Percy gaped at her. “It was never my intention to make you look ridiculous, Miss Drake. Quite the opposite.” He paused. “I am sorry that you thought the gift came from my brother, and that you felt foolish and exposed when you thanked him for it …”
“Well, I did!” Alicia had reddened in anger. “You gave me the rose as well, didn’t you?”
Percy nodded slowly. “Yes. I knew you would never accept them from me if I offered them to you. But I had to show how much I admire you, Miss Drake, or else go mad.” He took a deep breath. Alicia could see that his chest was heaving. “I have seen the way that you look at me,” he continued slowly. “Against your will. I know that you have enjoyed our conversations as much as I have.”
Alicia gaped at him. “Just because I have been polite to speak with you, sir, does not mean that I am receptive to gifts of this nature from you, or think fondly of you in any way.”
“You lie,” he said, gazing at her. “I know you are lying. I know it is your mother who forces you to pursue my brother, against your will.” He paused. “It is true that he will be the duke one day, and I am only the younger son, who will never inherit the title. But I am just as wealthy as Sebastian, and I can provide you with anything your heart desires if you wed me.”
Alicia was so flabbergasted she could barely speak. Had he just asked her to marry him? This was all happening so quickly her head was spinning. Only this morning she had thought she had finally had a breakthrough with the marquis and that she might confidently expect to be his wife. Now, it was all topsy-turvy. The gifts had not come from Lord Sebastian, but his younger brother, who was now declaring himself to her.
She stared at him. He was earnest, she could see that, in the way he was gazing at her so beseechingly. Her heart stirred a little, against her will. Lord Percy was a decent man, and he was handsome, and rich. If things had been different, and she was able to choose her own suitor, he would almost certainly be her favourite. It was true that they got along very well. They were able to converse with ease. Much easier than when she conversed with his brother, who often acted as though horses were dragging words out of his mouth when he spoke to her.
“Please.” He stared at her beseechingly. “Does your heart not recognise when a gentleman is being sincere? Do the gifts not convince you of my undying admiration?”
Alicia kept staring at him. This was an almighty mess, as her father would say. She had never intended it. But now she must deal with it. Lord Percy was trembling with ardour as he gazed at her, and that must stop if she were to pursue the course her mother had set her on. He must not only stop admiring her but stay away from her. For good.
Her hand strayed to the necklace and she ripped it off her neck, throwing it to the ground where it lay like a coiled snake between them. Percy stared down at it in horror, as if it were something living that she had killed. Then his eyes rose, and he gazed at her, still trembling.
“I will become the next Duchess of Richley,” she hissed, her eyes glittering. “Make no mistake about that, my lord.”
He kept staring at her, then suddenly he was laughing. Furiously. Bitterly. Alicia stared at him, her mouth agape. Had he lost his senses entirely?
“You over-reach,” he hissed back. “You think it is as simple a matter as setting your sights on my brother and he shall fall in a puddle at your feet? You think wrong, Miss Drake. You are not a stupid woman. You must have figured out by now that he does not seek out your company, nor does he enjoy it.”
Alicia reddened. “The marquis does not know me well yet. But once we become better acquainted …”
Percy snorted in derision. “Better acquainted? My mother and yours throw you both together at the slightest opportunity, and yet he still does not admire you.” He took a deep breath. “My brother confides in me and he has told me that he does not. It is another who has caught his eye, and it is another who makes his heart quicken and beat faster. It is not you, Miss Drake.”
Alicia felt as though he had stabbed her in the chest. She knew that what he said was true, about the marquis not admiring her. She had been telling her mother that for a long time. It didn’t matter how expensive her dress, how beautifully she did her hair, or how flirtatiously she smiled at him. He still gazed at her unmoved and at the first opportunity would turn away from her. She knew it, and yet hearing it stated so boldly was shocking.
Percy was still staring at her, a bitter, wild look on his face. He was desperate, thought Alicia, her heart thumping harder. He really did admire her – his regard was genuine. For another brief moment her heart lurched at the thought of how wonderful it would have been if she was able to court him instead of his brother.
She kept staring at him. Yes, he was desperate, and she knew that desperate men would say anything. But she also knew that he was telling the truth. He had told the truth about how the marquis didn’t admire her. He was also telling the truth that his brother admired someone else, and that she didn’t have a hope while that lady was in the picture.
Her lips curled sourly. She knew who he was talking about. It could only be Lady Charlotte Lumley. The marquis sought her out at every opportunity. At Covent Garden, when she had been forced to endure that pompous opera and claim it was sublime, she had seen his eyes drift constantly to her family’s box. He had practically dragged her and her siblings to their picnic in Hyde Park and then didn’t take his eyes off her the whole time. At Vauxhall Gardens, he had accompanied Lady Charlotte on the Grand Walk, ignoring her and his own mother.
Alicia’s heart beat faster. What did he see in her? She was a small, dark-haired mouse, completely bereft of charm and wit. Lady Charlotte was so serious, with her bookish opinions and polite manners. She wasn’t flirtatious in the least and she dressed like a frump, thought Alicia crossly. Her own mother spent a fortune on the latest gowns and accessories so that she would make an impression, and yet it appeared that Lady Charlotte Lumley was stealing the show. The only show that mattered.
Percy stooped and picked up the necklace with a shaking hand. “I am sorry that this gift offends you so, Miss Drake,” he said, in a tight voice. “But I shall keep it, just for you. I shall put it in a special spot and one day I know that you will come to me and ask for it back. Along with my heart.”
Alicia put her hands to her ears, shaking her head. “I won’t hear another word of this,” she said quickly. “I won’t! Stay away from me. I have my own plans, and they do not involve you.”
She picked up the hem of her gown and, trembling violently, turned and ran away from him, back down the garden path. She could hear Martha struggling to keep up with her, but she didn’t turn her head. Not once.
She flew past the rose bushes, her eyes sliding to them, but she didn’t stop. The sight of the peach roses caused another pang in her heart and her eyes filled with tears. She wanted to weep. She wanted to run far away from this grand house, at the most exclusive address in London, and find some quiet spot and cry until she could cry no more.
But it was impossible. There was no tranquil spot for her, not anywhere. Even her bedroom was constantly besieged by her mother. If Lady Hastings found her weeping, she would censure her soundly, telling her that she must not succumb to such weakness. Even when she had been a little girl her mother would not tolerate her crying.
She stopped, suddenly, causing the maid to almost collide with her. She must pull herself together before she went back into that drawing room. Her chest heaving, she tried to catch her breath, thinking it through.
Lady Charlotte Lumley. She was an impediment to everything. As soon as they left Millington House, she would find her courage and tell her mother everything. About how the necklace and the rose were not gifts from the marquis, but his brother. About how Lady Charlotte was the reason that the marquis wouldn’t open his heart to her.
Alicia’s breathing started to regulate. There must be a way to get their plans back on track. Her mother would know what to do about Lady Charlotte. They would put their he
ads together and figure out a way.
***
Percy clutched the necklace tightly in his hand, watching her run away. His heart was hammering and he could barely believe the confrontation that had just occurred.
His first impulse had been to pursue her, but then he had stopped himself, knowing that it would be pointless. Alicia had been shocked by his declaration, and she was angry. Angry that he had been so bold as to give her the gifts. Angry that she had been duped, thinking that they were from Sebastian. Her mother had brainwashed her so well that she couldn’t concede for a moment that she could make up her own mind about who courted her. All she could see was that he was spoiling all their carefully constructed plans.
He put the necklace in his pocket. He hadn’t wanted to confront her with it all, but she had taken him by surprise, and he had felt he had no choice but to show his hand. To reveal to her, at long last, how much he admired her. What had he been hoping? That she would suddenly realise that they were meant for each other, and say that she admired him too, and that she would stop this useless pursuit of his brother?
Percy took a deep breath. It had been too much to hope for, he realised that now. It had been too sudden, and she had panicked. He had meant it when he had said that he knew she liked him as well. Alicia didn’t care a jot for his brother. It was only about the money and the title. That was the whole sad awful thing about it all.
She was gone now. She had fled back to the safety of her mother, hiding beneath her skirts. The only thing he had accomplished by admitting his admiration for her was that she was now more determined than ever to ensnare his brother.
His eyes flickered uneasily. He shouldn’t have mentioned that Sebastian admired another. It had enraged her even more to hear that she had competition. At least he had not revealed the name of the lady that his brother was enamoured with, he thought hopefully. But then his heart sunk a little more. Alicia wasn’t stupid. A blind man could have seen the regard his brother held for Lady Charlotte, and Miss Drake was not blind. She had observed Sebastian with Lady Charlotte on quite a few occasions.
Percy walked back down the path slowly. It might all just blow over. Besides, Lady Charlotte wanted nothing to do with Sebastian anymore. His brother was broken-hearted, but there it was. Alicia couldn’t destroy something that was already broken, could she?
Chapter 17
Charlotte adjusted her parasol, breathing in the fresh air. It felt so good to be out walking, after being house-bound for so long. The only time she had left Acton House in the past month was to attend Aunt Eliza’s funeral, and she still hadn’t been well then. Very far from well. But now she was recovered enough to take the air in Hyde Park, for just a little while.
She stopped for a moment, gazing out over the river. It glimmered in the early morning sunshine and she could see ducks and swans gliding over it serenely. How beautiful it was, to be in nature. Her heart seized for a moment, thinking of the woods and fields around Cranwick Manor. How much longer must they stay in London before she could finally breathe the sweet Devonshire air again and put this whole mess behind her?
Diana, who was walking just slightly ahead, stopped, gazing back at her. “Dearest. Are you feeling weak?”
Charlotte smiled faintly. “No, Di. I am feeling better than I have in a very long time.” She paused, still staring over the water. “I was just thinking how wonderful it is to be in nature. The house was hemming me in, I must admit.”
George, who had also stopped, grinned. “I should say so, Lottie. You’ve barely stepped out of it in a month or more.” He paused, his eyes sharp as they considered her. “You are very pale, sister. The sunlight will do you a world of good.”
Charlotte sighed, nodding. “It is doing me the world of good. I almost feel like I could pick up the hem of my gown and sprint down the path.”
“I wouldn’t do that, old girl,” said George, his grin widening. “What do they say about running before you start walking …?”
Diana nodded. “Baby steps, Charlotte. You are so much improved, but you don’t want to overtax yourself.” Her eyes rested on her sister. “How are the tremors now?”
“Better,” replied Charlotte, adjusting her long white gloves. “But not gone. However, Dulcie’s idea to wear these longer gloves to disguise them was brilliant.”
Diana’s eyes rested on her arms. “It was. You can barely discern the tremors at all anymore. And I know that means so much to you, dearest, even though we do not care.”
Charlotte sighed, staring back over the water. “I know you and George do not care, Di. But the world will judge me, and that makes me feel self-conscious. At least wearing the gloves, I can come out and not feel like I am being watched and found wanting.”
They resumed their walk, following the path closely along the river. Charlotte sighed again, thinking of the past month and the trials it had brought. The sudden passing of Aunt Eliza and her own violent relapse. She had been so melancholy with it that for the first few weeks she had barely left her bed.
She gazed at a pair of brown feathered ducks frolicking in the water. The melancholy had slowly passed and she had regained her strength again. Little by little she had got better. She had resumed painting, and playing the piano, although she still had to rest in the afternoons at first. For the past week she had been up and about the whole day, and two days ago she had suddenly become restless. She had to get out of the house before she went quite mad.
That was why they were walking in Hyde Park now. Her parents had been concerned, as had George and Diana, but she was determined. It would only be a short walk, after all. They would turn back soon, to where the carriage was waiting for them.
Just a little longer, thought Charlotte. But then she looked up and recognised something. It was the knoll where Lord Sebastian had been picnicking with his family and guests all those weeks ago. That sunny day when he had suddenly appeared as if from nowhere, beseeching them all to join them, and had then spent the time gazing at her as though he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.
Charlotte stopped, staring at the spot, her heart clenching at the memory. It seemed so long ago, now – almost a lifetime. As if a different woman had walked over the knoll and sat down on the picnic rug and a different man had asked her to join them. Did she recognise herself at all in that memory? Did she recognise that laughing woman, who had basked in the marquis’s admiration like a cat warming itself in the sun? A woman whose heart was overflowing with it, even while knowing that it could lead nowhere.
George approached her quietly. “Do you want to go and sit there, Lottie, just for a moment?”
She gazed at him sharply. “That would be a foolishly sentimental thing to do, wouldn’t it, George?” Her gaze softened a little. “I am sorry. I did not mean to speak so harshly.”
He smiled slightly. “It’s all right, Lottie. I understand.” He cleared his throat. “Even though I thought the man was going to whip me, or demand to be taken upstairs to find you, that day when you insisted I tell him you wouldn’t see him.”
Charlotte’s heart sunk at the memory. “I am sorry I made you do that, George. I was a coward. I should have come down and told him myself.” She took a deep breath. “But if I had, he would have known straight away that there was something wrong with me. I could barely walk ten paces then without having to sit down, and the tremors were frightful …”
George laid a hand on her own. “It’s fine. I took one for the team, eh? I don’t think the Marquis of Wharton is going to darken our doorway any time in the future, which is what you wanted.”
Charlotte felt tears prick behind her eyes. It was ridiculous, she thought. Still, after all this time, it hurt. It hurt badly. She had done what she had to do – she had to discourage him, and in such a way that he would not think well of her anymore. George had told her that Lord Sebastian had been livid when her brother had told him that she refused to see him.
She closed her eyes, hearing once again his angry
footsteps in the hallway leaving the house. She had almost relented in that moment. She had wanted to run down the stairs and tell him how sorry she was. Explain that it was for the best, and that he was better off without her, if he only knew. But, of course, she had done no such thing. He was a proud man and she had humiliated him enough already.
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