Entranced, Alexandra moved until her nosenearly touched the cage bars. She didn’t move.
Curious black button eyes peered at herfrom behind a frond.
Alexandra smiled.
The eyes disappeared. Two tiny brownhands clutched the frond. The frond shook.
“Hello, little man.” Alexandrawhispered.
A small face emerged. Covered withdark fur, the eyes outlined in black, the expression on the face was one ofinterest.
Alexandra forgot about leaving in herdesire to examine the monkey. She unrolled the pamphlet she stillclutched in her hand slowly, not wanting to frighten the animal.The pamphlet contained illustrations of various animals Lord Bishop hadcollected for the exhibition. She flipped several pages until she found theengraving she sought.
“There you are.” Alexandra gave herfriend a tiny triumphant smile. “You are a capuchin monkey.”
One small hand, the fingers tiny andblack, rose up and reached towards Alexandra.
Alexandra held her breath.
The animal chattered. The handretreated.
She thought back to the story of Jonas,Lord Reynolds monkey that smoked opium and wore a hat. That seemed alifetime ago. Pain lanced through her breast. The panic returned,along with fear and loneliness. She sucked in a breath. Alexandrararely cried, but in the last few weeks the urge to do so was with herdaily. If she burst into tears, only her new friend, the monkey wouldwitness her lack of composure.
“I am so sorry you are in a cage.”
The monkey’s head bobbed inagreement.
“If I could, I would set you free.But then, you would be alone in London, with no one to help you.” Shewiggled a gloved finger at the animal. “I know what that feels like. Iwould not wish that for you, my friend.” She put a hand to her mouth,trying to stem the despair erupting from her lips “I miss my home as well.” Hervoice broke.
The monkey blinked at her. A chirp ofsympathy came out of the animal’s mouth. Suddenly the monkey screechedloudly and disappeared into the foliage of the cage. Disappointed,Alexandra watched the monkey’s retreat, her heart aching. She was soimmersed in her anguish she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her.
“Alex.”
THIRTEEN
Sutton resolved to stay away from MissDunforth. Her association with Archie Runyon filled him with disbelief and anangry possessiveness. Jealousy. An emotion Sutton had never feltfor any woman before, and he shied from it. But then he saw her, walkingsmartly into the atrium of the Royal Exhibition, in the company of his sister.Again, the Badger surprised him with her appearance in the most unlikely place.Miranda neglected to inform him she was bringing MissDunforth today.
He waited before entering thelecture hall, intending to sneak in after Bishop began speaking. He wouldstand during the lecture and avoid Miss Dunforth. Then Alexandra hadburst through the heavy doors of the lecture hall, scurrying away like afrightened mouse chased by a housecat. He’d followed her. Hereasoned that he trailed her only to make sure Alexandra made it safely to theCambourne carriage. Not to accost her. Not to demand anexplanation of her relationship with Runyon, though God help him, he neededone.
He watched as she spoke to themonkey. The Badger’s voice, so lost and forlorn, undid Sutton. Thevery sight of her trim form, the overabundance of bosom and the curling mass ofhair, made every muscle in his body come alive. He longed for her.There simply wasn’t another way to describe this deep, intense yearning for thesmall, prickly woman before him.
Alex didn’t move or turn as he said hername. She looked straight ahead, as if frozen in place before thecage. Her voice quivered.
“Stalking innocent women again, LordReynolds?”
“Perhaps. Or badgers. I am partialto badgers.”
“Are we back to seeing me as an irritablerat again, Lord Reynolds?” Still, Alex refused to face him. Thepale blue gown she wore made her chestnut curls shine and the pale skin of herneck gleam like a slice of moonlight. Her outlandish hair struggledmightily to escape its confines. One shiny hairpin busily worked its wayloose as he watched. His gaze fell to her waist, running up her back tothe long string of satin covered buttons. Sutton had an unnaturalfascination for her back. He longed to see the naked flesh hidden behindthe satin.
Sutton’s fingers wandered to the line ofbuttons. He rotated each one, wiggling the button just so as he imaginedundressing her.
“Please leave me be, Lord Reynolds.I beg you. I have not the strength of will to fight you.” Sad anddespondent, her voice shook as she spoke.
He resolved to comfort her only.“Turn and look at me. Tell me what is wrong that has you weeping on theshoulder of a capuchin monkey.”
Her head shook in denial. The hairpinfell to the floor. A curl flowed down her back and fell on his fingerswhere they touched the buttons. His finger shook. He determined tojust hold her. To offer assistance.
She shivered under his touch, arching ashe twisted the buttons. “Why?” Her shoulders moved. The satinrippled underneath his hand. “Why do you care?”
