“Shall we walk back together?” he then asked.
She tilted her head as if considering the pros and cons, then nodded—after all, what would he think of her if she said she didn’t want his company on a mere walk? “Yes, I’m quite ready to get myself to bed.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “And with last night’s activities in mind, I trust you must be feeling much the same way.”
He grinned at that. “I am exhausted.”
CHAPTER SIX
Alexandra stood next to her brother and Michael, regarding the building in front of them. It was so much better than what she’d expected. Then again, they were employed by The Foreign Office, and they were all members of the ton, so they couldn’t very well be told to live under a bridge, could they? At any rate, the handsome apartment building with matching towers at either end looked quite welcoming. “Shall we?” she asked, as she glanced toward the massive iron gates.
Stepping forward, Michael rang the bell and waited for the caretaker (a skinny man with very little to say) to let them into an open courtyard where a groom was ready to take their horses.
“I must say, I’ve yet to see an apartment building in London to rival this,” Ryan said as they wound their way up a large, spiraling staircase.
“I was just thinking that very same thing,” Alexandra told him. “This has enough lavishness to compete with the vestibule at Chesterfield House.”
“It’s one of the reasons Paris is as famous as it is. The architecture is simply dazzling,” Michael remarked as they reached the fifth floor landing. He gave a hard knock on the door.
A moment later, it opened, and they were greeted by a middle-aged woman who immediately introduced herself as Mrs. Bell. She was a short, round thing with a seemingly cheerful disposition, twinkling eyes, and dark grey hair. “I shall be your housekeeper, maid, and cook,” she announced in a fine Yorkshire accent. “No need for a large staff in a place this size.”
“An Englishwoman,” Ryan exclaimed in obvious relief before lowering his voice to a whisper. “Do you speak French?”
Mrs. Bell looked a bit put out by his question but quickly recovered. “Yes, Mr. Summersby, I don’t see how we’d manage if I didn’t. After all, we don’t want to attract attention to ourselves, do we now?”
“We certainly do not,” Michael agreed while he frowned at Ryan. “Is there a man about who might serve as a valet by any chance?” he then asked, his eyes searching the front entrance for any sign of a butler. “The Summersbys and I can easily share, but we will need for our clothes and boots to be tended to, and perhaps a little help in dressing on occasion.”
Mrs. Bell nodded. “Mr. Bell will be joining us shortly. He just stepped out to run a quick errand.” Her voice was more than a little apologetic.
“No need to trouble yourself over it,” Alexandra told her. “We will manage well enough until he returns. In the meantime, however, would you perhaps be kind enough to show us to our rooms?”
“Certainly, sir,” Mrs. Bell replied. “There are only three, so it’s just a matter of individual preference.”
Mrs. Bell turned toward a long corridor. “Here’s the first room,” she said as she opened a door on the right. “Mr. Bell and I are staying in the servant’s quarters just behind the kitchen, so you’ll have plenty of privacy at this end.”
Ryan popped his head inside the room for a quick look. “I will take this one,” he announced without bothering to look in Michael’s or Alexandra’s direction. “See you in a few minutes.” The door closed smoothly behind him.
Mrs. Bell then opened a door opposite Ryan’s. Michael and Alexandra stepped forward at the same time to take a look at it, his arm inadvertently brushing against her side.
An unfamiliar warmth floated through her, calming her senses and easing her mind—she felt momentarily lightheaded. Praying that he hadn’t noticed, she quickly stepped back and broke contact. This was ridiculous. She barely knew the man, yet he suddenly had the power to make her heart flutter and her brain lag desperately far behind.
“You can have this one,” Michael told her, then added, “If you would like it.”
Alexandra stepped inside. It was a very spacious room with a wide canopy bed dressed in light blue and silver tones. A chest of drawers stood next to it. There was a tall closet next to where they were standing by the door. A comfortable sitting area comprised of a sofa, a table, and two chairs had been set in one corner of the room, and at the wall opposite them, were a pair of French doors leading out onto a balcony.
“The balcony runs along the length of the building connecting all the rooms on this side,” Mrs. Bell said as if reading her thoughts.
“It will do nicely,” Alexandra muttered, not knowing what else to say to that. She knew that there was only one room left. It was next to hers and it would belong to Michael. The thought shook her more than she dared to admit.
Damn it all.
She would very likely drive herself mad because of this man. It was absolutely infuriating.
“Needless to say, the next room will be yours, Lord Trenton,” Mrs. Bell chirped. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ll leave you both to get settled. Supper will be ready in about one hour.” With that, she sauntered off in the direction of the kitchen, her whole body swaying from side to side as she went.
Michael hid a smile. “I will see you later, Summersby. Perhaps then we can begin discussing how best to go about finding your brother.”
I dare say, it won’t be the only thing we shall be discussing, she thought, but she merely nodded in approval as she closed the door behind her. Poor Michael—he was going to be in for one hell of a surprise when she showed up for dinner without her cloak and scarf.
She dropped her bag on the floor with a heavy thud, and then let out a slow sigh.
Never in her life had she felt so self-conscious and so uncertain of herself. In no more than two days, Michael Ashford had managed to unnerve her more than she was willing to acknowledge. This wasn’t like her at all. No man had ever held such power over her, and it vexed her beyond compare.
With a groan, she opened her bag and rummaged through it. Pulling out the only two dresses she owned, she carefully laid them out on the bed and stood back to take a good look at them. She’d packed them as an afterthought, hastily throwing them into her bag on her way out the door. Looking at them now, she couldn’t help but wince. Not only were they more wrinkled than an old, withered apple but they were also completely drab. In truth, they were more likely to attract a swarm of horseflies than a man as refined as Ashford.
She blinked.
Had she just been worrying about whether his lordship might find her attractive? Was she seriously concerned about what he might think of her if she showed up in one of these dresses?
Not that it was likely to matter. Once he found out that she’d hoodwinked him, the fact that she stood before him dressed like a potato would probably go completely unnoticed. All the same, she decided to stuff the dresses back in her bag and put on a clean shirt and a pair of brown breeches instead.
If Ashford was ever going to see her in a gown, better to wait until she had one that would be sure to astound him.
Michael and Ryan were sitting in the parlor enjoying a bottle of claret, when Alexandra walked in, as nonchalant as ever. Ryan was the first to glance in her direction, a look of panic creeping into his eyes. Noticing the change in his expression, Michael turned in his seat until his gaze landed on Alex.
It was a moment Alexandra would not soon forget.
At first, he looked confused, as if uncertain as to whom this woman might be, suddenly standing there in the middle of the room. It looked as if he might ask, but then his eyes narrowed, they locked onto hers, and then his whole demeanor changed. “What the hell is going on?” he asked as his eyes darted between the two siblings.
“I . . . well, you see . . .” Ryan seemed to grope about for the right words, if his perplexed expression was anything to go by. Eventually he just said, “This is my sister, Alexandra Summersby.”
Michael didn’t move a muscle. He did not look shocked or even the slightest bit surprised. It was the oddest thing, his face was like a mask, completely concealing whatever it was he might be thinking. “Please tell me that this is a nightmare from which I will soon awaken,” he finally managed to say.
“Unfortunately, it is not,” Alexandra told him quietly.
Michael’s eyes found hers again. “I should have known,” he said. “I have yet to meet a man with eyes like yours. Those are a woman’s eyes.”
And then he said nothing. He merely stared at her until she felt herself grow hot and uncomfortable. There was something in his eyes . . . a look that made her heart beat just a little bit faster. She wasn’t sure of what it was exactly, but it was similar to the way in which he’d looked at her the other night on the ship—that same disconcerting stare.
“I cannot believe that we’ve brought you along to France.” He seemed quite angry. “You had best give me a bloody good explanation for this,” he told them in a tight voice.
Alexandra shrugged her shoulders as she plopped down onto a chair and crossed her legs. “You would never have agreed to let me come if you had known.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed as he glared back at her. “So you decided to trick me instead—how very noble of you.”
“Don’t forget that this whole thing is Sir Percy’s doing,” Ryan reminded him. “If anyone is to blame, it is he and our father.”
“And I shall have a very pointed discussion with both of them upon my return,” Michael stated. He shook his head while he looked at Ryan. “I was a fool to trust you.”
Ryan looked momentarily pained by Michael’s harsh words, but he said nothing, no doubt deciding that he couldn’t deny them without making matters worse. Michael did have a point after all. They had both betrayed him.
Seeing the hurt expression upon her brother’s face, Alexandra decided to make an attempt at smoothing things over. “Look, I realize that what we did was underhanded, but it was really the only way for us to go about it. I am sorry, Ashford. We both are.”
He stared back at her. “You will get us all killed,” he muttered, rising to his feet and stalking angrily across to the side table to pour himself a drink.
She scoffed at that. “And why is that? Because I happen to be a woman?”
“Well, at least you are smart enough to realize that much,” he told her sarcastically.
Alexandra held his gaze, furious. Ryan looked as if he was trying to think of an excuse, any excuse, to leave. “You saw me fight in Rouen,” she said. “You thought me quite proficient then. ‘An impressive display of swordsmanship,’ you said—if I am not mistaken.”
“I thought you were a man,” he shot back.
“So now that you know I am not, but that I am a woman instead, my swordsmanship is suddenly less impressive? Is that it?”
“You are missing the point entirely, Lady Alexandra.”