Baskov,” a woman murmured. “You do know what I like, don’t you?” The man shifted, finally, and a woman came into view. Grace drew back, stunned by her beauty. This was the person who was keeping Alex virtually imprisoned? She shoved the two vases together with a clank, wishing to see no more. Lady Lavender was not in the least what she’d expected. Petite with a heart-shaped face of pure perfection. The sort of woman men wanted and women envied. Grace’s heart gave a painful squeeze of what could only be jealousy. But no, she couldn’t be jealous. Being jealous would mean she cared and she didn’t care. She only cared about Rodrick. She pressed her hand to her chest, as if that could stop the ache that had burrowed deep within her soul. Perhaps Alex was at Lady Lavender’s because he wanted to be there. “Can I help you?” Grace spun around. Mr. Dauksza, Mr. Baskov’s apprentice, stood before her looking as intimidating and dour as ever. He was a tall ogre of a man with broad shoulders and the constant look of pure annoyance in his black eyes.
