Chapter 8 #3
The sensation, now that he knew this was Alice—Alice—pressed so intimately against him, was alarming, invigorating, and so confusing Aubrey couldn’t breathe.
Her body was lithe, delicate and slender, and yet so strong.
The way she had vaulted that bloody wall had been impressive enough when he’d thought her an agile lad, now his mind boggled.
“Howard, where the devil did I leave that book?”
“Book, sir?”
“Yes, The Lives of the Poets, Samuel Johnson. I could have sworn—”
“Ah, yes. You left it in the orangery, sir, and I was afraid it might get damp. I had it sent to your room.”
“Damn it! Did I? Shockingly ramshackle of me. I thank you, Howard. Good night.”
“Good night, sir.”
Aubrey did not breathe until the door had closed and the sound of footsteps was no longer audible. By this time, Alice was nigh on hysterical.
“P-Pillock!” she choked out, and then gasped, wheezing with the effort of trying to keep quiet.
Aubrey watched her, an odd sensation growing in his chest. There were so many reactions to her deception, he did not know which one to enact first. He could strangle her with his bare hands—that had been tempting enough before now, but in this moment, it was close to irresistible.
Fury at how she had used him, lied to him again and again, made his chest tight, his fists clench.
Perhaps he should demand an explanation and rail at her until he’d vented these churning feelings.
He gritted his teeth, determined to be furious, but there she was, mirth glittering in those grey eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks.
She was like no woman he had ever known in his entire life: bold and brave and utterly, ruthlessly reckless.
Christ, to think she had survived the workhouse, the streets of London, and become one of the most sought-after cracksmen in town.
It was incredible, horrifying, and yet unbelievably impressive.
She was a survivor and worthy of admiration.
Dammit, he adored her.
Her laughter subsided as she caught him gazing at her. Something in the quality of his stare must have alerted her to the fact that some earthshattering shift had occurred, and she narrowed her eyes, wary now.
Clearing her throat, she straightened, and Aubrey could not take his eyes from her, trying to reconcile Alfie and Alice as one person.
“Aubrey?”
Aubrey didn’t answer, contemplating a move somewhere between murder and seduction.
“I was only teasing,” she offered, and he heard it now, the way it was still her voice, just pitched a degree lower. There was a smile in her voice, and a look in her eyes. Oh, the way she looked at him, the same way Alice did, with that simmering attraction that she tried so hard to keep hidden.
How had he not noticed? How had he never realised the two of them were one and the same? Lord, he felt like an idiot, yet she had fooled the entire town, not just him! That, at least, made him feel a little better. Then he remembered Della had a tendre for Alfie and his head reeled again.
“Whatever is the matter?” she demanded as Aubrey made a sudden decision.
He knew exactly what he was going to do.
He raised his hand, touching her cheek, a barely there caress as he watched her face closely.
Her breath caught, her eyes wide and dark with mingled shock and desire before the expression shuttered, her decision to pretend it had not happened obvious.
“We’ve not got time for standing around gawking, we—”
The words were muffled, replaced by a squeak of alarm as Aubrey leaned down and kissed her.
It was brief but intense, hard and demanding, and he made no apology for his rough treatment.
He let her go just as swiftly, staring down at her, daring her to make a sarcastic comment, to pretend she was Alfie and act as though he still believed it.
There was a taut silence that seemed to vibrate through Aubrey it was so loud. The kiss seemed a living thing still, the taste of her on his lips, the feel of her body against his. The desperate need to do it again warred with his desire to shake her until her teeth rattled.
She stared at him, bewildered, so shocked her mouth fell open.
“You know.”
“I know,” he agreed darkly. “Alice.”
Her expression closed off immediately, her words monotone. “It changes nothing.”
Aubrey quirked an eyebrow. “Does it not?”
“No,” she replied testily. “Now let's get the bloody brooch and get out of here before your cousin comes back. I bet he’d love to see you dressed like that,” she added, smirking as she turned away.
Aubrey reached out, grabbing her arm. “Forget the bloody brooch. We have bigger things to discuss.”
Alice snatched her arm away. “We have nothing to discuss. I am Alfie, like it or not. I stole those diamonds, and if you want them back, you need me. So, if you’re thinking of revealing who I am, or using the information to your advantage, forget it.
Lill and I would be gone before you can open your mouth, and any chance of getting your mother’s jewels back along with us. ”
She almost snarled the words, but Aubrey glimpsed something behind her anger, not the hard, implacable front that she might suppose he would see, but something else. The fear that he might hurt her, might destroy her and any semblance of security she had found for herself and Lill.
“I would never do that, Alice.” He said the words calmly, which was quite something considering his insides were in turmoil.
“Alfie,” she insisted, a stubborn glint in her eyes.
Aubrey noted it, realising in that moment that she meant it. She had lived him for so long he was a part of her. “Very well, Alfie. You needn’t fear me. I’ll keep your secret.”
She regarded him sceptically. “Why?”
Anger roiled through him. “For heaven’s sake. Is that what you think of me? You’ve spent time with me as Alfie and Alice, and you think me the kind of man who would ruin you out of spite, or use the information to do what? Coerce you into something you don’t want? Well, thanks for nothing!”
He folded his arms, his entire body rigid with indignation and hurt. He could hardly bear to look at her, but he forced himself to hold her gaze. She had the grace to look shamefaced, at least, which ratcheted his temper down a degree.
“That’s fair,” she admitted. “I apologise. I have not known you long, but I’ve known since the start that you’re decent to your bones. I ought not to have said such things.”
Aubrey let out a breath, unsurprised to discover it was not entirely steady. “Well, you’re right about one thing. We cannot discuss this here. Come along. Let’s get the brooch and finish this escapade if you insist on going through with it. But then you and I are going to have a long talk.”
Her jaw tightened, and he saw the stubborn glint in her eyes, but whatever she might have said, she swallowed the words and gave a taut nod.
Heaven be praised.