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  “Alexi…” he said, looking back to her again. Her stomach flopped as she broke the connection by ducking her chin and looking down at her lap.

  “Forgive me,” Charlotte cut in. “But we spent several hours gaining this interview with you. Perhaps you would be so kind as to save your questions for the carriage ride to the Parkhursts’ home.”

  “Of course,” he said as he rose. “Shall we?”

  Alexi rose too but her movement was slower, more cautious than Charlotte or Brightmore.

  She’d come here to glean information from this man—of which she’d gotten none—and now they were trotting off on an outing.

  As she watched him, she realized being with him didn’t make her feel as though she were about to clear trouble from her path, instead that she was about to wade further into the muck.

  Which made her wonder what might transpire at their next stop.

  Dillan stared at his little fairy as the carriage rolled down the cobblestoned streets.

  Oh, but she was delightful.

  He’d mostly been a cad during their interview, but honestly, he thought the countess had come to demand marriage on her friend’s behalf.

  Why the countess would have done that rather than her father, he couldn’t say. He blamed the hangover for muddling his thoughts.

  But knowing that she’d come to potentially mend the situation, he’d relaxed into the outing, and lounging across from Alexi left him free to asses her many attributes.

  A halo of thick blonde hair was piled atop her head. He wished he could remember how it had looked in the moonlight. He’d guess lovely if he’d called her a starlit nymph. How odd that her name actually was Starlight. What were the chances?

  And then there was her large blue eyes and the full bow of her mouth. Did women understand how appealing a combination that was?

  This one didn’t.

  She hadn’t a clue her effect on him. Innocent and eager to please, she’d been a lovely combination of sweet and intoxicating. She’d worked so hard to word every sentence with delicate kindness and then she’d gone and licked her lips…

  Not that she wasn’t afraid. While she’d remained very still, her hands were nervous. Clenching, pressing into her stomach.

  She had every right to be afraid. Her very future was at stake, and who’d want to be tied to a drunken rake like him?

  The question that he couldn’t quite sort was if her story was true.

  Had there been a second woman? Or had his little nymph been the one he’d been pleasuring and now she was attempting to cover her deeds?

  A rumble of desire sounded deep in his throat. He coughed to cover the noise. He’d like to see that hair undone. What sort of noises might she make?

  He shook his head, dispelling the thoughts. Who could blame her if she had been seeking a bit of fun and who could argue that while he made for an excellent little rendezvous, he’d be a deplorable husband?

  “Alexi?” he asked again. “Is it short for Alexandra?”

  “My mother is Russian.” She flattened her hands on her outer thighs. “In Russia, Alexei is a boy’s name meaning ‘defender.’ I’m not certain how she came upon the feminine version of Alexi.” She flexed her fingers in the folds. “I think she wished for her daughter to have a strong name, as though that might make me so.” He saw her wince, her chin dropping. Did she not consider herself strong?

  How many debutantes would have had the wherewithal to track him down this morning?

  Lady Westmoreland patted Alexi’s shoulder, her mouth drawing down. “You are strong, Alexi.”

  He thought so too. But Lady Westmoreland gave the impression of sympathy rather than conviction. Did people usually not think of Alexi as strong?

  Alexi gave a small shrug. “No matter. Let me ask, my lord, is there anything else you remember from last night?”

  His jaw flexed as he tried to search his muddled thoughts. The moments just before his conversation with Alexi in the garden were a grey haze. “I’m sorry, I’m trying.”

  She smiled at him, her features soft, as though she were looking at a kitten or a baby. He straightened. He rather liked the look on her. It tickled some need deep inside.

  “That’s all right,” she said in a soothing voice that made him wish to curl back up on the seat and lay his head in her lap. It pounded terribly. “I’m sure once we’re at the Parkhursts’ home, you’ll remember more.”

  He cocked his head to the side, studying the gentle curves of her face. “Are you always so kind?”

  “Yes,” Lady Westmoreland said, this time sounding confident rather than conciliatory as her voice rang out in the carriage.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he tried to think, if not for himself, then for Alexi’s sake. Though he’d only known her for the better part of an hour, he already liked her a great deal. She’d been the picture of grace while he’d been his usual ugly self.

  A flash of a memory skipped through his thoughts.

  Dark hair. Pale dress. A kiss and a whispered promise of something quick and easy. He opened his eyes again to find Alexi’s bright blue gaze on him haloed by her bright blonde tresses.

  His chest tightened, the realization she was telling the truth crashing into him.

  What a dreadful situation for her.

  “What were you doing out in the garden alone?” he asked, suddenly needing to know more. Had she been there for a different lovers’ tryst? Was that man going to wed her? Was he hoping to be exonerated or did a touch of jealousy streak down his spine?

  A lovely shade of pink bloomed in her cheeks as her chin dropped again, breaking their gaze. “Oh. Um.”

  Lady Westmoreland turned to more fully look at her friend, as though she too wished to know the answer.

  He leaned forward, forgetting his headache and his roiling stomach.

  She shifted in her seat. “I needed a breath of air and my mother does not appreciate the crisp evenings.”

  “Why?” he asked, realizing that he’d touched upon something of significance. What happened next depended on her answer.

  “I had a rather disastrously clumsy dance and I grew tired of people’s…” Her voice had grown weaker with every word until it finally trailed off.

  Disastrously clumsy dance? He’d seen nothing but grace from this woman. “So you went out into the garden alone to escape the other guests?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, her fingers clasping and unclasping.

  He let out a long breath. While a debutante should not have been in the garden alone, she’d done nothing truly untoward. Not that she wouldn’t be judged, despite her innocence.

  Dillan thought of Laurel. He’d not been a particularly good brother to her but even he had standards about how innocent women should be treated, and he knew that one way or the other, he’d help Alexi escape the worst of disaster.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Lord Parkhurst reluctantly allowed the small party access to his garden, but as he followed the trio outside, his jaw remained clenched, his gaze narrowed.

  Alexi glanced back at him again, catching him as he rubbed his balding head. A middle-aged man, he was soft but kindly in appearance. She had no idea why he’d be so opposed to allowing them this opportunity. He himself had assured her that he’d afford her every chance to clear her name the evening prior.

  His jaw flexed as he gave them another hard stare.

  Charlotte paid no mind, as they reached the low wall that enclosed a bit of garden. In the light, Alexi could see that the wall and bushes enclosed a private courtyard, visible through the lush foliage.

  “They were just there, behind that bush.” Alexi pointed, stopping at the same spot where she’d leaned against the wall the night before.

  She remembered the spill of silk that came out from under the boxwoods.

  Charlotte crouched low, beginning to search, but Brightmore hopped the wall and shimmied under the bush.

  “What are you doing here with him?” Parkhurst asked, his
voice low and gravelly. “Have you come to any arrangement yet?”

  She looked back at the other man. Arrangement? Did he expect her to marry Brightmore the way her father did? She supposed that would accomplish her goal in a manner of speaking. She’d be married.

  But a mistaken identity engagement was just wrong. She wanted to rightfully win a man’s affection. “Attempting to clear my name, as I promised last night.”

  Lord Parkhurst shook his head. “Dear girl, just allow the entire situation to slip away into the night exactly as Lord Brightmore is so fond of doing. Providence will carry you exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

  Brightmore growled from under the bush. She supposed she couldn’t blame Parkhurst for being irritated, the baron had brought scandal right to the earl’s door. Or at least his garden. But they’d never get anywhere sniping at one another.

  “Did you see the article? How can I do that?”

  “I saw.” His frown deepened. “But as your identity is completely contained amongst our small group—”

  “Oh, but it isn’t.” She turned to him, surprised he didn’t understand. “At least not fully. Clearly, someone else saw something or else why would there be an article in the paper at all?”

  His features turned to granite. “That is unfortunate. Still. The solution is exceedingly obvious.”

  “I’ve found something,” Brightmore called, crawling out from under the bush again. He stood, his clothes appearing even more mussed, as though that were possible, but he held a small object in his hand.

  “What is it?” Parkhurst asked, frowning.

  Brightmore pulled his hand closer to his face again, lifting the small object for inspection. “It’s a gold and ruby-encrusted fichu lace pin.”

  “With rubies?” Parkhurst asked, leaning over the wall as he attempted to see.

  “That’s what I said.” Brightmore closed his hand about the pin, dropping his arm to his side.

  Charlotte straightened too. “Wonderful clue! How did you find it?”

  “I caught a glimpse of it in the sun.”

  “It’s a good clue.” Charlotte held out her hand and Brightmore dropped the object onto her palm. She studied it for a moment before her gaze rose to meet Alexi’s. “What should we do with it?”

  The circle tightened again as both she and Lord Parkhurst stepped closer to see the brooch.

  “I should likely take it,” Parkhurst said, reaching toward Charlotte’s hand in a jerky movement.

  Charlotte’s hand automatically closed. “Why’s that?”

  “Someone might come looking for it,” he reasoned, his voice slowing, calming. “If it’s here, I can return it and then identify them.”

  Charlotte’s mouth twitched. “You don’t need the brooch for that, if anyone comes looking for it you can still identify them whether you have the jewel or not. Though I can’t think of what we might use it for either. All I can say is that I’ve seen Miss Starlight’s full complement of fichu pins and this is not one of hers. Further evidence there was a third person out in the garden, as Miss Starlight said.”

  Parkhurst gave her a frown. “You’re her friend. Of course you’d think that.”

  Fear snaked down Alexi’s spine at the defiant tilt to Lord Parkhurst’s chin. “My lord, have you changed your mind? Do you have some reservation about supporting me in attempting to prove my innocence—”

  “I believe in your innocence,” he interrupted. “I just think if you leave well enough alone, the entire situation will resolve itself.” And then he gave another meaningful glare at Brightmore.

  Alexi did not answer. She knew very well that her father would want more precise answers than that the entire affair would just resolve itself. He certainly would ask her the same question as Brightmore. Why had she gone out into the garden in the first place? She shouldn’t have gone out alone. And he very well might press the issue, explaining to her in his smooth, calm, uncompromising voice that any resulting consequences were due to her actions.

  She trembled as she considered what those consequences might be. Spinsterhood? Ruination? She’d been fine as long as her father lived, but would the next viscount wish to support her? She shivered to think of being sent off to some lonely cottage in the country to live out her life alone.

  But what other options were there? Marriage to Lord Brightmore? Her gaze flicked to the man as he leaned his hip carelessly against the wall. In any of those scenarios Alexi would have the validation that she was just as incompetent as everyone considered her to be.

  Charlotte held out the brooch to Lord Parkhurst. “If you’ll just give us a few more minutes to search, we’ll leave you to the rest of your afternoon.”

  Parkhurst nodded, looking reluctant at best. He glanced to Charlotte again and Alexi knew he didn’t wish to offend the countess. “If you must, I’ll wait with you, though I’d ask you to move quickly. Lady Parkhurst and I have an engagement to attend.”

  Charlotte nodded as she leaned back over the wall, her gaze sweeping across the grass. Brightmore shed his jacket and searched too. Alexi noted that without the coat, his shoulders appeared even broader. Not that his physique mattered. Not a whit.

  After several minutes, Charlotte lifted her head. “You can cease the search, Lord Brightmore. Unless you’ve been able to recall more events from last evening, I’ll look for clues myself without disturbance.”

  Lord Parkhurst cleared his throat as Lord Brightmore hopped over the wall, landing so close she could practically feel his heat in the crisp spring air. While the days were growing warmer, today a sharp breeze blew, adding a chill. He still wore no coat, the heat radiating off him and seeping into her skin.

  Charlotte continued her search, crouched down, carefully parting branches, as Brightmore remained at her side. Should she make conversation? Remain quiet? Ignore the shiver of excitement caused by his nearness?

  She shifted, wishing that she was better in the silences. Her feet shuffled again, and drat it all if her slipper did not catch on the same stone that had caused her so much trouble the night before.

  Her arms went out, one of them crashing into the baron as the other flew into the air when she attempted to retain her balance.

  She’d fall again.

  This time with three witnesses.

  But before she hit the ground, before she’d hardly tipped back, the baron’s arms encircled her waist, pulling her to his side as he pivoted to bring her close to his chest.

  She grabbed him too, her fingers wrapping about honed biceps as she jerked her chin up to…what?

  Penetrating hazel eyes held hers captive. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Just clumsy. I…” How did she explain without sounding like the fool she was that she got nervous and all physical skill abandoned her?

  His mouth curved into that seductive smile that actually made her toes curl in her shoes. “I don’t believe it.”

  If he’d spent enough time with her, he would. But in this moment, she appreciated his disbelief more than she could express.

  Still pressed to his front, she tried to decide if she should argue or just enjoy the sparing moment where someone didn’t consider her unfortunate. And then there was the feel of hard muscle under her palms… “That’s very kind.”

  He shook his head. “You are kind. I am—”

  “A rogue,” Lord Parkhurst cut in. “Unhand her.”

  Alexi dropped her arms as Brightmore slowly slid his hands away from her body and took a step back.

  Alexi didn’t mean to, but as she smoothed her gown, she confessed to herself that she rather preferred being pressed to his front. There, against his muscular frame, she’d certainly not fall.

  Dillan sat in his study as the night sky turned inky. He stared at the glass of whiskey before him, the amber liquid catching the last rays of light before the day disappeared.

  Normally, he’d have had his first drink hours ago.

  But as he peered at the winking liquid that
surely meant relief from a long and taxing day of feeling stretched far too thin, he noted that he’d yet to bring the glass to his lips.

  Because to do so would certainly mean relief, but it would also impair his ability to come up with answers.

  And there were a great many questions which needed to be addressed.

  Alexi Starlight…

  The point from which all his thoughts spread out like a web. Each connected, all part of the same issue.

  The woman was a delight to the senses. That was one section of the web.

  She’d landed herself into a fine mess that was largely his making. There was another.

  And because of that, he would have to play a part in helping her out of her current predicament.

  Alexi had been correct earlier, someone else knew of their little garden adventure or it wouldn’t have landed in the paper. But she was incorrect in assuming she could exonerate herself.

  She’d been discovered alone with a man. It didn’t matter that they’d done nothing or that he’d started in another woman’s arms. Unless, of course, that lady was also a debutante. But he doubted she was. Details slowly filtered back and he remembered the ease and enthusiasm with which she’d fallen into his arms. It was not the behavior of an innocent woman but one of experience.

  He'd had his share of trysts with married women and widows and she’d likely been one or the other.

  But he digressed. Alexi was the problem, and the solution was simple enough.

  He ran a hand through his hair, scraping his tongue over his parched lips as he stared at the lovely liquid in his full glass. While it was possible the ton at large would not discover her indiscretion, at least seven or eight people knew of her little garden adventure to some degree. The likelihood of that not leaking out at some point to someone was a near impossibility.

  He let out a long breath, reaching for the glass and turning it in his hand, light from the fire shimmering through the glass.