by Kelly Boyce
“Can you fix it? Maybe you should invite him for tea?” Margaret smiled at him and the innocence of the expression, the easy solution to a far too convoluted event, made Alex wish it was as easy as offering a cup of tea.
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that with adults, Lady Margaret.”
“It should,” Henrietta said. “Given the argument is over a situation done and finished and not to be repeated. Holding onto one’s anger over such a matter is the equivalent of beating a dead horse and expecting it to jump back up and race down Rotten Row.”
Done. Finished. Not to be repeated.
Alex had never heard three more depressing statements in recent memory. Because he didn’t want it to be done. Or finished. Though he certainly wished for it to be repeated. Again and again and again. That Henrietta did not share these feelings made his insides ache with heaviness and disappointment.
“You shouldn’t argue with Uncle James,” Margaret said with the level of plainspoken wisdom only children could achieve. “It will hurt his heart.”
“Sometimes hearts hurt, Lady Margaret. That is just the way of things,” he said, wishing he had better news to give her, but he didn’t. And the reality of this brought him to his feet. He should not have come. Whatever had possessed him to walk through those nursery doors with the thought he would find what he needed on the other side of them had been foolhardy. “If you will excuse me, ladies, I have matters I must attend to.”
“But you haven’t finished your tea,” Margaret said, a storm cloud darkening her bright features.
Alex brought the small cup to his lips and tipped it upward then set it down upon the table. “Lady Henrietta, I hope to see you soon.”
She inclined her head. She wished him to be a father to Margaret in the way her father had been to her. The late Lord Ridgemont had been an extraordinary man—personable and charming, brave and loving to his children in equal measures. His second wife, Henrietta’s mother, had been his equal in every measure and she had loved James without hesitation, showering him with affection as if he was born of her own womb, something Alex’s own stepmother had never quite managed.
It was the only thing he and Laura had in common and not something he took any pride in.
“Good day, Lady Margaret. I thank you for the invitation to tea.”
He executed a bow, experiencing a sharp pang of guilt at the disappointment in her expression before he turned to quit the room.
* * *
Hen paused outside of her brother’s study. He had holed himself inside of it for the past week, venturing out only as far as his club and returning far the worse for wear. He had avoided Hen at every turn and she him, afraid of seeing the censure in his eyes as if she had somehow let him down. But as the days wore on, she could stand it no longer. All of this walking around on eggshells had become rather ridiculous given the only crime committed was that she and Alexander had shared a kiss.
And such a kiss it was. Heavens, she had never imagined something as small as that could have such an incredible impact. She had kissed him because she’d been caught up in the moment, overwhelmed by a need to be closer, to know him better, to give into the pull he had over her, one that only grew stronger the more time she spent with him. Instead of satiating her need, however, the kiss had enhanced it. Worse than that, the touch of his lips, the thrill that reverberated through her every time she thought of it—of him—made it impossible not to question everything she had set in motion with Lord Walkerton.
Honestly, her rash behavior was becoming a bit of a problem. But while it was one thing for her unruly behavior to cause a problem for her, it was quite another thing when the fallout damaged her brother and Alexander’s longstanding friendship. A friendship that had seen them both through the most painful of times.
A friendship that held the truth of Lady Margaret’s true parentage wrapped in a tight fist. A truth Hen now wished to unravel.
She knocked lightly on the door to James’s study. No answer. She rested her hand on the smooth oak of the door and waited, listening. Silence answered back. Another knock. More silence. A frustrated huff escaped her and—without thinking, because why start now?—she turned the handle and pushed the door open.
Her gaze swept the room until she found her brother sprawled on the sofa against the wall, an empty glass resting upon his chest. His cravat hung over the back of a nearby chair and his dinner jacket, from the night before, had been discarded and left on the floor. As she approached, the subtle stench of debauchery rose up to greet her. She glanced down at her brother and shook her head.
“James Harrison Edward Harrow, what is the meaning of all this?”
One dark blue eye struggled open and stared up at her. Without speaking, he lifted the glass on his chest to his lips only to scowl when he found it empty. Hen reached down and plucked it from his hand, resulting in another scowl.
“Stop shouting,” he said and closed his one eye again, effectively shutting her out.
“I am not shouting, but I will if you do not cease this ridiculous behavior and talk to me.” She nudged his foot for emphasis to let him know she was not going anywhere, regardless of how much he scowled or glowered or tried to ignore her.
“I cannot believe you kissed him.” The words growled out of him.
“I don’t know why you’re so surprised. He’s quite charming and handsome. I imagine there is any number of women who want to kiss him.” Not that she cared to think about such things, but one could not deny the truth.
James opened his eyes, anger making the shards that cut through the blue glitter like black diamonds. “I thought you had better sense than most women.”
Hen pulled over a chair and put it next to the sofa, taking a seat. “I allowed Lord Pengrin to kiss me as well, if we’re being honest.”
James pushed up on an elbow, wincing as he did so. “Good God, Hen! Anyone else? Walkerton? The stable boy? Lord Berginmort from two doors down?”
“Lord Berginmort? Heavens, James. Now who has no sense? And no, just Lord Pengrin and Alexander. Although I only enjoyed one of them, if that makes you feel better.”
She had been besotted with Lord Pengrin, but his kiss had fallen flat. She had thought perhaps that was just the way kisses between men and women were, that all the brouhaha about a kiss being the end all and be all was something made up in stories that didn’t translate into the real life.
A theory she’d quickly abandoned after kissing Alexander.
“It does not make me feel better at all! I cannot believe this has been going on under my roof this whole time and I did not know.” He swung his feet over the edge of the sofa and rested his elbows on his knees. He let out a groan and dropped his face into his hands. His dark hair, thick and wavy, stuck up in several different directions along the side and back and something about that made her smile. As if suddenly she saw her brother as the little boy he had once been, the boy her mother and their father had raised to become this wonderful man who loved his sister beyond measure and wanted nothing more than the best for her.
She reached over and ran a hand over the cowlicks. “Dear James. You need not worry yourself so. Nothing was going on. At least nothing that I understood. It wasn’t until I kissed him that I think I grasped its meaning. I’m sorry my feelings for Alexander bother you and I wish it wasn’t so as it certainly creates a bit of a conundrum, but he is a good man, as you well know. If he weren’t, you would not look at him like a brother. Now please stop this nonsense and make amends with him. I will never forgive myself if my rash actions have ruined such a wonderful friendship.”
“He betrayed me.”
Hen stopped trying to fix James’s cowlick and gave it a sharp pull instead. He lifted his gaze to meet hers, surprise knitting his brows together. “Ow! What was that about?”
“It was about you being a fool. My kissing Alexander—”
“I really wish you would stop saying that.”
“—had nothing to do with you
. It was just a moment we shared and one that likely will not occur a second time—”
“Likely? That is the best you can do?”
Hen sighed. “If you’ll recall, I have proposed to Lord Walkerton and unless he decides we are unsuited I am somewhat obligated to see this through to its conclusion.”
“Do you love him?”
“Lord Walkerton?”
He gave her a pointed look. “Alex.”
“Oh.” She had avoided thinking that far, cutting off her thoughts the moment they began wandering down that twisted and winding path. It served no purpose. He had made no overtures indicating he wished to take anything beyond the kiss they shared, at least none that hadn’t been smothered in duty to her brother and proposing as recompense for such. A reaction that, in her mind, was so overblown it did not even merit consideration. “I—I don’t know exactly.”
“Oh, Hen.” James groaned as if he had heard a different answer than the one she gave and dropped his face back into his hands. “I should have never brought him here.”
“Heaven forbid, James! Alexander is your dearest friend. I would think you would be happy over an opportunity to officially make him a part of our family. Not that it has come to that, but still, I do not understand your reticence over such a remote possibility.”
James straightened and fell back against the sofa cushions. “You don’t understand, Hen.”
“I understand more than you think and I am not deaf. I heard Lady Ottley’s proclamation regarding Lady Margaret’s parentage. Now are you going to give me the details on the matter or am I going to have to go directly to the source?”
James shook his head and looked at the back of his hands, stretching his fingers out then clenching them into fists. “It’s a rather long and sordid story and not one for your ears.”
“I am not some innocent, James. I have seen ugliness. I have experienced hurt and disappointment and grievous loss just as you have. I will not wilt over a sordid tale. Stop trying to protect me.”
“That is what brothers do.”
Hen reached over and placed her hand over his, softening her tone. “There comes a time when brothers need to understand their protection, while appreciated, is no longer needed to the degree it may have once been.” As far as brothers went, she could not have asked for better. James had been diligent and protective and wonderful. Most women would be so lucky to have such a man in their lives. But he had given up his life to take care of her and now he needed to let her go, to reclaim the life he should have had, had their parents not died and left her in his care.
“I love you, James. And you have built your life around keeping me safe and seeing to my happiness. But I know best what will make me happy and you cannot keep attempting to thwart me in achieving this because you don’t think I’m able to make my own decisions. I promise you, I am quite capable.”
James glanced up at her and offered a sad smile. “When did you grow up on me, Hen?”
“Little by little.” She squeezed his hand then sat back in her chair. “Now tell me the truth behind Lady Ottley’s claims. Are they true then? Is Alexander not Margaret’s true father?”
“Her claims are true, as Alex has always known. Lady Rothbury was unfaithful to him.”
“How awful!”
“In Ruth’s defense, Alex neglected her after Edward’s death. He shut down, unable to offer her the comfort she needed. It was as if he thought he had been the only one who had lost a son.” Her brother shook his head and his expression took on a look of regret she didn’t quite understand. “For all his good qualities—all of which I’m currently questioning after learning he kissed my sister, by the way—”
“I kissed him first,” she corrected.
James glared then continued. “Either way. Alex has never truly trusted in the idea of love. I think when he lost his mother so young he began to equate love with loss. The more you loved someone, the more it hurt when they left you. But with Edward, he could not help himself. It was as if the sun rose and set on that boy.”
“And then Edward died.”
James nodded. “Reinforcing every belief Alex had about loving someone. It was as if the pain he felt over Edward’s loss swallowed up every other emotion he might have possessed. And he let it. Even now, he has come to London with one purpose in mind—to find a bride so that he might provide an heir for the duchy. That is all he wants from the union. Not love, not companionship. It’s a business transaction to him and I suppose that, above all else, is the reason I have denied his proposal of marriage to you. I cannot consign you to the type of unhappiness that Ruth suffered. The kind of unhappiness that forced her to search for love and comfort elsewhere to damning consequences.”
A child born by another man not her husband.
Hen could not begin to fathom the hurt and betrayal such news would have brought Alexander on the heels of Edward’s loss. Even if he did not love his wife, one had the expectation that the children she bore would be his. Was it any wonder his relationship with Lady Margaret was fraught with silent turmoil? When he looked at her, would he not see his wife’s betrayal reflected in her eyes? And poor Margaret, to carry such a stain, completely unaware it even existed!
Hen got up from the chair to flop down upon the couch next to her brother. “This truly is a mess of the highest degree, isn’t it?”
“Indeed,” James said. “And I will not cast you into the murk of it. You deserve better. On this I will brook no argument.”
She swatted James’s chest with the back of her hand. “Don’t be such a tyrant. Besides, you are barking up a tree with no cat in it. Alexander only made his offer of marriage to appease you and you have declined it. The matter is closed.”
James leaned his head back and stared up at the intricate patterns on the ceiling. “I’m not so sure. Every time he looks at you, it’s as if he’s seeing you for the first time and the surprise leaves him staggered. I saw it when he returned to London and first saw you in the front hall with Lady Margaret, but told myself it was just his surprise in seeing you after so many years. How was I so blind that I missed what it truly was?”
“And what do you truly think it to be?”
“He is smitten with you.”
“You realize that completely contradicts what you said earlier about him not believing in love?”
“Yes, and that is what makes me so uneasy about the entire situation. He will muck it up for certain. The moment your relationship hits a snag or encounters a difficult time, he will abandon you. I can’t stand by and let that happen.”
“There is no relationship, James. You may lay your sword down in that regard.” Hen stood and faced her brother. “Now, Auntie and I will be attending the fete Lord and Lady Franklyn are throwing in Alexander’s honor. Please attend with us.”
“I will not. And nor should you. I will speak to our aunt about that today and ensure—”
“You will do no such thing,” Hen said, cutting him off. “This is my decision to make, not yours. If you are insistent in staying mired in your own stubbornness, I cannot stop you, but you will not drag me down there with you. I am going and I will not hear another word about it.”
Hen spun on her heel and marched from the room, James’s silence the best she could hope for as far as his agreement to not stand in her way. If James refused to go to the party, she would have to come up with another way to mend the rift. She would not have the dissolution of their friendship weighing upon her conscience.
Chapter Thirteen
“I heard you the first ten times you told me, so you can stop glowering, my lord,” Susan said, yanking her arm out of Alex’s grip. As much as he disliked spending time in his sister’s presence, he had no intention of allowing her to roam freely about this evening, spreading her special brand of unpleasantness to the other guests—one guest in particular. Laura had made it clear that she would take full responsibility of Susan this evening, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
Alex glanc
ed down the growing line of guests. Father had insisted on a receiving line to greet each one of them as they entered the ballroom and as much as Alex found the idea antiquated and unnecessary, he did not care to let his father down. Especially given he had, to date, failed in every other duty he had as the man’s son. Solidifying his decision was the fact his father still appeared somewhat under the weather, despite Laura’s promises that he was well on the mend.
And so Alex found himself standing between his half sister and stepmother, playing the part of dutiful son and heir, making small talk to all the lords and ladies that passed by him in a blur while he kept watch for the two faces in particular he truly wished to see.
But James did not appear amongst the guests and as such, he had not expected to see his sister in attendance either. A fact that cast a dismal pall upon the upcoming evening.
A ripple of murmurs caught his attention. Alex turned his head away from Lord Upton who had made liberal use of his wife’s rosewater from the smell of things, and glanced down the line to see what had caused the commotion.
Shock resonated through him and he struggled to keep his expression in check as he wished the other guests away, keeping the insipid small talk to a minimum in the hope it would hurry things along.
She had come. A host of sensations rushed through him all at once and with such vigor, he could not name any of them. Nor did he try, as Henrietta, who stood several people away, had captivated his full attention in such a way words had become of little matter.
She wore a lovely deep green silk gown with short, cap sleeves, though her gloves covered the exposed length of her arms and the scars beneath. The neck of her dress was a modest cut, but surprisingly, she did not cover what skin did show with a fichu as was her usual. Nor, and most remarkably, did she wear her hair down and draped over her breast like a curtain to protect her against others’ unwanted stares. Instead, she had piled her lovely blonde locks high atop her head, leaving only soft tendrils curling downward to tease her skin.
