“Badger?”
“Please, Sutton.” She clutched athis arm. “I cannot speak about this now. I need to sit. Myhead. I need my tea.”
Sutton shot her a curious look, but saidnothing.
Alexandra inhaled deeply of the cinnamonscent that swirled around him. She felt some of the tension ease from herbody at his closeness. How she wished to wrap her arms around his body,to bury herself and her misery within him. Did he feel anything for herexcept a sense of duty?
Not daring to break the spell hispresence wove around her, she desperately tried to ignore the rising panicwithin her breast. Fifteen minutes with Sutton was all she would everhave.
TWENTY
A quarter of an hour. That was allthe time given Alexandra before she must put herself back in that monster’shands. She looked down at the floor, contemplating her fate, wishing theache in her head did not match the one in her heart. The gray silk of herskirts brushed against Sutton’s long legs as he walked her down thehall. Warmth from the large body next to her seemed to waftunderneath the gown, comforting her. Calming her. She was safe, for themoment. Mr. Runyon’s words shouted inside her head. The vile words,threatening all she held dear if she did not return to him. The thoughtof that man touching her, caused her to stumble.
Sutton caught her arm in a firmgrip. Still, he said nothing.
A lump caught in her throat. Suttonrescued her, but not out of affection. He saw her as a responsibility,where once he desired her. Alexandra glanced from underneath her lashesto look at his dark profile. The dark locks of his hair fell forward across hischeekbones, the ends curling around the edges of his collar. The smell ofcinnamon, exotic and sensual, buffeted around her. The need Alexandrafelt for this man, this intense yearning, was beyond her comprehension.
She looked back down at the floor,desolate. Sutton was lost to her. Her association with Mr. Runyon sufficientlysnuffed out any emotion Sutton may have once felt for her. Mr.Runyon. Her betrothed. The hand clutching Sutton’s sleeve shookwith emotion.
Harry stood guard outside a paneleddoor. The young footman greeted Sutton before glancing curiously atAlexandra. He discreetly turned his eyes from her disheveled state andtapped at the door with his knuckles before giving Sutton entry.
Sutton pushed her forward with a gentlehand.
Had Alexandra been in a different frameof mind she would have marveled over the lovely little parlor. The walls,painted a light cream, were stenciled with flowers, bees, dragonflies, andother woodland creatures. Soothing and tranquil, the parlor’s atmospherewas a balm to her jarred nerves. She desperately wished for a pot of herspecial tea.
Miranda and the Dowager sat on agreen velvet couch embroidered with butterflies. Their heads were benttogether. Surprised by her appearance in the parlor, and on Sutton’s arm,they looked first at Sutton, then at Alexandra. Mirandaappeared more than surprised. A guilty look crossed her lovely featuresfor a split second. Alexandra’s mind played tricks on her, for what didMiranda have to feel guilty about?
“Alexandra? Whatever are you doinghere?” Miranda’s eyes widened as she took in Alexandra’s agitated state.
The Dowager, her surprise now undercontrol, merely lifted a brow.
“I tore my gown.” Alexandra mutteredstupidly. “I tripped. Lord Reynolds happened upon me and offered toescort me here, Lady Reynolds, in the hopes a maid could be found to repair thedamage.” The words came out in a rush. Alexandra felt hercheeks flame as the lie rolled off her tongue.
The Dowager turned her gaze on Sutton.
“Yes, my grandson seems to ever behappeningupon you, Miss Dunforth.” Her tone was crisp. “I find itfascinating.” She cleared her throat. “Why has your betrothedallowed you to roam without escort? Perhaps Miss Dunforth, you have had achange of heart?”
The Dowager stared her down untilAlexandra wisely looked away.
“I…I could not remember where the roomset aside for the female guests was located so -“
The Dowager lifted a gloved hand,effectively halting Alexandra’s pathetic explanation and gave a smallsnort. Her emerald green gaze pierced Alexandra.
“I can see you need a refreshment.Tearing one’s gown, accidently, can be very traumatic, especially since yourbetrothal shall be announced shortly. I see the thought of becoming betrothed,in a torn gown, has caused you to weep.” The Dowager gestured to Alexandra’stear-stained cheeks. She patted a spot on the couch next to her.“The Madeira is excellent.”
Trembling and trying to maintain whatcomposure she had left, Alexandra gingerly perched on the edge of the sofa.
The Dowager handed Alexandra a glass filledwith a dark, ruby-colored liquid. “Drink up. It shall restoreyou.” The elderly woman watched as Alexandra took several sips of thewine.
Alexandra closed her eyes in pleasure,reveling in the warmth the wine spilled through her veins. She did notwish to imagine what awaited her after she left the safety of the Dowager’sparlor. Responsibility warred with self-preservation. Her mindreeled in panic. Her hand shook as she pressed the wine to her lipsagain.
“Sutton, have you congratulated MissDunforth on her impending nuptials?”
Alexandra choked. The wine sloshedin her glass. The Dowager seemed determined to work Alexandra’s fate intoevery sentence.
Sutton gave his grandmother an appraisinglook and spoke quietly. “What are you about,Rainha?”
“I’ll not tolerate such tone from you,Sutton!” The Dowager pursed her lips in disapproval. “I am stillyour elder and deserving of your respect. Miranda!”
