Page 70 of A Stolen Heart

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ALEXANDRA BLUSHED AND GLANCED quickly away from Sebastian, only to meet Nicola’s speculative gaze.

“You care for him, don’t you?” Nicola asked.

“Don’t be absurd,” Alexandra replied gamely. “I think he is an odious creature, and he thinks even worse of me.”

“I have never known Sebastian to introduce a woman to the Countess,” Nicola said significantly. “And why did he go rushing over to your house when your mother was attacked?”

“My aunt sent for him,” Alexandra replied. “She didn’t know anyone else to turn to.”

“That may be, but I have to point out that Sebastian is not known for flying to anyone’s aid, whether they are strangers to London or not.”

Alexandra shook her head, but she could not keep her gaze from returning to Sebastian, who had almost reached them. The Countess came up beside Nicola, and Sebastian politely bowed and spoke to her first. He turned to Alexandra and Nicola, greeting Nicola almost perfunctorily.

“Miss Ward.” His gray eyes looked questioningly into Alexandra’s. “I trust you are well.”

“I am fine, thank you, my lord.” Alexandra hoped he did not see that her color was overly high or that her breathing came too quickly. Just the intent searching of his eyes was enough to turn her loins into hot wax.

“Come join us,” the Countess said to Sebastian, her eyes twinkling. “If you are not otherwise engaged, that is.”

“No.” He glanced at her and allowed a rueful smile. “I am quite free.”

“Excellent.” The Countess smiled beatifically, and Thorpe walked with them to the Countess’s box. It was, Alexandra saw, the door beside which Thorpe had been leaning when she saw him. Had he been waiting for them?

She told herself to stop thinking this way. Thorpe had made it abundantly clear that he was not interested in her—and now that he knew the truth about her mother, she had no doubt that he would shun her even more.

The Countess’s box was luxuriously done in red velvet, with dainty cushioned chairs and red velvet curtains tied back to reveal the stage and the rest of the opera house. It was readily apparent to Alexandra that the majority of the people attending had come not to view the opera, but to see and be seen. Most of the occupants of the boxes were engaged in looking about the theater, lorgnettes raised to their eyes.

Nicola, on one side of her, busied herself pointing out people to Alexandra and supplying her with brief, often pungently funny, stories about each one. Alexandra listened with only partial attention. Most of her awareness was focused on Sebastian, who sat on the other side of her. He was dressed impeccably in black evening clothes, a snow-white fall of white at his throat. A single discreet ruby winked in the cuff of each sleeve. Alexandra stole a sideways glance at him. They had barely spoken to each other, yet it was he who occupied her thoughts—although she could scarcely call them thoughts, Alexandra told herself. What Thorpe seemed to occupy, quite successfully, was every nerve ending in her body. She was intensely aware of his bulk beside her, of his long fingers brushed with black hairs that rested casually on his legs. She could not keep from remembering the touch of those fingers on her skin, the pressure of his warm body against hers. Her brain might tell her to forget about him, but her senses refused to listen.

“You see now, Sebastian, that I was right,” the Countess said, interrupting Alexandra’s thoughts. “Alexandra must be my granddaughter. It is clear to me that Mrs. Ward knows the truth about her birth, and that is the reason someone tried to harm her.”

“We don’t know that, my lady,” Alexandra reminded her softly. “It could have been a fluke, a coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidence,” the Countess stated flatly. “There is always a reason for what happens. The world moves according to a purpose, even though we may not always know what it is.” She smiled at Alexandra. “Thank heaven you were not harmed. I was very frightened when Ursula told me that she had heard you had vanished. It was such a relief when Thorpe let me know that you were safe and sound at home.”

“Thank you.”

“I have been thinking,” the Countess went on. “You are not out of danger; nor is Mrs. Ward. This person could come back to finish the job. I am afraid that Mrs. Ward is not safe until she awakens and tells us what happened in Paris twenty-two years ago. So I have come up with a plan. We shall all go to the Dower House—my home on the Exmoor estate. Your aunt, Mrs. Ward, all of us. We shall be perfectly safe there. Everyone knows us, and any stranger who came to harm you would stand out. All the villagers and tenants would help look out for us. We shall take several of my strongest footmen, and I shall make you, Sebastian, come with us, too, for protection.”

Sebastian sketched her a bow. “At your service, my lady.”

The Countess smiled. “There. It will be ever so much safer.”

“Thank you,” Alexandra told her, “but that really is quite unnecessary. We will be all right. I don’t think it would be good for Mother to be moved, the condition she is in. Besides, I don’t believe in running. I prefer to stand and fight.”

The Countess frowned worriedly. “But, my dear…the danger! It’s all very well to be brave, but three women alone…”

Alexandra grinned. “I think you will find that my aunt and I are well able to take care of ourselves. We were not prepared before—we weren’t expecting attack. But now that we know, we shall be on guard. We have armed ourselves.”

“Armed yourselves!” Penelope exclaimed in astonishment.

“Why, yes. We have guns and know how to use them. I don’t think anyone will get past us now.”

“You’re not serious!” This was from the Countess, her blue eyes rounded. “You and your aunt have guns?”

Alexandra nodded. “I have one with me right now.” She reached into her reticule and pulled out a small pistol. “I have a large pistol at home on the table beside my bed. Unfortunately, I didn’t bring the rifle from America. I never thought that I might need it.”