The Season

twenty-one

Alex awoke with a start as the carriage turned off the main thoroughfare and onto the mile-long drive that led up to Stafford Manor. Night had fallen and they had been driving for the entire day. They had left Worthington House at dawn and were arriving well after dark. For the first part of the trip, Ella and Vivi had kept her company, chattering about the odd things they witnessed on the long drive to the eastern edge of Britain. After the first break, when they had stopped for tea and a change of horses, the two had curled up on the seat across from Alex and the duchess and had fallen asleep, leaving Alex, unable to sleep herself, to talk quietly with her mother, who had been busy preparing activities for the house party that would begin late tomorrow with the arrival of the first wave of guests.

Within a few hours, even the duchess had succumbed to the lure of laziness that comes with long hours of travel in a warm, darkened coach, and Alex had found herself alone with her thoughts — thoughts that haunted her as she ran the events of the past two days over and over in her mind.

Of course, at the front of her mind was the confrontation she'd had the day before with Lucian Sewell ; she could not pretend she was not thoroughly shaken by his words. He had all but admitted that he was not above hurting his nephew or anyone else who stood in his way — even Ella and Vivi. Alex had not missed his threats. He meant to hurt them if she told anyone her suspicions. She wrapped the travel blanket more tightly around herself to stave off the chill of the memory. Was it possible that Gavin had recounted their conversation and her eavesdropping? She couldn't imagine his doing such a thing, but she had to consider it an option.

She had risked Ella and Vivi's lives by bringing them to Blackmoor House. Before, Gavin's uncle hadn't given the three of them a second thought. Now, they were squarely in his sights. That was no one's fault but her own. Alex knew that she had only one task — to ensure her friends' safety without revealing to them any more of her suspicions, should there be any more. The less they knew of Lucian Sewell 's part in whatever terrifying play this was, the better for them.

Their second stop had interrupted her somber thoughts, and while the grooms and coachmen changed the team of horses again, the four women had a chance to eat a warm, filling dinner in preparation for the longest leg of the trip. The food, combined with the already long day, had put Alex right to sleep when she returned to the carriage and cuddled under the traveling blanket until these, the last few minutes of the journey.

Alex inhaled deeply, breathing in the crisp air. To think, just a day earlier she'd been begging her mother not to force her to travel to Essex. Now she couldn't wait to be at the country house.

She would be lying to herself if she claimed that her eagerness to arrive was merely about protecting her friends. As she looked out the window into the blackness, she was keenly aware of the fact that she was staring blindly in the direction of Sewell hall, the familial seat of the Blackmoor line. She knew that if Blackmoor wasn't in the billiard room at Stafford Manor with her brothers, unaware of her approach, he was at the hall, just a quarter of a mile away.

As time had passed since their confrontation in his study, she had grown less and less angry with Blackmoor. Instead, she found herself filled with sorrow at what their relationship — always comfortable and friendly — had lost. There had been a time when their tempers would not have flared, when hurtful words would never have been spoken, when he wouldn't have dreamed of asking her to leave his presence. That time had clearly passed, and she was devastated by that fact.

Perhaps Blackmoor had been right; perhaps the kiss had been a mistake. It had most assuredly made her life harder, because now she couldn't imagine her world without him. He'd been her fourth brother from the start, but now he was a great deal more. Yes, he was a friend, but she couldn't deny how thoroughly she was attracted to him — how much she ached for his approval, his affection, his love.

Love?

She started in the silence, surprised by the notion. It had always been such a laughable, ephemeral word — a concept she'd never understood and in which she'd never really been interested. It had been partner to The One... perhaps right for Vivi but never for Alex. But now, as she considered her feelings for Blackmoor — feelings that could only be defined as love — she could almost see herself embracing both of these notions.

There was only one thing to do. She had to find him, as soon as possible, and show him that everything they had, everything they'd said, was worth their taking the significant risks that faced them. She had to convince him that what she knew about his uncle and his father was true... that he was wrong not to believe her... that she would never hurt him without cause. She knew it was a risk, one that almost certainly would take her down a path that led to one of two things: either the happiness of sharing her life with the boy she was coming to realize she'd been destined for since the beginning; or the misery of living without him. It was a risk she had no choice but to take.

As she shored up her courage, telling herself she could manage this encounter and that she could overcome her disappointment if he were to dismiss her, the carriage entered the last, long curve on the manor drive. She could see the enormous stone house rising up in the darkness, and she was comforted by the fact that it had been the seat of the Stafford line for generations. If she were going to do such a nerve-wracking thing as confront the man she loved, there was no place in the world she'd rather do it than here.

She shook her mother awake, then reached across the seat and poked both Ella and Vivi, rousing them from their slumber. The three woke with the frustration of those who find sleep despite discomfort as she said, "We're here!" with a cheerfulness she didn't entirely feel.

The carriage rolled to a stop as Vivi yawned broadly and muttered, "Oh, excellent bed! How quickly can I find you?"

"I shall race you to it," Ella grumbled, drawing a smile from the duchess.

The door to the carriage opened and Alex clambered down with the help of a footman. As Vivi and Ella piled out behind her, she looked up at the manor house, smiling to herself at the welcoming light that was flickering in the windows of the rooms that had been prepared for their arrival this evening.

The yellow light spilled into the night in a way that she had loved since she was a child, filling the darkness that was so much a part of country evenings.

Alex took a deep breath, taking in the "crisp Stafford air" — as her father would call it — remembering her mother's comment the day before. She did love the country. There was something about the way the stars shone ever so much more brightly here, about the way time slowed down, about the way it smelled on a cool May night. Everything seemed simpler here. Better.

The large oak door to the house opened, and Alex looked up to see her father, silhouetted by the bright lights of the entryway. He looked nothing like a duke — without an overcoat or a waistcoat, without a cravat. His shirt was tucked into his buckskin breeches, but his sleeves were rolled up on his bronzed arms, and Alex chuckled to think of what London's aristocracy would think to see him, one of the most powerful men in England, wandering about dressed like a "savage."

A flash of white appeared as he grinned down at the group on the drive. He called back into the house, "My word! It appears someone's left a group of orphans at the door!"

The four women laughed at his silly jest as he came bounding down the steps, taking Alex into his arms for a warm hug and a kiss on the forehead, and welcoming Vivi and Ella in turn. He then turned to help the duchess down from the carriage. When her feet touched the ground, she looked up at her husband and said, "Rather too old to be an orphan, I think."

Wrapping his arms around her, the duke replied lovingly, "Nonsense. You grow younger with each day," and kissed her soundly on the mouth.

Vivi and Ella turned away, blushing and leaving Alex shaking her head and teasing, "Your behavior really is too uncivilized. Shouldn't you be setting a better example for the next generation?"

"It looks like an excellent example to me."

The words sent a tingle up Alex's spine as she recognized the warm, friendly voice. She turned to find Blackmoor, clad as casually as her father, coming down the steps to greet them. In the darkness, she couldn't be sure, but he seemed to be looking straight at her. Her stomach turned over as she watched him approach, and she blushed deeply to think that he was discussing her parents' actions so openly.

"You could have this yourself, Gavin, if you would only take a wife!" her mother pointed out, kissing him on both cheeks in welcome.

Vivi's, Ella's, and Alex's jaws dropped in unison as they heard the duchess's cheeky response. There was most definitely something about the country.

They were soon inside, taking a brief late-evening meal with the entire Stafford family. The boys recounted their day hunting in traditional exaggerated fashion, and the girls played the part of remarkable audience, making appropriately appreciative noises.

"I caught a fish that weighed three stone if it weighed a pound!" Nick bragged, looking to Kit for approval.

"Indeed." Kit nodded in assent, supportively. "But mine was the real coup — I took down a rabbit with feet as large as my own!"

"Mmmm," Will agreed, taking a drink of wine. "Neither compares with the quail I bested... it was the size of a golden eagle! Wasn't it, Blackmoor?"

Blackmoor smiled broadly, leaning back and looking from one brother to the next. "I'm not certain I want to be involved in this particular conversation," he said with a laugh.

"Oh?" Alex asked with a twinkle in her eye, knowing exactly why he wouldn't participate. "Could that be because this generation of Staffords has been having this very conversation for years, since they were old enough to go hunting?"

Blackmoor smiled at her and replied, "It could be..."

"And perhaps because, for years, it is only after the Stafford boys have relayed their incredible feats of manhood that their father ruins their fun by telling the truth — that none of the three of them could catch a fish, a rabbit, or a bird if his very life depended on it?" the duke noted, drawing a laugh from everyone around the table.

"Alas, it seems the wildlife of this particular estate have nothing to fear from their masters," Vivi said.

"It's a good thing you're all fairly intelligent," Ella remarked.

"And don't forget attractive," added Nick, good-humoredly.

"Oh, of course!" Alex replied sarcastically. "How could we forget?"

The duchess stood on a laugh and spoke to the table. "I am afraid, my dears, that I must take to my chamber. It has been a long day, and tomorrow shall be another. May I suggest you all retire early?"

And, with that, the meal was ended, the duke and duchess taking their leave, followed closely by Vivi and Ella, who were looking more tired by the minute and were eager to find their beds. Alex silently willed her brothers to retire and give Blackmoor and her a moment alone together so she could say all the things she had decided to say during the carriage ride, but they appeared unmoved by her thoughts and did not accommodate her request. Realizing she would not have a private conversation with Blackmoor on this particular evening, she stood and announced her own intentions to find her bed. Leaving the room, she lit a candle in the hallway beyond and climbed the wide center stairway of the manor to the upper chambers.

She made it all the way to her bedchamber and had one hand on the door handle before she realized that Blackmoor had followed her abovestairs.

She knew before she looked back that she would find him silhouetted in the light, and when she did, her heart began to pound.

"What are you doing up here?"

"Retiring to my chamber."

"Why aren't you doing that at your own home?" The question came out more harshly than she'd intended.

"Are you disappointed? I shan't bother you, Alex."

"No! No. I just thought... since... you live next door..." She stopped, feeling rather idiotic, then pressed on, "I... I don't care where you sleep."

"Excellent. Then if it's all the same to you, I think I shall stay here."

"It's fine with me."

"Good."

She turned back to her door and pushed it open as he moved down the hall. She started to step forward into the room; she meant to go in and close the door behind her. Instead, she turned just as he was moving past. "Wait."

He stopped just inches from her, so close that she had to step into the doorway to keep from burning him with her candle. His voice was no louder than a whisper when he spoke, "Yes?"

"I..." she paused again, mute with the flood of words that had rushed to her tongue. What should she say? Where should she start? Was this the place to take her risk? Did she really care? "I have something I want to say."

"I sensed that," he teased.

"Perhaps I’ll just retire instead."

"I'd rather you didn't." He raised an eyebrow. "I apologize, Alex. Please. Go on."

"This just doesn't seem the... proper place."

"It seems proper enough to me."

"It's a darkened hall way. In the middle of the night."

"Do you have a better locale in mind?"

She looked from one side of the hallway to the other quickly, then reached out and grabbed his arm and pulled him quickly into her bedchamber, closing the door behind them. They both paused for a moment, equally shocked by her rash behavior.

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 thoughts 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.