Page 69 of A Stolen Heart

“Well, I could hardly miss it, could I?” Alexandra said. “I should love to accompany you.”

“Good. Then it’s settled.”

They made a few arrangements for that evening, and Nicola and Penelope took their leave. Aunt Hortense rose from her chair.

“Well,” she said, “they seem like nice girls.”

“Yes,” Alexandra agreed absently. “I’m glad you like them.”

“Odd to think that Penelope might be your cousin.”

Alexandra turned toward her aunt, startled by her words. “Why, yes, I suppose you’re right. I hadn’t thought of it. But if the Countess is correct…” Alexandra’s voice trailed off. “Oh, Aunt Hortense! I feel so strange. I scarcely know who I am any longer! All my life I have been so sure of myself, so confident in the knowledge that I was a Ward, that you were my family. Now all that may be false.”

“But it hasn’t changed the essentials,” Aunt Hortense pointed out firmly. “Whether your last name is Ward or Exmoor—”

“Montford,” Alexandra explained. “I think that Exmoor is a title.”

“Whatever it is.” Aunt Hortense waved that aside. “You are still you. Exactly the same person. With the same strengths and weaknesses, the same beliefs.”

“I know, Auntie, but still…I feel so unsettled. I wish I could learn the truth, one way or the other.”

“Hopefully you will, dear. If Rhea comes to, she could clear it all up.”

Alexandra did not respond. She had little faith in Rhea being able to tell them anything.

THE COUNTESS’S CARRIAGE WAS a large, old-fashioned, elegant affair, a golden coat of arms painted on its gleaming black side. Lord Buckminster, who was riding a horse beside the carriage, dismounted, tossed his reins to a liveried groom and went to hand Alexandra into the carriage.

“Miss Ward,” he said, grinning jovially. “Jolly good to see you again. I must say, you look a picture tonight.”

Alexandra had taken some care with her looks, choosing a deep blue gown that she thought offset her coloring well and exposing as much of her white bosom as would be considered proper in polite society. Her hair was upswept in a mass of curls, pinned here and there with small white rosebuds. One long curl fell carelessly over her shoulder and trailed onto the creamy expanse of her chest, brushing against the top of her breast when she moved. Whatever Lord Thorpe might feel for her, she was determined that there be some desire intermingled with it.

Willa Everhart had arrived at their house an hour ago and, despite her constant flow of chatter, seemed to have Rhea’s sickroom well in hand. Alexandra had left Willa sitting with her mother and Aunt Hortense in her room, ready to help should any crisis arise. So Alexandra was able to leave the house without worry and climb into the Countess’s carriage.

The Countess leaned forward to take Alexandra’s hand and patted the seat next to her, indicating that Alexandra should sit beside her. The Countess seemed in good spirits, her color high and her blue eyes shining. Her gleaming white hair contrasted elegantly with her gown of deep purple satin accented by black lace. Penelope, as usual, looked faintly dowdy in a white dress that was overly fussy. Lady Ursula—for Alexandra had no doubt that it was Penelope’s mother who dictated her clothes—dressed the young woman in a girlish way that was entirely unsuitable for Penelope’s looks, Alexandra thought. White with ruffles and pink bows might do for a cotton-candy sort of miss, but ruffles and bows looked silly on Penelope, and the white color merely washed out her already pale skin.

Nicola sat beside Penelope, looking, as she always did, both beautiful and elegant, with her blond hair and dark blue eyes. She was dressed in a deceptively simple sea-green gown that Alexandra could see at a glance must have come from one of the best modistes. She was a contrast of sophistication and beauty to Penelope, and Alexandra wondered why some of her elegant style had never rubbed off on Penelope.

They drove to the opera, making social chitchat along the way. None of the women referred to the recent trouble Alexandra had gone through, for which she was grateful. It would be grand, she thought, to forget all about it for a while.

Inside the opera house, they made their way toward the Countess’s luxurious box. It was something like a royal procession, Alexandra thought, with the Countess nodding politely to acquaintances, giving some favored person a little wave or even, as she did with one dumpy, middle-aged woman, pausing to press her hand and murmur a pleasant greeting. Alexandra watched the older woman’s tall, poised figure in admiration. The Countess, she thought, was exactly what a real lady should be.

They stopped along the way, and Nicola touched a finger to Alexandra’s arm and leaned closer to murmur, “There is Lady Pencross. In the green, over by the potted plant.”

Alexandra looked quickly in the direction of Nicola’s gaze. It was, indeed, the small beauty who had approached Alexandra at the ball. She was smiling at the man standing in front of her, her lips curved in a subtle, mysterious way that hinted at delightful secrets. Alexandra felt a thrust of pure, bitter jealousy. This, then, was the one woman whom Sebastian had loved!

Lady Pencross’s gaze slid to Alexandra and Nicola. She nodded faintly to Nicola, then gave Alexandra a second, measuring look. No expression marred her lovely features until she turned back to the gentleman in front of her.

“A completely vain woman,’ Nicola said contemptuously. “She looks much younger than she is, I have to admit. They say it’s because she rarely smiles or frowns. Emotions are too wrinkle-inducing, you see.”

Alexandra smiled. “I take it you don’t like the woman.”

Nicola curled up one corner of her mouth. “Love is so rare. I cannot abide someone who could throw it away as she did.”

A shadow touched Nicola’s eyes, turning them a midnight-blue, then was gone. “Most women would give anything to have a man love them the way it is said that Sebastian did. And he is a good man, for all his determinedly misanthropic ways. I believe that he is cynical because he is a disillusioned romantic. That romantic nature will come out again.” She cast a sideways glance at Alexandra, a glance in which there was more than a little curiosity.

It was then that Alexandra saw Sebastian. He was standing some distance down the wide corridor, leaning negligently against the wall. His eyes had fallen on the Countess, and he was looking around searchingly. He saw Alexandra, and he straightened, levering himself away from the wall.

Alexandra stopped, her eyes locking with his. Heat spread through her as suddenly she recalled the feeling of his hard body against hers the other night, the insistent pulse of his desire. He began to walk toward her.