An Affair in Winter (Seasons Book 1) (13 page)

Of course, if he told them that, they would both tear into him about his actions and motivations. So it was best to wait until he had something concrete to share.

“You mock me,” Gray finally said, glaring at her. “But in truth, we know little about her past or her family. Her grandfather has a good pedigree, but you cannot say that he is a solid person. I walked in on him arguing with Rosa—with Mrs. Wilde just a few days ago. It was heated enough that I was forced to stop and check on the lady.”

He cut himself off before he said more. After all, what was he going to confess? That he’d kissed Rosalinde in the parlor as some kind of comfort? That he’d done so much more last night in the library?

He doubted that revelation would help him in this argument with his siblings.

An argument that seemed to have found a mark, at last. Lucien’s defensive posture softened a little and he exchanged a brief look with Felicity.

“I will grant you that Mr. Fitzgilbert’s behavior is sometimes not gentlemanly,” he said softly. “And that he has a great many demands about what Celia’s dowry will ‘buy’ as far as access and influence.”

Felicity reached out to Lucien, touching his arm. “But can you blame his behavior on Celia or Rosalinde?” She squeezed before she glared at Gray. “And why do you care so much, Gray? Rosalinde and her grandfather could hate each other to the core and that would have nothing to do with us. It is Celia who will join our family, not Fitzgilbert or Rosalinde.”

No, Rosalinde would not be part of their clan once this was done. She would be just an in-law who they saw from time to time.

“Do stop scowling, Gray,” Felicity said, crossing over to him to slide an arm around his waist. “We both know you mean well, but sometimes you go too far.”

Gray pressed his lips together. He could see from Lucien’s tight expression that he’d done just that today. The last thing he wanted to do was alienate his brother. So he sighed.

“I’m sorry if I’m too forward. I hope you know it comes from a good place.” Lucien nodded wordlessly, and Gray continued, “I only want you to at least say you’ll take my concerns into account. Consider
all
the outcomes in your association with this woman.”

Lucien rolled his eyes. “I’ll think about what you’ve said, Gray. But don’t expect things to change. This wedding is happening in less than ten days. I don’t see anything stopping it now.”

In the three days since her last encounter in the library with Gray, Rosalinde could have written a book about how difficult it was to carry on an affair in a household filled with nosy people. Thanks to dress fittings and outings, gatherings and plans, she’d shared little more with Gray than a few meaningful looks and a lightly flirtatious banter. By the time each day came to a close, she felt unbearably tight, but there was no chance for release with her sister sleeping beside her.

“How do you take your tea, Mrs. Wilde?” the dowager countess said as she poured for her.

“Just milk,” Rosalinde replied, pulling herself from her inappropriate thoughts with great difficulty.

She sat in the midst of the parlor surrounded by both bridal families, including Gray, who sat in a corner watching her. The intensity of his stare was so distracting that when Lady Stenfax held out her tea, Rosalinde didn’t notice right away.

“Take the cup, girl,” her grandfather snapped.

It felt like everyone in the room jumped at his harsh tone. Lady Stenfax even sloshed the cup so tea fell onto the floor between them.

Rosalinde grabbed the cup. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she burst out as blood rushed to her cheeks.

“It’s all right,” Lady Stenfax said, smiling at Rosalinde even as her gaze slid to Mr. Fitzgilbert. “No harm done.”

“Let me fetch you a napkin for your hand,” Rosalinde said, setting her cup aside and rushing to the sideboard to get the cloth. As she reached it, a servant trailed behind.

“I’ve got it, ma’am,” the maid said, taking the napkin and returning to her mistress.

Rosalinde stayed at the sideboard, trying to calm her breath. She felt Gray watching her, wondered if he would come to her, but before he could Lady Barbridge got to her feet and slid over with a warm smile.

“Don’t worry,” she said, touching Rosalinde’s shaking hand lightly. “It was an accident, it could happen to anyone.”

Rosalinde smiled at the other woman’s kindness and her gentle tone. “Thank you, Lady Barbridge.”

She flinched ever so slightly. “Oh, please, I know it is proper to call me by my title, but I do prefer Felicity. Especially from my friends.”

Rosalinde lifted her gaze to Felicity’s face. There was no censure there, no judgment. Was it possible she truly wanted to be Rosalinde’s friend? Oh, she’d been kind before, the few times Rosalinde had encountered her in London, but now that she knew Gray’s drive to break Celia’s engagement, she wondered if the rest of his family felt so strongly.

“Thank you,” she said with caution. “Felicity.”

The pair watched the others for a while. Celia was speaking to Lady Stenfax while the earl seemed to be locked in intense conversation with Mr. Fitzgilbert. Only Gray sat outside it all, observing everyone, including Rosalinde. Whenever his dark gaze speared her, her body reacted almost against her will.

“I hope Gray isn’t being too hard on you,” Felicity said, drawing Rosalinde from her thoughts with sudden and violent force.

“I—he—we—” Heat flooded Rosalinde’s cheeks and she cleared her throat as she tried to find some level of calm. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Well, he is very protective of our brother.” Felicity’s voice grew softer and smaller. “And of me. Sometimes to a fault.”

Rosalinde shifted. It didn’t feel right to talk about such private things, and yet what choice did she have? Gray had made his war against Celia so clear, Rosalinde had to fight him just as hard if she were going to shield her sister from his plans.

“He
does
seem protective,” she admitted. “Do you mind if I ask you why?”

Felicity shifted slightly, and a great pain came into her eyes. “Lucien and I have both been…
unlucky
in love before.”

“I see,” Rosalinde said softly. “How so?” Felicity glanced at her and Rosalinde rushed to continue. “I’m sorry. That was forward. If you don’t want to—”

“No,” Felicity interrupted. “It is a painful subject, yes, but not exactly a secret. I’m sure you know that Lucien was engaged once before and it…well, it ended badly. He was brokenhearted. As for me…” She cocked her head. “Well, I think you and I are not so different, Rosalinde.”

“How do you mean?”

“I think we married men who we believed were one thing and turned out to be violently different.” As Rosalinde’s eyes widened, Felicity nodded. “Women in our situation recognize each other, yes?”

Rosalinde swallowed hard. “I’m sorry to hear your marriage was so unhappy.”

“It happens,” Felicity said, her words dismissive but her eyes telling a tale of pain that wasn’t quite gone. “But it’s over now. How did you lose your husband?”

“A fever,” she admitted.

She pursed her lips as she remembered him drawing a last breath, his glaring eyes on her. “I wish it were you” had been his last words, and sometimes they hung in her ears.

“And you?” she asked, turning her face as she tried to wipe clean the pain of that memory.

Felicity’s face drained of some color momentarily before she said, “An—an accident.” She took a few breaths before she motioned to Gray and brought Rosalinde away from her past and straight into her current predicament. “That is why Grayson is our defender, though. He simply wants to see us happy. And he is arrogant enough to believe he knows the only path to that outcome.”

Rosalinde let out a long breath as she tried to keep her annoyance and frustration from her voice. She had enough enemies in this family—she didn’t need to make more by alienating Felicity.

“And he is convinced Celia won’t make Stenfax happy,” she said through clenched teeth.

Felicity’s shrug was answer enough. “Just so you know, I like Celia very much. Gray will get there. Eventually. He is stubborn, not unreasonable.”

But there was something in Felicity’s tone that made Rosalinde stare at her more closely. Made her doubt that the viscountess believed her own words.

“You don’t seem certain,” Rosalinde pressed. “Has he—has he said anything?”

Felicity shifted slightly, and Rosalinde’s irritation turned to full anger. Gray
had
been talking about Celia to his siblings, that was clear, despite how Felicity immediately began to shake her head.

“Not anything of merit,” she said weakly.

Rosalinde folded her arms. “Does he not think that I wish to protect
my
sister, as well?”

Felicity laughed at that question. “You two are so alike. You should be friends.”

Rosalinde blanched at that off-hand comment. Felicity clearly didn’t know anything about the relationship she and Gray had. She didn’t know about the passion between them, which was always tinged by being on opposite sides of a battle neither felt they could afford to lose.

“I-I don’t think your brother and I will ever call each other friends,” Rosalinde whispered.

Felicity looked at her for a long moment. “Never say never,” she said, then squeezed Rosalinde’s hand and returned to Celia and Lady Stenfax.

Rosalinde watched her go and then let her gaze shift once more to Gray. He held her stare evenly, his gaze smoldering into hers. Her body wanted so desperately to melt at that look, but then she thought of Felicity’s words. Her anger arced and she turned her back in him, shutting out his gaze, though she still felt it focused on her back.

Desire and connection was one thing, yes, and she could use those against him if she could gain some small control over her own reactions. But the fact that he was speaking about her sister to his family could not stand. And as soon as she could get him alone, she was going to have it out with him once and for all.

The sun was just cresting over the horizon, signaling a new day, as Gray strode down the long, winding path to the stables below the house. A groom rushed to greet him, but he waved the man off.

“I’ll take care of it, Stevens, thank you. Go about your business,” Gray said.

“Yes, sir!” Stevens called out as he rushed off to make preparations with the house staff regarding the guests who would begin to arrive tomorrow.

Gray pursed his lips as he entered the silent and empty stables and moved to prepare his horse for riding. Thoughts of Lucien’s nuptials had been more and more intrusive in the past few days. And yet he made no headway getting his brother to listen to reason.

It was frustrating and part of why Gray was up so early now. He needed a ride to clear his head. He’d just gotten the saddle on when the stable door slid shut in the distance.

He turned to see who had entered, expecting it to be Stevens, but when he saw the intruder, he caught his breath.

Rosalinde stood in the corridor, her arms folded, her lips trembling and her eyes flashing fire. She was dressed in a plain morning gown in a deep blue, but the somber clothing did nothing to reduce her vibrant beauty. It made him all too aware that it had been four long days since he last touched her. Another frustration that kept him up nights.

“Rosalinde,” he said, moving toward her. “What are you doing here? Are you following me?”

She lifted up a hand as if to ward him off, and he stopped. She was not teasing—she truly wished him to stay back.

“Of course I’m following you,” she hissed. “I have not had a moment to speak to you privately since our…since we…since that night in the library.”

He smiled at her stammer, her blush, and took another step in her direction. “And now you want to
talk
to me? Like we did that night?”

He looked toward the stable doors. Stevens would likely be up in the house for an hour for orders and food. More than enough time to enjoy a few pleasures with Rosalinde.

“You disparaged my sister to your siblings,” she said, her voice shaking.

Gray wrinkled his brow as the true nature of her reasons for following him became clear. “You came here to talk to me about Celia?”