Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

" I 've changed my mind, Lady Gigi," Xenia said nervously. "I should have an early night?—"

"Nonsense. You look too pretty to spend the night in your room," Lady Gigi coaxed. "You don't want Colette's efforts to be wasted, do you?"

"Um, no."

Xenia was still befuddled over how she'd ended up allowing Lady Gigi's maid to dress her and do her hair. It had started with Lady Gigi summoning her to her chamber after supper. She'd thought the other needed help with something. Instead, Ethan's sister had presented her with a gift: the beautiful green dress from Mrs. Sommers's shop.

To be seen as worthy of such a magnificent gift had overwhelmed Xenia. While she suspected that Ethan was behind the scheme, Lady Gigi was obviously in on it too, and she'd choked out thanks, fighting back tears. She'd also tried to refuse the generous present, but Lady Gigi would hear none of it. The lady had insisted she try on the dress—which fit like a glove—and maneuvered her into a chair. Before she knew what was happening, Colette had descended like a whirlwind.

While the lady's maid worked her magic, Lady Gigi had distracted Xenia with chitchat.

"You must keep me company in the drawing room," Ethan's sister declared. "Parkhurst and Canning are making mincemeat of my toes, and another female dance partner is required to even the balance."

"I don't belong with the guests, my lady," Xenia protested.

"It's a small and casual gathering," Lady Gigi said airily. "There will be no sticklers to tell us what we can and cannot do. We need not stand on ceremony, and to that end, I must ask that you call me Gigi. I shall call you Jane, if that suits."

"I couldn't, my lady." Then Xenia heard herself blurt, "But you may call me Xenia, if you wish."

"Xenia?" Lady Gigi looked puzzled. "I thought your name was Jane."

What was it about the Harringtons that made Xenia want to unburden herself? While she couldn't confide her secrets, she did the next best thing.

"Xenia is what my friends call me."

Lady Gigi gave her arm a squeeze. "Then Xenia it is."

For the next little while, they chatted like bosom chums. Xenia discovered that she was only two years older than Ethan's sister. Lady Gigi was charming and witty, brimming with amusing anecdotes. Xenia forgot to protest over Colette's ministrations as Gigi related stories from her childhood. The ones involving Ethan captivated Xenia.

"Did Eth—his lordship, I mean, truly run away when he was ten?" Xenia asked.

"Yes," Lady Gigi confirmed. "I was a babe at the time, so I don't recall any of it. According to Mama, he and Owen had gotten into one of their usual tiffs, and Ethan got blamed for picking on his younger brother. Well, he got so angry at the unfairness of it all that he filched one of Papa's valises, filled it with food from the kitchen, and took off."

Xenia felt a twinge of empathy for Ethan's younger self. Although she was an only child, she imagined being born in the middle couldn't have been easy. One would have to deal with domineering older siblings and pampered younger ones.

"Did anyone go after him?" she asked.

"No."

She felt indignant on his behalf. "Why not?"

"Because the valise wasn't big enough to fit the piano," Lady Gigi said with a twinkle. "And everyone knew he wouldn't go far without it."

Xenia couldn't help but laugh. "Was his lordship always fond of the piano?"

"One of my earliest memories is of Ethan playing. Even though he was introduced to the piano relatively late—he was eight or nine, I think—he was an instant prodigy. Our grandmama, the dowager marchioness, was especially proud of his musical prowess and insisted on hiring famous maestros to teach him. She was a harridan, but Ethan was her favorite and she loved to hear him play. That B?sendorfer in his study was a gift from her. When he hurt his hand…" Lady Gigi's voice got a bit choked. "I think it broke Grandmama's heart. She died that same year."

"I'm so sorry," Xenia whispered.

"It was a hard time for our family," Lady Gigi acknowledged. "Which is why I am grateful you entered Ethan's life. Because of you, he is finally getting better."

At the other's knowing look, panic tiptoed up Xenia's spine.

"You misunderstand, my lady. I'm just his housekeeper?—"

"And a very fine one you are," Lady Gigi said warmly. "You've made my brother's house into a lovely home, and now he's making music again. I cannot thank you enough."

"You don't have to thank me?—"

"But I already have," Lady Gigi said gaily. "Come take a look."

The younger woman took Xenia by the hand, leading her to the full-length looking glass.

"Blooming he—" Xenia caught herself in time. "Colette, what have you done?"

"You don't like it?" the maid said anxiously. "When I was arranging your hair, I noticed the dye had already faded. I used a little paste to remove the rest, and I think it looks better, non ?"

"You look resplendent ," Lady Gigi declared. "Red suits you so much better, Xenia, and that shade in particular is stunning. The dress sets off your natural coloring to perfection."

Staring dazedly in the mirror, Xenia had to admit that she'd never been in better looks. She didn't even recognize the lady in the mirror with her fancy hair and clothes. Vanity got the better of her, and she went with Lady Gigi to the drawing room.

Now that she was here, however, she was having second thoughts.

I don't belong with this rarefied group. What if Ethan doesn't want me here? What if he is embarrassed by me? What if others suspect that we are having an affair? And now that my hair isn't dyed, I am far too exposed…

"Mrs. Wood?"

She froze as Ethan emerged from the drawing room. Her hands curling at her sides, she met his gaze. His eyes widened…and then his entire expression changed. The admiration—and hungry possessiveness—on his face gave too much away, but she couldn't bring herself to care. In that moment, she wanted his claim—wanted the world to know that she belonged to this magnificent fellow. And he was magnificent: there was no other way to describe the way he looked in his elegant blue tailcoat and trousers, a white silk cravat knotted elegantly beneath his chin.

"How lovely you are," he said huskily.

He took her hand and brushed his lips over her trembling fingers. His indigo gaze remained locked on her while he addressed his sister.

"Is this what you were up to, Gigi?"

"You are welcome," his sibling said brightly. "But do not think to monopolize Xenia. She is my guest, and for once I shan't be so dreadfully outnumbered by males. Come along, dear. I want to show you that novel I was telling you about."

As Xenia was pulled into the drawing room, she looked desperately behind her.

Ethan raised his brows, mouthing, "Xenia?"

She gave a bewildered shrug and saw a smile tug at his lips.

A moment later, he followed.

Admittedly, Ethan had a preference for redheads, and he'd known that Xenia in particular, with her creamy complexion and velvety-brown eyes, would look splendid with red hair. Yet even he hadn't guessed quite how stunning her transformation would be. Her hair wasn't just any red: it glowed like fire. It was parted in the middle and styled into shining wings that framed her lovely face. Fresh flowers added simple adornment to her chignon.

He'd also never seen her in anything but dull colors, and in the leaf-green taffeta, her beauty hit him like the lush heat of summer. The cut of the frock, while relatively modest, made him realize how much her usual dresses hid. The square neckline displayed the rounded tops of her breasts, which gave a tantalizing jiggle when she laughed. Her nipped-in waist invited a man to span it with his hands. Compared to Gigi's ruffled blue dress, Xenia's was plainer, but its simplicity suited her, allowing her elemental beauty to shine through.

On an ordinary day, Xenia made him hard. Seeing her now, he felt like a cross between a pirate and a troglodyte. He wanted to haul her over his shoulder, take her to his cave, and ravish her until she was hoarse from screams of pleasure. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one captivated by her charms. Parkhurst and Canning were taking eyefuls too, practically tripping over themselves to get closer to her.

He downed another shot of whisky to prevent himself from going over and driving his fist into Parkhurst's charming visage as he partnered Xenia in a polka while Gigi accompanied on the piano. Unused to the bite of jealousy, Ethan couldn't say he liked it. His sister hadn't been wrong when she said that he'd once taken feminine interest as his due. In the past, when women had flocked to him, he'd enjoyed the interludes but hadn't much cared how long they stayed. With Constance, he'd felt a certain complacency because he thought she was too perfect to err out of passion…which showed how much he knew. When Constance left, she'd taken a chunk of his self-confidence with her.

Being with Xenia had restored his faith in himself. While he didn't doubt her loyalty, he couldn't say the same about his cronies. To be fair, Canning and Parkhurst were unaware that Xenia belonged to him…but, dammit, they ought to know better than to lust over his housekeeper. The fact that he couldn't cut in without raising suspicion frustrated him to no end. As it was, he'd already interrupted a few times to take her for a turn around the drawing room. Fear of discovery had limited their conversation, but her sparkling eyes and shy smiles had made him feel like the luckiest bastard alive.

Since his discussion with Gigi, he'd started thinking about marriage to Xenia as less a question of if and more a question of when . The bottom line was that Xenia did make him happy…happier than he'd ever been. With a certainty that he'd only felt about music, he knew she was his destiny. If his sister was right, his family would pose no barrier to their union, and beyond them, he didn't give a damn what anyone else thought.

This meant that the only real obstacle was Xenia herself. How could he get her to agree to marry him when she wouldn't even commit to staying? How could he prove to her that he would protect her against whatever she was running from?

As he sipped whisky and brooded upon the matter, he saw that Canning was now monopolizing Xenia's attention. They were standing close— too close —together, and Canning had one arm propped on a bookshelf while he bent his dark head toward Xenia. A gentleman used this debonair posture to convey his interest and display himself to an advantage. Ethan knew this because he'd adopted that exact bloody stance himself with Xenia.

"Fine evening, eh?" Parkhurst settled into an adjacent chair, two glasses in hand.

Taking the fresh drink, Ethan threw it back and set the empty glass next to the others.

Parkhurst arched a brow. "Are we having that drinking contest after all, old boy?"

"I have learned not to accept challenges I cannot win."

"Mayhap we should have a different sort of wager then?"

Seeing the wicked grin on Parkhurst's face, Ethan rolled his eyes. "If this involves a brothel, prizefight, or dice, the answer is no. When it comes to debauchery, you are unbeatable."

"We must all have our talents." Parkhurst patted himself on the shoulder. "Very well, I shall have to come up with another kind of distraction. Although, come to think of it, maybe we should enjoy the peace and quiet. God knows there's been enough brouhaha of late. Any news from the constable?"

"The latest is that Rawlins is tracking down Dobson Gill, the footman who worked here. Gill seems to have gone missing. Although he paid a month's rent, no one has seen him at his boarding house in Cookham for days."

"Interesting." Parkhurst sipped his drink. "You don't think that Gill or that Corrigan fellow is truly dangerous, do you? This is all a bit of mischief?"

"I don't know what to think."

Through narrowed eyes, Ethan watched Xenia nod enthusiastically at something Canning said. At her animated response, Canning drew out a pencil and notebook from his pocket and jotted something down.

"But you do think we are safe here?" Parkhurst pressed.

"The guards offer security, but I cannot guarantee anything. If you wish to leave?—"

"No, no. It's not me I am worried about."

Parkhurst glanced at Gigi, who was massacring a Mozart serenade.

"I'll look after Gigi…" Ethan trailed off. "What in blazes are those two talking about?"

"Canning and Mrs. Wood?" Parkhurst glanced at the pair. "I've no idea. Something related to writing, probably, since that is all Canning cares about. As I was saying, if you need someplace to go, I do have that cottage in the Cotswolds…"

Ethan lost track of the rest, stuck on what Parkhurst had said about Canning and writing. Didn't Xenia mention that the follower she'd been head over heels for had also been a writer? Ethan felt something burn in his gut, and it wasn't just the whisky he'd consumed. It was a feeling of intense and uncomfortable déjà vu.

This exact scenario had happened to him before.

Constance and Blake had always been friendly. In fact, they'd had a shared love of poetry, and Ethan should have guessed his ex-fiancée's true feelings when he found her reading a volume of Blake's love sonnets, looking uncharacteristically flustered. She'd said that she found Blake's work a bit too earthy, and Ethan, fool that he was, had believed her.

Fool me once.

Ethan set his glass on the table, with enough force to make the other glasses rattle.

"Is something amiss?" Parkhurst asked.

"Everything's fine," he said curtly. "Since I left London, what has Canning been up to?"

Looking puzzled by the non sequitur, Parkhurst replied, "The usual. He works by day and carouses by night."

"Is there anyone in particular he carouses with? Females, I mean."

Is the bastard setting his sights on my lover? On my future bride ?

"You know Canning." Parkhurst rolled his eyes. "His equanimity acts like a magnet when it comes to the ladies. They believe he will take to domesticity like a fish to water, not realizing he's as rakish as the rest of us."

Was Xenia attracted to Canning's steady temperament? She'd described Ethan as "grumpy" and "brooding," and Canning was neither of those things. Maybe she wanted a fellow who didn't have moods. Who had full functioning use of his body. Maybe she'd only been settling for Ethan until someone better came along. Maybe that was the real reason she refused to commit to a permanent relationship.

"Speaking of jaded…I hesitate to bring this up, but Blake is in the neighborhood."

That got Ethan's attention. "How do you know that?"

"When I paid a visit to Chudleigh Crest today, I bumped into him and his, ahem, new wife." Parkhurst's face turned ruddy. "Apparently they've taken up residence at a cottage not far from here, waiting for the scandal to die down."

The hairs tingled on Ethan's nape. "Do you know when they arrived?"

"They've been here a fortnight, I think."

While Ethan didn't think Blake was responsible for the Bloody Thom hoax, he couldn't rule out his former friend, especially now that he knew Blake had been in close proximity.

"Did Blake say anything?" he demanded.

"He wanted to know how you are faring." Parkhurst had the look of a reluctant messenger. "He said he wanted to…to apologize. For everything."

"It's too bloody late for that."

Fuming at Blake's audacity, Ethan glanced over at Xenia…and his breath jammed in his throat. Canning was touching her, his hand gliding against her cheek. Even from a distance, Ethan could see that she was blushing.

Bloody fucking hell.

His vision turned scarlet, a rush sounding in his ears. He was beside Xenia in the next instant. Planting his hand on Canning's shoulder, he gave the other a shove.

Canning stumbled back and lost his balance, toppling onto his arse.

Xenia gasped. Gigi stopped mid-passage.

Ethan's roar shattered the sudden hush.

"Get your hands off her, you bastard. She's mine ."