.
It took Justin two seconds to understand that Alex was getting away and then another two for him to realize what a mistake that would be… and not entirely for the reason he’d come.
She’d moved first, but he still managed to reach the door before she did.
This had been accomplished by all but jumping the table and sprinting across the room to cut in front of her path.
She stilled just inches from colliding with him, and Justin found himself wishing she’d not caught herself before she did.
That acknowledgment hit him just as much as the fact that he’d almost been tempted to touch the hand she’d offered—a first for him.
He didn’t touch women. Only Mrs. Shaw. Only ever Mrs. Shaw. Everyone else…
That was the reason he didn’t dance and had stopped attending balls. Too many introductions. Too many hands and bodies to avoid. The ton thought him cold, but truly that wasn’t it. They could never know the things that went on in his mind, the thoughts that had been embedded in him since he was a boy.
He was dirty. His mother had told him so.
Not even Lady Chantenny had touched him again after he’d been born. He’d heard the servants whisper it in the house. His nursemaid had been the only woman to touch him, feed him, and even then she’d been forbidden.
Only after years of isolation had he found Mrs. Shaw, and he’d only ever given in to her because his body had urges that he couldn’t control. Mrs. Shaw had been his first and only lover, and never before had Justin been tempted to touch another woman.
Until now.
He looked at the creature before him.
Alexandra’s beauty was the sort that men fell on their swords for, the kind that started and ended wars. She had a face that belonged on canvas in the British Museum or carved from bronze into one of those foreign deities. Surely, she couldn’t be real.
And yet, just by looking at her, there was no denying she was Lord Upton’s daughter. Her father, with his gray eyes and black hair, had also been called a pretty fellow.
Alex was his spitting image, only feminine and something else.
It was the mark of playfulness in her features and in her words that drew Justin in. He was used to people becoming irritated with him. He’d learned to ignore it unless the anger was coming from the duke.
Still, Alex had an energy that he found he liked very much.
Too much.
There was no other way to describe how he felt around her except to say that he felt alive, as though his blood had been running slow until she'd come along. She had a strong mind and played with words like no one else he knew. And what was more, there was none of the classic disinterest in her eyes as they’d spoken—a look that many of the ladies of Society wore just as faithfully as they wore their gloves.
The disinterest was a look his mother had mastered. That and horror whenever he’d reached out to her.
Justin couldn’t touch her. His hands were always dirty, no matter how much he scrubbed at them, causing them to bleed at times. He was never good enough. The filth would never go away.
It was still there, and though Justin had wanted to take Alex’s hand, he’d known better. He couldn’t get her dirty.
Especially her.
In the few minutes that Justin had come to know Alex, he could feel the brightness that shined from her, as though a million spirits were ready to burst from the seams of her ghostly eyes.
She was fascinating, and it wasn’t because she wasn’t a lady; he knew plenty of women who had neither wealth nor fame. No, it was simply her. Alexandra.
He wanted to be around her, to watch her experience life and see it reflected on her face.
He almost craved it.
But she obviously didn’t want anything from him, and he didn’t understand that.
Every woman, no matter their station, wanted something from him. Even the men, except for Gerard.
She might not get on her knees to do more than pray, but Justin was willing to beg for her assistance. He needed her. She was the key to everything.
“Let me help you,” he implored.
“No. Move.” She waved at him as though he were a gnat, and he stilled himself against running from it. Her nose creased slightly, and he was amazed at how tempted he was to touch that nose, to slide his finger down its dainty curve and unwrinkle it.
“I must help you,” he said. “I owe your father.” It was fortunate he was able to remember why he’d come. Her eyes arrested his mind and made him lose his focus.
In a blink, he watched her eyes flash cold and nearly felt the very life drain from his own bones. “If you feel you owe my father something then place flowers at his grave, but don’t involve me.”
When warmth returned to him, it came in the form of anger. Justin was offended by her attitude but knew she had a right to be upset. She’d never known her father and didn’t know the sort of man he was. She’d never know if she didn’t let him tell her.
“Your father didn’t know you existed,” he said.
Alex gave him a new expression. Her eyes seemed to open to him. Fascinating. “How do you know?”
“Because I know the man he was, and I’ll share that man with you if you let me.”
She looked away just as a knock came to the door.
“Rose? Alex?” a man shouted from the other side.
“We’re in here,” Alex responded quickly.
Justin moved as the door opened and the man he’d seen shouting at the back of the alley emerged. He glanced around the room, took one look at Justin and Gerard, and said, “Who are you?”
He was followed into the room by two other men.
Justin recognized the guard, and the guard recognized him as well.
“Lord Chantenny,” the man with the dark green eyes said.
“Is he bothering you?” a man with brown-reddish hair and light blue eyes asked. He gazed at Justin in a way that made it clear the man was calculating who would win in a fight.
And then he thought better of that look. Not a fight. This man would simply go for the kill.
Justin would probably have feared him if the fear of losing Alexandra wasn’t so great, surpassing everything else. He turned to her with nothing more to say and waited for her response.
Alex thought about what Justin had said about her father. Though she truly wished to believe him, she knew better. She’d grown up in Best Home, had watched children come and go, coming much more than they went. More than that though, she knew the Beau Monde.
She knew them quite well.
They lived life in a dream state of endless pleasure. They knew nothing about heartache or despair. They didn’t know what it was like to go to bed hungry after a meal of nothing more than broth and bread or to have cold snapping at their limbs when the orphanage was out of blankets, bodies huddled together the only way to make life bearable.
She couldn’t imagine who she’d have become had Chris not accepted her into his fold with Reuben and Nash. Then later, Rose had been born and had completed their circle.
She was a Smith, and she wanted nothing to do with the man who’d fathered and then abandoned her.
“Yes,” she told Nash, to answer the question of whether or not she was being bothered.
Justin moved toward her, but Reuben blocked him from getting more than a step closer. Still, he spoke around him. “Ms. Alexandra, you must hear what I have to say. Your father was a great man.”
Alex turned away, not wanting to hear any more and trying hard not to react to her name on his lips.
This did not stop Justin from speaking. “He’s a part of you. You can’t deny it.” She could hear feet shuffling as the men began to take him away. “You look just like him. I could show you.”
Alex turned at that, realizing that there was a small part of her that did wonder. She shook her head and looked up as Justin was pushed through the door by Reuben, Justin’s eyes on her as he attempted to stay.
“Let me show you,” he said again.
She knew she’d regret it but said, “Wait.”
All motion stopped.
Chris and Nash, who’d moved to stand by Rose and were glaring at Obenshire, turned to her just as Reuben did.
Alex’s eyes remained on Justin as she calculated the risk of going anywhere with this man.
Well, the one thing she could count on was that he wouldn’t touch her since she was unbefitting to his touch and probably even his notice had these circumstances not arrived. It made him far safer to be around than many of the other men who’d approached her over the years, which should have made Alex happy.
So why didn’t it?
“Show me,” she said.
Reuben released him and Justin nearly fell to the ground, but he righted himself before approaching her, still keeping nearly two feet of distance between them.
He was smiling down at her, and Alex wondered why she’d let him stay. Did she truly want to know about her father or did she simply want to know more about the man before her?
She was being foolish by wishing to continue on in his presence. She decided then and there that she’d hear what he had to say and then they’d part ways.
“You won’t regret this,” he promised.
She was sure she would, but he wouldn’t be her first regret.