Fall from Trace

by Rebecca Connolly

  “I had to be outside,” Alex told him with a scowl. “There wasn’t anything to do inside.”

  “You’re going mad with all this, aren’t you?” Gabe asked, sobering just a little. “Adjusting to life outside of the ship, not having tasks to complete or expectations…”

  Alex began nodding before Gabe trailed off. “I found out Poppy has been hearing my nightmares.”

  “Ah…”

  He glanced up at his cousin warily, hearing a knowing tone in the one word. Sure enough, Gabe’s smirk was smug, and his eyes twinkled.

  “What?” Alex snapped irritably. “There is nothing to smile about in that.”

  “No, of course not,” Gabe assured him with the barest hint of sincerity. “But it certainly lends some depth to your current state of mind and being.”

  Alex huffed and waved a hand. “Explain yourself.”

  Gabe sat back, folding his arms, and chuckling to himself.

  “Anyone in your situation would have nightmares. Hell, we’ve all had nightmares at some point because of what we faced, and nothing was close to your situation. You’re right, it’s not amusing at all.” He grinned, despite his words. “But Poppy hearing your nightmares is your biggest concern? It was bound to happen, Alex, and nothing is keeping you in this cottage.”

  “I know.” He shook his head slowly. “I could leave at any time. I should leave. I’m not sick or weak anymore…”

  “Debatable.”

  “…And it’s really not proper for me to be here now,” Alex went on, ignoring his cousin’s outburst. “But where would I go? Parkerton is in shambles.”

  Gabe shrugged. “Come to Branbury. We can restore Parkerton easily enough, and it gives you a place to stay in the meantime.”

  Alex shook his head immediately. “I can’t live off the charity of others anymore. I need to become someone again, whoever I need to be now.”

  “Charity?” Gabe snorted, his boot skidding on the stone floor. “It’s not charity, it’s a house, and I’m staying in that house, I’ll remind you, not because I am a vagrant, but because someone I know offered.”

  “Also, because you enjoy taking advantage,” Alex pointed out.

  Gabe tilted his head in thought. “Well, yes, there is that. But still, not charity.”

  Alex finally smiled, dropping his head back against the chair. “Why are you here, Gabe? There has got to be so much to do back in London, I doubt there is time for you to take a holiday up here with me.”

  His cousin shrugged evasively and looked at the fire. “There’s plenty of help.”

  That may have been true, but none of those people would be Gabe, and it was well known that Gabe as the Rogue had a mass of contacts that would not associate with anyone else. Valuable information could be gained from them, and his presence here would prevent that.

  “But not you,” Alex said, raising his brow.

  Gabe shrugged again, and Alex waited.

  The fire crackled loudly, and then Gabe groaned and shifted in his seat.

  “Oh, all right, I might as well tell you.”

  “Probably best,” Alex told him with a sage nod.

  Gabe exhaled roughly, making a face. “I may or may not have been compromised earlier this year.”

  Any amusement Alex was feeling at his cousin’s expense evaporated, and he straightened in his seat.

  “Are you serious?”

  “We’re not sure how much,” Gabe admitted with a brisk nod of acknowledgement. “And we’re not sure by whom, or how, but I was, and so I’ve needed to keep to a lower profile than even before any of this.”

  “Damn,” Alex swore, leaning forward and putting his head into his hands.

  “Yes, but there is no way that can be twisted to be your fault. So, stop that.”

  Alex drew his hands down and looked at his cousin and colleague, feeling pained. “Isn’t it my fault? I had answers, Gabe.”

  Gabe’s brow furrowed with derision. “We all had answers. Circumstances changed multiple times, so there’s no guaranteeing anything at all.”

  “Fair enough.” Alex dropped his hands completely and cleared his throat. “So why not go to your wife and son?”

  “Amelia wants me here,” Gabe assured him. “I saw her and the baby shortly before we found out where you were, and she told me to find you and do what I had to reunite us properly. She has no siblings; I have no siblings; and neither of us have much by way of family.” He wrinkled his nose up slightly. “That, and not knowing how compromised I am means it’s harder to go home for risk of endangering Amelia and little Alex. Eagle is with them, so they’re quite safe.”

  “You’ve got to resolve this, Gabe,” Alex said, shaking his head slowly. “The League’s got to end it.”

  “We’re trying, believe me,” Gabe said, looking back into the fire. “They almost got Cap’s wife and children a few months ago. Managed to get that one written off as folly, so no one truly believes Cap is one of us, but it was close. Surely, it will all come to a head soon. It has to.”

  They both fell silent again, darker thoughts and pressures occupying their minds.

  The door to the cottage opened then, and Poppy appeared, shaking her damp cloak and wringing out her dripping hair. She looked at the two men by the fire, then smiled.

  “I’ve made a decision, Alex.”

  Distracted by her fresh countenance and highlighted figure due to her sodden dress, Alex jerked at hearing his name and looked up.

  “Yes?”

  “You need to stop hiding out on this farm,” Poppy said briskly, though her smile warmed at his look. “It’s time for you to escape from everything that is bothering you and get beyond it. You need to have fun and laugh and forget all you’ve suffered. You need to smile and mean it, and I mean to see that you do.”

  He swallowed and cocked his head. “What do you have in mind?”

  Poppy’s smile grew, and with it, Alex’s wariness.

  “A ball at the village assembly rooms. It’s in two days, and you can’t refuse me because I’ve already confirmed the carriage with Mr. Ryland, and we’re sharing with the Monroe girls. You know how they would gossip if I went alone after all this time.”

  “I can’t go as myself,” he said frantically, his stomach clenching and his neck heating. “I’ll need a new name.”

  “I think we can agree on that.” She grinned briefly. “We wouldn’t want Lord Parkerton to get ambushed, would we?” She moved past them both to the bedchambers.

  Only when they heard the door to her room close did the cousins look at each other, and Alex groaned weakly.

  “A ball? Really? Did she think my feelings on those things changed while I was away?”

  Gabe shrugged, laughing to himself. “She didn’t invite me, and I am so grateful.”

  “I hate you,” Alex muttered.

  “I know.” Gabe paused, then added, “She is right, though. You do need to laugh and smile again.”

  Alex nodded once. “I know.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Do not embarrass me.”

  “When have I ever embarrassed you?”

  “Oh, if only we had time to elaborate on that.”

  “I have never embarrassed you in any public setting.”

  Poppy rolled her eyes and gave Alex a look that made him chuckle.

  “Well, only to your family, then,” Alex amended with a grin.

  “Yes, because that is so much better.” Poppy exhaled roughly and sat back hard against the seat of the coach. “Don’t say anything untoward before the Monroe sisters. It’ll be all over town if you do.”

  Alex looked at her sharply, raising a brow. “Remind me who I am and why I’m going to a ball, then. I’ll never manage to behave properly without the proper information.”

  Poppy turned her head towards him, keeping it against the seat. “I don’t care what your name is, but you ought to be my cousin or some such. You are visiting me from somewhere and you’ve convinced me to give up my exi
stence as a hermit for one night for the simple pleasures of dancing.”

  He stared at her for a long minute. “Well,” he finally said, “as long as we’re truly thinking this out…”

  She waved her hand dismissively and turned to look out the window. “The details are not important.”

  “Trust me,” he told her with a sharp laugh, “the details can be very important.”

  Again, she waved her hand. “You’re the spy, you come up with something.”

  “Former spy.”

  “Not officially.”

  Alex grumbled and turned to look out of his own window at the passing scenery, barely visible in the fading light. “Right. Well, let’s just remember the reason you stated for doing this. To make me smile and laugh and have fun.” He snorted very softly. “Huzzah.”

  His leg was awkwardly kicked then, and he glanced over at Poppy with a frown, though she wasn’t looking at him.

  “At least you managed to appear the part,” Poppy grumbled. “You still look scrawny in clothes that don’t belong to you.”

  “Well, you look lovely, if I’m permitted to pay compliments to my cousin,” Alex informed her stiffly. “I didn’t think you still had anything from your old life, let alone that dress.”

  Poppy jerked to look at him, eyes wide, brow furrowed. “You remember this one?”

  “Not sure I could forget it.” Alex smiled as he eyed what he could of her with her dark cloak obscuring much of it. “You were wearing that dress when you told me you loved me.”

  Even in the dark of the coach, he could see Poppy’s cheeks flush, and her throat moved as she swallowed. Then she cleared her throat and averted her eyes. “I also threw punch in your face in this dress without getting a drop on myself. I’ve had it for quite some time.”

  “Still,” Alex grunted, shifting in his seat. “It’s nice to know not everything has changed.”

  Truth be told, he’d been transported by the sight of her when she’d come out of her room, somehow more elegant and finer than she’d ever been in his memories. The gown itself wasn’t anything spectacular except for the sentiment he’d placed on it for years. Its simple, soft green highlighted everything that was naturally Poppy without taking anything away from her. He was fully aware of the very slight fraying at the neckline, hemline, and sleeves, and of the faded lace dotting each surface, but her rosy color distracted from all that.

  How she managed to make her own hair look so splendidly elegant was beyond him, but he supposed she was used to it by now. It wouldn’t match the styles of the other girls this evening who had maids to do the work for them, but it suited Poppy well, and that was all that it needed to do. Alex was only grateful to have found a proper set of evening clothes lying around at Branbury, and a set that fit, no less.

  Even if he had his own clothing, it would have looked ridiculous on him now. He didn’t have proof, but he suspected he was roughly half the size he was before, and a scarecrow of a man wasn’t much of a match for Poppy when she looked as she did.

  Not that they were a match.

  They weren’t.

  The carriage pulled to a stop in front of a house on the edge of the village, and Alex peered up at the overly lit building.

  “Why is it that we have to share a coach with the Monroe girls when they could easily walk to the assembly rooms?”

  “Because they are determined to be fine young ladies,” Poppy told him, smiling to herself, “and fine young ladies always travel by coach.”

  Alex made a face. “Well, then.”

  He sighed and opened the door to the coach, descending to do his proper duty to the forthcoming girls. Renting a coach from Mr. Ryland did not provide a footman to accompany the group, so Alex, as a gentleman, would have to do the honors.

  Although he didn’t really think he would be considered a real gentleman tonight. His eveningwear was fine, but not that of a gentleman. It was perfect for a merchant on the rise, which would be an excellent story to pose for himself, he supposed.

  If anyone asked.

  If Moulton were as full of gossiping busybodies as he recalled, at least a few would ask. Not directly, mind, but they would ask each other.

  Faintly, he wondered if it was too late to find himself ill.

  “Oh look, Bess! That’s a strapping man, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed, Di. I’ll ride in a coach with that, no question.”

  Alex muttered incoherently under his breath as the two overly trimmed girls bounced their way down to the coach, their matching dark eyes taking in every inch of him as he stood there. He bowed, smiling as politely as he could and offered them a hand into the coach.

  Each of them held his hand for longer than was necessary, and in grips that would have made lesser men wince.

  He looked up at the night sky, casting up a fervent prayer for release, then entered the coach himself, grateful that the sisters had sat together instead of one taking the seat beside Poppy.

  “La, Poppy Edgewood,” Diana Monroe said with a salacious smile at Alex. “Where did you find this divine piece of meat?”

  Alex saw Poppy’s jaw clench, but she smiled very tightly. “He’s my cousin, Miss Diana.”

  “And does this cousin have a name?” her sister asked, looking all the more interested.

  “George Turner, Miss Monroe,” Alex murmured, tapping the brim of his hat as he nodded.

  “It is indeed a pleasure,” Bess said, nodding herself, followed quickly by Diana. “We don’t normally get such fine fish at our little assemblies.”

  “Not since Anne Hansen’s husband showed up, anyway,” Diana added, looking at her sister. “He was very handsome.”

  Bess sighed and made a show of fanning herself. “Oh yes. He was lovely.” She exhaled a fluttery sigh and looked at Poppy again, tsking sadly. “Oh, Miss Edgewood, is that the same old dress you wore last time we saw you? It’s at least five years out of fashion, dear. You should have asked to borrow one.”

  “Yes, it is rather tatty, isn’t it?” Diana winced and shuddered. “It reminds me of Viola Hardy’s gown last year, remember, Bess?”

  “Oh, Lord, that was an eyesore,” Bess groaned, her fingers stretching to their fullest extent as though she would be ill. “She looked far worse than you, Miss Edgewood, and she is a full five years younger, and ought to know better.”

  Poppy pretended to look either impressed or interested or both, but she said nothing, which was perfect, as the sisters continued to ramble on and on about gowns and men and silly girls. They needed no input from either of them.

  Poppy leaned closer to Alex, and he leaned towards her to listen as she hissed, “This is why they couldn’t walk. They’d never get there with all the distractions.”

  Alex choked on a laugh, but nodded sagely, straightening, and waiting for the coach to arrive at the assembly rooms.

  Soon enough, it did, and the Monroe sisters paid little attention to Alex or his hand this time as they descended the coach and rushed into the rooms. Poppy took her time exiting, huffing a little as she took his hand to get down neatly. She shook her skirts, and tossed her hair, exhaling slowly, still holding his hand.

  Alex looked down at her, waiting for her to release it, but sensing she wasn’t actually aware of touching him. Her eyes were fixed on the lit assembly rooms, and her jaw was tight as she stared at it.

  “Poppy?” he finally prodded, keeping his tone soft and unassuming.

  She shook her head very slightly. “Give me a minute, Alex. I don’t… I don’t socialize much, and I have to prepare myself to do so.”

  Alex frowned at that. “Why? Because of your circumstances?”

  There was a pained flash across her features, and a tremor ran down her spine and arms.

  “Something like that,” she replied absently. Then she exhaled again, nodded once, and released his hand. “Right. We are here to have fun. Let’s do so.” She strode ahead, leaving Alex behind.

  He shook his head slowly as he followed. “The
n why does it feel more like going into battle? I know all too well what that feels like.”

  There was no answer, only the path ahead of him, and he took it, knowing that the dangers inside wouldn’t be nearly as treacherous as the ones he had already faced in his life. It would still force him to watch his footing, but the dangers were different. He didn’t know these dangers, but he never had.

  Perhaps he ought to have prepared, as well.

  “Too late now, old boy,” he muttered to himself as footmen took his hat and her cloak, then indicated the way.

  “What was that?” Poppy whispered, glancing up at him.

  “Nothing important,” he assured her, shaking his head. “Just preparing myself.”

  She scoffed and forced a bright smile on her face. “You do remember how to dance, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” he grunted, nodding at an inquisitive guest. “Left foot, right foot, turn, turn, swivel…”

  Poppy snorted a laugh and brought her gloved hand to her mouth, her body shaking with more laughter.

  “I’m sure it will all come back to me,” Alex said confidently. “How difficult could it be?”

  Very difficult, as it happened, and Poppy was sure to remind Alex of it repeatedly.

  He didn’t seem to mind. He’d simply laughed it off or shrugged, and that reminded her so much of the Alex she had known that she couldn’t even mind that half of the time he danced, he did it wrong.

  They’d danced twice already, and Alex was at this moment dancing with the Fletcher girl, who was far too young to really be a candidate for anyone of Alex’s age. Still, her youth and energy were boundless, and she was a pretty thing. Not particularly sensible, but not nearly as silly as the Monroe girls. She would undoubtedly fall in love with the handsome, albeit clumsy, Mr. Turner and use him as the standard by which all future suitors would be judged.

  Poor men would never stand a chance.

  There was no one like Alex, and it wasn’t worth the effort to try to find otherwise. Better for the poor girl to forget Alex and move on before she found herself too far down the cavernous hole Alex was capable of creating within one’s heart.