Page 58 of A Rake's Redemption
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Alex woke the next morning feeling as unsettled as he had the night before. He hadn’t had a chance to speak with Brice privately, although in hindsight, it was probably just as well. God only knew what kind of ribbing Brice would give him if he started discussingfaeries. The space of twenty-four hours since the theatre discussion made the whole conversation sound silly now. Inis would probably prickle if he brought the subject up…or she would launch into a defense of the Fae, which might be worse.
As Alex rose and got dressed, his thoughts drifted back to the past evening at White’s. In a way, Stephan and Inis shared a similarity. Neither of them truly fit into Society. Although Inis came from a working class, and Stephan had inherited the title of marquis, he also was a commoner. His mother had been a maid of the former marquis. Although to give the old man credit, he did claim Stephan as his son and saw to his education. Alex suspected Inis’s parents had been at least literate, since she seemed to absorb lessons quickly. Another similarity she shared with both Stephan and himself was that none of them cared for the snobbish attitude of the aristocracy.
Alex was beginning to feel guiltier about Inis’s role in his scheme to humiliate his brother. Not that George didn’t deserve it, butInisdidn’t. If the visit to the theatre box was any indication, those she-wolves would be out for blood if Inis made a socialfaux-pas.
Should he—couldhe—make Inis the possible subject of that kind of humiliation? She’d held her own at the theatre, but the interchange had been short, and he’d been there to intervene. A ball would be different. She’d be exposed to much more scrutiny and much sharper tongues. He ran a hand through hair he’d just combed. He had no right to force Inis to go through with his plan.
The decision would have to be hers.
…
Inis hesitated outside the library door later that morning. She would have liked to freshen up after working in the stables, but she didn’t want to keep Alex waiting. Yesterday, he’d said he needed to rethink her remaining as his hostler. She didn’t want to give him any fodder for being upset with her. At least her boots were clean of manure.
“Come in,” Alex called when she knocked.
Instead of sitting behind his desk, he was standing near the hearth that had a cheerful little fire going. Or, perhaps, Inis wanted to think the crackling flames were cheerful. “Ye asked to see me?”
“Yes.” Alex gestured to one of the two velvet-upholstered armchairs. “Please sit.”
“I…I have been working in the barn,” Inis replied. “I doona want to get the seats dirty.”
Alex raised a brow. “You do not look dirty to me. In any case, I am quite sure upholstery can be cleaned. Please, sit so I can, too.”
She took a chair, sitting gingerly on the edge, which made Alex smile.
“Are you assuming that pose because it is ladylike, or because you’re prepared to dash out of here like a hare with a fox on its tail?”
She did feel rather like a scared rabbit, not that she’d admit it. “I’m supposed to be practicing what Caroline has taught me.”
“Ah, yes. I wanted to talk to you about that.”
“My lessons?” Inis frowned. “I thought ye wanted to talk about my handling of your horses.”
“A little bit of both.”
“Both?”
“I’m having reservations about my original plan.”
Inis swallowed hard. “Ye are?”
Alex nodded. “I am not at all sure I should put you through such an ordeal.”
Not wanting to look directly at him, Inis watched the dancing yellow and orange flames tipped in blue. Was Alex reneging? Maybe she’d pretended to bungle the lessons a bit too much, and Alex didn’t think she’d ever be able to fool anyone. She looked at him. “Did I do something wrong at the theatre?”
“Not at all,” Alex said, “but I got word this morning that George’s ball has been moved to an earlier date this year because of the Prince Regent’s schedule. It will be held two weeks hence. That is not a lot of time to finish preparations. A brief conversation at an intermission is not the same as being exposed to open analysis and dissection at a ball.”
Inis managed to keep her expression impassive. Alex didn’t think she would be skilled enough to carry the charade off. Her temper stirred. For a second she was tempted to tell him who she was, and that she could more than hold her own with vicious, wagging tongues. But those words would only lead her down a disastrous road back to Ireland and a marriage she did not want. She reined in her irritation. “I will try harder to do better, my…Mr. Ashley.”
He drew his brows together. “Did I not ask you to call me Alex?”
Inis felt her face heat and looked down. Calling him by his first name would only intensify her feelings toward him. She certainly could not reveal how attractive she thought him. That would be suicide. “Since ye wanted to talk to me about my…lack of…I mean, my job, I thought ye would prefer I address ye as my employer.”
“I would prefer Alex.” He moved closer, his voice softer. “Or Alexander. And…I am not chastising you.”
She looked up, a little startled to realize he stood so near she caught the slight scent of the sandlewood soap he used. “Ye doona think I can do this.”
