The fingers stilled. “Why?”
“It was an accident,” she said, her voice quavering. “Mostly an accident.”
“He had several mistresses, as I recall,” Lucien said in a quiet, low voice, and shifted his fingers to her wrist, where he began unfastening her glove.
She kept her eyes closed, hardly daring to breathe lest she disturb the odd, electric sensation within her. “Yes, I know. He wanted another one.”
“You refused.”
“I told him that was not the reason I took the position in his household.”
“I’ve heard that speech, I believe.” He gently tugged the left glove from her hand, and slowly circled her palm with the tip of one finger.
“Unlike you, he was unwilling to wait for a change of heart on my part.”
The finger paused, then resumed its trail. “You’ve had a change of heart?”
Alexandra opened her eyes. “My lord, I—”
“Close your eyes,” he ordered in the same soft voice. “Relax. I didn’t mean to change the subject.”
She felt nothing close to relaxed, but strangely enough, she did feel safe—and completely befuddled, which was no doubt his intention. “I was climbing the stairs, on my way back to Lady Welkins’s bedchamber with a book for her. He was waiting at the top of the stairs, and met me at the landing. He…pushed me against the railing.”
The fastenings of her right glove opened one by one. “Did he hurt you?”
“No. He kissed me. I was…I was actually quite surprised. Then he grabbed my skirt and tried to yank it over my head. His hands…” She stopped. Lucien would know what she couldn’t say. “I pushed him away, as hard as I could.”
Lucien slipped her remaining glove off. “So why did you say it was ‘mostly’ an accident?”
“I knew we were at the edge of the landing.”
“But you didn’t know he’d fall down half a flight of stairs and have an apoplexy.”
“No. I hoped he would fall down half a flight of stairs.”
“Naturally. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to get away from him.”
Alexandra closed her hands, trapping his fingers between her palms. “You aren’t surprised.”
“I would have been surprised if you’d done nothing. But you weren’t arrested then. Why do the rumors bother you now?”
Freeing his captured fingers, he lifted her hands to his lips. Featherlight kisses along the insides of her wrists made her breath catch and her pulse race. “I ran back downstairs to…see to him, but he died while I was kneeling there.”
“Good.” His voice sounded cold and matter-of-fact, and she had the distinct feeling that she never wanted to be on his bad side when he was truly angry.
Alexandra wanted to kiss him, touch him, bury herself in him, deep down where she’d be safe. “I ran back into the library and pretended to read until one of the footmen found him and sounded the alarm. Lady Welkins was very jealous and she knew Lord Welkins…had been pursuing me, and she wanted to have me arrested. The Bow Street runners would have taken me off to jail in chains then and there, except I told them my uncle was the Duke of Monmouth, and he would beverydispleased at the uproar.”
“And then no work for six months.”
She shook her head.
For a moment he was silent. “I have one more question, Alexandra.”
“Only one?”
“For now. Do my attentions displease you?” He tilted her chin up with his fingertips.
They should. But her reasons for accepting the position had had more to do with Lucien Balfour than Rose, though she hadn’t been able to articulate how, or why. Until now. “I like your attentions very much,” she said, looking into his eyes, “though I’m not quite sure why I’m receiving them.”
