The more she thought about him, the more she worried—not about the burglary, which was unfortunate, to be sure, but would be addressed by Bow Street and her father. No, she worried about the fact that they were so clearly growing apart; she worried that they seemed to have a markedly different relationship now from what they’d ever had before; and she worried that she’d ruined whatever relationship they might have by losing her temper in front of Freddie. She simply hadn’t been herself since they’d nearly kissed.

They had nearly kissed, hadn’t they?

Torturing herself, she replayed the scene on the Worthington House balcony over and over in her mind, each time wondering if she’d been mad to think that he was actually going to kiss her. Perhaps all this emotion was for naught. Perhaps she’d misread the situation—after all, it was not a situation in which she commonly found herself. Perhaps they hadn’t been close to kissing. Perhaps it was all in her head. She hadn’t really wanted to kiss him anyway.

Of course she had.

Yes, she had wanted the kiss. She still did. No, she wanted more than that. She wanted him to want her back. When on earth had that happened? She sighed, dismayed by the fact that the season had made most things in her life unpleasantly complicated.

The clock in the hallway chimed half past three, marking two hours since her father and Gavin had left the house to meet the runner. Alex looked up at the ceiling, wondering how much longer she would have to wait before her father came home with news.

She had just decided to send a footman over to Blackmoor House to check on the status of the evening when she heard the front door open and her father’s rich tenor. “It’s no trouble at all, Gavin. You know that. Your mother would have our heads if we didn’t offer you a roof tonight, of all nights. More important, the duchess wouldn’t stand for anything else. This I know.”

Alex stood and walked to the door of the library to find the duke and Blackmoor handing their topcoats and walking sticks to Harquist, who had stayed awake to await his master. “Thank you, Harquist. Please have a chamber made for Lord Blackmoor, and then that will be all, my good man. You have outdone yourself this evening,” the duke said warmly.

Blackmoor chimed in, “Indeed, Harquist. Thank you for all your help.”

“My lords, it was my pleasure,” spoke the old man. “Lord Blackmoor, the crimson chamber already awaits you. Her Grace expected you would join us this evening.” With a short bow he took his leave.

The duke offered Blackmoor a weary smile. “You see? You are quite welcome here tonight, my boy.” Turning, he noticed Alex. “Still awake, moppet?”

She nodded seriously. “Of course. Mother and I stayed awake to make certain that everything was set to right.” With a nod over her shoulder she corrected herself. “Well, Mother and I stayed downstairs to make certain that everything was set to right. Awake is another matter.”

As if on cue, the duchess emerged from the library to wrap Blackmoor in an enveloping hug as she said, “I know you’re an earl now, Gavin, but even earls need some mothering now and then.”

Gavin’s arms caught the duchess in a firm hold as he hugged her back and said, “Indeed, they do.”

The duchess pulled back and placed a kiss on each of Blackmoor’s cheeks. “You will stay with us tonight.” It was not a question.

“Yes, thank you, Your Grace.”

The duchess waved away the thanks. “The crimson room is already prepared. Alexandra will remind you of the way.”

Gavin nodded. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Nonsense. We shall see you at breakfast.” Turning to Alex, she spoke regally, “Alexandra, I should think Gavin has had enough excitement for one evening. Endeavor not to add to it.”

A blush rose high on Alex’s cheeks as she accepted her mother’s kiss. “Yes, Mother.”

“Good night.”

And, with that, the duke and duchess took their leave of Alex and Blackmoor, and climbed the stairs to their bedchambers.

Shaking herself out of her trance following her parents’ departure, Alex turned and re-entered the library to put out the candles and prepare a light to guide them to the upper floors of the house. The task kept her from thinking too seriously about the fact that she was, once again, alone with Blackmoor. She turned from her task, candle in hand, to find him leaning against the doorjamb, rubbing the back of his neck and watching her intently.

Alex spoke quickly, eager to fill the air. “My lord, is all well?”

He offered her a brief, tired smile. “As well as can be expected, I imagine. I confess, I am happy to be here tonight.”

“We are happy to host you. I imagine things will look better in the morning…or at least brighter.”

“One can certainly hope.”

“Neither my mother nor I would have stood for your being alone at Blackmoor House this evening.”

Gavin smiled wearily. “The two of you are an irresistible force. I shan’t put up a fight.”

In the pause that followed, Alex searched for a safe topic—one that would offset her nervousness about being alone with him. “Was much taken in the burglary?”

He shook his head quickly. “No. In fact, nothing that I could discern. It seems that the intruder was interrupted. I’m left with all my possessions, but quite a mess to clean up.”

“You mean the intruder was in the house when you arrived home?” The idea sent a chill down Alex’s spine.

“I imagine so.” Seeing the alarm on Alex’s face, Gavin stepped toward her. “But I did not see him. So all is well.”