Unable to process the information and certain he must be wrong, his body considered the slighter one forced so tightly against him and he became rivetingly aware of the soft press of small breasts, of skin that somehow did not smell musky and masculine, but subtly different in ways he could not articulate but felt to his very core.
Aubrey’s mind reeled as he reevaluated every word, every gesture, every interaction with Alfie… and with Alice. He remembered then, slight gestures, echoes, the way she had looked up at him, her hand upon his arm, the way Alfie had repeated the movement and he had known then, known somewhere inside him yet had not been able to see it.
Oh, good God.
Alfie was Alice.
Alice wasAlfie.
Aubrey was going to have a heart attack.
Alfie, or Alice, or whoever the hell she was, still completely oblivious to Aubrey’s position teetering on the edge of a nervous collapse, laughed harder.
The sensation, now that he knew this was Alice—Alice—pressed so intimately against him, was alarming, invigorating, and so confusing Aubrey couldn’t breathe. Her body was lithe, delicate and slender, and yet so strong. The way she had vaulted that bloody wall had been impressive enough when he’d thought her an agile lad, now his mind boggled.
“Howard, where the devil did I leave that book?”
“Book, sir?”
“Yes, The Lives of the Poets, Samuel Johnson. I could have sworn—”
“Ah, yes. You left it in the orangery, sir, and I was afraid it might get damp. I had it sent to your room.”
“Damn it! Did I? Shockingly ramshackle of me. I thank you, Howard. Good night.”
“Good night, sir.”
Aubrey did not breathe until the door had closed and the sound of footsteps was no longer audible. By this time, Alice was nigh on hysterical.
“P-Pillock!”she choked out, and then gasped, wheezing with the effort of trying to keep quiet.
Aubrey watched her, an odd sensation growing in his chest. There were so many reactions to her deception, he did not know which one to enact first. He could strangle her with his bare hands—that had been tempting enough before now, but in this moment, it was close to irresistible. Fury at how she had used him, lied to him again and again, made his chest tight, his fists clench. Perhaps he should demand an explanation and rail at her until he’d vented these churning feelings. He gritted his teeth, determined to be furious, but there she was, mirth glittering in those grey eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks. She was like nowoman he had ever known in his entire life: bold and brave and utterly, ruthlessly reckless. Christ, to think she had survived the workhouse, the streets of London, and become one of the most sought-after cracksmen in town. It was incredible, horrifying, and yet unbelievably impressive. She was a survivor and worthy of admiration.
Dammit, he adored her.
Her laughter subsided as she caught him gazing at her. Something in the quality of his stare must have alerted her to the fact that some earthshattering shift had occurred, and she narrowed her eyes, wary now.
Clearing her throat, she straightened, and Aubrey could not take his eyes from her, trying to reconcile Alfie and Alice as one person.
“Aubrey?”
Aubrey didn’t answer, contemplating a move somewhere between murder and seduction.
“I was only teasing,” she offered, and he heard it now, the way it was still her voice, just pitched a degree lower. There was a smile in her voice, and a look in her eyes.Oh,the way she looked at him, the same way Alice did, with that simmering attraction that she tried so hard to keep hidden.
How had he not noticed? How had he never realised the two of them were one and the same? Lord, he felt like an idiot, yet she had fooled the entire town, not just him! That, at least, made him feel a little better. Then he remembered Della had a tendre for Alfie and his head reeled again.
“Whatever is the matter?” she demanded as Aubrey made a sudden decision. He knew exactly what he was going to do. He raised his hand, touching her cheek, a barely there caress ashe watched her face closely. Her breath caught, her eyes wide and dark with mingled shock and desire before the expression shuttered, her decision to pretend it had not happened obvious. “We’ve not got time for standing around gawking, we—”
The words were muffled, replaced by a squeak of alarm as Aubrey leaned down and kissed her. It was brief but intense, hard and demanding, and he made no apology for his rough treatment. He let her go just as swiftly, staring down at her, daring her to make a sarcastic comment, to pretend she was Alfie and act as though he still believed it.
There was a taut silence that seemed to vibrate through Aubrey it was so loud. The kiss seemed a living thing still, the taste of her on his lips, the feel of her body against his. The desperate need to do it again warred with his desire to shake her until her teeth rattled.
She stared at him, bewildered, so shocked her mouth fell open.
“You know.”
“I know,” he agreed darkly.“Alice.”
