Chapter 24
As Briarstone House disappeared behind our coach the next morning, I wasn’t sure what I felt. My time there had not been without sadness or difficulty. I’d longed for London every day. I’d been lonely, terrified, and overwhelmed at various points throughout my stay.
And yet the other memories I’d made—the good memories, the beautiful memories—made all the rest fade into twilight.
Alexander. Our walk in the gardens when I’d told him about my past. The night he’d slept outside my door.
Our kiss in his study. And the deep, bone-shattering relief I’d felt when he’d plunged out of the rain-drenched night to save me.
Perhaps . . . perhaps I might return to Briarstone someday. I could not help but think I would, though I wasn’t entirely certain what Alexander’s intentions were. Besides, I hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye to Helen and Elijah. I wasn’t ready to give them up just yet, no matter what happened.
I faced forward, and a sharp pain lanced through my neck. I winced and touched my bandaged cut. Last night—or rather, early this morning—the doctor had seen to my wound, thankfully agreeing with Alexander that I did not need sutures.
“Are you in pain?” Alexander asked from across the carriage, nothing escaping his perceptive eyes. Mrs. Rawlings sat beside me.
“Only a little,” I said. “It’s perfectly manageable.”
He frowned. “I wish you’d take the medicine.”
I gave a laugh. “This conversation feels very familiar, does it not? Do you enjoy being on the other side of it?”
“Do you?”
“Oh, certainly,” I said. “I quite like being fussed over.”
Mrs. Rawlings made a sound that had the makings of a laugh, though she stifled it immediately.
The day went quickly. We spoke of the case, and Alexander made detailed notes of everything that had happened since we’d left London.
He also wrote down everything I remembered of that night at the Granville ball and anything I could remember of Clarissa.
We threw around ideas of how we might approach the situation.
Clarissa was too smart, too wily to allow herself to be easily caught.
We stayed that night at an inn, all in our own separate rooms, of course.
But that did not stop me from sending Alexander a knowing glance as I stepped inside my room, causing the corners of his lips to curl upward.
How long ago that night seemed now, at the inn when he’d guarded me as I’d slept.
When I’d bandaged his arm and seen the first glimpse of the man behind his stoic facade.
With Alexander in the room beside mine, I slept well that night, and we resumed our journey the next day.
If all went according to plan, we would arrive in London late that night.
I was desperate to see Ginny. I needed to tell her everything that had happened.
Until I did, it almost felt like I was only half myself.
After a short break for a meal at noon, we changed horses and continued on. Lulled to sleep by the food and the sunshine outside, Mrs. Rawlings’s head tipped against the door. She did not snore, quite fittingly. That would be unacceptable.
I glanced across the carriage at Alexander. He was watching me. It was the first moment we’d had to talk since we’d left Briarstone. The silence built between us, a knowing thing.
“You are eager to return to London,” Alexander said quietly, so as not to wake his mother.
“This will come as a shock to you,” I said, “but I did not want to leave in the first place.”
I thought he might smile at my jest, but there was something very serious in his eyes.
“You’ll be glad to see Mrs. Travers,” he said.
“Yes, very glad.” I eyed him. He was acting strangely.
“And Jack and Verity.” He cleared his throat. “And the others.”
What was he—
Oh.
He was speaking about Mr. Drake.
For some reason, the idea that he was even thinking of my previous attachment to his friend produced within me a disbelieving laugh. I clamped a hand over my mouth, not wishing to disturb Mrs. Rawlings.
He frowned, a crease in his brow. “What?”
“You cannot truly be jealous again,” I said. “Heavens, what a vice, Alexander. You really must aim to improve.”
He sat back. “I’m not jealous.”
“Oh?”
“No, I’m . . .” He paused. “Well, perhaps I am.”
His admission sent a jolt of awareness and a rush of pleasure through me. It was not like him to admit to so much. To admit to anything, really. It was a risk he was taking, and I could see it.
“You preferred him before.” He inspected me as if my expression might give away my thoughts. But I had nothing to hide.
“Before being the key word,” I pointed out with a smile. “Besides, you did not like me either, you’ll recall.”
“I was deluding myself,” he said. “I don’t wish to do so again now.”
I leaned forward. “I am eager to return to London to see Ginny,” I said sincerely, “and to put this entire business behind us. That is all.”
The carriage bumped, and our knees jostled together.
That simple touch sent warmth spiraling through my chest, and when I met his eyes, he watched me with that new intensity—the same one I’d seen before he’d kissed me in his study.
But Mrs. Rawlings shifted beside me, and we both sat back quickly, realizing how close we’d been leaning toward each other.
We sat in still silence until Mrs. Rawlings settled again, hands crossed primly across her stomach.
“I do hope Ginny hasn’t had the baby while I’ve been away,” I said a few moments later, trying to guide our conversation into safer, less tempting territory. “I would be terribly put out with her.”
“She has a few weeks yet, does she not?”
“Yes, but it would be just my luck to miss the birth.” I sighed. “I do love babies, and I am quite excited to dote upon hers. I plan to claim aunthood unequivocally.”
Alexander’s face softened. “A lucky child indeed.”
I smiled wistfully. “I never had brothers or sisters, which made for a quiet childhood. I always imagined that when I married, I would have a great brood of children to scurry underfoot, to make me laugh and fill my days. Assuming my husband wanted that also, of course.” I stopped suddenly, realizing how my words might have sounded to him. My cheeks filled with heat.
He said nothing for a long moment, his gaze moving to stare out the window.
“He would be a fool not to want that with you,” he said finally, softer than I’d ever heard him before. “A life of laughter sounds like a dream.”
My lips curved into a smile.
The coach hit another deep rut and bounced, waking Mrs. Rawlings with a start. She began complaining about the state of the roads, which was a very good thing, considering how seriously I’d been contemplating kissing Alexander right there in the carriage.
The day wore on, and as night fell, we drew closer to London. Finally, at nearly ten o’clock, our coach pulled even with the front steps of the Travers home. My anticipation rose like an ocean swell inside of me. Finally.
Alexander handed me down, then turned to offer his hand to Mrs. Rawlings. I could not wait. I darted up the stairs and rapped sharply on the front door. Would Ginny and Jack be asleep? It was late, but not terribly.
Footsteps sounded, heavy and quick, and then the door opened. Jack stood there, brow furrowed, but when he spotted me, his expression lifted in surprise. “Beatrice?”
I beamed at him. “Good evening, Jack. Is your wife in?”
A clatter of footsteps came from the parlor to the left, and then Ginny appeared, gaping at me. “Beatrice!”
I laughed and ran to her, throwing my arms around her.
“Oh, my dear!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been so worried.”
I pulled back, holding her shoulders. “No need for that anymore.”
“What do you mean?” Jack asked, thoroughly confused. “Did you not receive our message? We haven’t caught your attacker yet. You’re still in danger.”
Alexander followed me inside. “We received the message,” he said. “But we had a few developments of our own that demanded a return to Town immediately.”
Mrs. Rawlings came up behind him, shrewdly taking in the details of the house and her son’s friends.
Alexander gestured to her. “First, might I present my mother, Mrs. Ruth Rawlings. Mother, this is Jack and Genevieve Travers.”
She curtsied. “A pleasure.”
Ginny curtsied as well, though she shot me a curious glance, no doubt wondering how we’d come to be traveling with Alexander’s mother.
“Won’t you come in?” Ginny offered. “I’ll send for some tea.”
“No, thank you,” Mrs. Rawlings said. “It is late. I will go on with the coach to Alexander’s rooms.”
She patted Alexander on the arm, then glanced at me. “Miss Lacey,” she said, then left. I hid a smile. I knew behind the aloofness existed a woman who cared very deeply, even if she disliked showing it.
“First, you must tell us about the man you arrested for the viscount’s murder,” Alexander said as he and Jack headed into the parlor, Ginny and I following. “Who was it?”
Jack looked grim as we seated ourselves in front of the fire.
“It was the viscount’s coachman. Apparently, Lord Somerton had dallied with the man’s sister years ago, and the coachman’s been seeking revenge all this time.
A rather tawdry affair, truth be told. The papers have gone wild with news of it. ”
Alexander sat back, shaking his head. “His coachman,” he mused. “How was he found out?”
“Another servant, the viscount’s valet, found the coachman sodden with drink on the street,” Jack said.
“As the valet helped him home, the coachman was muttering, ranting about the whole affair. Apparently, guilt was tearing him apart. The valet came to us, and when we confronted the coachman, he confessed immediately.”
“The coachman looked very much like Verity’s sketch,” Ginny said. “We assumed he was one and the same, so we summoned you home.”
“Until you learned he had an alibi,” Alexander said.
Jack nodded, brow furrowed. “Why did you return if you knew your attacker had not been apprehended?”
“Because he apprehended us,” I said darkly.