Blast, her sister would have to remember. “Yes,” she muttered, ducking behind a shelf of Chinese vases, “but everyone deserves a second chance.” Grace gently pushed two vases apart. A man with dark hair blocked her view. From the fine suit and lovely build, he must have been one of Lady Lavender’s men.
“Grace?” Patience whispered next to her, stirring her loose strands of hair into her face and tickling her nose.
Grace sniffled. “Shhh!”
Patience sighed and wandered toward the clocks.
Irritation and impatience shot through Grace in a blur.
Move!
She wanted to demand of the man who was blocking her view just beyond those shelves.
“Lovely, Mr. Baskov,” a woman murmured. “You do know what I like, don’t you?”
The man shifted,
finally,
and a woman came into view. Grace drew back, stunned by her beauty. This was the person who was keeping Alex virtually imprisoned? She shoved the two vases together with a clank, wishing to see no more. Lady Lavender was not in the least what she’d expected. Petite with a heart-shaped face of pure perfection. The sort of woman men wanted and women envied.
Grace’s heart gave a painful squeeze of what could only be jealousy. But no, she couldn’t be jealous. Being jealous would mean she cared and she didn’t care. She only cared about Rodrick. She pressed her hand to her chest, as if that could stop the ache that had burrowed deep within her soul. Perhaps Alex was at Lady Lavender’s because he wanted to be there.
“Can I help you?”
Grace spun around. Mr. Dauksza, Mr. Baskov’s apprentice, stood before her looking as intimidating and dour as ever. He was a tall ogre of a man with broad shoulders and the constant look of pure annoyance in his black eyes.
“Yes. Yes, of course,” she reached under her fitted jacket for the cameo. “I’ve been meaning to sell this. Don’t wear it anymore, you see.” Her hands shook so badly she could barely get the piece unlatched. “I know Baskov,” she lowered her voice, “is discreet.”
If word got out that she was selling jewelry, their
friends
would certainly uncover the truth about their dire situation and word would get back to John. They’d be humiliated. And Grace and Patience could forget about ever making a decent match.
Dauksza snatched the pin from her palm, and, with a critical eye, studied the piece.
Grace took the moment to turn and peek through the vases. The group was gone, having disappeared into a back room where she knew the expensive pieces were kept safe.
“Five pounds.”
Grace spun around, Lady Lavender forgotten for the moment. “You can’t be serious! It’s worth at least ten.” She hadn’t a clue what it was worth, but knowing Dauksza, at least twice what he would offer. Blast, but she’d prayed for more! Patience, hearing their raised voices, turned and started toward Grace.
“Damaged,” the man said in his thick Russian accent.
“Damaged? Indeed,” she muttered, grabbing the piece from his monstrous palm. “Where?”
“Knick, there.” He pointed to the top right corner.
The piece was as smooth as when she’d been given the gift three years ago. “I can’t see it and I have perfect eyesight.”
“Is there a problem?” a familiar voice asked from behind her.
Everything inside Grace seemed to freeze, except her heart, which slammed madly against her ribcage, threatening to break free of her chest and hightail it from the shop. It couldn’t be him…it wasn’t possible. Yet, she knew in her soul it was.
Slowly, she turned. And there he was; taller, more handsome than she remembered. Alex was there. And damn it all, if she wasn’t thrilled to see him.
********
She stared at him. Merely stared as if she couldn’t quite place him, as if he was an insignificant dream she vaguely remembered. While he…he’d been obsessing about her for days now, praying she’d return.
Wavy tendrils of hair had come loose and framed her pale face. Those luminous eyes shone with confusion, surprise, bemusement. He’d heard the arguing and thought his mind had finally gone mad. Nights of dreaming about Grace had finally taken their toll. For one brief moment, he’d thought he’d imagined her, but then she’d started to argue with the man about the price of some piece and he’d realized she was actually here, only too real. And he was an idiot to get involved with Lady Lavender so near.
Vaguely, he was aware of a younger woman stepping close to Grace, as if to offer her moral support. She was a blonde, pretty thing, in a wholesome way and her bold stare and that stubborn tilt of her chin told him she must be related.
“Alex, what are you doing here?” Grace whispered, as if only he would hear her when it was obvious they were all shocked by the familiar use of his name on her lips.
He ignored the prying eyes of the other two and focused only on Grace. Seeing her was like a breath of fresh air when he’d been locked in a stale cell. He had the sudden urge to smile, to breathe deeply, to touch her. He stood firm his ground, curling his fingers into his thighs. “I do go out in public, occasionally.” Those visits were always heavily guarded, but she didn’t need to know that.
She parted her lips as if to question him further, then thought better and pressed her mouth into a firm line. Good idea, he could only imagine what inappropriate question she’d ask.
Mr. Dauksza
shifted, impatient. “Five pounds, my lady.”
Grace blushed and looked away, breaking their contact. “Fine.”
She was selling her jewelry. Alex frowned. There was only one reason the
ton
sold their jewelry, they desperately needed the money. Alex held up his hand, stopping Dauksza. “Your time, if you please, Sir.”
The man paused for one long moment, eyeing Alex suspiciously. “Very Vell.”
Alex gave Grace a quick bow, then strolled toward the end of the aisle, knowing Dauksza followed as his heavy footsteps vibrated the very floorboards underneath him. He turned when they were far enough away that Grace and her companion wouldn’t overhear.
“
Moy droog
,” he started in Russian.
Surprise crossed his features, although he did quick work of covering his expression. He hadn’t a clue Alex came from Russia, but only a few did know. “I am not your friend.”
So that’s how the man was going to be. Alex pressed his hand to his chest. “I’m heart-broken.”
“I’m a busy man,
Sir
.” He sneered the last word, working Alex’s already annoyed nerves.
“Of course.” Alex smiled and rested his hand on the man’s broad shoulder in a pretense of companionship. “You’re fucking her over,
net?”
The man stiffened. “
Net.
The piece is worth five pounds.” His accent grew thicker the angrier he became. “Five pounds she get.”
Alex slid Grace a glance. She waited at the end of the aisle nervously tucking her hair behind her ears. “She is a friend of mine. These English, they’re so proper.” He chuckled. “But in the old country, we understand loyalty. Don’t we?”
The man’s eyes narrowed.
Alex’s smile fell. “You fuck my friends, I fuck with you.”
The man shifted, his gaze growing leery. A pulse beat quickly in the side of his thick neck. Alex wasn’t an idiot, he knew the man was more worried about Lady Lavender than Alex’s threat. She spent a lot of money in this shop. Whatever would work in Alex’s favor, he’d take.
“Ten pounds then.”
Alex smiled and slapped the man on the side of the face. “
Da
.”
The man gave a curt bow, a show of respect although his eyes flashed dangerously with anger. “
Spaseebo
.” Without another word, he turned and started back toward Grace. Alex merely stood there like an audience member watching a play, taking in the moment, every tiny detail, from the way her brows drew together, to the way her hair shone in the sunlight slicing through the windows…he had a feeling he could watch her forever.
Dauksza bowed. “Ten pounds then.”
Grace’s gaze widened and jumped to Alex. He could tell, even from where he stood, that she was annoyed with his interference. It was that unmistakable spark in her hazel eyes.
“Wonderful,” she muttered, then turned to the woman next to her. “Patience, can you please follow Mr. Dauksza?”
The girl nodded, watching him with wide eyes that matched Grace’s in shape, if not color. Her sister then? For although their coloring was different, their features were the same. She left and they were alone. He knew he had only moments before someone would return. He could just see Wavers and Jensen outside standing watch at the carriage, and knew two more men were stationed at the back door. They were there to keep him in line, as much as they were there to protect Ophelia. Lady Lavender was a paranoid woman, and she should be. She’d received more than one death threat from men of the
ton
. It was fine if they partook in torrid events, but God forbid their women did.
Grace started forward in a flurry of skirts, her agitated movements matching her mood. “What did you say to him?”
“Nothing.” He turned to leave. He couldn’t be this close to her, smell her warm scent, not when they weren’t alone and he wouldn’t be able to touch her. Hell, he should have left the moment he heard her arguing with the Russian.
She latched onto his arm, her grip tight and strong for a woman. “You speak Russian?”
He bristled, pulling away. “I didn’t say that.”
“No, but you spoke a language other than English, I could tell, and since Dauksza is Russian, I assumed.”
He turned a corner and started down a row of Greek statues; women and men half dressed, posed in an erotic marble embrace. Bad, bad aisle for it brought to mind all sorts of nefarious ideas. “Perhaps you shouldn’t assume.”
She followed, but then he knew she would. Part of him wished she’d leave, but the other part, damn, it all, the other part wanted to pull her close, breathe in her warm scent, do to her what those statues were doing.
“I know what I heard, Alex.” A wall blocked the end of the aisle. Trapped. He was bloody trapped. He spun around, close to losing hold of that charm. He felt the panicked need to escape, as if she was stalking him, a tigress about to pounce. Didn’t she understand? They couldn’t talk like friends, they couldn’t be seen together outside of the estate. He curled his fists and leaned against the brick wall. Grace stopped in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest, her face set in determined lines. So close he could feel the heat of her body.
“Who are you, Alex? James said…” She blanched, as if realizing her mistake, and looked away.
“What?” he demanded in a harsh whisper. “What did James say?”
She looked up at him, her eyes soft, yet behind that emotion was a leeriness that hadn’t been there two days ago. She wasn’t sure if she could trust him and for some reason, that made him irate.
“He warned me about you,” she whispered.
Anger simmered beneath his skin. He closed his eyes, attempting to regain control. James warned her? What, exactly, had he said? He could imagine. Damn, but he could kill the man. He opened his eyes, keeping his face blank. “I’m a whore. Nothing more than that.”
She slowly shook her head, those curls shimmering with the movement. “I know that’s not true.”
He grabbed her upper arms and jerked her forward, her soft breasts crushing to his chest. Despite her look of surprise, anger, desire, and frustration pounded through his veins. “What do you know, Grace? What? Tell me. Tell me what you know.”
Fear skittered across her features. He wanted to yell at her, tell her she should be afraid. She didn’t know him. No one did. Instead, he released his hold and pushed her back. She stumbled and he had to resist the urge to catch her, catching her would show he cared. Regaining her balance she tilted her chin high and looked directly into his eyes.
“I know that charm is hiding your true pain,” she whispered. “I know you don’t want to be here, with
her
.”
His heart did a queer little jump. He swallowed hard, his fingernails biting into the rough brick at his back.
She stepped closer, so close he could see the flecks of gold in her blue and green eyes. “Say it, Alex. Tell me you don’t really want to work for Lady Lavender.” There was a desperation in her voice, as if she pleaded for his agreement. “Tell me that the only reason you’re doing what you’re doing is because you have no choice.”
Anguish clenched at his gut, tore at his soul. How desperately he wanted to tell her the truth…to finally tell someone the truth. But he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to his family nor her. She wanted him to be someone he wasn’t. Even though he was under guard and constant watch, there was a part of him, a tiny part, which was afraid of leaving.
“Grace?” the girl named Patience called from down the aisle. She was watching them, clutching the money in her gloved hands and watching them with the innocence and naïveté only a young girl could. “Gracie, are you all right?”