He moved toward her, and her heart leapt as he slid his fingers into her hair, tilting her face so that he could kiss her deeply, passionately. Her toes curled, her body heated, she melted like ice in an inferno. But he didn’t continue the encounter. Instead, he let her go.
“Your sister will wonder where you are,” he said as he turned her toward the door and pressed her toward it. “You’d best go as to not rouse her suspicions.”
Rosalinde walked away as he was encouraging her to do. He was right, after all. They had taken a risk to make love in a public room like this one. She’d have to be more careful in the future.
But as she reached the door, she stopped and turned toward him. He was rumpled now, his hair tangled by her fingers, his shirt wrinkled from being torn away and tossed aside. He didn’t look like a gentleman anymore. She doubted she looked like a lady.
“Goodnight, Gray,” she whispered, smiling at him one last time before she slipped away toward her bed.
And though nothing had truly been resolved between them, she felt lighter than she had since her arrival. Everything had changed. And she would never again be the same.
Chapter Ten
Gray took a long breath of cold morning air before he urged his horse forward and dashed past Lucien. He heard his brother’s laugh, so rare now, and then Stenfax thundered past him in return. They did this back and forth a few times, playfully racing each other. Of course, Gray knew the competition would get more serious as they neared the lake ahead. That was their traditional finish line.
As predicted, with the lake visible in the distance, both men urged their horses faster, faster. Gray pulled ahead, his heart racing with triumph, as the last hundred yards became the battleground. He would have whooped in victory, but seemingly out of nowhere another horse appeared. It was Felicity, who had been riding behind them, above all their games. Even riding sidesaddle she flew by and reached the water’s edge before her brothers.
Gray patted his horse’s side and muttered, “Next time, boy.”
All three got off their mounts, laughing and panting as they let the horses roam off to drink and rest and graze.
“Do I win something?” Felicity asked as she adjusted her hat over the blonde hair she’d inherited from their mother, rather than the dark tresses her brothers shared. “Or is it just boyish bragging rights, as usual?”
“I could give you a farthing,” Lucien suggested with a bark of laughter. “But it’s all I have. You and Gray have far more money in your coffers between you.”
Gray’s smile fell even though his brother was teasing. It was no secret that the Stenfax reserves had been dwindling for some time. Their brother had inherited gambling debts and the poor management of three generations before him. Lucien was working to recover what the prior earls had so foolishly squandered and he still refused to take help from Gray, who had built his own small inheritance back into a fortune, or Felicity, who had inherited quite a sum herself when her viscount had mercifully breathed his last.
Of course, their brother’s stubborn desire to fix things on his own was exactly why Lucien was poised on the edge of a dangerous precipice with Miss Celia Fitzgilbert. Gray scowled.
“Lucien—” he began.
“Oh Lord, he’s about to start,” Lucien said to Felicity. “Look at his face.”
Felicity smiled softly as she turned to look at Gray. “He does have a certain expression that says he’s going to start acting like the older brother instead of the middle child. That’s our Grayson, trying to save the world.”
Gray scowled at the playful words of his siblings. “This is nothing to jest about. You talk easily about the financial situation of the title, but I know it weighs on you. Without the troubles, you might not have ever chosen such a title hunter as Celia.”
Felicity moved on him, her smile gone. “For heaven’s sake, Gray, enough! Not only is Lucien well capable of making his own decisions, but you judge Celia Fitzgilbert too harshly. I’ve spent time with her in London as well as here, and she is a lovely girl.”
“Her ambition doesn’t trouble you?” Gray asked, tapping his boot.
“Not when it is made so plain,” Felicity snapped back. “She is not pretending.”
“Unlike Elise, you mean,” Gray said, ignoring how his brother recoiled at that hated name. “Yes, I agree, Celia is open as can be about her desires when it comes to Lucien. She could hardly be less interested in him and shows no romantic inclination whatsoever. I have seen him hurt before. I’ve seen you both hurt before by the decisions you made in spouses.”
Both his siblings flinched and Felicity spun away with a soft sound in the back of her throat. Gray hated to make them relive their worst moments, but if the reminder of past suffering would help him save Lucien from a desperate and irrevocable mistake, it was worth it.
Lucien stepped toward him, hands fisted at his sides and face red with more than just the cold air. “Damn it, Gray! Did it ever occur to you to ask why I chose Celia?”
“The money,” Gray said flatly.
Lucien shook his head. “No, you ass, it’s not just the money.”
“Then what?” Gray threw up his hands in frustration.
“I don’t want any of the damned romantic entanglements you say Celia doesn’t show. She and I are clear on what we both want. On what we expect from each other.”
Gray huffed out his breath. It seemed Lucien had an answer for everything. “But doesn’t it make you question her character that she is so driven to marry a title and title only? And if there is a crack in her integrity in that arena, what others could exist?”
“You think Celia is walking around with a passel of secrets tucked in her reticule, waiting to pop out and hurt Lucien’s reputation?” Felicity faced him again, her eyes wide and bright with unshed tears.
Gray rocked back at the sight of them and clenched his hands together behind his back. What his brother and sister didn’t know, at least not yet, is that was exactly what he feared. He’d even launched an investigation back in London to address that very concern. He’d hoped to have some answers before he departed for Caraway Court, but when that hadn’t panned out, he’d arranged to have a friend who was attending the wedding pick up his investigator’s report before he made his way to the country estate.
Of course, if he told them that, they would both tear into him about his actions and motivations. So it was best to wait until he had something concrete to share.
“You mock me,” Gray finally said, glaring at her. “But in truth, we know little about her past or her family. Her grandfather has a good pedigree, but you cannot say that he is a solid person. I walked in on him arguing with Rosa—with Mrs. Wilde just a few days ago. It was heated enough that I was forced to stop and check on the lady.”
He cut himself off before he said more. After all, what was he going to confess? That he’d kissed Rosalinde in the parlor as some kind of comfort? That he’d done so much more last night in the library?
He doubted that revelation would help him in this argument with his siblings.
An argument that seemed to have found a mark, at last. Lucien’s defensive posture softened a little and he exchanged a brief look with Felicity.
“I will grant you that Mr. Fitzgilbert’s behavior is sometimes not gentlemanly,” he said softly. “And that he has a great many demands about what Celia’s dowry will ‘buy’ as far as access and influence.”
Felicity reached out to Lucien, touching his arm. “But can you blame his behavior on Celia or Rosalinde?” She squeezed before she glared at Gray. “And why do you care so much, Gray? Rosalinde and her grandfather could hate each other to the core and that would have nothing to do with us. It is Celia who will join our family, not Fitzgilbert or Rosalinde.”
No, Rosalinde would not be part of their clan once this was done. She would be just an in-law who they saw from time to time.
“Do stop scowling, Gray,” Felicity said, crossin
g over to him to slide an arm around his waist. “We both know you mean well, but sometimes you go too far.”
Gray pressed his lips together. He could see from Lucien’s tight expression that he’d done just that today. The last thing he wanted to do was alienate his brother. So he sighed.
“I’m sorry if I’m too forward. I hope you know it comes from a good place.” Lucien nodded wordlessly, and Gray continued, “I only want you to at least say you’ll take my concerns into account. Consider all the outcomes in your association with this woman.”
Lucien rolled his eyes. “I’ll think about what you’ve said, Gray. But don’t expect things to change. This wedding is happening in less than ten days. I don’t see anything stopping it now.”
In the three days since her last encounter in the library with Gray, Rosalinde could have written a book about how difficult it was to carry on an affair in a household filled with nosy people. Thanks to dress fittings and outings, gatherings and plans, she’d shared little more with Gray than a few meaningful looks and a lightly flirtatious banter. By the time each day came to a close, she felt unbearably tight, but there was no chance for release with her sister sleeping beside her.
“How do you take your tea, Mrs. Wilde?” the dowager countess said as she poured for her.
“Just milk,” Rosalinde replied, pulling herself from her inappropriate thoughts with great difficulty.
She sat in the midst of the parlor surrounded by both bridal families, including Gray, who sat in a corner watching her. The intensity of his stare was so distracting that when Lady Stenfax held out her tea, Rosalinde didn’t notice right away.
“Take the cup, girl,” her grandfather snapped.
It felt like everyone in the room jumped at his harsh tone. Lady Stenfax even sloshed the cup so tea fell onto the floor between them.
Rosalinde grabbed the cup. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she burst out as blood rushed to her cheeks.
“It’s all right,” Lady Stenfax said, smiling at Rosalinde even as her gaze slid to Mr. Fitzgilbert. “No harm done.”
“Let me fetch you a napkin for your hand,” Rosalinde said, setting her cup aside and rushing to the sideboard to get the cloth. As she reached it, a servant trailed behind.
“I’ve got it, ma’am,” the maid said, taking the napkin and returning to her mistress.
Rosalinde stayed at the sideboard, trying to calm her breath. She felt Gray watching her, wondered if he would come to her, but before he could Lady Barbridge got to her feet and slid over with a warm smile.
“Don’t worry,” she said, touching Rosalinde’s shaking hand lightly. “It was an accident, it could happen to anyone.”
Rosalinde smiled at the other woman’s kindness and her gentle tone. “Thank you, Lady Barbridge.”
She flinched ever so slightly. “Oh, please, I know it is proper to call me by my title, but I do prefer Felicity. Especially from my friends.”
Rosalinde lifted her gaze to Felicity’s face. There was no censure there, no judgment. Was it possible she truly wanted to be Rosalinde’s friend? Oh, she’d been kind before, the few times Rosalinde had encountered her in London, but now that she knew Gray’s drive to break Celia’s engagement, she wondered if the rest of his family felt so strongly.
“Thank you,” she said with caution. “Felicity.”
The pair watched the others for a while. Celia was speaking to Lady Stenfax while the earl seemed to be locked in intense conversation with Mr. Fitzgilbert. Only Gray sat outside it all, observing everyone, including Rosalinde. Whenever his dark gaze speared her, her body reacted almost against her will.
“I hope Gray isn’t being too hard on you,” Felicity said, drawing Rosalinde from her thoughts with sudden and violent force.
“I—he—we—” Heat flooded Rosalinde’s cheeks and she cleared her throat as she tried to find some level of calm. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Well, he is very protective of our brother.” Felicity’s voice grew softer and smaller. “And of me. Sometimes to a fault.”
Rosalinde shifted. It didn’t feel right to talk about such private things, and yet what choice did she have? Gray had made his war against Celia so clear, Rosalinde had to fight him just as hard if she were going to shield her sister from his plans.
“He does seem protective,” she admitted. “Do you mind if I ask you why?”
Felicity shifted slightly, and a great pain came into her eyes. “Lucien and I have both been…unlucky in love before.”
“I see,” Rosalinde said softly. “How so?” Felicity glanced at her and Rosalinde rushed to continue. “I’m sorry. That was forward. If you don’t want to—”
“No,” Felicity interrupted. “It is a painful subject, yes, but not exactly a secret. I’m sure you know that Lucien was engaged once before and it…well, it ended badly. He was brokenhearted. As for me…” She cocked her head. “Well, I think you and I are not so different, Rosalinde.”
“How do you mean?”
“I think we married men who we believed were one thing and turned out to be violently different.” As Rosalinde’s eyes widened, Felicity nodded. “Women in our situation recognize each other, yes?”
Rosalinde swallowed hard. “I’m sorry to hear your marriage was so unhappy.”
“It happens,” Felicity said, her words dismissive but her eyes telling a tale of pain that wasn’t quite gone. “But it’s over now. How did you lose your husband?”
“A fever,” she admitted.
She pursed her lips as she remembered him drawing a last breath, his glaring eyes on her. “I wish it were you” had been his last words, and sometimes they hung in her ears.
“And you?” she asked, turning her face as she tried to wipe clean the pain of that memory.
Felicity’s face drained of some color momentarily before she said, “An—an accident.” She took a few breaths before she motioned to Gray and brought Rosalinde away from her past and straight into her current predicament. “That is why Grayson is our defender, though. He simply wants to see us happy. And he is arrogant enough to believe he knows the only path to that outcome.”
Rosalinde let out a long breath as she tried to keep her annoyance and frustration from her voice. She had enough enemies in this family—she didn’t need to make more by alienating Felicity.
“And he is convinced Celia won’t make Stenfax happy,” she said through clenched teeth.
Felicity’s shrug was answer enough. “Just so you know, I like Celia very much. Gray will get there. Eventually. He is stubborn, not unreasonable.”
But there was something in Felicity’s tone that made Rosalinde stare at her more closely. Made her doubt that the viscountess believed her own words.
“You don’t seem certain,” Rosalinde pressed. “Has he—has he said anything?”
Felicity shifted slightly, and Rosalinde’s irritation turned to full anger. Gray had been talking about Celia to his siblings, that was clear, despite how Felicity immediately began to shake her head.
“Not anything of merit,” she said weakly.
Rosalinde folded her arms. “Does he not think that I wish to protect my sister, as well?”
Felicity laughed at that question. “You two are so alike. You should be friends.”
Rosalinde blanched at that off-hand comment. Felicity clearly didn’t know anything about the relationship she and Gray had. She didn’t know about the passion between them, which was always tinged by being on opposite sides of a battle neither felt they could afford to lose.
“I-I don’t think your brother and I will ever call each other friends,” Rosalinde whispered.
Felicity looked at her for a long moment. “Never say never,” she said, then squeezed Rosalinde’s hand and returned to Celia and Lady Stenfax.
Rosalinde watched her go and then let her gaze shift once more to Gray. He held her stare evenly, his gaze smoldering into hers. Her body wanted so desperately to melt at that
look, but then she thought of Felicity’s words. Her anger arced and she turned her back in him, shutting out his gaze, though she still felt it focused on her back.
Desire and connection was one thing, yes, and she could use those against him if she could gain some small control over her own reactions. But the fact that he was speaking about her sister to his family could not stand. And as soon as she could get him alone, she was going to have it out with him once and for all.
Chapter Eleven
The sun was just cresting over the horizon, signaling a new day, as Gray strode down the long, winding path to the stables below the house. A groom rushed to greet him, but he waved the man off.
“I’ll take care of it, Stevens, thank you. Go about your business,” Gray said.
“Yes, sir!” Stevens called out as he rushed off to make preparations with the house staff regarding the guests who would begin to arrive tomorrow.
Gray pursed his lips as he entered the silent and empty stables and moved to prepare his horse for riding. Thoughts of Lucien’s nuptials had been more and more intrusive in the past few days. And yet he made no headway getting his brother to listen to reason.
It was frustrating and part of why Gray was up so early now. He needed a ride to clear his head. He’d just gotten the saddle on when the stable door slid shut in the distance.
He turned to see who had entered, expecting it to be Stevens, but when he saw the intruder, he caught his breath.
Rosalinde stood in the corridor, her arms folded, her lips trembling and her eyes flashing fire. She was dressed in a plain morning gown in a deep blue, but the somber clothing did nothing to reduce her vibrant beauty. It made him all too aware that it had been four long days since he last touched her. Another frustration that kept him up nights.
“Rosalinde,” he said, moving toward her. “What are you doing here? Are you following me?”
She lifted up a hand as if to ward him off, and he stopped. She was not teasing—she truly wished him to stay back.
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