by Alanna Lucas
Softening her tone, Elizabeth tried to comfort the other woman after her ordeal. “Everything is going to be alright. Tell us what happened.”
Miss Anjou’s eyes slowly shifted back to Elizabeth. With huge gulps of air, she began to relate her story. “I…I just wanted to dance and…” Her words were drowned out by her sobs. “He…he practically dragged me here wanting more.” She buried her face in her trembling hands. “Please don’t tell anyone. My…my reputation would be rui…” Her words trailed off into a heavy sob.
Reputation? Since when did Miss Anjou care about her reputation? It was already hanging by a thread.
Elizabeth helped Miss Anjou to feet. “Let’s get you home.”
Grant’s silence spoke volumes. She could sense he did not like or trust Miss Anjou, but she’d already been investigated earlier in the year and nothing had come of it.
Fifteen minutes later, Miss Anjou had been safely ensconced in her carriage without arousing attention and was returning to her residence. Elizabeth, on the other hand, felt all out of sorts. She didn’t even care that her hair was a mess or her dress had torn some time during the skirmish. She informed her mother she was ill and returning home. True to form, she received a harsh scold for being rude to her sister—even though Loretta had barely taken note of Elizabeth— before being dismissed.
The dark carriage rolled along the congested streets at a slow pace. It seemed as if all of London was out this evening. Elizabeth rested her head against the back cushion and closed her eyes. The night had been an utter disaster in more ways than one.
As her breath quieted and evened out, the sounds of night became more in tune: the carriage wheels rolling, horses neighing, and soft laughter from passersby. A soft creak followed by a cool breeze drifted into the dim space. She shot forward with a start. Alarm coursed through her body as she realized she wasn’t alone. She was about to take action when Grant’s silhouette came into focus.
“Grant? What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to make sure you were fine after this evening’s ordeal.”
She wanted to say, “Now that you’re here, everything is perfect,” but settled for a simple, “I’m fine.”
He brushed an errant strand of hair off her cheek. “What are your plans tomorrow evening?”
“Is there an assignment?”
He sucked in a soft breath. “Just tell me where you’ll be.”
“Lady Carteron’s ball. Why?”
He did not answer her question, but opened the door and jumped out of the moving carriage, leaving her utterly bewildered.
Chapter Eight
Grant paced outside Simon’s room for several minutes, attempting to garner the courage to knock on the door and ask his friend for one stupid favor.
This was ridiculous. You’ve fought wars, taken down dangerous criminals and assassins, and worse. He ran his hand through his hair. Why couldn’t he do this?
Before he could ridicule himself further, the door opened wide.
“At what point were you going to knock? Or was it your plan to pace in front of my door all night?”
“I need a favor,” Grant blurted out.
Simon leaned against the door frame and raised his brow in question. “What sort of favor?”
“Will you just come downstairs?” It was more of a command than a question, as his request was far too embarrassing to say out loud.
He led the way down the stairs, hoping by the time they reached their destination he would have garnered the courage to ask the question.
“Being cryptic and secretive really does not become you, Grant.”
He attempted to ignore Simon’s jest and the unwelcome churning that rippled through his stomach.
By the time they reached the wide set of double doors, he had considered calling it off several times. You can do this. He pushed the doors open and trudged into the rarely used, practically empty drawing room and set the candelabrum down on one of the two tables
“Are you going to tell me why you’ve dragged me down here?”
“I didn’t drag you and…”
Simon approached and, putting a hand on Grant’s shoulder, said, “What’s wrong?” Simon knew him better than anyone, even himself at times.
Grant let out a long sigh. The soldier in him felt deflated. “Teach me to dance.” He braced himself for teasing and laughter, but Simon kept his usual jovial comments to himself.
“Would this have anything to do with Miss Atwell?”
He sucked in his breath. “I know I shouldn’t care, but…”
Simon’s dark brows creased together. “Why? Because she’s the daughter of a viscount and you think you’re beneath her? I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. If you love her, don’t let anything—title, society—anything, keep you from being with her. Love is a rare and precious gift, don’t ignore it.”
“When did you become a poet?”
“One of many hidden talents,” Simon responded with his usual sarcasm. “Let’s get this over with before I come to my senses.” His mocking lilt lightened the mood.
“This is without a doubt the most awkward and bizarre thing I have ever done.” Grant’s confession earned him a laugh from his friend.
“I would have to agree. Just remember this was your idea.”
“And I’m currently questioning my sanity,” Grant said.
“Think of it this way, I’m proving my friendship and loyalty.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” Grant shook his head. He still couldn’t believe Simon had agreed to this.
“Yes. I’m not going to do it all night, so pay attention.”
Grant didn’t know if he would even survive doing it once. It had taken him half the evening to work up the courage to ask for the favor in the first place. It was all just too awkward. This was what he got for being ill as an adolescent and never learning to dance as an adult. It would have been easier if he’d mustered his nerve in his youth and convinced one of the local girls to teach him. But you couldn’t go back in time and change things.
“Let’s begin. I’ll assume Miss Atwell’s role. Please don’t flirt with me though.” Grant narrowed his eyes at Simon’s jest, which he ignored and went on with the lesson. “You will raise your left hand, the lady will raise her right.”
Grant did as he was told, but was barely able to contain his laughter. Which earned him a scornful glare from Simon.
“Take her right hand with your left, and then place your right hand near her left shoulder blade. Lower, if you’re more daring,” Simon added with a sly look that Grant knew had landed his friend in trouble more than once.
“Of all the dances you could teach me, why the—”
“Waltz? It is the best way to win a lady’s affection, not to mention one I can teach you in one night. We’re still too far apart. You’ll want to bring her in closer. But there are some lines I’m not—”
“You do not need to say more. This is already uncomfortable as it is.” Grant was thankful no one else was around. Not that he had a reputation with the ladies, but this display would most likely ruin any hopes he had.
“Your left foot comes forward, your right foot slides diagonally forward to the right. Bring your left foot to your right foot. Step back with your right. Your left foot goes diagonally back and then your right foot slides back to the left.”
Grant watched his feet as Simon moved him through the steps several times.
“It does help if you look at up at the lady, or in this case me, instead of down at your feet,” Simon teased.
“I learn best by watching. Seems like we’re making a circle.”
“That’s a simplified way of putting it. It’s a good thing you’re a quick learner.” Simon resumed the lead position. “Let’s try it again, and then you may practice on your own.”
Grant sighed, not able to hide his embarrassment. “Thank you for doing this.”
“Yes, well…it’s a good thing I consider you to be li
ke a brother. But if you make me do this again, I may have to disown you.”
“Trust me, once is more than enough,” Grant confessed in between chuckles.
“Again, from the beginning.”
~~~
Grant felt like a soldier without any training, thrown onto the battlefield and expected to rise victoriously. He glanced about the room, admiring the ladies dressed in all their finery, the men at ease with their station in life. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Not him. This was not his world. His sphere was battlefields, spies, and hunting down assassins, not attending balls for enjoyment.
His body ached for the adrenaline rush he got when chasing leads. It was a life he enjoyed, but a nagging deep down tempted him to want more. He just didn’t know if he could give up one life to have another.
He had just about given up hope of finding Elizabeth in the crowd when her gentle laugh teased his ears. Standing at the edge of a group of ladies, she was engaged in conversation. Her soft blue gown shimmered in the candlelight, accentuating her womanly curves. Tendrils of rich golden brown hair caressed her cheek and the back of her neck.
It was now or never. Without further contemplation, he sucked in his breath and went to her side, ignoring the abundance of stares from the gossipmongers.
“May I have this dance?”
Elizabeth did not want to be at Amelia’s party. She would rather be tracking Mr. Ward, who’d inexplicability disappeared after Loretta’s ball, than endure this boredom.
Under normal conditions she would have made some excuse to stay at home, but after Grant’s mysterious appearance, peculiar questioning about her plans for this evening, and abrupt departure in the carriage last evening, she didn’t want to miss the chance to see him.
Holding true to form, her friend had invited only the upper echelons of society, including several eligible gentlemen who tried their best to gain her attention, but she simply was not interested in them. These functions were always the same. Elizabeth was tired of the gossip, the constant chatter, and having to obey every rule.
The orchestra took position, preparing for another set. She thought she would scream if she had to endure another dance with a man only interested in her bosom and large dowry. At six and twenty, why did she still have to tolerate such torture?
“May I have this dance?” The words whispered across her back, creating a trail of tingles that went straight to her toes.
“Grant,” she whispered as she turned around to face him. “I thought you didn’t know how to dance.”
“I don’t, not really.” He released a long heavy sigh. “Simon attempted to teach me to waltz last night.”
She could barely contain her laughter at the thought of Grant and Simon dancing together. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t laugh.” Her heart warmed. He’d done this for her.
“Yes…well, it’s a good thing you were not present. Your sides would probably still hurt from laughing so hard.” He held out his gloved hand waiting for her to accept.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spied her mother lurking, waiting to pounce and scold. Without hesitation she accepted Grant’s hand. The moment their gloved fingers touched, something magical happened. Light shone brightly in his eyes as he squeezed her fingers gently, sending another rush of tingles coursing through her body.
His gaze drifted over to where her mother was standing next to an urn, barely able to contain her scowl. “I don’t believe Lady Atwell approves of us dancing.”
“It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t approve of anything.” Her mother represented everything Elizabeth detested most about the ton.
The delicate melody of a waltz began to drift through the ballroom. Grant placed one hand lightly on the small of her back and with his other hand guided her through the steps. He seemed hesitant and unsure at first, stumbling once, but as the music progressed he gained confidence. She was amazed how quickly he had learned to dance.
“You’re doing beautifully, especially for your first time,” she praised.
“Simon will be rather disappointed to hear his efforts don’t count,” he said with a smile that revealed a single dimple on the left side of his cheek.
In that moment she was blissfully happy and fully alive. She didn’t want it to end, didn’t want Grant to leave, wanted to pretend nothing could ever come between them.
They danced in silence, never taking their eyes off each other. In a fleeting second, Elizabeth saw what she had been searching for her entire life—adventure, passion, warmth, and intelligence. Her heart soared on the gentle notes of the waltz.
When the music ended, Grant escorted her back to her mother and bade her farewell. Elizabeth’s heart sank as she watched him leave. Conscience told her this might be the first and last dance she would ever have with Captain Alexander. She was not going to allow that thought to ruin the evening.
Chapter Nine
The morning after her dance with Grant, Elizabeth was still soaring through the clouds. When Lewis informed her of Grant’s presence in the drawing room, her heart skipped a beat and she practically jumped for joy. She ran down the stairs, only stopping on the last step to regain her composure. She breathed in and out several times, but the giddy excitement coursing through her veins did not abate.
The moment she entered the drawing room all joy flew out the window. Worry lines framed the edges of Grant’s eyes. Something was wrong.
“What happened?”
“Lord Baxter was murdered last night.”
The news hit her like a slap to the face. How could this happen? Lord Fynes had taken the necessary precautions. “Where was the guard assigned to him?”
“Killed as well.”
“And Mr. Ward?”
“Still missing.” Grant stepped closer. “You were the last person to see him. Did he share anything out of the ordinary with you?”
She was still trying to comprehend and digest the information. “Only what we’ve already discussed.”
Frustration streaked across Grant’s face. Elizabeth suspected he didn’t want her to have any part of this, but she was not going to give up even if someone had been murdered. “What’s our next move?”
“We wait.”
“We wait? For what?” With each word, her voice was raised another octave.
“Lord Fynes asked that I stay near you and your family today.”
Suddenly everything she had worked so hard to achieve, the freedom she’d gained, was being taken away. She felt like she was being reduced to a prisoner in her own home.
“I can take care of myself…and my family,” she argued.
“I have no doubt you could.” Grant’s warm smile eased some of the angst she was feeling. “We have a bargain, remember? And part of that bargain is for me to keep you safe.” He took a step closer. “Let’s begin anew.” He bowed slightly and then raised his head. His clear blue eyes penetrated to her core. “Miss Atwell, it would give me great pleasure if you would allow me the privilege of spending the day in your presence, with no talk of murder or assassins.”
She attempted to hide a giggle behind her hand. “Captain Alexander, with an offer such as that, how can I refuse?”
Distant sounds of women laughing drifted in from down the hall, interrupting their interlude.
“My mother and a couple of my sisters are in residence this morning. Would you care for a stroll about the garden?”
“I would enjoy that immensely.”
Thankfully, they were able to sneak out of the drawing room and along the hall before any of her inquisitive relatives noticed them.
~~~
The garden was large, elegant, and nicely laid out. The pathways were welcoming and the abundance of fragrant roses refreshing. Grant had never indulged in such simple pleasures. He’d always been aware of his surroundings, had taken notice of those around him, but never stopped to enjoy. There was always a potential for danger lurking behind every shrub, every tree, every building, but for the first time since
he was a young boy, he was actually enjoying being part of the world.
They strolled along in silence. The garden around them was alive with activity. A thousand questions circled through his mind, and none had to do with strategy, their mission, or weapons. He was just a man walking through a garden with a beautiful, intelligent woman at his side. A woman he desperately wanted to kiss.
He’d promised not to discuss the sordid details of their work, but he was curious about other things.
Elizabeth clearly had the same thought. “Tell me about your parents.”
“I spoke to you about them.”
“Not really.” There was a hint of a challenge in her voice.
“What would you like to know?”
Pensively, she gazed out into the vibrant garden. Her words were soft. “Did they love each other?”
The question caught him off guard for a moment. Memories of his parents laughing, sneaking off together, and stealing kisses when they thought no one was looking, came to mind. He hadn’t thought about those happy memories for years.
“Yes, they did.” He glanced down at Elizabeth, and saw sadness filling her eyes. “Do yours?”
“I think they care for each other. I’m not sure my mother is capable of truly loving anyone. She certainly never expressed any deep emotion toward me, or any of us really.”
“That’s unfortunate. At least you have your father and your sisters.”
“You and Simon are close, aren’t you?”
“He’s like a brother to me. After my parents died, I thought I had nothing, but I still had Simon.”
She stopped and turned to face him, the spot between her brows crinkled. “It’s interesting.”
“What is?”
Curiosity filled her eyes. “Simon’s conquests are quite the talk of the ton, and yet there’s no gossip about you.”
“I’ve never felt the need to parade my latest conquest. Simon on the other hand enjoys the drama.”
“And what do you enjoy, Captain?” Right now, there was only one answer.
Heated silence lingered between them as her question hung in the air. Her heart danced with excitement as warmth flooded her entire body. She started to step closer when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow run across the lawn heading toward the Grecian temple.
