Page 43 of A Stolen Heart

“It makes me ill to think that I kissed you, that I let you put your arms around me—”

“You did much more than that!” Thorpe retorted hotly, surprised at the knife that twisted through his gut at her words.

“Get out of my house,” Alexandra said, her voice level and cold, each word dropping like a stone.

“If you are innocent, tell me why you went to Exmoor House this evening. Tell me who that woman was!”

“I do not have to prove myself to you or anyone.” Alexandra refused to tell him for any reason. Bile rose in her. She was afraid that she might burst into tears at any moment. “Please leave my house, or I will have to call one of the footmen.”

“Gladly.” The word sounded ripped from him.

Thorpe strode out of the room. He stopped just outside the doorway and turned, saying coldly, “Stay away from the Countess. I’ll do whatever I have to to keep you from hurting her.”

He turned and left, closing the front door behind him with a quiet, final click. Alexandra remained staring at the empty doorway for a moment. Then she reached down and grabbed the closest thing to her—a book, it turned out—and threw it after him. It hit the side of the doorway with a satisfying crash and fell to the floor. Alexandra liked the sound of it so much that she followed it with a vase of roses, and after that a couple of cushions that decorated the couch, a small statue, a paperweight and a set of bookends.

How dare he? How dare he imply that she was a criminal? A swindler! An adventuress out to get money from a sad old woman! How could he have kissed her the way he had and then think such a thing of her?

Rage and hurt churned in her. She realized how foolish she had been, how she had allowed her passion to take control of her usually level head. “I hate him!”

“Child, what is going on?”

Alexandra looked up at the sound of her aunt’s voice. Aunt Hortense was standing in the hall outside the drawing room, looking in amazement at the variety of objects strewn over the floor, some intact, many broken.

Alexandra sighed. “A fit of temper. I’m sorry, Aunt. Did I disturb you?”

“Somewhat. I decided I should leave Rhea in Nan’s care and come down here to see about you.”

“I’m all right.”

“Really?”

Alexandra shrugged. “I have been a fool.”

“Mm. About the Englishman?”

Alexandra nodded. “I thought he—”

“Cared for you?” Aunt Hortense asked gently.

“Yes. But he had no real interest in me. He desired me, but he had no liking for me, no understanding of me.” She raised her eyes to her aunt’s with a sigh. “He accused me tonight of being an imposter.”

“An imposter? Whatever do you mean?”

“He said that I had pretended to be interested in his Indian collection in order to wangle a way to meet the Countess. He said that I was after her money.”

“Good Lord.” Aunt Hortense goggled at the thought. “Whatever made him think that?”

“He saw me follow Mother to Exmoor House. Apparently that is where the Countess used to live with her family. He saw me with Mother outside the house, and he assumed that I was bribing a servant to tell me all sorts of things I could use to convince the Countess that I am her granddaughter.”

“Why didn’t you tell him that it was Rhea?”

Alexandra cast her a look. “And have to explain what Mother was doing there? What could I say? Should I have had him meet Mother and realize that she is…” Alexandra sighed. “I didn’t want him to think that of Mother. I didn’t want to see the way he would look at her…at me. And then—when I realized what he thought of me—there was nothing on earth that would have convinced me to tell him what I was doing there. He is nothing to me, and there is no reason I should tell him anything.”

“Of course not, dear.”

“Don’t look at me in that sympathetic way. Perhaps my heart has been bruised a little, but I’ll get over it quickly enough.” Unexpected tears pricked her eyelids, but Alexandra blinked them away. “I think that I will settle my business here as quickly as possible. And then we should go back to Massachusetts. Let Thorpe have his precious Countess to himself. I have no interest in the woman.”

Alexandra sighed, then went on. “That’s not true. I like the Countess. She seemed to me to be someone I would enjoy knowing. I had wanted to go back to her and tell her about what you and I talked about this afternoon, only now he’s spoiled it. I can’t even talk to her without his claiming I’m shamming her.”