Peering over his shoulder, she saw two versions of the metal contraption: a view of the outside, and, below that, a cutaway view showing the inner workings. "That's very clever," she said.
He shrugged. "I've tampered with the design some, but it's not as though I invented it. A gentleman in France came up with the idea."
"Well, it's still clever of you to be able to draw it—and build it." She waited for a response, watching him shade a portion of the sketch. "I must get back to my sisters," she said when it became clear he was going to remain quiet. "I'll…I'll see you at dinner."
"Of course."
Of course. It was as simple as that. She sidled out from behind him and began walking away.
"Alexandra," he called softly.
No lady this time. She stopped and turned to find he'd risen again. "Yes?"
"I want to apologize for last night. I should have explained."
"I understand. And I know you tried. Your failure was as much my fault as yours—"
"Regardless, I had no right to kiss you. I beg you to accept my apology. It won't happen again."
Why did hearing that cause a heaviness in her chest? It was the only prudent choice. But that didn't stop her from wishing things were different. From wishing the rest of society had the faith in him that she did.
"I don't believe the rumors," she told him. "You don't have it in you to commit murder."
"I appreciate your confidence." His gaze remained steady, cool. He was very good at masking his feelings. Either that, or she'd only imagined those feelings last night.
She'd never considered herself a very imaginative sort of person.
He sat again, a silent dismissal. With an internal sigh, she turned to leave—and saw Griffin striding toward her .
He glanced at Tris, grabbed her by the arm, then marched her into the picture gallery, and, for good measure, through the door to the billiard room.
"I don't want to see you alone with him. Ever."
In her current state of thwarted passion, her brother's overprotectiveness was more than vexing. She wrenched her arm free. "I was only getting a book."
"Just keep clear of him, will you? With any luck, we'll complete this project in a week or so, and then he can leave."
"And in the meantime, am I supposed to avoid entire rooms in my own home?"
"If that's what it takes."
"You could trust me a little." In a huff, she leaned against the oak billiard table.
"Stand up straight," Griffin said. "You can throw the table off balance."
She snapped upright, her fragile emotions threatening to snap, too. Following her father's death, her foppish brother Charles had enjoyed lording it over his younger sisters. And now Griffin. "Stop telling me what to do."
"I'm only trying to protect you—one of my many responsibilities, in case you've forgotten. I'd appreciate your cooperation."
"We don't need you to watch over us. After Charles died, it took three months for you to arrive. We did just fine without you then, and we can do without you now."
Matching temper lit his eyes. "You want me gone? How convenient, since I'd just as soon not be here, either." With an angry twist of his wrist, he sent an ivory billiard ball across the green cloth that covered the table's wooden surface. "My friends just defeated Napoleon without me." The ball bounced off a cushion and hit another ball with a crack. "Perhaps I should rejoin them."
"As you said, you have responsibilities now. Beyond me, beyond Juliana and Corinna."
"I had responsibilities then, too," he said, referring to his years as an officer. Years when, she supposed, he'd become used to everyone following his orders.
But if he was hoping for an apology, he was hoping in vain. She'd had enough of other people deciding what was right for her. "Sadly, you cannot leave."
"You want me to leave?" He raised his gaze from the table and watched her, waited for her to answer.
"No," she said at last on a sigh. Suddenly, she felt beyond weary. All the fight drained out of her. The truth was, although Griffin might be less than an ideal guardian, she couldn't imagine her life without him. She'd missed him dreadfully the years he was gone. "I don't know what I want," she said.
He sighed, too. "I don't know what I want, either." In a complete change of mood, he stepped forward and chucked her under the chin. "Life hasn't treated us well the past few years, has it?"
"Perhaps not, but I'm tired of feeling sorry for myself." She gave him a shaky smile. "As concerns Lord Hawkridge, you've nothing to fear, I promise you. Your friend has become a proper gentleman overnight."
If part of her regretted that fact, a larger part knew it was for the best.
"I'm glad to hear it." Griffin smiled back, a relieved smile, then took himself from the room.
Alexandra sent another ball across the table with a force that outdid her brother's. It bounced off two cushions and rolled neatly into a pocket.
If only her life would roll into place that perfectly.
TEN
TWO DAYS later, Griffin woke on the wrong side of the bed. Or at least that was what Tristan surmised, given the man hadn't strung more than three words together during their ride out to the vineyard.
Leading their horses by the reins, they walked along the riverbank, discussing their final plans prior to setting them in motion. "We'll site the pump here," Tristan said, "belowground with a grating over the opening. Ten feet in depth. That will give us the drop we need to start the water flow through the mechanism." The day before, he'd staked off an area roughly six feet square. "Four straight walls. You'll want to line them with brick to prevent erosion, but that can wait."
Griffin nodded soberly. "I'll instruct my men to start digging the
