Marguerite moved closer to them now. Arista looked up at Grae, silently begging him for a chance to explain. Grae’s penetrating gaze stripped Arista of all her defenses. She hoped that he could see that there was no deception in her eyes.
“Should know what?” Marguerite asked, looking between Arista and Grae.
Please. She sent one last silent request to the man who held her future in his hands.
After several tense seconds, his jaw relaxed.
“That I’ll be joining you for dinner tonight.” He seemed to tear his stare from Arista’s face with difficulty.
“Oh, how wonderful. I’ll let Jane know. Will you be staying overnight, too?”
Arista heard the joy in his mother’s voice, but could not look away from Grae. Behind the anger, something else was burning, far more dangerous than any threat he could make. She swallowed against a dry throat.
“Yes, Mother. I think I will.”
“Excellent. I’ll have Wilson open up your room.” She started to turn away, but seemed to change her mind. She said nothing, but Arista saw the question in her eyes—whether or not it was wise to leave them alone in the garden together.
No, Arista screamed in her head.
“Tell Father I’ll be there in just a minute,” Grae said. “I’ve a new shipping route to discuss with him.”
Mrs. Sinclair smiled. The simple gesture was so full of love that it took Arista’s breath away. In that moment she knew that Grae would do anything to protect his family. The only defense of this charade that would be acceptable to him was the truth. But if she told him why she was really there, he would know that his father had made some kind of deal with Wild already.
Never in her life had she wanted to keep a secret that was not her own this badly.
Arista sat down hard on the nearest bench. She glanced up in time to see the look of warning Marguerite directed at her son as she left the garden. She might not know the truth about why Arista was there, but something made her wary nonetheless.
Grae sat on the bench opposite her. This would not be a pleasant exchange. He leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankles. His shoulders were squared and rigid, a sign that his irritation had not yet dispersed. Everything about his body spoke of anger, and yet Arista wasn’t afraid for her safety. Before, blind fear had taken over, but she knew now that Grae would not harm her physically. She knew that as surely as she knew he would accept nothing less than the truth. Which she could never give him.
“Talk, Lady A.”
Arista looked around before narrowing her eyes at him. “Stop calling me that.”
“Ana, then? Is that really your name?” His eyes narrowed. When she could not look at him, he sighed. “Of course not.” He unfolded his arms and leaned closer. “I’ve gone to every damned party and ball since Lady Carstair’s, you know. Looking for you.”
Her pulse quickened, despite the precarious position she was in. There was a tone of vulnerability under the steely rage in his voice. It made her stomach twist in unexpected ways. It made her remember their brief time together. She, too, had wished they might meet again under the safety of a disguise. Heat surged to her cheeks. She had to be glowing like a lantern. Did he remember the kiss as well as she did?
His voice lowered, took on a dangerous undertone. “It was an acquaintance of mine, Lord Kalman, who finally informed me that the lady I sought was a notorious blackmailer.”
Lord Kalman. Arista wracked her brain but could not put the name to a face. There were so many faces she wished to forget. She closed her eyes to ward off the accusation in his stare.
“Were you marketing your skills for new clients that night, Ana?” he asked roughly. “Did you think I might be of some use to you?”
Her gaze dropped. She had been excited about the fact that he’d sailed to India. She’d only wished to know everything he’d seen and done. It had nothing to do with Lady A. He mistook her silence for guilt. “Do you provide such a hands-on service to all who employ you?” Hurt radiated from his eyes, and she knew that some of the anger wasn’t because she was there in his home; it was because he thought his feelings were one-sided. His entire body was tense. “Did you lose interest once you figured out that I didn’t need what you were offering?”
His cruel words dug under her skin. Arista shook her head. She wanted to tell him that he’d made her feel things she’d never felt in her life. That she had planned to seek him out again, but the fire changed everything. No one had ever affected her as he had. She knew from the first time they’d touched that he could be trusted—a feeling so rare that Arista was sure she’d been mistaken. Their second meeting proved she had not been wrong.
She could tell him that despite the pretense on both of those nights, what she’d said—how she’d acted—it had been real.