in her escape.

Rushing though the dark garden that connected Worthington and Blackmoor houses, Alex did not take any time to think about what she would do if she were to interrupt a dreadful event. Instead, she thought only of Gavin: his grey eyes the color of the winter sea; his bold smiles that heated her very core; his generous spirit. Thinking of him focused her mind on one thing... she had to reach him before anyone else.

As she broke through the trees and found herself in the Blackmoor House garden, she pulled up short and inspected the house. She could see dimly lit windows on the upper floor, reserved for servants, but the rest of the home was dark, appearing uninhabited and forbidding.

She was just deciding how to enter the house when she sensed movement nearby. falling back to press herself against a tree and blend in with the shadows, she watched as a small, dark figure crept across the back garden toward the window she knew led to the Earl of Blackmoor's study. She focused intently on the figure, attempting to identify him. Try as she might, she couldn't make out his face, although his physique seemed vaguely familiar.

She watched in surprise as he worked the latch on the window, quickly unlocking it from the outside and lifting the sash, pushing it open.

It was clear that he was breaking into the house. It was also clear that she had to do something to stop him.

She gathered her courage, prepared to rush at him and stop his actions, when a light beamed brightly from inside the study, surprising her and sending the intruder scurrying off like a rat — around the corner of the house and across the garden. As she watched him hurry off, she felt a jolt of recognition. She was certain that he was the Baron Montgrave.

"My God! Ella was right!" she whispered to the night air. She'd made light of her friend's overactive imagination and, this time, she should have listened!

Once the baron was out of sight, she followed his steps to the study window, which was still cracked open. Stepping into the soft earth beneath the window, she peered into the room to see Blackmoor at his desk, staring into nothingness, clearly lost in his own thoughts. She released an enormous sigh, grateful that he was unharmed — desperate to touch him and confirm his safety.

Reaching up, she rapped on the window pane sharply, startling Blackmoor from his thoughts. He stood up quickly, squinting at the window. Alex realized that he was unable to see her for the reflection of the light in the glass, so she called out softly, "It's me!"

His eyes widened in surprised recognition as he moved quickly toward her, saying, "I'm certain I must be dreaming. There's no way you'd risk your reputation quite so baldly."

He threw open the window and leaned down on the sill, peering out into the night, meeting her nose to nose and continuing drily, "Tel me I'm dreaming, Alexandra."

"I regret I cannot do that, my lord. It is indeed I standing in your flower bed... quite clandestinely." Placing her hands next to his on the windowsill, she continued, "I need to speak with you. Help me in?"

He considered leaving her in the garden and then thought better of it. Reaching down, he grasped her arms and hauled her through the opening and into the study, waiting for her to steady herself before turning and closing the window. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off as he turned around. "You risked your reputation to follow me back here and, quite frankly, you had better have a decent reason to be skulking around my gardens instead of dancing the night away at your parents' house."

"I do. I've several reasons, actually, including the fact that it seems I'm not the only person skulking about your gardens this evening."

His eyes widened in surprise at her words. "I beg your pardon?"

She stole a glance at the clock on the fireplace mantel. "I cannot stay long, and neither can you. We have to return to Worthington House."

"Why? Haven't we been to enough balls this season?" he quipped.

"It's not the ball. It's that you cannot stay here by yourself. Someone is planning to kill you. I just watched an aborted attempt to enter the house through this very window. I think it was Baron Montgrave.

"He's gone now, and I can't be sure. You scared him off with the light." She pushed on, urgently. "I know that wasn't the most tactful way to tell you, but we don't have much time. You see... only moments ago at the ball, I overheard a private conversation between two men who sounded very much involved in what could only have been espionage. They made it quite clear that you have access to some very dangerous information or, rather, that your father was privy to some information that he should not have been privy to and, more importantly, that they were willing to kill to be sure that, first, you don't have the opportunity to share this knowledge you may or may not have with anyone else, and, second, you do not have the opportunity to learn this information to begin with." She grasped his hand and pull ed. "We have to leave here. Now."

He did not move. "We're not going anywhere until you've explained slightly more than you already have."

She sighed impatiently. "I don't have time to explain anymore! Someone could climb through that window at any moment and surprise us!"

"It does seem a popular entryway," he observed.

"How can you jest at a time like this?" she said. "Did you not understand me? Someone is plotting to do away with you!"

"Alex. Try to stay calm."

"Stay calm?" she burst out, frustrated. "You weren't there! You didn't hear them speaking as though killing you would fit in between breakfast and morning visitors!"

"You're not hearing what I'm trying to say, Alex," he said calmly. "I know. all of it. I know that my father had information damning enough to kill for. I know it related, in some way, to the war. I know that information is believed to be hidden somewhere in Blackmoor House. I know that whoever killed my father is out for me. I know, and so does most of the War Office. We're all waiting for the knave to make his next move, which we expect will be some time soon.

Could have been just now, if what you say about an intruder running off is true. I assure you, we're all prepared for it."

"What? You know of it? But how? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"I've suspected it to be the case for months — you know I never really believed that my father's death was an accident. The only other people who agreed with me were your father and Lord Langford, but none of us could prove anything, or so I thought. Once Blackmoor House was robbed and nothing of importance taken, I knew it must have been related to my father. Your father, Lord Langford, and I have been trying to root out the thief ever since."

"But you could be killed!"

He shook his head firmly. "While that is certainly a possibility, between my very frequent, very public appearances and the skilled Bow Street Runners who are patrolling the house, I don't think that's going to come to pass."

"Need I remind you that Baron Montgrave was skulking around the house just moments ago? Where was Bow Street then?"

"I thought you couldn't be sure it was Montgrave?" he asked, evading her question.

"I can't be. But I feel that it's better we are safe than sorry in this particular situation. I shan't be inviting the baron to tea any time soon."

"Alex. First, if indeed it was the baron, I assure you I could have easily held my own." He ignored her rolling eyes. "Second, there is no we in this situation. Part of the reason you were not apprised of this situation is because we all preferred you not know, as we understand you and Ella and Vivi more than you think. We knew that once you got wind of this, you would find it difficult to stay out of it. That said, I want you to remain out of it. Thoroughly out of it. This is no game."

"I know this is no game, Gavin. I'm not a child. And I cannot simply stay out of it. It's too late for that."

"No, it's not. I want you to pretend you didn't hear what you heard this evening. If ever there was a time for you to be a delicate flower, now is it. Is that understood?" He didn't wait for her answer. "Good. As it is, I should turn you over my knee for traipsing about in the darkness, but I shall refrain, because I cannot deny the fact that I'm rather happy you're here."

She opened her mouth to argue and he stopped her with a raised hand. "You see, I have rather a lot to say. I'm sorry that I hurt you earlier. I never meant for you to believe that I think kissing you was a mistake. In fact, if you asked me what I've wanted more than anything in the last week, what I want more than anything right now, I would answer, without question, not that I want to find the burglar who ransacked my home — not that I want to know the truth about my father's death — but that I want you."

She felt his gaze hot on her face as he continued, "I didn't use the term 'mistake' because of you. Never because of you. I used it because your brothers are the closest things I have to brothers, your father" — he paused, then pressed on — "the closest thing I have to a father now. They all trust me with you. They believe that you are safe with me. My behavior toward you is a betrayal of that trust. And a betrayal of your trust as well."

Distracted by his impassioned words, she asked, "Why a betrayal of my trust? I do trust you. Still. I trust you to be the same Gavin you've always been."

"That's the problem. The feelings that I have for you now are nothing like the ones I've always had. I'm not the same Gavin. I used to think of you as my friend. Now I think of you as something... more."

She wanted desperately to ask him to elaborate on his statement, but first, she had to know whether it was her specifically or rather the idea of her which was driving him to make such a confession. She blurted, "Are you planning to offer for Penelope Grayson's hand?"

The words were out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying. She dipped her chin, a blush spreading across her cheeks. She had no idea why she had asked such an inappropriate question. More than that, she had a sudden intense dread of his answer.

If she had been looking at his face, she would have seen the look of shock that passed over it and known his answer before he spoke it. "No. Alex. No, I have never intended to propose to Penelope. She's very beautiful, but..." He paused. "She's not you."

Her eyes flew to meet his as she realized just how monumental this moment — that statement — was.

"I confess, earlier in the season, I had plans to court Penelope. She seemed the ideal... candidate."

"Charming sentiment," Alex said, adding, "It's incredible that men think of finding a wife in the same vein as electing a politician."

Ignoring her pontification, he continued, "However... that's all changed now. I can't imagine being with Penelope. Because I seem only to be able to imagine being with you."

Attempting to ignore the lurch in her stomach that occurred in response to those words, she asked, "What does that mean?"

"It means that you've become the standard to which I hold all the other women in my life. Are they as humorous as you, as easy to speak with, as charming, as witty, as..." He stopped.

"Go on," she prodded.

He smiled at her shameless ploy for more compliments. "As wonderful as you. As clever. As beautiful."

She blushed shyly. "I'm not beautiful."

"Yes, love, you are." He stepped closer to her, pulling her close and tracing the curve of her cheek. "So beautiful that I rather wonder how I could have missed it before this season."

And, with that, he kissed her. She lost all her strength as his lips played over hers, but he held her in his strong arms without any difficulty. She lifted her hands to run them through his soft hair before wrapping her arms around his neck and giving in to the sheer pleasure of the moment.

After several minutes, he lifted his head and their eyes met. Neither of them could keep the broad smiles from their faces. Alex spoke, unable to keep her feelings quiet after his bold confession. "Gavin... I've never felt anything like this. you’ll never be my friend again, never my surrogate brother. If I am the standard to which you hold the women in your life... then you are more than that for the men in mine. How will I ever find someone to compare to you? You, with your bold smiles and your brilliant mind and your handsome face..." She touched his cheek, running her fingers along his jaw. "You have quite ruined me for all others."

They kissed again, languishing in the feel of each other, before he raised his head and spoke, his voice deep and soft, "Now that you've wheedled your way into my heart and mind and tricked me into confessing my feelings for you, don't you think you ought to be on your way... before someone finds us and I've damaged your reputation beyond repair? Although, I confess, right now I could think of worse ways to end this evening than betrothed to you... despite your opinions on the subject of marriage."

The words sent a thrill down her spine even as she realized that he was right. She stepped out of his arms, looking up at him with concern in her eyes.

"Are you sure you are quite safe here? Will you not consider spending the night at Worthington House?"

He shook his head at her question, offering a reassuring smile as he tucked a loosened curl behind her ear. "No need. Don't worry about me, Alex. I would prefer you forget everything you heard this evening."

She rolled her eyes. "I cannot simply pretend I didn't hear it, Gavin. Your uncle plotting against you is not something I'm going to easily forget."

"My uncle?"

The surprised interest in Gavin's voice set off warning bells for Alex as she realized that he did not know everything there was to know about this particular evening. She had deliberately refrained from mentioning the fact that she'd overheard Lucian Sewell plotting against Gavin earlier — both because she hadn't been sure how to do it tactfully and because she was certain that if she explained everything, he would be unwilling to leave the house quickly. "Alexandra. My uncle?"

She paused, unsure of how to proceed — of what words to use to share this terrible information. Taking a deep breath to shore up her courage, she plunged into her explanation. "The conversation I overheard, it was in the library annex of the house, on the way to the orangery?" She pushed on as he nodded in recognition. "There were two men in the room, but the door was closed, so I couldn't recognize them by voice alone... they were too muffled. I hid in the orangery, just inside the door, in the dark, until they emerged and, while I didn't recognize the first man to exit, I did recognize the second." She stopped, making sympathetic eye contact with Gavin before her final revelation. "It was your uncle Lucian."

He stood stock-still for a brief moment before speaking frankly, "You are mistaken."

It was Alex's turn to be surprised. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, there is no possible way that my uncle is plotting against the Blackmoor line. You did not see what you think you saw."

"But I did, Gavin. I saw your uncle exit that room."

"No, Alex, you couldn't have. My uncle Lucian is many things, but he would never betray his family. Of that, I am certain."

Indignation was rising in Alex's chest; she was beginning to feel warm with defensive ire. "With all due respect, my lord, I witnessed something that points to the opposite."

"I am sure that you believe you did, Alex. But I'm telling you that you were wrong. I don't doubt that you saw someone who appeared to be my uncle. However, it was not he. Of that I am certain."

"I know what I saw. You are in grave danger. And Lucian Sewell is a threat to you and to the Blackmoor line. He admitted to killing your father, Gavin."

She saw the cool response in his eyes. "You do not believe me."

"I don't doubt what you heard. Only its source." Noticing her rising anger, he attempted to calm her. "Alex, my uncle Lucian adored his older brother — he was the first of the family to arrive at the Blackmoor estate once we found my father's body. He has been infinitely helpful in assisting me with the transition to earl. He has been an active part of the discussion relating to my father's death and the potential threat to me. He's an ally. Not a villain."

"But isn't it possible that all those things make him the perfect villain?" Alex's voice rose in desperation as she saw Gavin's expression darken. "Perhaps he was first to the Essex estate because he was already there. Have you even considered that his assistance in your transition to earl was merely a ploy to get closer to whatever information your father had garnered? And, Gavin... you must stop including him in any discussion of your safety. He is not to be trusted."

She watched him as he leaned against his desk, arms crossed over his broad chest, and her frustration brought tears to her eyes. She refused to cry in his study. Taking another deep breath, she spoke, her voice quivering, "I risked my reputation to come here tonight. I came out of nothing but the deepest concern for you and your family's well-being. I would never ever suggest something so damaging if I did not believe, with all my heart, that it was true. And you owe it to me — and to yourself— to at least consider it a possibility."

His expression was dark as he leveled her with a cool, grey gaze. "You are right that you have risked your reputation coming here tonight, Alex. It seems you have also risked my family's good name in doing so. I think it best you return to the ball and forget everything you saw. I assure you that we have this situation well in hand."

She was shocked by his cold dismissal. Was it possible he was offended by her concern? She opened her mouth to speak again, but he cut her off before any sound could escape. "I have heard what you have to say, Alex. You needn't repeat it. I encourage you to leave, and be quick about it. I would prefer that my uncle's character be the only one maligned this evening."

"Gavin —"

"Good night, Alexandra."

She watched him turn away from her, tears welling in her eyes. "Gavin —" He paused, not turning back, but clearly focused on her next words. "Be careful. Please."

And, with that, she turned and pushed the window open wide once more, enough for her to sit on the edge and swing herself out into the flower bed below. He made no move to help her exit and she landed off balance in the moist, soft soil, one knee sinking into the fresh dirt.

She didn't care about her ruined gown, or her filthy slippers, or the tears that were threatening to pour down her face. all she cared about was getting back home and finding someone who would believe her.