Secluded with the Rogue

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

G enevieve sat alone in her room, staring blankly out of the frosted window. Her thoughts were a tangled mess, still caught up in the moment she had shared with Alexander. She could feel the lingering warmth of his touch on her hand. The way his gaze had locked onto hers… It had been as though he saw through all her defenses. She had been so wrapped up in him—too much, despite herself—that she had lost track of time.

The knock at her door startled her from her thoughts.

“Genevieve?” Henry’s voice called from the other side. “May I come in?”

She quickly composed herself, smoothing down her skirts as she rose to open the door. Her brother entered with an apologetic smile, though his expression quickly shifted to concern when he saw the look on her face.

“There you are,” Henry said, closing the door behind him. “I have been looking for you. I thought you might want to know… some of our guests could not make it back to their homes because of the storm.”

Genevieve blinked, the reality of the situation outside crashing back down on her. “What do you mean?”

“The storm’s gotten worse,” Henry explained. “While some of the guests who left the winter ball early enough to return to their homes, others had to turn back. The roads are completely impassable. I thought we could hold a small, impromptu ball tonight to lift everyone’s spirits. It is going to be a long night, and we need to make the best of it.”

Genevieve’s heart sank. A ball? Now? With Alexander still in the house and her emotions already a tangled mess? The last thing she wanted was to be thrust into a social gathering, especially one that involved dancing and close proximity. Especially with him there.

“But… I thought most of the guests had left before the storm,” she said quietly, glancing toward the window as if to confirm the storm’s ferocity.

“Most of them had no choice but to return. That is where I have been all day. Entertaining.” He eyed her, and she stiffened for fear that he would mention Alexander, but thankfully, her brother did not. “You know how people are. They need something to occupy their time. We cannot leave them all sitting here staring at the snow. Our father thinks it a good idea. Do you not?”

Genevieve sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead. Of course, her brother was right. There was no sense in making everyone suffer through the storm in silence. But the idea of putting on a cheerful face and pretending everything was fine while Alexander was in the same room made her stomach twist.

Henry must have noticed the hesitation in her eyes because he gave her a teasing smile. “Do not think you can get out of this one, Genevieve. We will all host this together, after all.”

She gave a small, reluctant smile. “I suppose I have no choice.”

Henry patted her shoulder. “It will be fun. Just a few dances, some good company, and we will all make it through this storm together.”

Genevieve tried to ignore the uneasy flutter in her chest. “I will be down soon.”

Henry gave her one last encouraging smile before leaving the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts once again. She glanced at herself in the mirror, taking in the slight flush on her cheeks and the storm of emotions swirling in her eyes.

A ball. And Alexander would be there.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. There was no avoiding him, not tonight. Not in a room full of people where she would be expected to smile and socialize, where they would both have to pretend that the intensity of their earlier moment had not happened.

T he ballroom was smaller than the grand events the Carringtons usually hosted, but the impromptu gathering had brought out the best in the staff. Candles flickered in the chandeliers, and soft music filled the room as the guests, many still stranded by the storm, mingled and shared polite conversation. Despite the situation, there was an air of excitement and warmth, as if the closeness of the storm had somehow drawn everyone together.

Genevieve stood at the edge of the room, watching the guests begin to pair off for the first dance. Her heart was heavy, her mind still racing with thoughts of Alexander. She scanned the room, hoping to find Henry or one of her other friends to occupy her attention.

But before she could make her way toward anyone, she spotted him.

Alexander was standing across the room, his tall frame unmistakable in the sea of guests. He had been cornered by several of the older ladies, no doubt offering their condolences for his father’s passing, but his eyes lifted, searching the room—and then, they found hers.

Genevieve’s breath caught. She had hoped to avoid him, to keep her distance, but now there was no escaping his gaze. The spark between them, the one that always seemed to ignite despite her best efforts to smother it, flickered to life again.

And then, before she knew it, Alexander was making his way toward her.

“Genevieve,” he said, his voice low as he approached, his eyes never leaving hers.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “Your Grace,” she said quietly, her formality a flimsy shield.

He let out a soft sigh, his lips pressing into a faint smile. “Please, we are not playing that game again, are we?”

Before she could respond, one of the matrons nearby noticed them and made her way over, clapping her hands with an air of delight. “Ah, Lady Genevieve! Your Grace! How perfect. Will you two be sharing a dance?”

Genevieve’s stomach dropped. She opened her mouth to refuse, to make some polite excuse to avoid the closeness, but the words caught in her throat.

“I would be honored,” Alexander said smoothly, offering his hand to her. “If Lady Genevieve will allow me.”

Her pulse quickened as she stared at his outstretched hand. There were a thousand reasons to say no, a thousand reasons to turn away. But under the watchful eyes of their guests and with the pressure of the evening mounting, she found herself trapped.

With a hesitant nod, she placed her hand in his.

The moment their hands touched, the familiar jolt of electricity shot through her. Her heart raced, and despite everything—despite the bitterness, the hurt, and the years that had separated them—there was no denying the pull between them.

Alexander led her to the center of the room, and as the music began to play, he gently pulled her into the dance.

Their bodies moved together in perfect sync. It was as if the years had not passed at all. The room around them seemed to blur, the other guests fading into the background as Genevieve became acutely aware of every step, every subtle shift of his hand on her waist.

“Genevieve,” he murmured, his voice low as they turned. “Are you quite all right?”

She forced a smile, refusing to meet his eyes. “I am fine. It is just a dance.”

But it was not just a dance. She could feel it in the way he held her, the tension between them still simmering beneath the surface. The way his hand rested on her back, firm yet gentle, sent a shiver down her spine.

“I know this is difficult,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But thank you for this.”

She swallowed hard, the emotions she had tried so hard to suppress bubbling to the surface. “It is just for the guests,” she replied, her voice strained. “Nothing more.”

But as they continued to move together, their bodies pressed close, Genevieve could not help but feel that this—this moment, this dance—was far more than she wanted to admit.

And despite everything, she was not sure she wanted it to end.