“Yes. Yes, of course,” she reached under her fitted jacket for the cameo. “I’ve been meaning to sell this. Don’t wear it anymore, you see.” Her hands shook so badly she could barely get the piece unlatched. “I know Baskov,” she lowered her voice, “is discreet.”
If word got out that she was selling jewelry, their friends would certainly uncover the truth about their dire situation and word would get back to John. They’d be humiliated. And Grace and Patience could forget about ever making a decent match.
Dauksza snatched the pin from her palm, and, with a critical eye, studied the piece.
Grace took the moment to turn and peek through the vases. The group was gone, having disappeared into a back room where she knew the expensive pieces were kept safe.
“Five pounds.”
Grace spun around, Lady Lavender forgotten for the moment. “You can’t be serious! It’s worth at least ten.” She hadn’t a clue what it was worth, but knowing Dauksza, at least twice what he would offer. Blast, but she’d prayed for more! Patience, hearing their raised voices, turned and started toward Grace.
“Damaged,” the man said in his thick Russian accent.
“Damaged? Indeed,” she muttered, grabbing the piece from his monstrous palm. “Where?”
“Knick, there.” He pointed to the top right corner.
The piece was as smooth as when she’d been given the gift three years ago. “I can’t see it and I have perfect eyesight.”
“Is there a problem?” a familiar voice asked from behind her.
Everything inside Grace seemed to freeze, except her heart, which slammed madly against her ribcage, threatening to break free of her chest and hightail it from the shop. It couldn’t be him…it wasn’t possible. Yet, she knew in her soul it was.
Slowly, she turned. And there he was; taller, more handsome than she remembered. Alex was there. And damn it all, if she wasn’t thrilled to see him.
********
She stared at him. Merely stared as if she couldn’t quite place him, as if he was an insignificant dream she vaguely remembered. While he…he’d been obsessing about her for days now, praying she’d return.
Wavy tendrils of hair had come loose and framed her pale face. Those luminous eyes shone with confusion, surprise, bemusement. He’d heard the arguing and thought his mind had finally gone mad. Nights of dreaming about Grace had finally taken their toll. For one brief moment, he’d thought he’d imagined her, but then she’d started to argue with the man about the price of some piece and he’d realized she was actually here, only too real. And he was an idiot to get involved with Lady Lavender so near.
Vaguely, he was aware of a younger woman stepping close to Grace, as if to offer her moral support. She was a blonde, pretty thing, in a wholesome way and her bold stare and that stubborn tilt of her chin told him she must be related.
“Alex, what are you doing here?” Grace whispered, as if only he would hear her when it was obvious they were all shocked by the familiar use of his name on her lips.
He ignored the prying eyes of the other two and focused only on Grace. Seeing her was like a breath of fresh air when he’d been locked in a stale cell. He had the sudden urge to smile, to breathe deeply, to touch her. He stood firm his ground, curling his fingers into his thighs. “I do go out in public, occasionally.” Those visits were always heavily guarded, but she didn’t need to know that.
She parted her lips as if to question him further, then thought better and pressed her mouth into a firm line. Good idea, he could only imagine what inappropriate question she’d ask.
Mr. Dauksza shifted, impatient. “Five pounds, my lady.”
Grace blushed and looked away, breaking their contact. “Fine.”
She was selling her jewelry. Alex frowned. There was only one reason the ton sold their jewelry, they desperately needed the money. Alex held up his hand, stopping Dauksza. “Your time, if you please, Sir.”
The man paused for one long moment, eyeing Alex suspiciously. “Very Vell.”
Alex gave Grace a quick bow, then strolled toward the end of the aisle, knowing Dauksza followed as his heavy footsteps vibrated the very floorboards underneath him. He turned when they were far enough away that Grace and her companion wouldn’t overhear.
“Moy droog,” he started in Russian.
Surprise crossed his features, although he did quick work of covering his expression. He hadn’t a clue Alex came from Russia, but only a few did know. “I am not your friend.”
So that’s how the man was going to be. Alex pressed his hand to his chest. “I’m heart-broken.”
“I’m a busy man, Sir.” He sneered the last word, working Alex’s already annoyed nerves.
“Of course.” Alex smiled and rested his hand on the man’s broad shoulder in a pretense of companionship. “You’re fucking her over, net?”
The man stiffened. “Net. The piece is worth five pounds.” His accent grew thicker the angrier he became. “Five pounds she get.”
Alex slid Grace a glance. She waited at the end of the aisle nervously tucking her hair behind her ears. “She is a friend of mine. These English, they’re so proper.” He chuckled. “But in the old country, we understand loyalty. Don’t we?”
The man’s eyes narrowed.
Alex’s smile fell. “You fuck my friends, I fuck with you.”
The man shifted, his gaze growing leery. A pulse beat quickly in the side of his thick neck. Alex wasn’t an idiot, he knew the man was more worried about Lady Lavender than Alex’s threat. She spent a lot of money in this shop. Whatever would work in Alex’s favor, he’d take.
“Ten pounds then.”
Alex smiled and slapped the man on the side of the face. “Da.”
The man gave a curt bow, a show of respect although his eyes flashed dangerously with anger. “Spaseebo.” Without another word, he turned and started back toward Grace. Alex merely stood there like an audience member watching a play, taking in the moment, every tiny detail, from the way her brows drew together, to the way her hair shone in the sunlight slicing through the windows…he had a feeling he could watch her forever.
Dauksza bowed. “Ten pounds then.”
Grace’s gaze widened and jumped to Alex. He could tell, even from where he stood, that she was annoyed with his interference. It was that unmistakable spark in her hazel eyes.
“Wonderful,” she muttered, then turned to the woman next to her. “Patience, can you please follow Mr. Dauksza?”
The girl nodded, watching him with wide eyes that matched Grace’s in shape, if not color. Her sister then? For although their coloring was different, their features were the same. She left and they were alone. He knew he had only moments before someone would return. He could just see Wavers and Jensen outside standing watch at the carriage, and knew two more men were stationed at the back door. They were there to keep him in line, as much as they were there to protect Ophelia. Lady Lavender was a paranoid woman, and she should be. She’d received more than one death threat from men of the ton. It was fine if they partook in torrid events, but God forbid their women did.
Grace started forward in a flurry of skirts, her agitated movements matching her mood. “What did you say to him?”
“Nothing.” He turned to leave. He couldn’t be this close to her, smell her warm scent, not when they weren’t alone and he wouldn’t be able to touch her. Hell, he should have left the moment he heard her arguing with the Russian.
She latched onto his arm, her grip tight and strong for a woman. “You speak Russian?”
He bristled, pulling away. “I didn’t say that.”
“No, but you spoke a language other than English, I could tell, and since Dauksza is Russian, I assumed.”
He turned a corner and started down a row of Greek statues; women and men half dressed, posed in an erotic marble embrace. Bad, bad aisle for it brought to mind all sorts of nefarious ideas. “Perhaps you shouldn’t assume.”
She followed, but then he knew sh
e would. Part of him wished she’d leave, but the other part, damn, it all, the other part wanted to pull her close, breathe in her warm scent, do to her what those statues were doing.
“I know what I heard, Alex.” A wall blocked the end of the aisle. Trapped. He was bloody trapped. He spun around, close to losing hold of that charm. He felt the panicked need to escape, as if she was stalking him, a tigress about to pounce. Didn’t she understand? They couldn’t talk like friends, they couldn’t be seen together outside of the estate. He curled his fists and leaned against the brick wall. Grace stopped in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest, her face set in determined lines. So close he could feel the heat of her body.
“Who are you, Alex? James said…” She blanched, as if realizing her mistake, and looked away.
“What?” he demanded in a harsh whisper. “What did James say?”
She looked up at him, her eyes soft, yet behind that emotion was a leeriness that hadn’t been there two days ago. She wasn’t sure if she could trust him and for some reason, that made him irate.
“He warned me about you,” she whispered.
Anger simmered beneath his skin. He closed his eyes, attempting to regain control. James warned her? What, exactly, had he said? He could imagine. Damn, but he could kill the man. He opened his eyes, keeping his face blank. “I’m a whore. Nothing more than that.”
She slowly shook her head, those curls shimmering with the movement. “I know that’s not true.”
He grabbed her upper arms and jerked her forward, her soft breasts crushing to his chest. Despite her look of surprise, anger, desire, and frustration pounded through his veins. “What do you know, Grace? What? Tell me. Tell me what you know.”
Fear skittered across her features. He wanted to yell at her, tell her she should be afraid. She didn’t know him. No one did. Instead, he released his hold and pushed her back. She stumbled and he had to resist the urge to catch her, catching her would show he cared. Regaining her balance she tilted her chin high and looked directly into his eyes.
“I know that charm is hiding your true pain,” she whispered. “I know you don’t want to be here, with her.”
His heart did a queer little jump. He swallowed hard, his fingernails biting into the rough brick at his back.
She stepped closer, so close he could see the flecks of gold in her blue and green eyes. “Say it, Alex. Tell me you don’t really want to work for Lady Lavender.” There was a desperation in her voice, as if she pleaded for his agreement. “Tell me that the only reason you’re doing what you’re doing is because you have no choice.”
Anguish clenched at his gut, tore at his soul. How desperately he wanted to tell her the truth…to finally tell someone the truth. But he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to his family nor her. She wanted him to be someone he wasn’t. Even though he was under guard and constant watch, there was a part of him, a tiny part, which was afraid of leaving.
“Grace?” the girl named Patience called from down the aisle. She was watching them, clutching the money in her gloved hands and watching them with the innocence and naïveté only a young girl could. “Gracie, are you all right?”
“Yes, Patience.” Grace stepped back, shaking her head. Disappointment hung heavily between them. “You know I’m right Alex. You can pretend all you want, but I know you don’t want to be here.”
He didn’t respond. She turned and walked slowly, deliberately toward her sister. Not pausing, she latched onto Patience’s hand and pulled her toward the door. Only Patience looked back, her young face showing her confusion. And Alex wanted to go after Grace. And he wanted to explain. But he couldn’t.
And then they were gone and he was left standing there… alone.
Chapter 7
Grace huddled under the warmth of her shawl attempting desperately to keep the spring chill from her bones and the memory of Alex’s desperate gaze from her mind. She swore she could still feel his touch, smell the scent of his warm body. She hated that she had left feeling angry and abused in some way. She liked Alex, truly she did and she had so few friends who accepted her the way she was. Blast it, why couldn’t she put the man from her mind?
She couldn’t get enough of his sinful touch. Thoughts of his lips on hers kept her up at night. Overwhelmed, she covered her face with her hands and sank into the wing backed chair occupying the parlor. John was out doing only the good Lord knew what. Patience and Mama were abed. The house was quiet, but her thoughts were loud, tumbling around her head, clamoring for attention.
How stupid she’d been to enter that shop knowing he could be there. And her mind, her traitorous mind new the truth, she had hoped he would. When she’d heard his voice, deep down she’d been thrilled. Deep down, she’d wanted to see him again. But he’d acted so odd. Angry, almost. Obviously he hadn’t wished to see her and that hurt more than she wanted to admit.
Grace drew in a deep, shuddering breath.
The man was a mystery. A beautiful, seductive mystery. A buried treasure she desperately wanted to uncover. One moment he seemed to like her, the next despise. It made it very confusing to know her own thoughts.
She frowned, playing with the fringe on her shawl. Was he with a woman even as she obsessed over him? Her stomach clenched at the thought. How many had he pleasured? He certainly seemed comfortable enough with dropping his trousers and touching someone he barely knew. He seemed comfortable enough touching her. But was his desire merely a ruse?
Memories flashed through her mind…his hands on her breasts…her bottom…
She closed her eyes as heat seeped low in her belly. His broad chest sprinkled with dark hair that led a path directly to his… She fanned herself, suddenly warm. Only in statues and paintings had she seen a man’s cock. Alex had been impressive indeed. A long shaft that thickened at the end, surely more impressive than any statue she’d seen. Part of her, the scientist, had been almost eager to study him. She released a wry laugh, her eyes opening. Yes, it would be just the thing to send to the Science Institute, The Study of a Man’s Cock. But the woman in her… that sinful woman wanted to study him for an entirely different reason.
A soft knock sounded immediately before the door was pushed wide. Patience peeked her golden head into the room. “Grace?”
Miss Kitty raced through the open door, her black coat shimmering under the lamp light. Grace stood, flushing as if Patience could read her thoughts, God forbid. “Yes, is Mama well?”
Patience swallowed hard, her face serious. Too serious for one so young. “I heard her coughing and I couldn’t get back to sleep.” She moved into the room, trousers hugging her long legs. Grace opened her mouth to reprimand, but thought better. Her sister was upset, what did clothing matter? The way they were headed she wouldn’t have a season nor need for ball gowns anyway.
Patience paused in the middle of the room and bit on her thumbnail, the way she did when she was thinking or worried. Miss Kitty purred, rubbing against Grace’s legs.
Grace reached down, smoothing her hand over the cat’s spine, attempting to glean some sort of comfort from the soft animal. “What is it, dearest?”
Patience made her way to the fireplace and held out her hands, warming her fingers. Their home was old and drafty and spring nights were still cold. “She isn’t eating. I didn’t want to tell you, but it’s been two days since she’s had anything other than water.”
Grace’s heart lurched, but she made quick work of smoothing her features into an unreadable mask. “Well, then, we’ll make her eat.” She stood and started toward the door.
Patience spun around. “No, not now. She’s finally sleeping.”
Against her better judgment, Grace stopped, but didn’t dare turn to look at her sister. She couldn’t, not knowing Patience would be able to read the despair in her eyes. She shouldn’t have left the feeding to her sister, but Patience had wanted to prove her worth. Grace was the adult; her sister shouldn’t have to deal with such things at her age. The helplessness she’d
been desperately trying to keep at bay, rushed through her in a wave of agony. Oh God, what would they do without Mama?
“It’s not fair,” Patience whispered.
Grace took in a deep trembling breath, attempting to regain control of her emotions. She could imagine there were many things that weren’t fair, but wondered, what, in particular, her sister thought of this evening.
“We have to sit here and do nothing at all but worry while John gets to do whatever he pleases. Even when his Father was ill, it was you and Mama who took care of the old man.”
Grace couldn’t argue with her sister. Slowly she turned and made her way back to her chair. It was true. While men were able to leave when they wished, to gamble away the family savings, women had to wait and wonder. Still, it didn’t make the guilt she felt lessen. Patience should be with friends, at balls, learning to flirt. At least Grace had experienced one, brief season until John’s father had become ill. So long ago, that the balls and pretty dresses seemed more like a faded dream.
Murmured voices from the hall interrupted the dreary silence.
“Is John home already?” Patience stiffened, her face going pale. Grace knew exactly why her sister was worried. Although Patience’s heathen ways had always amused and exasperated Grace, John would ridicule her until she cried.
“Doesn’t sound like him. But do go on, dear. Through the study.”
“Thanks Grace.” Her sister gave her a fleeting smile and rushed into the next room, shutting the door behind her.
Grace hesitated a moment, just long enough to smooth down her skirts and pinch her cheeks. Who would come calling this late? Her heart skipped a beat, horror washing over her in a sickening churn. Gads, had someone uncovered her secret visits with Alex? She darted toward the hall, Miss Kitty following. As if she hadn’t enough to worry about!
Marks stood in the entryway, blocking the visitor from view. For once he was doing his job. “My lord, as its late and my lady is sleeping…”
My lord?
“Yes, of course, please, don’t wake anyone. If I could merely borrow a few footmen—” The familiar voice was a welcome relief from the night’s depressing thoughts.