He bent forwards over his horse, taking the reins in a stronger grip. "You would be wise to heed your sister's counsel, Miss Sharp. She is right."
He gave his horse a sharp kick and, before Alice could respond, he was galloping on ahead, through the wrought iron gates which marked out the entrance to the park.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hang and blast that impossible girl! Why should her innocent teasing pester him so? Kirby felt the wind thrum against his face as he kicked his horse on to greater efforts. Rotten Row was thankfully empty at this time of day – the fashionable hour for walking was not until late in the afternoon – and he was free to ride as fast as he chose. He heard a great shout from Westbourne, confused by his sudden bolt, but he did not rein his horse in.
He had a need to let a stiff wind blow the sting of Miss Sharp's accusations from his mind. It was not that anything she'd said was untrue – far from it. It was simply that it had been a very long time, if ever, that he had heard his own character told so plainly.
It should have been amusing. It had been amusing, until the end. What had changed? Had he supposed her to be speaking in jest until that point? Hardly, and besides, if she spoke the truth, it mattered little whether she jested or not.
What hurt was the reminder that he was not fit to be seen with her. Sweet, innocent Alice – Alice who thought herself so clever and so knowledgeable about a world she hardly knew – she was not meant to befriend the likes of Kirby. She was like a little rosebud, freshly blooming, opening its petals to its first pale morning, and he was a canker which would eat at her from within if he came too close. He would have to avoid her in future. It was for the best.
A streak of red caught his eye – a vibrant colour out of place in the green summer park. He turned his head to find a dappled grey horse keeping pace with his, and Alice Sharp perched side-saddle atop it.
Instinctively, Kirby reined his horse in. He was going fast – too fast for a woman to keep her seat, surely. He'd be hanged if he let Alice get herself into an accident on his account.
Seeing him fall back, Alice let out a whoop of delight and cracked her riding crop in the air. "Onwards!" she shouted. "See, Captain – I told you I could outride any mere gentleman!"
"So, I am a gentleman again, in your estimation," he murmured to himself. Alice had fully overtaken him, her glorious red hair streaming out from under her bonnet. Kirby swore under his breath. It was one thing for a man to ride fast, sitting comfortably astride his horse, but how a woman managed to cling on at such speeds he had no idea. It was reckless in the extreme – too reckless. He spurred on his horse until Alice and Shadow were overtaken, and then, reining in sharply, he slowed to a brisk trot and then a walk. Caught behind him, Alice was forced to slow down as well.
"That was very nearly a fine race," she said breathlessly.
"That was very nearly a broken neck," Kirby growled. "Have a care for your own safety!"
"I assure you, Captain, there is no need to be alarmed." She manoeuvred Shadow to his side and extended a hand to comfort him. The gesture touched and startled Kirby in equal measure. Before he understood what was happening, Alice's small warm hand was on his arm. "As you see, I have some skill on horseback."
"We will see what Westbourne has to say about it when he catches us up." Kirby jerked his arm back from her. He did not know how to react when she touched him in that intimate manner. Alice seemed to realise what she had done, and returned her grip to the reins with a slight blush.
"Do you think, then, that I should take my relatives' counsel?"
"Where it concerns riding, yes."
"And where it concerns you?" She had him pinned with a steady gaze. The innocence in the expression of her eyes was almost painful.
"Where it concerns me..." He remembered her words of a few days before. "You were right to say that I was no gentleman."
Alice bit her lip. "And I regret saying it. You were the soul of generosity at Almack's last night."
"Is it generous to dance with a lovely young woman? Do not ascribe me virtues where there are none."
"You – you think I am lovely?"
He sighed. "I think you are out of your depth. You think you know more than you do – about the ton, about Mallory, about me – and there is nothing more dangerous than a person who overestimates their own knowledge."
He waited for an outburst. It seemed inevitable that his words would upset her. Instead, Alice nodded slowly.
"You are not the first to remind me of my youth and inexperience," she admitted. "I am loath to accept it, but perhaps there are some matters in which I must rely on the wisdom of others." She glanced at him slyly. "With that in mind..."
"You have not given up your scheme of going after Mr Mallory?" Kirby surmised with a groan.
"I shall never give it up. It is a matter of honour – of family. I have promised the Duchess –"
"The Duchess has had a great many disappointments in life. One more will not destroy her."
"That is precisely why we are honour-bound to help her!" As the hoof beats of Westbourne's horse crept up behind them, she leaned towards him beseechingly. "Have you no conception of charity, sir?"
"I do, but –"
"Then I cannot see how you can be anything but obliged to help us."
Alice sat back in her horse, turning to greet the Duke enthusiastically. It was clear from her satisfied smile that she considered the matter now closed. Kirby chafed against it. He would not risk her secret by objecting in front of Westbourne, but he could not allow her to believe that he was fool enough to set out against a black-hearted rogue like Mallory.
"What the devil did the pair of you think you were doing?" Westbourne demanded, as soon as he was within earshot.
"Excuse me, Your Grace," Alice smiled, "but I thought we had come out for a ride – not a dawdle."
"Oh, away with you! I was just now composing the letter I would have to write your poor father if you should take a fall, and believe you me, I am not eloquent enough for the task – so you had better refrain from bolting off like that again!"
"But you will not tell Papa," said Alice sweetly. "You are too kind to tell tales on me."
Now that she thought she was sure of his cooperation, Kirby could not help but notice the glow of confidence which had settled over Alice's features. She was already a very pretty woman – that went without saying – but now, triumphant, she was radiant.
He struggled to convince himself he really wanted to be the sharp dose of reality to snuff that radiance out. Was Mallory really such a dangerous sort? Chances were the Duchess was mistaken and Mallory had nothing to do with it. If the high-rolling crowds at his gaming hell were anything to go buy, the man had no need to resort to theft to support himself. Very likely Kirby would be out by no more than the price of a drink to extract enough information from him to satisfy Alice's curiosity.
Kirby resolved then and there that he would give in to his better instincts, such as they were, and render the Duchess his assistance in the matter of the stolen necklace. As Alice commanded, he would obey.
Blast that girl again! How had she managed to persuade him?
It was a resolution he would come to regret in the course of a certain conversation that came about that evening, when he and Westbourne had been left alone by the ladies after dinner with their brandy and cigars.
"I must speak with you about Alice," said the Duke, pushing his shock of dark hair back from his handsome face. They were both lounging comfortably in their chairs, the remains of a delicious meal being discreetly removed by the servants.
Kirby ignored the prickle of worry at the back of his neck. "Miss Alice Sharp. Quite the precocious thing, is she not? Is this about her habit of wandering the streets of London alone?"
"I pray you, do not describe that as a habit. It was a one-off incident of...misjudgement. She will not make the same mistake again. I'll say this for her – Alice is a smart girl." Westbourne sighed. "It is what has transpire
d since that concerns me."
"Nothing has transpired to my knowledge."
"Don't play the fool, Kirby. I respect you too much not to talk plainly with you, and I'll thank you to return the courtesy. Alice is young. She has only lately made her Come Out. She is entirely innocent of the ways of the world which you and I are all too familiar with."
Kirby raised an eyebrow, grinning devilishly. "You wish me to educate her?"
"I don't find anything amusing here, Kirby," said Westbourne severely.
"My apologies. Do go on."
"It is precisely your teasing nature – your flirtations – your affinity for scandal – which I am warning against."
Kirby raised an eyebrow. "Warning me, Westbourne?"
"In the friendliest of terms. Alice is the apple of her sister's eye. She has a strict but loving family behind her. Her father has left her in my care. I am taking that responsibility very seriously."
"I can see that, though I can hardly guess at your purpose in telling me so."
"I think you understand my purpose very well."
"What have my transgressions been? I have danced with her once and accompanied the pair of you on a short ride." Kirby smirked and knocked back his glass of brandy. "By my standards, it is hardly a seduction."
"It hardly needs to be. Alice is the sort of girl who will run away with whatever scrap of romance you care to throw at her. She has a head full of fancies and wild imaginings. She will be very easily taken in."
"Do you mean to make it sound so tempting?"
Westbourne clenched his fist and brought it smashing down onto the table, making the glassware quake. "You're under my roof, Kirby! When I ask you to take a matter seriously, you will do so!"
Undisturbed, Kirby poured his friend another drink. "I am taking your warning as seriously as the situation warrants. I have no designs upon Miss Sharp. I treasure her virtue as I treasure your friendship." He puffed on his cigar. "I am sorry to have given you any other impression. I was only speaking in jest."
A smile broke over Westbourne's face like the sun on a cloudy day. He had never been one to let his anger fester; his natural temperament was more a dry July than a winter storm. "That's settled, then. Let's finish our drinks and join the ladies in the drawing room."
"You haven't seen enough of your wife today?"
"I don't see enough of her any day," Westbourne answered happily. Kirby made a face to indicate his own thoughts on marital bliss. "Ah, you'll understand it one day, my friend – one day when you find the woman who's a match for you! Though I tremble to think who it might be."
"I wouldn't inflict myself on a member of the fairer sex for anyone's money," said Kirby, with a careless shrug. "That's one gamble I've no stomach for."
Sooner than he cared for, Westbourne had drained his second glass of brandy and was dragging him along to the drawing room. There they found the Dowager Duchess sitting in patient anticipation of a partner at cribbage, Catherine sitting at the pianoforte testing out the new songs she had practised that afternoon, and Alice waiting in the middle of the room in a state of great excitement.
"Captain Kirby!" she exclaimed, running towards him and taking his hand. "Cathy has such a delightful new waltz to play for us! You will dance with me, won't you? I am simply longing for a partner!"
Half-laughing, half in fear, Kirby shot a helpless glance in Westbourne's direction. The Duke was occupied with his elderly aunt, and must have been satisfied enough with the result of his interrogation over the brandy, for his only response was a shrug. If Alice wanted a partner, it seemed, a partner she would get. Was there any gentlemanly way to refuse her?
As she led him firmly into position and Catherine started up the lilting tune, Kirby felt a little of her guileless enthusiasm creep into his soul. He had enjoyed dancing with Alice the day before, naturally, but this was a much more intimate space – only the two of them, unwatched and unnoticed by the others, moving together to the flow of a sweet melody that was new to them both. His hand on her waist, hers on his shoulder. Alice's red hair glimmered in the candlelight. He found himself wondering what it would be like to run his fingers through that hair. He half believed it would live up to its colour and set him aflame at the touch.
Alice never moved her eyes from his face the whole dance through. Alice who was pleased with him now, thanks to his agreement to meddle in matters he had no business with. Alice who was smart-mouthed but hopelessly artless. Alice who had a headful of fancies, a head which might be easily turned.
Alice whose finely-arched upper lip he could not help but notice, whose closeness could not help but give him a shudder of pleasure, Alice who was forbidden and innocent and all too easily kissed... He had only to lean forward and it would be done. Her untouched mouth would be claimed by his lips.
Kirby felt as though the ground had disappeared from beneath his feet and that he was now staggering across the deck of a ship on the high seas. One foot out of place and he would fall and be lost in the swirling ocean.
What had she done to him?
Hang and blast that impossible girl!
CHAPTER NINE
"You will be sure not to drink overmuch."
"I know how to handle myself, Miss Sharp."
"All the same. You are at my service now, and that comes with certain obligations. The Dowager Duchess will not accept the testimony of a drunkard."
Kirby maintained a serious expression as he fastened his overcoat in the darkened hallway of Amberley House. His solemnity cost him some effort. Alice was standing at the top of the stairwell, her face thrown into melodramatic shadows by her small candle, and wearing a pelisse which had clearly been thrown on for decency's sake atop a rather fetching white nightgown.
If Kirby had been a better man, he would have been ashamed to admit that it was the nightgown, not the lecture, which chiefly occupied his thoughts at that moment. But he was not a better man, and shame did not cross his mind. Besides, he would never let Alice suspect the truth behind his attention.
She was really too delightful in her play-acting at intrigue. She took the matter terribly seriously. He had not been able to make his move from the Duke's library without alerting her quick ears to the sound of his feet near the door.
"I have had a thought or two about how you might broach the subject with Mr Mallory without arousing suspicion," she added in a stage whisper. Propriety evidently kept her from taking a single step towards him in her state of undress, yet her urgent need to impart the lengthy list of instructions constrained her to lean forwards over the bannister in what looked to be a dangerous manner.
"Leave Mallory to me. I know best how to manage him."
She continued as though he had not spoken. "You might insinuate to him that you are in the market to buy a necklace of a particular type. The one we're after has a large sapphire hanging in the middle, surrounded by small diamonds. If Mr Mallory thinks he has a buyer for his ill-gotten gains – for surely he has had no luck selling it to any respectable member of Society – he may open up to you."
Kirby let out a low chuckle. Alice was offended. "It was only an idea!"
"It ran along similar lines to my own scheme, Miss Sharp. Smoke him out by coming at the matter sideways. We must be great minds to think so very much alike."
And how about a kiss for good fortune before you send me on my way?
He bit back the words a second before they left his lips. He had made a promise to Westbourne. His friendship would not be found wanting – however intriguing Alice appeared in her nightwear.
Kirby turned his confusion into a light cough and settled his hat on his head. "Anything else, Miss Sharp? Perhaps I should curtail my gambling habits, and endeavour to lose as many hands of whist as I win?"
"You should do as your conscience dictates," she answered, with a sincerity that made him regret his joke, "and take care not to push any man over the limit of what he can comfortably lose. I've heard you have a very good head for figures, Captain �
� I think it must certainly be true by what I hear of your success at the gaming tables – so I am sure you can manage this small concession."
"You would rather I played only for tokens, not money at all," he smiled.
"I would indeed. But I am wise enough to know where the limit of my influence lies."
At that, he could not conceal his laughter. Alice looked about fearfully. "Hush! You will bring the house down on us! I must return to bed. Good luck, Captain."
"Thank you, Miss Sharp."
He paused to watch her tiptoe away into the silent house, and then he was out into the cool London night.
The route to Mallory's was a familiar one. His feet carried him there without need to occupy his mind; a symptom of the frequency of his visits. Perhaps Alice had a point when she instructed him to ease back on his gambling – or at least, she would have had a point if he were anything close to the fine gentleman she somehow believed him to be.
The men at the door, little better than thugs dressed in fine jackets, nodded him in without a word. He was well known here.
It was his place.
Kirby felt himself relax as he breathed in the familiar air. The aroma of men, whisky, and lost money. He wondered whether it smelled as sweet in Mallory's nostrils as it did in his. Sweeter, perhaps. Kirby was a winner, certainly, but Mallory was the man making the real money.
Which only made Kirby's task that night all the more ridiculous.
A gentleman at the hazard table threw down his money in disgust and stormed away, leaving an empty space. Kirby took it up smoothly. He was not usually seen at the hazard table; he preferred not to leave his winnings up to blind chance. Tonight, though, it befit him to be sociable, and the crowd there were engaged in lively conversation.
The caster had the dice in hand and was preparing to throw. Kirby was surprised to find that he recognised him, and not as a frequenter of London's gaming hells. It was young Grantham, whose attentions to Alice the previous evening had been so faithless.
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