Five
Grace was reluctantly becoming accustomed to the unaccustomed.
In the past fortnight she had been tossed from her home, received her first kiss, branded a tart, and then celebrated throughout the village for capturing the Russian Fox.
One would think she was impervious to the unexpected.
But upon returning to the cottage from the local vicarage she discovered herself stumbling to a halt at the sight of wagons pulled close to the front door.
“What the devil . . .” she muttered, her eyes widening as the elegant form of Alexander cloaked in a caped driving coat descended from the front wagon.
“Good morning, Grace.”
For a brief moment she was distracted by his sheer magnificence. Raven hair that glinted with a blue sheen in the pale winter sunlight, dark features that had been chiseled by a master’s hand, and shocking blue eyes that shimmered with a warmth that would make any woman’s heart skip a beat.
It was little wonder she still trembled each time she recalled those wicked kisses.
With an effort she returned her thoughts to the matter at hand. She was becoming as noddy as her great-aunt Lucinda.
“What is this?” she demanded.
“Wagons,” he assured her solemnly.
She gave a wry shake of her head. Really, this gentleman had the most provoking habit of making her forget that she should be furious with him. “I can see that. What are they for?”
“I am having you moved back to Chalfried.”
She took an impulsive step backward, nearly tripping over the thick cloak she had wrapped about her to protect her from the sharp December wind. “What?”
“I did assure you that I would seek you new accommodations.”
He had of course, but Grace had presumed he was simply hoping to placate her until he could return to London and forget her. It was what her father would have done.
“But . . . we cannot move into Chalfried.”
“Why not?”
“It would not be proper,” she said, pointing out the obvious.
He appeared thoroughly indifferent to her logic.
“Your mother will be there as a chaperon, and it would be even less proper for my fiancée to remain in this squalid cottage.”
Grace attempted to remain firm against his persuasive charm. “We cannot just move back in.”
He stepped closer, reaching up to brush back a flaming curl that had escaped her bonnet. “I thought you wished to be rid of this place?”
“Of course I do.” She attempted to ignore his tender touch. “It is horrid, but I see little use in moving our belongings only to move them back when you return to London.”
Alexander shrugged. “We shall concern ourselves with that later. For now we should concentrate on getting your mother in far more comfortable quarters.”
Grace wavered. He knew precisely where she was most vulnerable. Only this morning she had been cursing the frigid air that had made her mother shiver even as she sat beside the fire. How tempting it would be to return her mother to the comforts of Chalfried, even if only for a few weeks.
Still, she was not entirely certain that she should allow this gentleman to simply arrive on her doorstep and disrupt her life once again. “You are becoming far too fond of taking command of my life,” she charged.
His gloved fingers moved to brush over her cheek and then cupped her determined chin. “I am only attempting to be sensible.”
His grasp was light, barely noticeable, and yet it sent a jolt of awareness through her entire body.
“I only wish this were over.”
His low chuckle floated through the chilled air. “I do not know. I have found it rather intriguing to possess a fiancée.”
“You must be jesting.”
“You are beautiful and talented, and when you are not breathing fire you possess a certain charm. Besides, having you as my fiancée allows me to do this.”
The fingers on her chin tightened as he swooped downward to claim her lips in a brief, scalding kiss.
It took far more effort than Grace wished to confess to pull from his grasp. If she were not quite convinced she was destined to become a staid old spinster she would fear she enjoyed these kisses more than was proper for a maiden.
“Really, sir, you must halt this,” she forced herself to protest.
“Why? It is so excessively enjoyable.”
“Someone will see.”
His blue eyes flashed with humor. “That was precisely my intent. If you will look closely you will discover Wallace skulking just at the fringe of the woods.”
A flare of disgust shivered through her body as she carefully bent to pluck the persistent Byron from the hem of her cloak and at the same moment glanced toward the trees beside the cottage. It took only a moment to spot the round form ridiculously attempting to hide behind a narrow trunk.
Grace straightened, pressing the satisfied kitten to her racing heart. “He is spying upon us . . . the toad.”
“Of course.” Alexander appeared remarkably unconcerned by the unseemly habits of his guest. “He has no desire to believe that we are indeed engaged.”
“Why did you invite him to Chalfried?”
Surprisingly, Alexander seemed to hesitate at the sudden question before his charming smile returned.
“I have discovered that it is best to keep a close eye on my enemies.”
Grace shivered at the thought of the vile man spying upon them. “I wish you would have kept a close eye on him in London.”
He tilted his head to one side. “But then we might never have met.”
A small pang plucked at her heart, but on this occasion Grace could not blame it upon the sleeping Byron. Hoping to disguise the absurd reaction, she offered him a small smile. “Yes.”
Alexander gave a sudden laugh. “Minx.”
Lost in each other, neither noticed the door to the cottage being pulled open, and it was not until a small gasp broke the silence that they turned to view Arlene framed in the doorway.
“Oh, my,” Arlene muttered.
Taking Grace by the arm, Alexander led her toward the bemused matron. “Mrs. Crosswald. Good morning.”
Arlene regarded him with wide eyes. “What is occurring?”
“I am having you moved back to Chalfried.”
“Moved back?”
Alexander was at his most persuasive. “Cousin Edward would not have wished his family to live in such surroundings.”
Arlene lifted a hand to her heart, a sudden light entering her pale eyes.
“No . . . but the entail.”
Alexander waved a dismissive hand. “The entail means that I can have whomever I wish live at Chalfried.”
Grace’s lingering unease at disrupting her mother’s life with yet another move fled at the unmistakable relief that rippled across her mother’s countenance.
“That is so kind,” Arlene breathed.
“Not at all.” A mysterious smile played about his mouth. “I have my own motives.”
Arlene’s happiness briefly dimmed. “Oh, yes. Mr. Wallace.”
Alexander gave a soft chuckle. “Actually I was thinking more of my desire to hear Grace’s beautiful music.”
Grace experienced a peculiar flare of warmth at his words, even as she told herself she was being a goose.
“Yes, she does play quite lovely,” Arlene predictably agreed.
Alexander slid his gaze toward Grace. “Like an angel.”
Thoroughly discomforted, Grace pulled together her tattered common sense. If she did not take care, she would be behaving like the veriest simpleton. “Mother, we should begin packing,” she retorted in crisp tones.
“Of course.” With a brilliant smile for Alexander, Arlene bustled back into the cottage.
About to follow her mother, Grace was halted as Alexander reached out to grasp her hand and raise it to his lips.
“I very much look forward to having you near, Grace. And, of course, you must bring Byron. I owe him a great deal.”