Page 100 of A Stolen Heart

“Sebastian, we shouldn’t….” She made one last weak protest.

But he ignored her and climbed into the bed beside her, pulling her back to him, so that they lay curled together like spoons in a drawer.

“Your sheets,” she objected, yawning. “I’m filthy.”

“Sheets can be cleaned.” He kissed her on the cheek and curled his arm over her.

Alexandra closed her eyes, feeling blissfully safe and warm, and in an instant she was asleep.

WHEN ALEXANDRA AWAKENED the next morning, it was late, and the sun was streaming in through a crack in the curtains. Sebastian was gone. She rang for a maid and ordered a bath drawn for her. After washing away all the soot from the night before and dressing in a day dress the maid had been airing all morning and which smelled only faintly of smoke, she made her way downstairs to the dining room.

Aunt Hortense was the only occupant of the room, obviously at the end of her meal, and she looked up with a smile at her niece. “Alexandra! You are looking much more the thing this morning, I must say.”

“Thank you. I feel much more the thing.” She sat down, and one of the servants brought her a cup of coffee. “Where is Sebastian?”

“Bustling about arranging things.” Her aunt leaned closer, smiling warmly. “He says the sooner you are married, the safer you will be, but personally, I think the man is simply impatient.”

“But I didn’t—”

“I am so glad you finally agreed to marry him. Of course, there was little other choice, after all that’s happened.”

“I have not agreed to marry him,” Alexandra stated flatly.

“He seems to be of the opinion that you have,” Aunt Hortense remarked.

“That man takes entirely too much on himself,” Alexandra said darkly, grabbing a piece of toast and beginning to butter it.

“If you ask me, dearest, you might as well stop fighting it.”

“What? Are even you turning against me?”

“Not against you, my dear, just against your bullheadedness. Any fool can see you’re head over heels in love with the man.”

Alexandra drew a breath, about to flare up in denial, but the wry look her aunt sent her made her break into laughter instead. “Oh, Auntie, am I that obvious?”

“Mm. ‘Fraid so. ‘Tis no crime, you know, to fall in love or to want to marry a man.”

“I know. But I feel as if it would be wrong of me, not even knowing what my parentage is.”

“If Lord Thorpe doesn’t care, I don’t see why you should bother your head about it.” Aunt Hortense fixed her with a stern gaze. “Whether Rhea is your blood mother or not, you have never been the least like her, and I see no reason you should suddenly change now. It isn’t as if Rhea is someone who has to be locked up in the attic. She has behaved a trifle oddly at times, I’ll admit, but she isn’t mad. I mean, look at the way she tried to save you last night.”

Alexandra thought about her brief flash of fear last night as she had wondered if her mother had set the fire in her room purposely. Why, she had even for a moment thought that Aunt Hortense could have drugged her and Willa and set the fire! The notion seemed absurd in the light of day, especially looking at her aunt’s plain, honest face, warm with caring.

“No, of course not. She is not mad,” Alexandra agreed, and she felt suddenly lighter than she had in days. However strange all the things that were happening, she couldn’t help but be happy. Sebastian loved her, and she loved him. He wanted to marry her. Why was she putting him off? Why was she denying herself exactly what she wanted the most?

There was a noise behind her, and Alexandra turned to see Willa standing in the doorway. She smiled in her timid way. “Hello. I hope I’m not intruding. One of the maids was kind enough to sit with Mrs. Ward so that I could come down to eat. It gets a trifle boring sometimes eating one’s meals in the sickroom.”

“Of course. You must take off the morning, as well,” Alexandra added, smiling. “I shall sit with Mother this morning. I’m sure that you have many things that you have neglected, spending so much time with us. It has been wonderfully kind of you.”

“I have enjoyed it. I have so little to do at the Countess’s.” The small woman came around the table and sat beside Alexandra.

Alexandra truly was grateful to Willa; she had greatly eased the burden of caring for Rhea. But Alexandra also could not deny that the woman’s self-deprecating way of talking wore on her nerves, as did her rather dull chatter. Alexandra finished her breakfast as quickly as was reasonably polite and excused herself to check on her mother.

As she went up the stairs, she began to worry that Willa had left her mother in the care of one of the maids. If there had been no intruder last night, as seemed likely, and if the fire had been deliberately set, then the likeliest culprit would be a servant hired by the villain who had hired the other men to harm Alexandra and her mother. It would certainly fit his—or her, as Maisy had said the other day—method of operation. Alexandra’s steps quickened, and she was close to running when she reached her mother’s room and flung open the door.

Her mother was lying still in her bed, the maid Rose sitting in a chair a few feet from her, her eyes closed. At Alexandra’s abrupt entrance, Rose’s eyes flew open, and she shot out of her chair.

“Oh, miss! You gave me a fright!” She laid a hand over her heart.