Chapter 12
“Well, that was…
interesting
.” Lady Sweetin started toward Alex, the swoosh of her skirts unnaturally loud.
He jerked his gaze toward her, his breathing harsh, his body tense. An animal hunted. The urge to go after Grace overwhelmed any good sense. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He curled his fingers so tight, his nails bit into his palms. He swore he could still smell her scent over Lady Sweetin’s strong perfume.
“Some women merely aren’t adventurous.” Lady Sweetin rested her hand on his chest, her touch chill, repulsive.
He wanted to shove her away. To erase the woman from his mind. All women, but Grace. With Lady Sweetin so near, he no longer felt free. Caged. Imprisoned by her hold.
She trailed her fingers up his chest and slipped her arm around his neck. Alex merely stood there, stiff in her embrace. Undaunted, she stood on tiptoe, hovering near his mouth, her breath smelling of sherry.
“I hate sherry,”
Grace had said.
Suddenly, he did too.
Leaning forward, Lady Sweetin flattened her breasts to his chest and kissed him. “Mmm,” she whispered against his mouth.
Numb, Alex didn’t move. It was as if he’d left his body entirely. What little soul he contained, had escaped with Grace. Lady Sweetin’s tongue darted out, sliding against his lips like a wet eel. The touch sent his stomach churning. He couldn’t do this.
His heart slammed erratically inside his chest. Blast it, he wanted to push her away. He wanted to tell her to go fuck herself.
He couldn’t.
“What is it?” she whispered, sensing his reluctance.
He didn’t respond, afraid the truth would slip from his lips. Clamping his mouth shut, he remained stubbornly silent and stared at that dark window where only moments ago Grace had watched the couple inside. What could he say? That Lady Sweetin repulsed him. That he hated her smell. That he hated the feel of her hands on him. That she made him
sick
.
Her fingers slid down his chest to his trousers. “A quick one? That will make you feel better.” She was smiling, amused that he should have feelings. He’d seen the look before on their faces, women who thought of him as nothing more than a cock. Women who held the mistaken belief that he enjoyed fucking strangers. No attachments, merely sex. Any man’s dream.
“One so handsome shouldn’t pout.”
He clenched his jaw. She was treating him like a child. And like a child, he couldn’t seem to regain control of his emotions. Heated anger pulsed through his very blood, boiling below his skin, preparing to erupt in rage. Grace had never treated him as anything but a man. A normal man.
Lady Sweetin’s hand slipped inside his trousers. Alex closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. Allowing Grace to leave had been the one honorable thing he’d done in years. She didn’t deserve this life; she didn’t deserve a whore. And that’s what he was, a whore. How ridiculous he’d been to think of escaping.
He would stay in this garden and pretend to enjoy Lady Sweetin. Yet, his cock didn’t even stir as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft. No desire heated his veins. There wasn’t the slightest tingling of lust. Frantic, his heart slammed against his chest. He couldn’t lose it…the ability to react. He’d be as good as dead.
Grace.
Think of Grace.
Think of Grace’s hand on his cock. Her soft breasts pressed to his chest. Her warm, clean breath on his neck.
Think of Grace.
His cock stirred, blood roaring through his body.
Think of Grace.
Alex gripped Lady Sweetin’s narrow shoulders and pulled her closer, lowering his head to meet her lips. They were thin, cold. Not Grace’s lush mouth. Not the taste of warmth and happiness. He paused, Grace’s face slipping from mind.
“Yes,” Lady Sweetin whispered in a husky voice.
No.
No, no, no.
It was wrong, so wrong. His stomach churned. Bile rose to his throat. His skin felt tight, dirty. He couldn’t stop thinking about Grace. He couldn’t stop imagining her touch… her scent.
“Damn it, Alex. What is it?” Lady Sweetin pulled back, her face flushed with anger, her eyes flashing with irritation. “Is it that little whore?”
Sweat broke out between his shoulder blades. He didn’t dare respond. The silence stretched uncomfortably around them. The only sound was the soft murmur of music drifting through the open windows.
“Dear God, have you fallen for her?”
Surprise gave way to fear. Ophelia could not uncover how much Grace meant to him. There’d be hell to pay and Grace could be in danger.
Her lips pulled back into a smirk. “How silly you are.”
He stepped away from her, watching with satisfaction as the smirk fell from her lips and she stumbled to regain her footing.
“What do you want from me?” he demanded, his voice harsh, leaving no room for politeness.
“Your cock,” she snapped, glaring up at him.
She was angry, angry that he didn’t want her. God forbid that he had one evening when he didn’t want to perform. Her selfishness sent him over the edge where only darkness remained.
“Fine, you want me?” He gripped her upper arms and spun around, slamming her up against the brick wall that surrounded the garden.
He’d show her what he was truly capable of. Alex crushed his mouth to hers, shoving his tongue between her lips. Instead of pushing him away, Lady Sweetin’s hands gripped his arse, pulling him close.
“Yes, more,” she said against his mouth.
Disgust tasted bitter. She was titillated, not afraid. She didn’t give a shite about him and what he wanted. With a growl, he shoved her away and stumbled back. He swiped the back of his hand against his lips, attempting to erase the taste of her. Lady Sweetin’s heated gaze turned to outrage.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, her flat chest heaving.
“What I should have done the moment you entered the garden.” Alex turned and stalked away knowing she would tell Ophelia. Knowing he would be punished. Knowing everything would change. He didn’t care, because for some reason he felt he had already been punished enough.
Grace was gone. Nothing else mattered.
“How dare you!” Lady Sweetin cried, her voice echoing shrilly through the garden.
He didn’t respond.
“Alex! Come back!”
He pushed through the yews, his heart hammering so frantically, he feared it might explode. He must leave. His lungs were shrinking, the world before him fading. He couldn’t seem to breathe. Forefront in his mind was the need to escape.
“Alex?” James appeared before him, the man’s face hidden by his mask. A dark, soulless monster stepping from the shadows into the torchlight.
Alex stumbled to a stop. Hell, he felt almost … faint.
“Alex?” James sounded muffled. His blond brows snapped together as he reached out to him. “What is it?”
“Get out of my way.” Alex didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t care. He shoved the heel of his hand into James’ chest and pushed the man aside.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know, I don’t care.” He focused on those French doors, his salvation. If he could make it through the crush of the ball and out the front doors... If no one stopped him… Ophelia wouldn’t want to make a scene. “Away from all of this.”
“Damn it, Alex, stop!” James latched onto his arm, his grip strong. “You can’t leave. Where will you go? How will you survive?”
Alex jerked his arm away. Stumbling off balance, he fell against the rough bark of an apple tree. He felt almost drunk, the sky above spinning. “I don’t care.”
“Just stop, calm your nerves.” James, always so bloody rational.
“You were spying on me, weren’t you?” Alex growled and shoved James hard. The thinner man stumbled back. Alex was looking for a fight, anything to relieve the tension.
James’ patient look gave way to irritation. He straightened, righting his mask. “I was merely checking on your welfare.”
“Liar!” Alex stepped closer, seething. “I don’t need someone to check on my welfare. You were spying. Damn you, whose side are you on?”
James smoothed down his jacket, his movements slow and determined. “I’m on the side of the woman who gives money to my family to stay fed and warm.”
Alex laughed, a manic sound. “You’re a fucking idiot if you trust her. That sister you’re supposedly feeding is probably prostituting herself at this very moment. Spreading her legs for a coin, just like you.”
James went pale. For the first time since they’d met, Alex could see the desperate, uncultured person James had been. Alex didn’t have time to duck. James threw his fist wide. Alex gladly welcomed the pain. His knuckles connected with his jaw. Alex’s head jerked back, and for one blessed moment splintering pain pierced the numbness that had settled in his body. Alex stumbled back, the garden spinning. He’d forgotten that James’ sinewy appearance belied a well-muscled body.
Slowly, the garden stopped turning and James came back into focus. Anger pulsed from the man’s very being. That perfectly combed hair was ruffled, his eyes ablaze. “You deserved that and more, you arse.”
Alex rubbed his jaw, feeling the slightest twinge of guilt. “I know.”
“What have you done?” Lady Lavender’s voice snapped through the garden.
Behind her, a few women stood by watching with a mixture of shock and amusement. They were thrilled by the sight of two men fighting. Alex wouldn’t have been surprised if they hoped he and James were fighting over one of them.
“James? What happened?” Ophelia demanded, of course asking him. She knew James wouldn’t lie to her.
Surprisingly, James merely shook his head. “Nothing of importance. Nothing at all.” He lifted his lips, pasting a pleasant smile upon his face and turned toward the women. “So sorry. Where are our manners?” And just like that, unflappable James was back.
Ophelia’s icy gaze settled on Alex. Lady Lavender was waiting for him to smooth things over, regain control of that façade. Apologize.
But Alex’s mouth wouldn’t lift into a dimpled smile. His eyes refused to crinkle at the corners. He felt like an animal trapped, caged once more. An animal who had briefly tasted freedom.
There was no returning to what life had been. Everything had changed and all because of a woman with red stockings.
********
“Grace?” Rodrick was suddenly in front of her exactly when she needed him.
She looked up at the man who could save her from utter humiliation. The man who could save her family. Was he a rake who frequented gaming hells, or the caring, titled gent she’d always assumed him to be? His face half-covered by a black mask, she saw only kindness and worry in his gaze. What had she been thinking to trust Alex over Rodrick?
“I want to go home.” She hadn’t meant to say the words, and in such a pathetic whimper, but couldn’t quite help herself. Her heart felt as if it was breaking, crumbling to her feet piece by piece. And that was ridiculous because that would mean she actually cared for Alex and she couldn’t care. She
wouldn’t
.
Rodrick boldly cupped her elbow, even though many around them were starting to whisper. “What do you mean?”
He looked confused and she didn’t blame him. She knew she must look a mess— her face pale, her body trembling. Even now her eyes were filling with tears and she feared they would fall here, in front of a crowd so eager to see a spectacle.
“Please, can you find John?”
“Tell me, what is it?”
Unnatural heat flooded her body. The music was suddenly too loud. The candlelight and dresses were suddenly too bright. And this world…this world was too dark. A world of prostitution, of sexual favors and addictions, a world with no hope. She never should have attended the party. She’d known it wasn’t a ball for the innocent and most people here reveled in the sinful side of life, but she’d been desperate to see Alex.
“Please,” she whispered once more.
“Come, I’ll escort you home.” Before she could argue, he grasped her upper arm and turned her toward the stairs.
Grace tried to pull back, acutely aware of guests who were staring. They were wondering, no doubt, why a titled gentleman like Rodrick would escort a woman like her. She could imagine rumors of an engagement already taking form. Why didn’t the thought thrill her like it should?
“No, please, you don’t have to.”
“Of course I do.” He tucked her arm through his, close to his body. “Your wellbeing is my top priority.”
A week ago those words would have made her heart soar. They warmed her, indeed. After all, he was admitting he cared. At least
someone
cared. But they didn’t touch her as they should have and she was afraid it was because the words weren’t coming from Alex, damn him to hell! He’d ruined everything. The mere thought of Alex with Lady Sweetin made her ill. That woman…that horrible, horrible woman.