Another feeling hit her.
Pain on her own behalf.
After feeling nothing since that morning for the man who’d given seed to her existence, she didn’t like the emotions that were coming. “Was the injury terrible?” she asked, only to distract herself. When she looked at him, she found him staring at the top of the stairs with a distant look.
He didn’t answer her; his mind was elsewhere.
Justin pulled her farther into the foyer and toward the first painting.
Alex saw the face, the resemblance, and leaned away, forgetting her earlier question to Justin.
She most assuredly had her father’s eyes and his hair. If anyone had ever seen them together while he’d been alive, there would have been no question.
“That’s Lord Wint,” Justin told her as he joined them by the painting.
It was hard for Alex to find words and when she finally did speak, her voice was but a whisper.
“What was his given name?” she asked.
“John Upton.”
Upton. A name she would not have been granted to use even if, by some chance, she’d become his ward. Once illegitimate, always illegitimate. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there trying to picture how he’d look if they were standing face to face. Was he much taller than she was as the painting depicted, or were they of the same height? Alex wasn’t short or dainty like Rose, but she wasn’t as tall as Justin. Where had her height come from?
Perhaps she was being greedy to wonder. After all, she finally knew where she got the majority of her looks. The artist had painted Lord Wint’s hair with a gleam of softness that made her touch her own.
“Come, there’s more to see,” Justin told her in a low voice as he tried to point her on.
Alex looked behind her and saw Reuben following a few paces away, close enough to keep an eye on her but not close enough to hear their conversation. He was allowing her some privacy, which she was thankful for.
But when they arrived at a sitting room, Reuben remained at the door and didn’t join them. He seemed distracted by another painting in the hall.
“Where is Lord Wint’s nephew?” Alex asked as she looked around. The house was well-dusted and preserved in a state of use.
“He’s out of the country. Has been for some time.” Justin held out his hands and gestured for her to sit down on the yellow couch before joining her.
“Seems a waste of good coin,” she said. “Why keep all these servants when you’re not here? The money would be of better use in the bellies of the hungry.”
Justin’s brows rose. “You’re right. I should go speak to his lawyer and tell him to let go of the staff. I’m sure their families would survive it.” He was mocking her, and Alex pinked because he’d done it properly.
“I suppose that would be unkind,” she whispered.
He grinned. “Your cousin has yet to make any changes to the way Wint always did things. Thus, the staff remains just as your father would have allowed were he alive yet not present. He cared for his employees.”
Alex looked away. “He’s not my cousin.”
Justin leaned closer. “I beg your pardon?”
Alex righted her head to meet his eyes. “You called Lord Wint’s nephew my cousin, but he’s not. Neither was Wint my father. I’m illegitimate.”
“You cannot have looked at that painting and still believe that,” he countered.
Alex shrugged heavily. “It is the truth though, is it not? I’m sure it would have been easier had I been a man. Society will occasionally allow a bastard son into Society so long as his father had wealth and was social, but not daughters.”
Justin moved as though he would place a hand on her arm, but instead settled for clenching his fist on his knees. “Perhaps you’d have been right before now, but not after Mary Elizabeth Best’s journal was published. Any member of the ton who turns their back on you now will not be looked at favorably.”
Mary Elizabeth Best.
When Alex finally found out who had published that article, she didn’t know what she’d do. “My life has been good. Not perfect, no, but good.” She held his eyes. “I don’t want any of this. I don’t want the attention.”
“Avoiding the papers won’t help.” Justin moved closer but still didn’t touch her. His clean scent rose to greet her. She liked the smell of his soap and its combination with his skin. Unlike some of the expensive oils that she was used to smelling on men, Justin smelled as though he’d just come from running through a forest, earthy like rain and bark. Looking at him this close, she didn’t get the impression the rags painted him to be or what she’d painted him to be herself. He seemed kind, and when he spoke, his words were authoritative but gentle. “You need to embrace the truth and let the ton see you do it. It’s the only way that the gossip and novelty of you will die down before another scandal comes. If you don’t, then you can expect to be hunted until you do. The sooner the better.”
Alex knew he was right. The men who wrote for the London papers were like dogs with a bone. They’d not cease until she came out. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Let me help you.” His eyes were gentle. “Let me introduce you to Society.”
“From all accounts, you’re not known to venture into Society.”
Something crossed his eyes before he looked away. Then they returned to her. “Imagine their reaction when I do and with you by my side. There will be talk, but all of it should be good.”
She decided to press the issue that was bothering her. “You’d have to take my arm if you’re to be my escort, and we’d have to dance.”
Justin became like stone. The only sign he wasn’t was that he continued to blink and breathe.
She leaned closer. “Does the thought of touching me really bother you?” Her hands rested in her lap, but his were only a few short inches away. What if she reached out to him? How would he react?
“Touch you? I…” He seemed to struggle with his words and then stopped and frowned at his hands.
Alex leaned away as heat hit her cheeks. “If you don’t want to touch me—”
“I want to touch you.” The words came out more like a growl that made Alex shiver. Still, he didn’t meet her eyes.
She didn’t know what to make of him. The intensity of his statement made it hard for her to doubt him.
It also made her think of doing more than sharing a simple touch.
But why hesitate? She knew some of the rules that governed lords and ladies. She knew a gentleman could not freely touch a woman except as an escort or to dance with her. They were strict rules that separated his class from hers, but he hadn’t even taken her hand in greeting.
Maybe he was promised to another woman. Betrothed. If that was the case, then Alex commended him for his restraint when other men would only think to do as they pleased when out of their fiancée or wife’s sight.
Yet he had a mistress.
Perhaps he shared more than a simple fondness for the woman. Maybe he was in love.
“Why?” she asked, not understanding him at all. “Why would you do this for me?”
He stilled and said, “Because I owe your father.” He’d said that before.
“What did my father do for you?”
Justin looked at her as though this topic were an easier one. “He saved my father’s life. A boating accident. Your father jumped into a lake and pulled my father to shore.”
“That’s good news,” she told him.
Justin nodded but said nothing.
“What are you not saying?” she asked.
“My mother did not survive that incident, and recently my father has passed.”
“Just like mine, apparently.” She knew it wasn’t the same, but she tried to sympathize with him. “I’m sorry about your mother.”
Justin took on another look that struck Alex right in the heart. Another soft smile that warmed his eyes. “Your father would have liked you.”
She smiled and turned away. “I
don’t know. I lack all the grace of a lady.”
“Yes, but you make up for it with personality. I can barely tell the ladies of the ton apart these days.”
She’d have been offended had he not finished that statement. She smiled up at him. “I’m sure grace is much more favored than personality.”
“Not to me.”
The combination of his words and his gaze made her heart skip another beat before she pulled in a breath.
His eyes changed. Warmed further. His hand unclenched.
“Alex,” Reuben called.
She leaned away, though it took some effort, moving slowly so as not to make herself any more dizzy. Then she turned to look at Reuben.
“It’s time we leave,” her brother said.
Justin stood and held out a hand for Alex to proceed him. She was forced to get to her feet on her own, but since she’d been getting up and down from chairs by her herself her whole life—and since she was starting to like Justin more even with her confusion about him—she took no offense. She was startled when he spoke.
“Join my family for dinner,” he said.
“No.” Justin was lovely, and she sensed a liking growing between them, a friendship perhaps, but she was not ready to meet anyone else from Society. Still, she wanted to see him again. “Join my family for dinner,” she said, repeating his own words.
“Alex,” Reuben called again.
“I accept,” Justin said right before she smiled at Reuben. “She’s all yours, sir.”
The speed in which Reuben got to her was frightening. He grabbed her arm and started her to the door, not even allowing Alex to say goodbye to the earl or attempt another curtsey.
He spoke when the hack pulled away from the house, but Alex didn’t need him to speak. She saw the newspaper men who'd been hiding near Lord Wint’s door start chasing the hack.
“Someone saw us go in,” Reuben said. He was looking out the window. They watched the final man fade out of sight when the hack turned a corner. “I saw Lord Wint’s staff whispering. One of them must have told the papers.”
Alex leaned back in the chair and said, “Chantenny believes I should simply let the public see me, and eventually the scandal will cease.”
Reuben turned to Alex. “He’s right.”
“I thought so as well.”
“He’ll not make you his countess,” he said in the same tone.
She’d not been prepared for the words. Reuben had a way of shocking her like that. It was not something she'd missed while he’d been away.
Her feelings for the earl must have clearly shown in her eyes.
She took a moment to settle her nerves before she said, “I know.”
“Then why’d you invite him for dinner?” He was watching her closely.
Alex shrugged and looked away. “I like him.”
“He’s using you.”
She looked at Reuben again. “I beg your pardon?”
Reuben leaned forward. “After Chris took you home, I asked after the earl to make sure the story about your fathers was true. It is. Lord Wint did save Lord Chantenny’s life... over a decade ago.”
“A decade?” Alex asked.
Reuben nodded and said, “So, if Lord Chantenny had truly wished to pay your father back for what he’d done, why wait? He had plenty of time to do it.”
She supposed he was right. “But perhaps not the means. His father died right before mine. Perhaps he’d not thought to do so until Lord Wint was dead and remorse made him find me.”
Reuben shook his head. “He’ll not make you his countess.”
“Will you stop saying that?” It was unnerving. “I know.”
“Do you?” Reuben asked.
Alex closed her eyes as a burning sensation hit them. “Please, stop. I’ve enough to deal with today.” And his words reminded her of things she’d rather forget. She didn’t want to think of Justin like she did the others of the ton. She’d only known him for a few hours, and already she was growing quite fond of him. Fond of the way he looked at her and the ached that seemed to vibrate from his lips when he claimed to want to touch her. She shivered at the memory.
And what she liked even more was his appreciation for who she was. She'd never thought such a thing could happen, not from a man of his station.
But perhaps it was all a lie.
Reuben moved, taking up the rest of the bench at her side and draping an arm around her. “Lord or not, I’ll kill him if he hurts you.”
She smiled and looked up at him. Reuben was not smiling.
“I heard other things about Lord Chantenny.”
Alex didn’t want to hear any more. “Reuben—”
He tightened his hold on her. “I won’t tell you what I heard. I only ask you to be careful.”
She nodded and placed her head on his shoulder.
“Now, we need to discuss something very important,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “What now?”
“What are you making for dinner?”
She looked at him and laughed.
He smiled and kissed her hair.
She settled back into his arms for the remainder of the ride and she thought that this, Reuben holding her just like he’d done since the day she’d become a Smith, was what she’d missed most about him.
* * *
8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
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“Why Smith?” Justin asked as he glanced around the table.
He’d arrived to Mr. Christmas Smith’s home on time to find that what he’d expected was not to be. Instead of heading toward the area where the lower-class lived, Justin found himself in a beautiful terrace in Mayfair.
His surprise must have been evident on his face because Alex, who’d worn a very fetching dress in ice blue, said, “He owns the toy shop where I work.” Which explained how the man made his own money but didn’t explain how he’d managed to accumulate so many treasures in his house.
He also didn’t think Christmas the sort to own a toy store.
Since arriving an hour ago, the man hadn’t warmed to Justin in the least, though neither had Mr. Nash Smith nor Reuben Smith. He’d found out quickly that they, along with Ms. Rose, made up the Smith family, a bond formed by circumstances and proximity, yet Justin could feel the true affection as it flowed through the room.
It reminded him of his friendship with Gerard, whom he wished he could have invited along with his siblings, but he'd known Alex was not ready to have more of the ton’s attention.
She’d been seated in the farthest seat from him on the other side of the table, which had been donned with fine china and a good meal complemented with great wine. It was the middle of the main course when he asked his question.
Every eye at the table came to him and silence fell before every gaze turned to Christmas.
Justin looked at the man who sat at the head of the table.
Christmas held his wine glass in his hand and stroked it with his thumb as he stared far off. Then his hazel eyes found Justin's. “Smith was a friend at the orphanage. He died of fever when we were young.” He gave a soft shrug. “I named us after him.”
It was a moving story. “You named the family.” He looked at the other four people at the table.
Rose offered him a smile, which she seemed to do often, as though to make up for the fact that none of the men did. “Chris brought us all together.”
Justin could not believe that. Chris did not seem the ‘come together’ sort.
“That’s not true,” Chris said.
“It is,” Reuben said. “You know it as well as everyone at this table.”
Nash, who was sitting next to Justin, leaned over and said, “Alex all but begged to be let in. At first, it was just the men.”
“Boys, more like it,” Alex cut in and wrinkled her nose. “You needed me.”
Chris gr
unted but warmth filled his eyes. “I only let you in because you wouldn’t leave us alone.”
Alex wrinkled her nose at Chris, and Justin found himself enjoying the lively banter.
“Rose was the last to join,” Nash said.
“I was practically born at the orphanage,” Rose said. “Chris was the first to hold me after Ms. Mary Francis.” She looked at Chris with abundant love in her blue eyes. “I've never had a moment of loneliness in my entire life.”
“He practically raised her.” Nash leaned in again. “She was the one who got him into making toys. He was good then. He’s better now.”
Now it was coming together for Justin. Christmas had obviously been a different man at one time, but something had happened to change him. That he was a builder didn’t surprise him, though, or that he’d managed to start his own business. There was the need for precision in Chris’ eyes and a ruthless set in his features.
Rose said, “It was Reuben who named me.” She pointed to her mouth. “Because of my lips.” Justin had noticed they were very red in hue. He thought the name fitting and smiled.
Reuben groaned. “I tried changing it to Cryer about a week later, but Ms. Francis wouldn’t let me.”
They laughed around him, except for Chris.
Alex said, “That would not have been a very good name.”
Reuben smiled at her. “I tried renaming you Puppy with the way you followed us around.”
More laughter.
“But we’d not get together as often were it not for Alex,” Rose said. “She enjoys having her dinners.”
The sisters shared a look he couldn’t understand before Alex turned to smile at him. “How was your meal?”
“Divine.” He turned to Chris and said, “Your cook is a hidden treasure. Wherever did you find her?”
Chris held his gaze. “Alex found her.” And though the words were simple, there was affection laced within them, deeply rooted in the man who’d put the Smith family together.
The Legend of the Earl Page 6