Lady Alexandra's Excellent Adventure: A Summersby Tale (8 page)

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

T
hree days went by without the slightest hint of where they might find William. They’d each scouted the parts of the city that were frequented the most by Napoleon’s men, but there was simply no sign of him anywhere. On top of that, the tension between Alexandra and Michael had stretched the air thin. She refused to so much as be in the same room as him, and whenever Ryan confronted her about it, she’d cross her arms and proceed to recite a long list of all the things that were wrong with him. It was steadily growing and currently affirmed that Michael was the most arrogant of all men, the most despicable, the vilest, a scourge on the aristocracy, a scraggy nick-ninny. He was also bracket-faced, a jackanapes, a numskull, and, most recent, too much of a Friday-faced twiddle-poop.

It was exasperating.

Michael, however, seemed to take it in stride. “The best I can do is to let her get it out of her system. She obviously resents me, so chasing after her is hardly likely to help.”

“She’s being unusually stubborn about this, even for her,” Ryan stated.

“I’ve wounded her pride. And in all fairness, I would be greatly annoyed too, if I were in her place. But she really
is
more vulnerable than you and I. I wish she would only realize that.”

“What do you plan to do?” Ryan asked.

“Wait. For now, that is all I
can
do.”

“Well, don’t wait too long before you make your peace with her—this place has practically become uninhabitable thanks to you two.”

It was true, Michael knew. Besides, he missed the way he’d bantered with Alexandra when he’d thought her to be Alex. Indeed, he’d liked the lad a great deal. Why shouldn’t he like the woman as well? If only she’d give him the chance to make it up to her. They could be friends, though anything more was out of the question, clearly. He valued his freedom, and to have a woman as boisterous as Alexandra as his wife . . . but heaven help him—he’d never find a moment of peace again. Still, she
was
unique, and that in itself was enough to make him want to fix this.

O
n the fourth day, Ryan was feeling a bit under the weather, or so he claimed. In truth, he’d simply had enough of Alexandra’s constant bickering and decided to stay in bed.

Michael on the other hand, had no intention of remaining indoors. It was a beautiful spring day, the sun was shining—no sense in remaining cooped up.

Grabbing his jacket, he headed out into the hallway, only to spot Alexandra, who was just now opening the front door. “Heading out?” Michael asked in an authoritative voice as if he expected her to tell him exactly where she was going.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” she replied as she turned toward him. She appeared to be doing her best to hide not only her annoyance but also the blush that was quickly creeping into her cheeks, turning her a delightful shade of pink. “Mind if I join you?”

Oh yes, this is precisely what I need
, he imagined her thinking as he studied the frown that presently creased her forehead.
Why won’t he leave me alone?

A valid question, he supposed, his eyes still fixed on Alexandra who seemed to be growing more and more distressed by the second. She was probably trying to decide how rude she could allow herself to be without feeling too guilty. Was the prospect of an afternoon spent in his company really so terrible then? He clenched his teeth in an attempt not to laugh, realizing that he really did find a rather unusual pleasure in tormenting her.

“If you must,” she finally replied in a resigned tone as she walked out of the door without waiting to see if he might follow.

He grinned and shook his head in open amusement. “Are you always this charming?”

“Oh no, not always,” she said while she hurried down the stairs, not bothering to hold the door open for him. He barely managed to dodge out of the way before it slammed back into place. “You get special treatment, my lord.”

“I see,” he muttered. “Then I cannot help but pity the man who might have angered you.”

“I’m sure that no such man exists for I am not at all prone to anger,” she quipped.

“I think you’re in denial,” he said as he ran after her. “Either that or you actually find pleasure in being contrary all the time.”

Good God the woman was walking fast. This was more like a sprint than a stroll.

“And you are free to think whatever you wish, my lord.”

“Might we not be friends then?” he asked, rushing to keep up with her while dodging a man who was coming toward them.

“Friends?
Ha! Friends do not make it their sole priority to belittle one another at every given opportunity. They do not consider themselves superior. So no, my lord, I am
not
your friend, and you are most assuredly
not
mine.”

“For someone who insists she’s not prone to anger, you certainly do sound rather agitated. Would it by any chance help if I apologized?”

Alexandra stopped walking so abruptly that Michael nearly crashed right into her. She turned to him with open astonishment, clearly not believing what she’d heard. Michael noticed that she was doing her best to hide a smile, but her efforts fell short just a fraction, in spite of the scowl she attempted to send him. “It might,” she told him haughtily, though her tone was clearly now one of amusement.

“Very well then,” he told her cautiously. “I’m sorry for the way I insulted you the other day—for suggesting that you are incapable of taking care of yourself, and that you’d pose a liability toward this mission. I spoke without thinking. After all, your display of swordsmanship in Rouen truly was quite impressive, more so now
because
you are a woman. And as loathe as I am to admit it, your skills at deception are quite remarkable as well. You had me completely fooled. So, it seems I have been too critical in my way of thinking. Please accept my humblest apologies for my gross miscalculation.”

Her crisp demeanor finally crumbled, and Alexandra served him a dazzling smile that almost made his heart stop, right then and there. “Nicely done, my lord,” she said, no doubt happy to have seen him grovel. What was it with women? “Now that is settled, you may accompany me.”

“I thought I was already accompanying you?” he remarked a little uncertainly.

“You most certainly were not, my lord,” she exclaimed with a mounting sense of humor. “You were imposing yourself on me, and in case you are not aware, there
is
a difference, you know.”

She really was a handful. A charming one in some ways, perhaps less so in others. Her attitude toward him certainly left a lot to be desired, but he was working on that. At least it seemed his words of regret had managed to placate her a little, even if he felt that he was equally deserving of an apology. He was willing to bet his entire fortune however, that the sun would rise in the West before that was likely to happen.

“Might I at least ask you where it is that you are going?”

She stopped then, turned to face him and offered him a stern look. “To find my brother,” she told him plainly. “If you will recall, that is our primary objective in coming here.” She turned away and recommenced walking.

After a moment’s shocked pause, Michael hurried after her. “It’s a large city, Lady Alexandra. Your brother could be anywhere.” When she failed to respond, he decided to try a different approach. “Have you ever been to Paris before?”

“No, never,” she admitted.

“Well, in that case there’s something that I really ought to show you,” he told her as he hailed a carriage.

“Whatever it is, it will have to wait,” she insisted. “William is my first priority, and I won’t—”

She wasn’t given the chance to complete her sentence before Michael had her by the arm and was practically shoving her inside the awaiting carriage.

She glared at him with unabashed contempt. “Are you always this gallant?” she asked, half-mockingly.

“Not at all, Lady Alexandra,” he told her with a wide smile. “You get special treatment.”

Without another word, she turned her face away from him and stared out of the window, and that was when Michael noticed . . . if he wasn’t mistaken, she was trying desperately not to laugh. Well, this was certainly unexpected. He leaned back against the opposite bench, a crooked smile playing upon his lips as he regarded her profile. In spite of everything, he’d somehow managed to break through her tough exterior and make her laugh. Loathe though he was to admit it, it filled his heart with warmth.

“O
h!” Alexandra exclaimed half an hour later as she looked out over the rooftops of the city below. “It’s so incredibly beautiful, Ashford.”

“I thought you might like it up here,” he murmured as he walked up beside her to share the view. “I came across this place on my last visit here, purely by chance. It’s a bit outside the city, so few people even come here, though I don’t see why that is. The view is really quite remarkable and the wine is excellent too. I’ve been told it’s made by a group of local nuns.”

Alexandra gave him a sidelong glance before brushing a few wisps of hair from her face with her fingers. “Hm . . . I wouldn’t mind a taste, if you’re up to it,” she said.

“Certainly, my lady, your wish is my command.”

“And what do you call this area, if I may ask? Surely a place this wonderful must have a name.” She shot him a smile that left him momentarily speechless. She truly was unbelievably stunning.

“Montmartre,” he replied, feeling quite flustered by his body’s helpless response to her. If only he could manage to slow his heartbeat to a more acceptable pace.

“Well, my lord, thank you for sharing it with me,” she said, looking back at the view one last time before turning to follow him. “I think I’d be very content if I had the freedom to sit and just look out over all those rooftops all day.”

Her response surprised him. He would have thought her the sort who might appreciate it for a while, but who would then surely tire of it for lack of excitement. It seemed as if there might be more to this woman than met the eye—a sentimental streak that she kept well hidden. It pleased him immensely to have discovered it.

C
HAPTER
N
INE

T
hey had lunch at a small restaurant where the wine was just as good as Michael had promised it would be. By the time they decided to make their way back to the apartment, it felt as if they’d known each other for years, thanks to all the stories they’d shared with each other. Michael could tell that Alexandra still held a grudge against him, but he was confident that with a little effort, it might soon be behind them.

Still, he didn’t want her to lose her edge. As exasperating as he’d found it in the beginning, he’d really taken a liking to their friendly banter and to his amazement, Alexandra had begun to show a side of herself that he never would have dreamed existed.

As he already knew, she was smart, witty, and extremely interesting to talk to. But she was also a very good listener, and this was something that Michael
truly
valued. Most women he’d known were so busy chatting about nonsensical issues of little importance, like who might be marrying who, which dress a certain lady might have worn to a particular ball, which children of their acquaintance were the best behaved, which were the worst behaved, and so forth. They had no interest in politics or in what might be happening outside of their own little confined universes.

Alexandra, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. She had no interest in any of the ridiculous topics that most ladies liked to talk about, but rather every interest in whatever they were discussing. Indeed, she was always completely focused on what he had to say.

As they walked along the River Seine later that afternoon, on their way back to the apartment, they talked about warfare and Alexandra told him about some of the military campaigns that her father had helped lead. She had a lot of in depth knowledge about the early years of the Peninsular War—the last war of her father’s career, the one that had injured his leg, and forced him into an early retirement.

From the tone of her voice, Michael sensed that she loved and respected her father greatly. She never mentioned her mother, however, and Michael didn’t feel comfortable enough to ask, though he was growing increasingly curious.

He knew that he was seeing Alexandra in an entirely different light than when they’d left the apartment in the morning. In fact, he suddenly realized with much surprise that he actually liked her. Not only that, but he couldn’t quite remember a more enjoyable time spent in anyone else’s company.

Perhaps, he ought to reevaluate his feelings and intentions toward her. Whatever the case, he certainly needed to think a few things over, because it was becoming increasingly clear that the woman who was presently smiling up at him had somehow, against all odds and to his complete consternation, managed to wheedle her way past his defenses.

A
fter dinner that evening, Alexandra, Ryan, and Michael sat together in the parlor, contemplating their lack of progress in finding William. “I had a thought,” Alexandra finally said, looking from one man to the other. “William has always said that he prefers to keep close company with his targets. Perhaps, he’s actually staying at the Tuileries Palace as Bonaparte’s personal guest.” It was a long shot of course, but one that seemed as good as any other at that point.

“You know, you’re probably right,” Ryan told her. “It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if he and Bonaparte are sharing childhood memories over a bottle of cognac as we speak.”

“Especially if they’ve come to some form of agreement,” Michael added.

Alexandra glared at him. The man didn’t seem to waste an opportunity to remind them that William might be a traitor. “Even if that is the case, I can assure you that William would only strike a deal with the French in order to help his country.”

“You seem very sure of yourself.”

“I’ve no reason to be anything else. Unlike you, I have known William my whole life. I know the sort of man he is.” She fixed her eyes on Michael’s. “I would trust him with my life, my lord.”

Michael strode across to the sideboard and refilled his glass. “And unlike you, Lady Alexandra, I am of an objective opinion.”

“No, you’re not,” Alexandra told him angrily. “You are determined to find William guilty, and I simply will not stand for it.”

“Alex,” Ryan cautioned her. “Ashford takes his job quite seriously, I assure you. He will not condemn William without proof. You have to admit that he has a valid point. We must not assume anything, Alex—doing so would not only be dangerous but indeed quite stupid.”

“Well, I see you two have come to quite an agreement,” Alexandra snapped. “How reassuring.”

Michael grinned.

“What the devil are you laughing at?” she fumed.

“Alex!” Ryan exclaimed, clearly aghast at his sister’s language and her lack of respect.

Alexandra ignored him while her eyes trailed after Michael.

“My dear woman,” Michael replied. “I was merely wondering what it might take to earn such loyalty from you. The way in which you defend your brother is indeed quite admirable.”

Alexandra could do nothing but gape at the man. Had he just paid her a compliment? This was not the retort she had expected. It almost seemed as if he understood her point of view. But that was of course impossible. Or was it?

As she sat there now, watching Michael, she felt something . . . quite unfamiliar—a slow warmth seeping through her. The feeling was so unsettling that she involuntarily shrugged her shoulders to rid herself of it, only to find that it persisted. Alarm bells began going off in her head. Was she actually beginning to
like
Lord Trenton? It was true that they’d shared an enjoyable day together, but she hadn’t had the time to put much thought into it before now. What if she was slowly beginning to grow fond of him? Where did that leave her? He was impossibly good looking as it was, even when she despised him. If she were to start
liking
him . . .

Fear stopped her from dwelling on that thought any longer.

“So?”

Startled, Alexandra saw that both Ryan and Michael were watching her, the latter with a rather amused expression upon his face as if he knew precisely what was troubling her. Heat flooded her from head to toe and her heart quickened as it always did when she noticed Michael studying her. “Forgive me, my mind was elsewhere,” she said.

“Well,” Michael told her. “While you were so preoccupied with your woolgathering, I was saying that I intend to make a social call at the Tuileries Palace tomorrow afternoon in the hopes that William will be there.”

“Are you completely mad?” Alexandra gasped, stunned that she’d been so lost in thought to have missed this piece of information. “What if he’s not there? Or, what if Ryan and I are entirely mistaken and William is indeed collaborating with the French? Though I hate to do so, I must consider that possibility in this instance. What if the true purpose of your visit is discovered? What will you do then? You’ll get yourself killed!”

Michael stared at her intensely. “I would think that might please you,” he said.

Unable to meet his gaze for once, Alexandra turned toward Ryan. “I merely think it unnecessary to take such a risk,” she said. “Do you not agree?”

Through the corner of her eye she could see that Michael was watching her quite closely.
What on earth must he be thinking?
she wondered. She silently cursed herself before directing another curse at him for good measure.

“I think it may be worth the risk,” Ryan remarked. “We haven’t come up with anything else so far and we must determine what is going on before Bonaparte decides to ride into battle, as he undoubtedly intends to do sooner or later.”

“Well, then I suppose the matter is settled,” Alexandra stated, crossing her arms in front of her. “If you don’t mind, I shall leave you two to work out the details of this harebrained scheme of yours, since I’m clearly not needed. I am off to bed.”

Without another glance in either man’s direction, she got up from her chair, hoping Michael wouldn’t notice the hint of concern in her voice. “Men!” she huffed as she strode out of the parlor and headed toward her bedroom.

A
lexandra paced about her room. What could she do? How could she stop the stubborn fool from endangering himself? There was nothing for it—she had to speak to him. She had to try to make him see reason. It was a mad scheme. Absolutely mad. Decision made, she went to the French doors . . . and paused. Maybe she was being too hasty. Maybe he’d come to his senses on his own. She went back to her pacing and pondering—her eyes constantly seeking out the doors. He’d think her insane if she sought him out now . . . on the balcony no less. It was a silly idea. She ought to forget all about it, she ought to . . . oh, dash it all!

Ten seconds later, she found herself knocking on his door, and then immediately wondered if it were too late to run back inside her own room and hide. Apparently, it was, for no sooner had she thought of doing so, than the door was yanked open, revealing a rather annoyed looking Michael. “What is it?” he asked her in a gruff tone that clearly marked his irritation.

“Not so happy to see me I take it?” she offered what she hoped to be her most dazzling smile, and for a moment he froze—or seemed to at least—and just stood there, staring at her in that same unsettling fashion she’d seen before.

And then the moment passed, and he said, “I’m tired, so please make it quick—whatever it is.”

And she would have, except that she was suddenly at a remarkable loss for words. So instead she just stood there, staring at Michael, searching for something, but with no idea of what. He seemed more tense than usual, and she couldn’t help but wonder why.

Something deep inside her sprang to life in that moment, with such force that it nearly knocked her off her feet. It struck her with sudden clarity, that she wanted his approval—not just professionally but as a woman. She wanted for him to find her just as enticing as any other young lady he might fancy, and it shook her to her core.

Heaven help her—she must be vainer than she’d ever imagined. It had never mattered to her what anyone thought of her, least of all any men. The interest in seeking approval from the opposite sex had simply not been there, particularly since she’d long since vowed that she would never marry. She didn’t fear becoming a spinster like all the other young ladies her age apparently did. She felt confident that retaining her independence would suit her rather nicely. And she had no interest in subjecting herself to the emotional turmoil her father had suffered upon her mother’s death. The whole tragedy had virtually torn their family apart. Their father had grown distant and introverted—not even protesting when Alexandra refused a season three years earlier. Her aunt had been outraged when she’d last visited and discovered how little care was being directed at the children, but she’d voiced a particular concern for Alexandra.

“A young lady should not be running rampant the way she does,” she’d told Bryce. Her father had merely shrugged his shoulders in response and asked, “What would you have me do, Virginia? I can barely take care of myself right now.”

Alexandra cringed just remembering his depressed tone, so clear that he’d lost all will to do anything. Penelope had died and so had Bryce’s strength to go on.

“Let me take her for a while,” Virginia had said as she’d cast a firm glance in Alexandra’s direction. Her aunt had clearly planned to turn her into her own pet project, and to Alexandra’s horror, her father had agreed. Not a week had passed however, before Alexandra was back home again, having stolen a horse and ridden haphazardly through the night, returning to Moorland at dawn.

Alex realized that something had changed inside her that very evening—Michael had told her that he admired her, and just like that, her eyes had been opened. In fact, just standing there in front of him now was turning her stomach inside out.

She’d been trying for five days to ignore how attractive she found him, but she no longer had the willpower. It was time to face reality. Michael Ashford was having a serious effect on her, and she still didn’t know what to make of it or what to do about it, though she was very eager to find out. “I want to discuss your plan for tomorrow, because I still think that walking into the lion’s den is complete lunacy.”

“Oh?” He studied her for a moment. “Do you have a better idea?”

“Let me go instead.”

Michael would have laughed had she not looked so serious. Deadly serious. What the devil was the matter with her? He thought he’d begun to understand who she was, only to discover that he wasn’t at all sure he was even
beginning
to figure her out. “I can’t let you do that,” he said simply.

“Why on earth not? I’ll be far more discreet and far more capable of wiggling my way out of danger. You on the other hand will be in constant peril the minute you step through the front door.”

“And this concerns you why exactly?” he couldn’t help but ask. He had a growing suspicion, but he needed to push her just a bit harder to see if he was right or not.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Because, if you’re found out, William will be in immediate danger. Think of all the information he might have gathered. They’ll skewer him for certain. On the other hand, if you are correct in your assumption that William is guilty, he will no doubt have you served up for Bonaparte on a silver platter. Who knows what the French might discover if they put you under torture. Don’t you see? You’ll be compromising everything if you fail.”