The Season Read online

  "You're right. I cannot take it back. I wouldn't even attempt to erase it. Because it would be impossible." He sighed, standing up straight. "But kissing you again would be one of the biggest mistakes I could make."

  He saw the flash of pain in her eyes but, before he could explain, Vivi burst through the doors. "Oh, thank goodness you're here! Grabhands quite awkwardly cornered me on the way to the refreshment room. I had no choice but to escape — I saw you two on your way out here and made for you!" She offered a broad smile. "I hope I'm not interrupting, but I need a savior."

  Alex's emerald eyes were glassy with unshed tears as she looked at Blackmoor. «Well, you're in luck. Savior is a role in which Blackmoor feels more than comfortable." Turning toward the ball room, she continued, "If you're all right, Vivi, I have to get back inside."

  And, with that, she fled.

  seventeen

  Alex pushed back into the ball , desperate for a spot where she could be alone to nurse her wounded ego. Of course, with more than five hundred people in her home, that desire wasn't the easiest to fulfill . She hadn't spent her entire life sneaking around this house on nights just like this one for nothing, however.

  Slipping through the ladies' cloakroom to access the servants' passage that would lead her to the unoccupied part of the house, she wondered if she could simply take to her bedchamber without attracting notice. The idea hadn't even fully formed in her mind before she realized that she would never escape her mother's wrath if she did anything close to that. By her calculations, she had less than a quarter of an hour to be by herself before she would have to return to the ball .

  She exited the servants' quarters into a darkened passageway, heading for the orangery, which had always been her favorite room in the house. The sounds of the orchestra faded into the distance as she moved quietly through the hall way, thanking her maker that the duchess had decided to keep these particular rooms free from visitors, only to be replaced with quiet murmurings coming from behind one of the closed doors of the corridor. Wondering who had snuck away from the ball and, more importantly, why they were behind closed doors deep in the inner recesses of the house, Alex paused outside the door, pressing her ear to the rich, dark wood, attempting to make out the voices inside, which appeared to be discussing politics.

  "Napoleon gains strength. He's garnering support across France. If the Crown is going to strike, it will do so soon. We don't need informants to tell us that." The voice, laced with disdain, sounded foreign, but Alex couldn't identify it through the thick door.

  "No, of course not. I wasn't suggesting that you did. I was simply pointing out that I have many strong connections that could prove useful in your search for information. If a strike is planned, I can help you predict it. I think I've done more than prove my commitment to your cause." Alex put a hand to her mouth in surprise, recognizing that she was eavesdropping on a particularly dark conversation. She stayed quiet, trying to hear over the pounding of her heart.

  "Indeed. You have made your ... commitment ... more than clear."

  "I intend to do it again. I expect to, within days, have very specific information about Wellington's movements." Alex's eyes widened as she realized that one of the men on the other side of the door was the worst kind of spy — one who traded secrets from British intelligence.

  "I'm sure you think that's true. But you’ll understand that we are unable to trust that you will make wise decisions any longer. We have come too far to risk losing ground. We simply cannot have you involved." The voice was cold, calm, and dismissive; Alex could hear that even through two inches of oak.

  "You have acted rashly ... and to no avail. You have been unable to discover anything about what is known of our plans. And the knowledge, is directly under your nose. Your involvement is becoming messy. And we simply don't have the time or the inclination to clean up after you anymore."

  "Clean up after me? I'm the one who has done the cleaning." Alex started as the voice on the other side of the door shook with barely contained anger.

  "If it weren't for me, this entire operation would have been uncovered. You, and everyone else, would have been found and hanged. If it weren't for me, Blackmoor would still be alive."

  Alex's mouth gaped in horror as she grasped the importance of what she was hearing. She knew she should run and fetch her father, Vivi's father, and any number of others. But she couldn't bring herself to move from her spot, waiting for the next revelation.

  "And even with him dead, you cannot seem to retrieve the information he had. We're lucky that, by now, the young earl hasn't discovered everything and had us all strung up for treason. Between your botched robbery and your almost being discovered, this entire string of events has become far too risky."

  "You need not worry. Young Blackmoor will very soon no longer be of concern. I plan to deal with him."

  "Forgive me if I have little faith in your ability to follow through on that promise."

  Alex was unable to keep the gasp from escaping as she realized what the villain on the other side of the door meant. The noise rent the air, jolting her out of her trance as silence fell on the other side of the door. She flew down the hall way, her soft calfskin slippers lending her a silent tread. Once she reached the orangery, she sank to the ground in the darkened room, all owing the sweet smell of citrus flowers to envelop her. Her heart was pounding with the realization of what she'd just overheard; she could barely think for the sound of her labored breathing.

  The earl had been murdered. Gavin had been right. Alex shook her head, as though the action could erase her newfound knowledge. The elder Earl of Blackmoor was dead and Gavin was in danger. Blackmoor would no longer be a concern after this evening, they had said. She had to get to him first.

  The thought had barely formed before she leapt to her feet, nothing considered except that she had to find Gavin. She started to exit the orangery when she heard a latch click along the hall way.

  Pressing herself against the wall , she offered a silent prayer of thanks for the darkness and shadows that hid her position and she peered down the hallway as one man, then a second, emerged from the room. She couldn't identify either of the figures for a moment — they simply appeared as shadows clad in formal attire — but as they moved closer to the light trickling into the passageway from the ball room, her eyes widened in horror.

  While she wasn't entirely certain, she was fairly sure that one of the men was Lucian Sewell , Gavin's uncle.

  She stood still for a moment, frozen by the gravity of everything she had overheard, combined with the weight of the probability that Gavin's uncle had murdered his own brother in cold blood. How was she going to tell Gavin that his uncle had killed his father? How was she going to tell him that, if he did not seek help immediately, he was going to be next? She had to get to him. They could be seeking him out right now.

  After waiting a brief moment to ensure that the men had indeed returned to the ball and that she would not be discovered, she retraced her steps through the darkened corridor and back to the ladies' cloakroom, increasing her speed as she went so that she was just short of a run when she burst into the ball room ... where she was immediately stayed by the crush of people at the ball .

  Looking around her, she was desperate for someone she knew. Her brow furrowed as she stood on her toes and searched for Gavin, one of her brothers, Vivi, Ella, anyone.

  "Looking for someone?" The voice, close to her ear, startled her and she gave a small shriek, whirling to face a grinning Lord Stanhope.

  "Oh! Freddie!" She put a hand to her chest in surprise. "You've no idea how happy I am that it's you!"

  "As you can imagine, I hear that from women constantly," he jested, but the wicked gleam in his eye dissolved quickly into concern. "What's wrong with you, kitten? You look like you've seen a ghost."

  "I'm afraid it's worse than that. But I can't discuss it. I need to find Blackmoor."

  Freddie's tone turned dark and m
enacing. "Has the rogue done something to hurt you?"

  The question would have amused Alex in the past, but this evening she ignored him, waving a hand in frustration. "No. I just need to find him. Help me?"

  "I’ll lay him out if he's done something inappropriate."

  "Freddie. Stop being such a brute and help me. all right?" He nodded once, although he didn't seem happy about it. "Capital. Go that way," she said, indicating the direction of the orchestra. "If you see my brothers, or Vivi, or Ella, ask them to help find him. It's a matter of great import."

  She started in the opposite direction, but he took hold of her arm and stayed her for a moment. "What's going on, Alex?"

  "I — I can't tell you now. Please?" Her green eyes pleaded with him. "Please help?"

  He locked gazes with her for a brief moment, as if attempting to read her thoughts. Something in her eyes must have convinced him. With a nod, he spun on his heel and disappeared into the crowd. She watched him go for a brief second, admiring his loyalty, before turning to find Blackmoor.

  Only minutes later, she came upon Vivi and Ella, who had their heads bent in what looked like a serious discussion ... or serious gossip. Alex approached them from behind, slipping her arms through theirs and interrupting, "Thank God I've found you. I need your help."

  Both girls looked up at her in surprise before Vivi replied, "We've been looking for you everywhere! What happened out there? You looked like Blackmoor had said something awful, the rogue! Are you all right?"

  "He did say something awful. However, that is all quite irrelevant now, as something much worse has come to pass. I need to find him."

  "What kind of something much worse?" Ella spoke, concern in her blue eyes.

  "I can't take the time to explain right now."

  "Not even to us?" Vivi looked hurt.

  "Not to anyone. I promise you’ll be the very first to know ... after I find Gavin. Which I must do. Immediately."

  "Alex ..." Vivi spoke with a warning tone in her voice.

  "No. Vivi." Alex slashed a hand through the air. "I am asking you for help. I will tell you everything later. I promise. Please, help me find him."

  "He left." This from Ella.

  "What? Why? Where did he go?" Alex turned and grasped her friend's arms with both hands.

  Ella gave Alex a startled look. "He left soon after you disappeared. Said something about balls not being the best places for him this season."

  "Did he say where he was going?"

  "No. Although he left through the gardens, so I assume he went home."

  "I have to follow him."

  "I beg your pardon?" Vivi and Ella spoke in unison.

  "I told you, I can't explain. There's no time. You have to help me. I'm going out through the gardens. If anyone asks, tell them I had a fallen hem and went to have Eliza repair it."

  "Wait. Are you all right, Alex?" Vivi looked concerned.

  "I'm all right. Just do this for me? Oh ... and find Freddie. tell him thank you, I found Blackmoor."

  "This is becoming more and more curious as the moments pass," said Ella.

  "Alex, you can't just go traipsing off to Blackmoor House after him. you’ll be ruined if you're caught!"

  "I’ll simply have to risk it," Alex said, wishing she had time to savor their confusion. "I’ll tell you everything upon my return. I promise." She kissed them both on the cheek. "Oh. And if I don't return in three quarters of an hour, tell your father where I went, Vivi."

  "What?!"

  "I’ll be fine. It's just a precaution."

  "What kind of precaution involves my father?"

  "I’ll tell you everything upon my return," she repeated. And, with that, she exited the room, making her way to the music room, which had an entrance to the gardens that offered a better chance of her not being caught in her escape.

  Rushing though the dark garden that connected Worthington and Blackmoor houses, Alex did not take any time to think about what she would do if she were to interrupt a dreadful event. Instead, she thought only of Gavin: his grey eyes the color of the winter sea; his bold smiles that heated her very core; his generous spirit. Thinking of him focused her mind on one thing ... she had to reach him before anyone else.

  As she broke through the trees and found herself in the Blackmoor House garden, she pulled up short and inspected the house. She could see dimly lit windows on the upper floor, reserved for servants, but the rest of the home was dark, appearing uninhabited and forbidding.

  She was just deciding how to enter the house when she sensed movement nearby. falling back to press herself against a tree and blend in with the shadows, she watched as a small , dark figure crept across the back garden toward the window she knew led to the Earl of Blackmoor's study. She focused intently on the figure, attempting to identify him. Try as she might, she couldn't make out his face, although his physique seemed vaguely familiar.

  She watched in surprise as he worked the latch on the window, quickly unlocking it from the outside and lifting the sash, pushing it open.

  It was clear that he was breaking into the house. It was also clear that she had to do something to stop him.

  She gathered her courage, prepared to rush at him and stop his actions, when a light beamed brightly from inside the study, surprising her and sending the intruder scurrying off like a rat — around the corner of the house and across the garden. As she watched him hurry off, she felt a jolt of recognition. She was certain that he was the Baron Montgrave.

  "My God! Ella was right!" she whispered to the night air. She'd made light of her friend's overactive imagination and, this time, she should have listened!

  Once the baron was out of sight, she followed his steps to the study window, which was still cracked open. Stepping into the soft earth beneath the window, she peered into the room to see Blackmoor at his desk, staring into nothingness, clearly lost in his own thoughts. She released an enormous sigh, grateful that he was unharmed — desperate to touch him and confirm his safety.

  Reaching up, she rapped on the window pane sharply, startling Blackmoor from his thoughts. He stood up quickly, squinting at the window. Alex realized that he was unable to see her for the reflection of the light in the glass, so she called out softly, "It's me!"

  His eyes widened in surprised recognition as he moved quickly toward her, saying, "I'm certain I must be dreaming. There's no way you'd risk your reputation quite so baldly."

  He threw open the window and leaned down on the sill, peering out into the night, meeting her nose to nose and continuing drily, "Tel me I'm dreaming, Alexandra."

  "I regret I cannot do that, my lord. It is indeed I standing in your flower bed ... quite clandestinely." Placing her hands next to his on the windowsill, she continued, "I need to speak with you. Help me in?"

  He considered leaving her in the garden and then thought better of it. Reaching down, he grasped her arms and hauled her through the opening and into the study, waiting for her to steady herself before turning and closing the window. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off as he turned around. "You risked your reputation to follow me back here and, quite frankly, you had better have a decent reason to be skulking around my gardens instead of dancing the night away at your parents' house."

  "I do. I've several reasons, actually, including the fact that it seems I'm not the only person skulking about your gardens this evening."

  His eyes widened in surprise at her words. "I beg your pardon?"

  She stole a glance at the clock on the fireplace mantel. "I cannot stay long, and neither can you. We have to return to Worthington House."

  "Why? Haven't we been to enough balls this season?" he quipped.

  "It's not the ball . It's that you cannot stay here by yourself. Someone is planning to kill you. I just watched an aborted attempt to enter the house through this very window. I think it was Baron Montgrave.

  "He's gone now, and I can't be sure. You scared him
off with the light." She pushed on, urgently. "I know that wasn't the most tactful way to tell you, but we don't have much time. You see ... only moments ago at the ball , I overheard a private conversation between two men who sounded very much involved in what could only have been espionage. They made it quite clear that you have access to some very dangerous information or, rather, that your father was privy to some information that he should not have been privy to and, more importantly, that they were willing to kill to be sure that, first, you don't have the opportunity to share this knowledge you may or may not have with anyone else, and, second, you do not have the opportunity to learn this information to begin with." She grasped his hand and pull ed. "We have to leave here. Now."

  He did not move. "We're not going anywhere until you've explained slightly more than you already have."

  She sighed impatiently. "I don't have time to explain anymore! Someone could climb through that window at any moment and surprise us!"

  "It does seem a popular entryway," he observed.

  "How can you jest at a time like this?" she said. "Did you not understand me? Someone is plotting to do away with you!"

  "Alex. Try to stay calm."

  "Stay calm?" she burst out, frustrated. "You weren't there! You didn't hear them speaking as though killing you would fit in between breakfast and morning visitors!"

  "You're not hearing what I'm trying to say, Alex," he said calmly. "I know. all of it. I know that my father had information damning enough to kill for. I know it related, in some way, to the war. I know that information is believed to be hidden somewhere in Blackmoor House. I know that whoever killed my father is out for me. I know, and so does most of the War Office. We're all waiting for the knave to make his next move, which we expect will be some time soon.

  Could have been just now, if what you say about an intruder running off is true. I assure you, we're all prepared for it."

  "What? You know of it? But how? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

  "I've suspected it to be the case for months — you know I never really believed that my father's death was an accident. The only other people who agreed with me were your father and Lord Langford, but none of us could prove anything, or so I thought. Once Blackmoor House was robbed and nothing of importance taken, I knew it must have been related to my father. Your father, Lord Langford, and I have been trying to root out the thief ever since."