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to undo the damage he'd contributed to
their rift.  But he was determined that she do the same.
 
    ******
    To say that Grace was
confused was an understatement.  Why was Alex so determined to
have her when any woman would do for him?  His behavior was
completely counteracting his words to her father and she didn't
know what to believe.  Perhaps something had happened in the
deal between her husband and her father that she didn't know about,
something that required her to be reconciled with Alex.
    She didn't trust this
rapid turnaround, even though some small part of her was burning
with hope.  
    Hope hurt.  Hope was what would
grind her already shattered heart into dust.  Hope was what
had caused her to lower her defenses to Alex in the first place, to
believe that something more was growing between them.
 
    So she took that little
sliver of light and tucked it away, like she was closing it up into
Pandora's Box, just like in the myth.
    Fortunately, Alex had
already gotten into the bed, after giving her a long, considering
look, and his back was to her. Gritting her teeth, she followed
him, practically clinging to the edge of the bed so that she didn’t
accidentally touch him. She wasn’t going give him the satisfaction
of thinking that she was afraid of him. She didn’t want him to
think that she still cared, that sleeping next to him would bother
her.  
    Tears slid silently down her face, and
she told herself they were tears of anger and frustration, but she
wasn't entirely sure that was true.  Her emotions were utter
chaos, as if all the careful walls she'd built up had tumbled down,
the compartments emptied, and now she was drowning in them.
 
    She missed Conyngham and the
simplicity of their relationship.  The caring of friendship
without deeper emotions.  Trusting him with her body had been
easy, because she hadn't had to trust him with her
heart.
    Now she was realizing why it had been
so easy to keep her heart out of her affairs: Alex had still held
the battered shards.

Chapter 3
    The house that Eleanor and Edwin had
rented out was beautifully furnished, but quite cozy, Irene was
relieved to find.  They'd asked her and Hugh to stay with them
for the duration of their visit to Bath, since they would only be
in town long enough to attend Wesley's wedding, and then Hugh
wanted to move on to the estates.  Edwin would be taking
Eleanor to his own estates at the same time, although they were
near enough for visiting, thankfully.
    Irene was both looking forward to and
dreading seeing her sister-in-law again.  She hoped that
Eleanor would be able to forgive Irene for her part in Edwin's
discovery of Eleanor's plans.  Although Eleanor had been
gracious enough in the letter that she'd written to Irene,
accepting her heartfelt apology, she wouldn't blame Eleanor for
holding a grudge.  Especially if she and Edwin were still
unhappy.
    But Eleanor was nothing
but smiles and embraces when she greeted Hugh and Irene.
 Edwin, as darkly imposing as ever, kept her close by his
side, but Eleanor seemed content to be there.  Her face was
paler and more wane than it had been in London, but Irene hoped it
wasn't because she was unhappy here with Edwin.  
    "We've been invited by the Countess of
Spencer to dinner tonight, if you feel well enough for it," Eleanor
said cheerfully.  "If not, we can make your
excuses."
    "I'd like to go and meet the future
Countess," said Hugh, grinning cheerfully at his sister.  The
look of eager anticipation that passed between them was so filled
with sibling understanding that Irene felt envious for a moment.
 Not that she doubted Hugh's love for her, but since she'd
never had a sibling, she felt envious over the closeness that
Eleanor had with her brother and his friends.  Her husband
glanced down at her, his blue eyes sweeping over her as if checking
to ensure she was well enough to go along with his plans.  "As
long as Irene's amenable.  We can wait till tomorrow, if