Free Alissa Baxter by The Dashing Debutante

abruptly as Mr Chanderly had begun the kiss, he ended it, drawing back. Alexandra blinked up at him in a dazed fashion, completely mesmerised by the fire she saw smouldering in his green eyes. After a moment, however, he pushed her away from him, and the glittering expression faded from his face, to be replaced by the mask of impassivity he usually wore.
    Alexandra drew a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Her heart was still pounding, and a curious weakness seemed to have pervaded her limbs. She looked uncertainly at the man across from her, not knowing quite what to say. As an unmarried woman, her sensibilities ought to be outraged by the liberties he had dared to take with her, but being an innately fair person, Alexandra thought it would be a trifle ludicrous if she were to primly reprimand Mr Chanderly for his ungentlemanly conduct when she herself was attired in far from ladylike breeches, and had just attempted to hold him up.
    It was Mr Chanderly who finally broke the silence. “I think we need to talk about a few things, Miss Grantham, but this is hardly the time or place for a discussion. I shall call on you this afternoon.”
    “You — you do not intend telling my brother about this, do you, Mr Chanderly?” she asked, looking nervously up at him.
    Mr Chanderly raised an eyebrow. “About our kiss? No, Miss Grantham, I don’t,” he said in a dry voice.
    Alexandra flushed, and averted her eyes. “No — no. I mean, about my being a highwayman.”
    “I think I shall wait until I have heard what you have to say for yourself, before taking any action,” he replied slowly.
    Alexandra cleared her throat. “Um... My aunt will insist on chaperoning us, Mr Chanderly, so we shall not be able to have a private conversation. Could — could we not meet elsewhere?”
    He frowned at her. “I do not intend putting your reputation at further risk by meeting with you clandestinely, Miss Grantham.”
    “But if my aunt finds out about this...”
    Mr Chanderly sighed in the manner of a man whose patience had been pushed too far. “When I arrive, I shall profess an admiration for the fine grounds of Grantham Place, and you will offer to show me the gardens. We shall talk then.”
    Turning away from her, he freed the reins from the branch, and climbed back into his curricle, taking his seat. He looked across at Alexandra who had, in the meantime, mounted her steed again, and was busy arranging her feet in the stirrups, and waited until she was finally settled and had turned her attention to him again, before saying in an implacable voice, “I expect you to be at home when I call this afternoon, Miss Grantham. Don’t try and avoid me.”
    Setting his horses in motion, he drove off down the road, leaving Alexandra staring after him, her mind a mass of confused, unhappy thoughts.

 

Chapter Seven
    Mr Chanderly called at three o’ clock that afternoon, and after he had paid his respects to Mrs Grantham, and had given in to her urging to join them for tea, Alexandra led him on his requested tour of the grounds. She showed him the Rose Garden and Conservatory first, before guiding him to a quiet alcove which overlooked a pretty pond where she knew they could converse in private. An ornamental iron garden seat, set upon a pedestal to avoid the damp ground, faced the pond, and Mr Chanderly waited for Alexandra to be seated before taking his place next to her.
    He studied her averted face for a moment, before saying in a quiet voice, “I await your explanation.”
    She glanced at him warily, then looked away. “But, you would not understand...”
    “I am waiting, Miss Grantham.”
    Alexandra sighed. “Very well, then.”
    She gazed out at the pleasant vista before her, but barely noticed the sloping lawns surrounding the pond, or the gardeners tending them, as she wondered how best to explain her actions to this man. Finally, taking a deep breath, she raised her eyes to his again and began, “I am not sure if you are aware of