Freddie laughed shortly. “Really? Your chaperone? It seems to me that your family are the ones who are touched, Alex. They’re practically feeding you to the lion.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Freddie. Blackmoor has no interest in me other than pseudobrotherly admiration.”
“Oh? I’ve two sisters myself, if you’ll remember, Alex. And I’ve never looked at one of them quite the way he’s looking at you right now.”
It took all of Alex’s strength not to look. “Which is how, precisely?”
“As though he doesn’t know if he wants to kiss you or kill you.”
She gasped, a blush coming to her cheeks. “Freddie!”
“Don’t shoot the messenger, sweet.”
“You’re sorely mistaken.”
“Perhaps.” The music came to a crescendo and they whirled to a halt, Freddie bowing low over her hand and lingering a touch longer than was entirely proper. He winked up at her and whispered, “Let’s find out, shall we?” Then, louder and with a rakish grin, “Shall we find the exit to the garden, my lady? I daresay we both could use some…air.”
“I don’t think that will be at all necessary, Stanhope.” The statement cut through the air like a knife, and Alex felt her stomach drop with the realization that Blackmoor was standing immediately behind her. She looked up at Freddie, wide-eyed, not quite knowing what to do.
He spoke with an air of bored dismissal. “Blackmoor, what a surprise. What is it you want?”
Blackmoor’s tone brooked no refusal, but was surprisingly hushed, only loud enough for the three of them to hear. “I want you to stay away from Lady Alexandra, Stanhope. She is most definitely not in need of a walk in the gardens with the likes of you.”
“I suppose you would be a better companion?” Freddie drawled. Alex could sense that this conversation was not going to end well but had a nagging suspicion that Freddie was quite enjoying himself.
“Most certainly. I’m practically her brother.” Freddie gave a short laugh at this, which made Blackmoor even more angry. “More importantly,” he continued, “I’m her escort this evening, and I say where she goes and who she goes with. And she is most certainly not going anywhere with you.”
“I beg your pardon?” Alex spoke, keeping her voice hushed, but pulling herself up to her full height and stepping between the two men. Her face flushed with indignation as she leveled Blackmoor with a dark look. “What did you just say?” He looked down at her mutely as she pressed on. “I’m almost certain that you implied…nay…dictated…that you have some kind of control over my behavior.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. “I think it best you say no more, my lord, lest you embarrass yourself further. Let me be clear. Last I was aware, you were neither my husband nor my father nor my king. Therefore, any control you may imagine you hold over me is just that—imaginary.” She continued, her anger making her voice waver, “If I want to take a walk in the gardens with Stanhope, or with anyone else for that matter, that is entirely my business. I will thank you to stay out of my affairs. Or need I remind you that it is not Stanhope whom I’ve had to be wary of on balconies recently?”
Her whispered question dropped between them, and Blackmoor’s face turned to stone. She saw fury flash before he offered her a short bow and turned away, only to be swallowed up almost immediately by the crush of people who remained unaware of the scene that had just occurred.
Fists clenched in fury, Alex watched him go.
“Well…” drawled Stanhope once he disappeared, “that was certainly more illuminating than I had expected it would be.”
“Oh, shut up, Freddie.”
“My lips are sealed, kitten…but may I make a small suggestion? Two, actually.”
“As if I could stop you?”
“First, I wouldn’t necessarily mention that part about balconies so freely and in such close company. It’s not exactly a flattering picture of Blackmoor…and could be damaging to your reputation.”
“Thank you, Freddie.” Her voice was laced with sarcasm. “I hadn’t realized that.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, sweet.” He pressed on. “Second…I’d imagine Blackmoor will be rather…put out…that you brought that up in front of me.”
“More than put out,” she replied. “Livid.”
“A choice word.”
“So what’s your second suggestion?”
“Tread lightly.”
“That’s it? That’s the best advice you can give me?”
“All right, tread very lightly.”
thirteen
Alex did walk in the gardens that evening—alone.
She snuck out not long after the debacle with Blackmoor, shaking with fury. She was furious with him for being so boorish, furious with herself for being so quick to rise, and furious with Freddie for seeming to understand everything that was happening—when she didn’t even know what was happening at any given moment.
She trudged up the garden path, feeling more miserable by the moment as she moved farther from the house.
She really shouldn’t have mentioned the balcony in front of Stanhope. Not that she was worried that he would tell anyone—despite Blackmoor’s opinion of him, Alex knew Freddie had a strong sense of right and it simply wouldn’t cross his mind to do or say anything that would impugn her honor.