Forever My Love(22)
Walter nodded matter-of-factly before resuming his tasks about the room.
"Thanks," Alec said, frowning thoughtfully before rubbing his head roughly with the towel. What kind of game was Mira playing? Was it possible that for all his manly talk, Sackville was impotent? Or was it just that Mira was a scheming little mischief-maker?
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Chapter Three
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Mira took great pains to avoid Alec for the next few days. She did not venture out in the mornings any longer, though that activity would soon be curtailed by the decreasing temperatures of the autumn days. Staying in the kitchen, finding a solitary spot in the garden, or curling up in the sitting room when they were empty, she managed to put a measure of physical distance between herself and the man who had the power to fluster her so easily. Unfortunately she could not keep her thoughts from dwelling on him constantly.
It would not be difficult to fall in love with Alec Falkner—that was a truth that she could not ignore. He appealed to her in every way… she did not even mind his temper, having discovered that it was coupled with a wry sense of humor. Though he had a temper, he could also be gentle. The thought that he wanted her filled her with excitement and a peculiar kind of dismay. She knew that he was attracted to her in spite of himself and that he would not have chosen to want her, if such a thing were merely a matter of choice. She thought often of the minutes on the turret steps when he had cradled her in his arms, and she wondered if he thought of it too. Unable to dispel her obsession with him, she began to ferret out information about him, even questioning Sackville discreetly.
"How did I meet him?" Sackville repeated as she poured tea for him and handed him a plate of his favorite biscuits. The firelight shone cozily around the two of them as they sat alone in a small parlor. Sackville's face was red from a long day of hunting, and he stretched his legs before the fire appreciatively. He loved to chat idly and relax with a cup of brandy-laced tea after a great deal of exertion. "It was about seven years ago during a hunt… black-haired young devil… he was the kind that I like to take down a peg or two when I can. By himself he was a tolerable sort, quiet and polite, but whenever that cousin of his was around—Holt, the one who's gone now—he was the most unruly rake I'd ever seen."
"Why was he different around his cousin?" Mira prompted, her voice deliberately casual.
"Holt kept urging him on, you see…" Sackville chuckled and shook his head reminiscently. "They looked so much alike that there were many jests— Holt was the worse half of the pair, while Alec was the one with the conscience. Put together, they complemented each other perfectly."
"But you had more of a liking for Lord Falkner?"
"Didn't like either of them at first. Holt preferred chasing women over hunting game. And Alec and I began an argument the first day of the hunt, about whether a double-barreled Westley Richards or a Joe Manton is more effective. We started a bet to see which one would bring down a greater number of birds with his respective firearm."
Mira smiled, picturing a much younger Alec in the middle of a quarrel with Sackville. "Who won?" she asked.
"We compared tallies at the end of the hunt and found that we were exactly even. That was when the friendship began. I discovered soon afterward that he is a talented architect—he redesigned part of the manor for me, did you know that?"
Mira was fascinated by the revelation. An architect… did Alec possess a more fanciful nature than she had originally thought? Did his tastes in design run to classical Palladian or picturesque Gothic? When she had pressed for more details about it, Sackville gave her an odd look before murmuring something noncommittal about Falkner's designs, causing Mira to wince in the realization that her interest was becoming far too obvious. She was not aware that she had mentioned his name so often in the most casual of conversations. But this disturbing fact was pointed out to her one day while she was taking tea in the kitchen with Mrs. Comfit and two of the housemaids, Lizzie and Tessie.
"This is the randiest group o' gentlemen Lord Sackville's ever 'ad over to the manor," Lizzie exclaimed, her bright red curls bobbing emphatically as she spoke. "Another one tried to 'ave 'is way with me this morning, 'e did!"
"Wa'd 'e do?" Tessie, a timid girl of seventeen, inquired in fascination.
"Looked me up and down as I was carryin' a tray by 'is room—pinched me on the be'ind, 'e did, and chased me down the 'all!"
"Goo!" Tessie exclaimed.
"That's the third one this week," Mira said dryly to Mrs. Comfit, who shook her head with resignation. Mrs. Comfit was a wise and cheery figure, her body solid and round, her expression perpetually elfin, her appearance resembling that of a friendly forest gnome.