him up to his brawny elbows in flour defied the imagination, and as she had pointed out already, Robert would not have left food anyway.
“You’re awake.”
She jerked at the cool voice coming from the doorway, tea slopping onto her dress and the unmade bed. Alex lounged there, dressed very formally in a dark blue tailored coat that fit his broad shoulders, a snowy cravat, gold waistcoat, buff breeches and highly polished boots. His fair hair was perfectly brushed, and his well-shaped mouth curved in that irritating mocking smile she had once thought so charming.
Mocking, yes, indeed. In the morning light he looked older than the man she remembered, with lines around his mouth that had never been there before and a wary cynicism in his eyes. He was still the most utterly handsome man she had ever seen, but there was an unfamiliar hardness to him that had been hidden in the darkness of their encounter the night before.
Self-consciously wiping the crumbs from her fingers, she swallowed. “Yes, I’m obviously awake.”
“And you found some breakfast, I see.”
“Yes, thank you. Wherever did it come from?” It was impossible to find dignity when your hair was a wild nest and you were wearing yesterday’s wrinkled clothes. Nonetheless, Jessica straightened her spine and returned his level stare.
“Never mind. Are you all right?” he asked softly.
The question brought back the night before and the memory she refused to face while wolfing down her breakfast. She’d behaved like a fool and had clung to him, to Alex Ramsey of all people on God’s earth, letting him hold her, to pretend to comfort her…
Pretense.
It wasn’t easy to forget he now owned the house she grew up in, and had, until the night before, considered her home. The house her family had owned for many generations. Her bitterness toward Robert extended to Alexander Ramsey as well. He had profited from her brother’s weakness, and she was homeless.
“I’m fine,” she said in stiff denial.
He nodded. “Good. I’ll have hot water sent up. I expect you to be ready to travel to Grayston in less than an hour.”
“Grayston?”
“You cannot stay here. My mother and Ariel would love to have you.”
Loftily, she said, “I would not dream of imposing on your family.”
“Really?” One fair brow inched upward in a mannerism that sent irritation in waves through her body. “So then, what do you propose, Jess? Camping out on the front lawn like a gypsy? Sleeping in the stables?”
Sitting on the rumpled bed, she felt her throat tighten. Her predicament was dire. It was unkind of him to point it out. If the truth be known, she had no idea what she was going to do.
It felt terrible.
She stared at him. She was dirty and crumpled and unsightly. He was elegant and relaxed and utterly handsome. He had money, a home, and a hero’s reputation for his achievements while fighting the French. She had nothing but the clothes on her back.
Tears pricked her lids but she blinked fiercely. She was not going to cry again in front of him. The night before had been humiliation enough.
To make matters worse, he’d been kind.
He’d held her very tenderly and made her actually feel like he cared.
Had it been true, that would be different. She’d been victim once to his transient charm. Many women undoubtedly had. From the rumors, many was an understatement.
“Alex,” she said in a tight voice, “the answer is obvious, isn’t it? I can go to the Greenes. They’ll want me. Nathaniel will insist I go there when he hears of all of this.”
“And in the meantime”—he sounded reasonable—“until such arrangements can be made, you can stay at Grayston.”
“No.”
“Jessica.” He looked at her with those eyes that were so very blue. “Again, you cannot stay here. I also cannot send you off alone into the world without money or shelter. Therefore the solution is no longer your choice. My parents were very good friends of your parents, and