Alexandra (45 page)
Alexandra smiled. “I think not. I like it just the way it is.”
Apparently still mulling over the tale, Corinna reached for another of the chocolate puffs Alexandra had brought. “So Peggy offered to make that list in order to control who was on it?”
“Exactly,” Alexandra said. “There were others who knew Maude was alive, even if they didn’t know Peggy was her daughter.”
“And Tristan hadn’t done
any
of those things while sleepwalking,” Elizabeth said, her green eyes wide.
“Of course he hadn’t.” Alexandra scooted closer to her husband and leaned dreamily back against him. “I knew he hadn’t all along.”
“Have you sleepwalked since then?” Juliana asked him.
“Not once,” Tristan said.
“And I’m sure he won’t ever again,” Alexandra declared.
“I wouldn’t wager on that,” her husband disagreed wryly, tilting her face up and back for a quick upside-down kiss. “Something tells me this irredeemable chit is likely to cause more trouble sometime in the future.”
Everyone laughed. Except for Griffin. He was glad to see his sister happy, but that didn’t alleviate his misgivings.
Alexandra frowned at his clenched jaw. “What’s wrong with you?”
“You should have come home,” he gritted out. “When all that was happening, you should have come home.”
“That’s what Peggy wanted, but Hawkridge is my home now.” She exchanged a glance with Tristan, apparently realizing Griffin was as disappointed with his friend for not making her come home as he was with her for not doing so on her own. Extricating herself from Tristan’s embrace, she rose to her feet. “Let’s walk,” she said to Griffin, taking his arm to pull him up before he could protest.
“I could have lost you,” he said as they headed down the rise to the vineyard.
“Have you not figured out yet that you’re not going to lose any of us, Griffin? Not even after we’re all married and gone from Cainewood. You’re stuck worrying about us forever,” she said all too truthfully and cheerfully.
They walked for a few minutes, sharing a companionable silence that relieved his temper. When they reached the vineyard, they headed into the middle of it, toward where Rachael wandered in the distance.
“What’s wrong with
her
?” Alexandra asked.
“I don’t know. Would you care to ask her?”
“I’ll let you ask her.”
“Hmmph.”
She bent to touch a minuscule grape. “Your vines are bearing fruit!”
A ridiculous sense of pride washed over him. “Nothing worthy of wine yet, but it’s something to celebrate.”
“We’ll toast your success with Hawkridge’s wine in a few minutes.” She wandered the row, still heading toward Rachael. “Are they English sweet-water grapes?”
“They’re Rhenish.” A few months ago he wouldn’t have known the variety, but the vineyard truly felt like his now. “Since when do
you
know anything about grapes?”
“I have a vineyard now, too, you know. It’s my responsibility to learn everything about Hawkridge.”
His eldest sister always
had
been rather responsible. But she was different, Griffin thought. He couldn’t put his finger on how, but he knew the change was for the better.
“You should have come home,” he repeated doggedly, “but I must thank you for persevering. Because of you, Juliana and Corinna have fine prospects.”
“Thank you for allowing me to marry Tris,” she returned, then shot him a grin that was much more impish than the old Alexandra. “And for the excellent advice you gave me the night before my wedding.”
He felt his face heat and suspected he was as red as the blanket on the hill. “I think I shall talk to Rachael now,” he said and walked off.
Rachael turned as he approached, her cerulean eyes laced with distress. “Leave me alone,” she said miserably. “I came out here to be alone.”
“My sister sent me to talk to you.”
“Do you always listen to your sisters?”
“Only when I agree with what they say.” He stepped closer. “Tell me, Rachael. What’s wrong?”
“Oh, thunderation,” she said, then pressed herself into his shirtfront and sobbed.
He patted her awkwardly, feeling her warm tears soak through his shirt. Even miserable, she was stunning, and embracing her made him uncomfortably aware of that fact. He sent a murderous glance back toward Alexandra before patting Rachael some more. “Whatever it is,” he said soothingly—at least, he hoped he sounded soothing—“it cannot be that bad.”
“I’m not a Chase,” she whispered through a sob.
“What?” His hands froze on her slim back. “How can that be?”
“I found a letter.” She pulled away, swiping at her swollen, reddened eyes. She didn’t look quite as stunning now, Griffin told himself. “This morning, when I was clearing out the master suite for Noah’s homecoming. It was from my mother to my father. From before I was born.”
He dug a handkerchief out of his pocket, and she took it and blew her nose. Noisily and not prettily.
Much better, he thought. Aloud he said, “What was in the letter?”
“It said…it said she would always be grateful to him for wedding her even though she was a widow already with child. She prayed I would be a girl so he wouldn’t be stuck with another man’s son as his heir. She—”
“Did she say she loved him?” he interrupted pointedly.
She nodded. “But—”
“They were in love, Rachael. Anyone could see it just looking at the two of them. Don’t you ever doubt it.”
She shrugged, following that with a long, sorrowful sniff. “But he wasn’t my father. Whoever my real father was, he wasn’t a Chase.”
“Did the man who raised you ever, for one minute, treat you as anything but his daughter?”
“No.” The tears continued to flow as she shook her head. “But I’m not a Chase. I don’t know what I am if I’m not a Chase.”
“You’re Rachael,” he said. “Noah and Claire and Elizabeth are still your brother and sisters. You still live at Greystone. Nothing has changed. What does your surname matter? It will change when you marry, anyway.”
But her family name wouldn't change if she married
him
, another Chase. And he was aware, quite suddenly and uncomfortably, that the cousin standing before him wasn’t actually his cousin.
Thankfully, she hadn’t seemed to make that connection. “You’re right,” she said, straightening her shoulders and taking a big breath.
She didn’t look like she really believed him, but she looked like she
wanted
to believe him. And the shaky little smile she aimed at him had nothing to do with seduction and everything to do with family consoling each other.
“Thank you,” she added. “I don’t know when you became so reasonable, but I do appreciate your calm, considered approach.”
He could have had a hearty laugh at that one. He’d been anything but calm and considered since inheriting the marquessate. To tell the truth, he’d felt calmer on campaign with bullets whizzing around him.
Panicked
would describe his current state better.
He had two more sisters to marry off, an estate that came with entirely too much responsibility, and now a cousin who wasn’t his cousin.
And since she’d stopped crying, she was suddenly looking quite—what was the word Tristan had used?
Oh, yes.
Sultry.
“I am glad I could help,” he said stiffly.
“I think…” she said, licking her lips, “I think I’m ready to go back to the others.”
“Thank goodness,” he said under his breath.
“Hmm?”
“I’m thankful to God that you feel much better.”
She cocked her head at him, as though she might not believe him. But she followed him back down the row, and for that he was thankful, too. Mostly because she was behind him, which meant he didn’t have to watch her hips swaying down the aisle.
She’s your cousin, he reminded himself forcefully.
Your cousin.
Except she wasn’t.
It was a good thing she'd said she'd never marry him, because the last thing he wanted was a wife.
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Alexandra
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Alexandra
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Author's Note
Books by Lauren & Devon Royal
Regency Chase Family Tree
Contest
Excerpt from JULIANA
About the Authors
Acknowledgments
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