She’d be lucky, indeed, if Lord Alexander wasn’t soon expressing frustration over her lack of conversational skill, but he seemed more amused, if anything. A devilish gleam passed over his eyes. “Have you enjoyed yourself with Sir Laurence and Lady Kensington? They live at New Hill Cottage, if memory serves.”
Well, at least he asked her another question. For the moment, she could simply answer him and not scrounge around in her feeble mind for something appropriate. But how much should she tell him? She’d do best to keep personal details to a minimum, in the event word ever traveled back to London. The last thing she needed was for Father to hear of her location. She’d defied him and run from him, and he’d likely come after her and force her to return with him, whether the Kensingtons condoned her behavior or not. However much she wished to be free of his grasp, she must never forget how much control he could still exert over her life, should he find her.
Grace also didn’t want to allow anything to slip to him as to the true purpose of her visit.
She proceeded with caution. “Yes, my aunt and uncle live at New Hill. They have been quite amenable to all of my needs, my lord, thank you for asking. Our visit so far has been quite…pleasant.” She looked up at him with what she dreaded to be an uncouth, foolish half-smile. Should she say anything else? And good gracious, how much more stuffy and stilted could her conversation be?
Her internal debate proved rather foolhardy, as Grace stumbled over her own feet. Before she could fall, Lord Alexander caught her and set her to rights. He steadied her in his arms and leaned her gently against his sturdy frame for a moment, until she could stand on her own.
His strong arms braced her, and she took in a long breath. Probably not the brightest move, since his scent poured over her—warmth and cleanliness, and the barest hint of the woods.
She rested in the cocoon of his arms for longer than she ought to have done, but he felt too good to leave. The length of their bodies melded together perfectly—so perfectly it seemed entirely natural to stay in this position. How could she be so comfortable, feel so safe, being held by this man she barely knew?
“Easy, Lady Grace. Are you all right? Perhaps we should rest for a moment.”
His concern seemed genuine. Grace wanted to alleviate his worries. It wouldn’t do to have him thinking of her any more than absolutely necessary, for any reason.
She separated herself from his grasp and straightened her gown. “Oh, how terribly clumsy of me. I am very sorry, my lord. I assure you, I am quite well. There is no need to rest.”
She flushed again. Blast, her cheeks must surely match the color of her gown by now. The heat was rising to her head, and it only intensified when she remembered how long she had allowed herself to stay in his arms. She was behaving in a most dreadfully improper manner.
Lord Alexander raised an eyebrow dubiously, so Grace started walking to prove her point. “The earl’s roses are rather lovely, are they not?”
He walked alongside her—this time grasping her arm, where before she had held onto his. Good Lord, even his hand was strong. She shivered slightly and looked away from him.
“There are so many colors, and the roses are all abloom. I would love to paint them sometime.” Drat. Why had she mentioned painting? She had wanted to avoid telling him much about herself, and to simply fill in the conversation where appropriate. Apparently, she was destined to fail miserably at her seemingly simple goal.
“You paint, ma’am? I’ve never had talent for it myself, but my youngest sister, Charlotte, is quite the artist.” He stopped to pluck a single pink dog rose from its stem. It was almost the exact shade of her gown. He tucked the flower into her hair, just above her ear. “There, that looks just about perfect now.”
His gentle touch left her flustered. Every nerve ending in her body was thrumming and felt alive. Grace began to walk again, at a swifter pace this time, lest he discover just how easily he had discomposed her.
What to talk about? She needed to find something. Perhaps she ought to ask him about his family, since he’d mentioned a sister. Or maybe she should ask him about the talents he did possess, if not painting. There were any number of directions she could turn the conversation, but all she could think about was getting away from him—as fast as possible.
However, he stayed close behind her. He took hold of her wrist and pulled her to a stop. His proximity clouded her judgment—that warm, woodsy, masculine strength he exuded made it impossible for her to form a coherent thought, and she feared she might do something wrong.
“I apologize,” he said. “It was highly improper of me to take such liberties. Please forgive me.” His eyes were filled with sincerity.
Of course there was nothing to forgive. All he had done was help her to regain her feet and place a flower in her hair, nothing more. She had overreacted. “Please, don’t apologize, Lord Alexander. You’ve done nothing wrong. I—I am the one who ought to apologize. I don’t know what is wrong with me.” He could never understand her reactions, even if he knew the whole of the truth. And letting him know that was an utter impossibility.
After all the recent events of her life, Grace couldn’t possibly deserve such attentions from a gentleman. But how could she tell him such a thing? He couldn’t know the turmoil going on inside her, and she couldn’t very well let any of it out in front of him.
After a few moments, a wry grin emerged on his lips. “Lady Grace, you recognize me from the Brookhurst Inn yesterday, don’t you?”
He did recognize her. She nodded and smiled, but ducked her head.
“When I saw you on the coach, I felt time stood still. Your eyes—they are quite haunting.”
She turned her gaze to the orangery nearby, scanning desperately for something to look at—anything but him—but remained where she stood. Allowing him to see her fear wouldn’t do, but she refused to run. Her escape from Father had been more than enough running in her life. She would not grant this man so much power over her.
Grace was no coward.
Her reaction to this gentleman was confounding—he’d done nothing to cause her fear, so why was she so afraid of him? Was it because he’d admitted to an attraction to her, even if he did it in a circuitous manner? It would be altogether better for them both if they had a strong distaste for each other, but the opposite seemed to be occurring.
Still, whatever the reason for her fear, it stood there before her like a great, hulking oak—solid and immovable. Somehow, she needed to force it aside. What else could she do?
~ * ~
Alex had no idea why Lady Grace had turned from him just then, but he pressed on. “They are so beautiful, so clear, your eyes—but they seem so sad. I dreamed of your eyes last night.”
Devil take it. What on God’s good earth had possessed him to tell her he’d dreamed about her? But now his cards were all laid out before her. He couldn’t take the sentiment back, even if he wanted to—which, surprisingly, he didn’t. He might as well keep going. He placed a hand on her shoulder, gentle but firm, and allowed it to rest there for a few moments. Her breath quickened, and she looked timidly over her shoulder at him.
She seemed so lost and fragile, yet somehow still in rigid control of herself. He needed to break a small piece of her control, just for a moment. He wanted to help her—but how? So he did the only thing in his head.
He couldn’t stop himself. Alex had no right to touch her, and as a gentleman, he absolutely should do nothing to compromise her. But how could he resist a kiss? He turned her so she was only a whisper away, then he stared down into the frosty depths of her eyes. Her fear had returned. He almost decided to stop.
Almost.
But he had to know. He needed just a taste, just a touch, and then he could walk away. His fingertips brushed against her cheeks and nose. She shivered but didn’t pull away. When Alex traced along the lines of her mouth with the pad of his thumb, her eyes locked with his.
He waited until he could wait no longer for the fear to leave
her eyes, and finally received his reward. They softened before him and turned azure with curiosity.
Softly, gently, he pressed his lips to hers and tried to coax her to open. She didn’t yield, at first—but she didn’t run screaming from him, either.
Her restraint made him burn for more. He wanted her to feel the same desire he felt. Alex pulled her against him and deepened the kiss, his tongue pressing between her lips while his arms kept the heat of her body pressed against him.
She softened finally and took a tiny, tentative step toward him.
Thank God. He moved his hands to the back of her head, tilting her for deeper access to the warmth of her mouth. She let out a low moan against his lips. Her tongue stroked ever-so-shyly against his as he stabbed, twisted, and tangled. His intention had never been to take the kiss so far, he was damned if he could determine how to stop how. Her soft sounds and eager, unskilled efforts were enough to drive him to the brink of madness.
Alex was ready to dive over that cliff. Damn, he had to stop this—he had to move away from her. With sincere regret and a significant amount more control than he thought himself capable of, Alex broke off the kiss and stepped back. Lady Grace’s rumpled hair and pink, swollen lips seemed to beg him for more. He placed a few paces between them so he would not be tempted to grab her and finish what he had started.
Her eyes were like blue fire ringed with smoke. Alex had never wanted anything more. He couldn’t quite muster the mortification he knew he ought to feel, though. It had felt so very right, even though he ought never to have allowed it to happen.
By degrees, the fire fled from her eyes and they filled again with the sorrow and fear that seemed ever present.
He’d caused the fear, this time. This time, he was the bastard. He’d meant to keep the kiss soft and sweet, but instead he’d pawed at her. His passions got the better of him.
His behavior was beyond reproach—what a lecherous cad he was, and certainly no gentleman. After several moments of silence, she turned and walked away from him.
“Lady Grace.” He started after her, and with his long legs soon caught up to her. Again, he placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her progress.
She froze in place, neither looking at him nor saying a word.
“It seems I must apologize again. I should never have allowed myself to take such liberties. Please, may we pretend it never happened?” He waited for what seemed an eternity before she responded in any way.
Finally, she nodded. Her silence condemned him for the lecher he was.
Alex exhaled audibly and closed his eyes for a moment. “Shall we continue our walk through the gardens? Lord Rotheby’s arbors are relaxing this time of year.”
Good God, she had to say something—anything. Her silence was slowly but surely destroying him.
Lady Grace hesitated. “Yes, the arbors would be fine.” She still didn’t face him, but at least she walked alongside him, even if she watched her feet as she moved. Her struggle to maintain that thin veneer of control was betrayed by the firm set of her jaw and the slight tremble of her lower lip.
He needed to lighten the mood. He couldn’t stand to see her anguish, especially since he was the cause of her current distress. “I mentioned my sister, Charlotte, earlier, didn’t I?”
Lady Grace gave a slight nod of her head, but remained mute as a church mouse.
“I don’t believe I mentioned I am only one of six. Our father passed away a few years ago. Mama’s made it her personal mission to see each of us happily married off. The sooner the better, I’m afraid. She is not overly concerned with the advantageousness of the matches. Mama’s ideas…well, they are quite unconventional, at least as far as the beau monde is concerned.” Alex chortled. Mama could accomplish anything she set her mind to, which was somewhat frightening. “That is part of my reason for being in Somerton this summer. I’m not prepared to face Mama’s incessant interference. She can be quite the bear.”
For the first time in their brief acquaintance, Lady Grace laughed out loud in his presence.
“Oh, she is not truly a bear,” Alex rushed on. “She is just determined. Possibly to the point of obstinacy, but she means well. Please don’t think poorly of her because her son is terrified of her.”
Lady Grace laughed louder this time, more gaily. For the first time since they met, she seemed carefree. She visibly relaxed her jaw and looked at him with eyes full of mischief. “My lord, I’m certain I couldn’t think poorly of a woman who had borne six children. Simply putting up with all of you was likely enough to create more than just a touch of stubbornness. Why, I’d imagine most women in her circumstances would be on the verge of madness from you alone.”
“Touché, my lady, touché.”
Finally, she’d said more than a single sentence of response. Thank goodness. Maybe she would not be such poor company after all.
Lady Grace stopped and looked out at a section of the gardens filled with poppy, pimpernel, and clover, all dancing in the soft breeze. “You don’t truly fear your mother, do you? I have a difficult time imagining a mother who should be feared. There are plenty of other things in this world to be afraid of.” She bent to smell a bright red poppy.
Every bone in his body itched to learn what she feared, but he wanted to keep her talking. She might very well turn reticent again if he were so impertinent as to ask. That could wait for another day. “Fear Mama? No, of course not. She’s a wonderful lady and loves her children as no one has ever loved before. All six of us.”
Her smile was as bright as the sun when she stood to rejoin him, brightening her face and softening her eyes. He wished he would never see her in any other manner again, than at that moment—smiling in the evening, summer sun with a flower tucked behind her ear, without a care to weigh her down.
“Tell me about your siblings,” she said. Then she blushed again. He’d never seen anything more lovely. “That is, will you? Please.”
So very charming, this Lady Grace, even with her social ineptitude. He wanted to kiss the chagrin out of her expression.
“My siblings? Peter’s the eldest. After our father passed away several years ago, he became the Duke of Somerton. None of us could be better suited for the task. He takes his responsibilities quite seriously, so some people think him a little overbearing. But underneath, he’s just Peter. He’s a widower now, with two little ones running amok, helping to make him crazy.”
She placed her hand gently on his arm again, and he led her through the garden again. “There is a wilderness walk up ahead,” he said. “Would you like to explore that? It’s rather beautiful all year long.”
Lady Grace inclined her head, so he headed in that direction.
“Where was I? Oh yes—Richard. He’s the one all the unmarried young misses of the ton fawn over at the balls. A handsome devil, if ever there was one. Tall and broad, and perfect, all the ladies tell me.” Alex chuckled. “He’s been in the military for several years now. A major. Mama wishes he would sell his commission and come home, but the military life seems to suit him. He is different now. Changed. Serious. Well, he always was serious, so I can’t blame the change entirely on the wars.”
“It must be quite difficult on you all to have him so far away. It sounds as though you’re very close to your family.”
“Yes, we’re a close lot. Almost a clan, if you will. We even share the same hair color.”
She laughed again, a lilting sound.
He could become accustomed to hearing it with no complaints. “Sophie is the eldest of the girls—she comes just after me. She’s always wanted to do things her own way, not the expected way. I suppose she manages due to her position in society. But she’s already bucked tradition a bit too much for Mama’s tastes, by remaining a singleton far after she ought to have selected a husband and started filling a nursery.”
“And she is allowed to do so?” Lady Grace’s eyes held curiosity more than shock.
Alex nodded. “Peter won’t force her to marry.
He won’t insist on any of us marrying if it isn’t what we want—not after…well, never mind that. Besides, she reached her majority long ago. Sophie can do as she pleases, no matter how stricken in years she might become.”
“Oh…”
When he looked down upon her, her lips formed an O shape. His family must be very different from hers, to have such an effect upon her.
“Neil came next, much to Mama’s chagrin. He is rather enjoying himself, I imagine, doing all the illicit things a young man about Town will do. None of which are appropriate for tender ears, so I shall leave it at that for him.”
“Is he a…a rogue?” Her free hand rushed to her lips, those delicious, delectable lips, almost to take the word and replace it where it had come from.
Alex chuckled. “I doubt he has fallen too far into depravity, ma’am. Peter will rein him in, if he needs to. But for now, he is being allowed to sow his wild oats.”
“I see. So your mother—she does not take a hand in such discipline?”
Her curiosity about his family seemed odd. The Hardwickes were not all that unusual, as far as aristocratic families went. The girls may have slightly irregular views on the world, but overall, they were rather…normal. Almost boring, even, at least in the eyes of the ton. What must Lady Grace’s family be like, for her to seem so thunderstruck by them?
How very intriguing.
He shook his head. “Once Father died, Peter became the head of the family. Mama sees to certain aspects, of course, but Peter ultimately makes any family decisions.”
“Oh. Of course.”
Of course? How he wished to understand the workings of her mind. “And the last member of the Hardwicke clan is young Charlotte. She’s still in the schoolroom, not yet out in society, but I daresay she will turn heads when she makes her debut. Char is…well, she’s hard to pin down to any one thing. She is exuberant and gay and will utterly charm your stockings off, but at the same time, she is very…I don’t know how to put it other than to say she’s special and not disinclined to scandal. As I’ve already mentioned, she’s an artist, like you. She paints in watercolors.”
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