Chapter 17 #2
Emotions warred within me, tugging every which way, fears and doubts and desperately dreamed dreams. Things had drastically shifted between us last night.
I’d accused him of being jealous, for heaven’s sake.
And even if I were right, and he had been jealous .
. . where did that leave us? I knew I had feelings for him—feelings that seemed to grow by the hour—but how did he regard me?
His words came back to me, from the moment I’d been trapped in my terror. You are under my protection, Beatrice Lacey, he’d said. There’d been a delicious possessiveness to his words that I hadn’t fully appreciated last night but that now sent a shiver across my skin.
I stood on a precipice, of that I was quite certain. It would take only one more small push, the tiniest of breaths, to tip me over. And I knew that if I fell in love with Alexander Rawlings, I would never recover. My life would never be the same.
I would never be the same.
Even if somehow we did both feel the same way, there was so much to hold us back.
His mother. His career at Bow Street. My reputation, even if he seemed to accept me in spite of it.
No, it was better not to even think of it at this point.
There was still a murderer on our trail, and I could be here at Briarstone for some time yet.
I needed to be careful not to complicate things any further, put away my feelings.
I nodded, resolute, and started for my door.
That resolution went sailing out the window as I started descending the stairs and spotted Alexander pacing the entryway.
He was a sight to behold, his serious, dark features a sharp contrast with the bright sunlight surrounding him.
He had shaven and dressed in fresh clothes, and though he must have been exhausted from lack of sleep, he looked none the worse for wear.
Indeed, one might argue—myself, to be precise—that he had never looked better.
He glanced up the moment he heard my footsteps, his eyes piercing, penetrating.
Blast and bother. This was going to be impossible.
“Miss Albright,” he said, his deep voice carrying up the stairs. “I need to speak with you.”
“Always to the point,” I said, one hand gliding along the rail as I made my way down. “Not so much as a ‘good morning’ or a ‘how did you sleep?’”
Alexander remained unruffled. “How did you sleep?”
Everything in me softened. “I slept well,” I said quietly. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “Good.”
“What did you need to speak to me about?”
He shot a look around, and even though we were alone in the entryway, he lowered his voice. “Let us speak in my study.”
I followed him down the corridor. He opened the study door and ushered me inside, his fingers grazing the small of my back. Fire leaped through me, and I scolded myself very firmly.
He closed the door again, which I noted distinctly. Last time we’d spoken in here, he’d left it wide open.
Alexander turned to face me, his expression entirely serious. “We need to leave Briarstone.”
I stared at him. “Leave?” I repeated. “Why?”
“I was planning to question the staff today,” he said. “About your letter. But I had a great deal of time to think last night, and I realized that that course of action would not help us. In fact, it would likely only draw attention to our charade and make it more obvious we were hiding something.”
“But why leave?” I wasn’t sure why I was questioning him—I’d wanted to leave almost from the moment I’d arrived. But this was so sudden.
“If the person who read your letter—and now consequently knows your name—has any nefarious intent, we cannot risk staying here. We need to get ahead of whatever danger might be coming our way.”
I swallowed hard. “You’re right. But where would we go?”
He pressed his lips together grimly. “I do not know yet. But we need to leave as soon as possible.”
I nodded. “I agree.”
Alexander inspected me skeptically. “Why are you being so amenable? You generally fight me much more.”
“Only when I disagree,” I replied. “Besides, I find I am in your debt this morning.” He was the only reason I hadn’t spent the entire night clutching my pillow in fear.
He shook his head. “You owe me nothing.”
I ignored that. “Your mother will not like us leaving,” I warned. “Especially together.”
“That hardly signifies,” he said. “Her feelings are irrelevant in this decision.”
“You should certainly word it precisely like that when you tell her,” I said in an attempt at humor.
His mouth twitched up into a half smile—a rather attractive half smile—but it faded quickly. “Are you sure you are in agreement with this?” he asked quietly. “I cannot say where we will go. Your reputation would be in much more danger than here, where we have my mother as a chaperone.”
I bit my lip. “Better to have my reputation in danger than my life.”
He nodded. “Let us tell my mother, then.”
I followed him to the morning room, where Mrs. Rawlings sat at her writing desk. She barely glanced up as we entered, distracted, but when she saw the two of us, she straightened and set down her pen.
“What is this?” she asked bluntly. Like mother, like son.
Alexander once again closed the door behind us. He shot me a wary glance as he faced his mother. “We are leaving,” he said. “As soon as possible.”
Mrs. Rawlings blanched. “Leaving? Why?”
Alexander stepped closer, hands clasped behind his back, his face set in determination. “We discovered that someone searched Miss Lacey’s room last night, though we haven’t any idea who they are or what their motive may be. We think it best to leave now before anything can come of it.”
We.
“You cannot leave,” Mrs. Rawlings exclaimed.
Alexander shook his head. “We do not have much choice in the matter. This is the best decision for everyone, to keep Miss Lacey and everyone in this household safe.”
Mrs. Rawlings sent me an icy look, and it nearly froze my bones. Did she blame me for taking her son away from her so soon?
“What if,” she said haughtily, “I can provide you with a very good reason why you should not leave?”
My eyes narrowed on her. “What do you mean?”
“Miss Lacey,” she said tartly, “is not in any danger.” She stood, chin held high. “It was I who searched her room.”
“You?” Alexander was stunned into stillness.
Even though I’d mentioned my doubts about Mrs. Rawlings last night, I was still caught off guard. I gaped at her.
“Yes,” she said. “Though I admit I am not so practiced in subterfuge. You arrived home much sooner than I expected and nearly caught me.”
“Why?” I managed, perplexed. “What on earth were you looking for?”
“Evidence,” she said. “To prove my suspicions.”
“Suspicions of what?” Alexander moved a step closer, his voice dangerous.
Mrs. Rawlings did not answer him but instead went to the door that led to the parlor. She opened it a few inches. “Stroud? Come in here, please.”
Stroud?
“When did Stroud return?” Alexander’s shoulders were tense, his expression rigid. This was precisely the type of situation he hated—a situation quickly spinning out of his control.
I was not enjoying it very much either. My stomach was a mass of nerves, shooting through every inch of my body. What was Mrs. Rawlings about?
“He arrived last night,” Mrs. Rawlings said coolly as Stroud appeared in the doorway, his expression rather stormy. “After you left for the assembly.”
“What has this to do with anything?” Alexander asked. “This is a confidential matter, Mother. We should not discuss this in front of—”
“Stroud knows everything,” she interrupted.
I blinked. “Everything?” I asked in disbelief.
Her eyes turned to me again, dark and calculating. “Yes, Miss Lacey, everything. Including the real reason you are here.”