To her surprise, Catherine laughed. "Oh, Alice! I had no idea you were so afraid for me! I am sorry to have caused you concern. I only wanted to wait – well, to wait until I was certain..." Seeing that Alice did not understand a word of what she was saying, she paused to reframe her words. "I am not unwell. Far from it. In fact my condition is –"
"Oh!" shouted Alice, comprehending the situation all in a rush. "You are with child!"
"You are to be an aunt," smiled Catherine.
Alice embraced her in delighted. "Oh, Cathy! It is too wonderful! I am so happy for you."
"This must be a secret between us," said Catherine seriously. "Though I have told Harry just this evening, and he is so overcome with emotion that I doubt it will remain hidden for long."
"Is he pleased?"
"He told me that the number of blessings that have fallen upon his head since our marriage were already too many to count. Yes, he was pleased. I have never seen him happier."
"Good!"
"But Alice, I am serious. I do not want a word of this to reach Agnes or our father – not yet. You understand that these matters can be delicate..."
Their sister Agnes had never yet managed to have a child of her own. Alice instantly understood why Catherine wanted her condition to remain private, at least until the three sisters were together and the news could be given kindly, in person.
"She will be happy for you. How could she not be?"
"I am sure of it. But all the same, I cannot help but fear the news will cause her pain. So you must allow me to approach the matter subtly, as I see fit."
"Of course! It is your own news to give." Alice frowned at the flat spread of the nightgown over Catherine's stomach. "How long until you begin to show?"
"I am no expert in these matters. I believe I have some weeks yet. So not a word of this! I am so happy, Alice, so happy –" Her eyes shone as she spoke. "But I am not yet secure."
"You have no need to worry. A child of you and the Duke! It will be the prettiest baby ever seen."
"I hope it has Harry's eyes."
"I hope it has yours. But let's not quarrel – either pair will do very nicely."
The sisters embraced again, laughing, and continued to chatter over their hopes and dreams for Catherine's child until the candles had nearly burnt away.
Captain Kirby would have to wait until the morning.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Pooh! What a dreadful stench!"
The following morning brought a most unwelcome delivery to Amberley House. When Alice descended into the drawing room for breakfast, she was surprised on two counts: the first being that Kirby was already up and dining, and the second being the vast quantity of lilies which were standing in four vases about the room.
"The butler said they arrived this morning," said Kirby. He seemed in excellent spirits, for some reason. "It seems that last night was not quite the disaster you thought, Miss Sharp."
Alice ignored his remark. Her senses were too heavily assailed by the cloying perfume of the lilies to make much sense of it. "It is ghastly! There is nothing I hate more than the scent of lilies. Ugh! Their pollen is staining the table cloth."
"Allow me to assist you," said Kirby, rising up and taking a vase of the offending flowers under each arm. Alice waited in the doorway until the lilies had all been removed.
"Who on earth would send me such a gift?" she wondered, taking a seat at the table. "It has quite taken away my appetite."
"There was a card," said Kirby. Alice's eyes widened.
"Well, let me see!"
"Shall I read it to you?"
"Certainly not! Pass it over at once!"
Kirby obliged her, eyes dancing. Alice read over the note with a frown of disappointment.
"It is only Mr Grantham."
"You are not pleased?"
"I am only unsurprised. I already knew he was attempting to court me, though if I had imagined he was about to go this far I would certainly have given him direction as to my taste in flowers."
"I would have sent you roses," said Kirby mildly, buttering his toast. "White roses." Alice narrowed her eyes.
"A fine guess – or it would have been, if you had not seen me wearing white roses in my hair at Almack's only a few days ago."
"All the same." Kirby paused his breakfast to give her a meaningful look. "I noticed."
"Quite so." Alice felt that he expected a different response, but knew not how to give it. "Will you have some coffee, Captain?"
"I thank you, my cup is full. And I thought we had come past this business of using titles with one another...Alice?"
"Yes, I noticed your impertinence yesterday."
"My impertinence!"
"I excused it as the result of your heightened emotions after the party. I can find no excuse for you now."
"Alice," he smiled, "you are too harsh with me."
"It is all that you deserve. Captain."
"Very well." Kirby helped himself to another plateful of toast. Alice had never seen anyone eat such vast helpings at breakfast. "I hope you are recovered from yesterday's adventures, Miss Sharp."
"I find myself very well this morning, Captain. I thank you."
"The weather appears very clear. It will be a fine day, I think."
She frowned. "Are you teasing me, Captain?"
"I am merely making polite conversation, Miss Sharp. I would hate to be thought impertinent a second time."
"It doesn't suit you."
"Alas," he grinned, through a large bite of toast, "manners rarely do."
Alice would have liked to throw the spoon she was holding at his head, but restricted herself to demurely stirring her coffee and behaving as though he were not making fun of her at all. "You are up unusually early, Captain. I doubt the Duke and my sister will rise for an hour or so. Breakfast at Amberley House is usually kept at ten o'clock, though this morning I think I can predict the Dowager Duchess will dine abed."
"Do you always keep such regular hours, Miss Sharp?"
"I find that an early start is conducive to a healthy mind."
"I am all admiration." Kirby leaned back in his chair. "I have a confession to make."
"And what is that?"
"I came down early this morning in the hopes of finding you."
Alice dropped her coffee cup back into the saucer, spilling a little over the side. "Me?" she repeated, struggling to regain composure.
"Yes. I have something to say to you about the matter of the Duchess's necklace."
The necklace. Of course that was all he meant. Alice chided herself inwardly. What else did she expect? Kirby was a flirt, certainly, but she was a fool to take his attentions at all seriously.
However appealing the fantasy might be.
"I, too, wished to speak to you about the necklace," she admitted. "Last night it seemed to me that you wished to say more about the letter than you could before the Duchess."
"You are quite right." Kirby glanced at the servants, standing at attention along the walls of the drawing room. "But perhaps this is not the place..."
"I quite agree," whispered Alice. It would be disastrous if any of the servants caught wind of the Duchess's predicament. "Perhaps you will agree to meet me in the rose garden when I take my daily walk? We may speak quite freely there."
"White roses," said Kirby, with half a smile. "Perfect."
A slow blush spread over Alice's cheeks, and she could hardly say why. They passed the rest of their breakfast in silence, she hardly daring to catch his eye for fear of what her expression might betray, and he with a smirk on his face that was decidedly mysterious.
The Duke and Duchess entered the drawing room for breakfast at ten, in accordance with Amberley House's time-honoured schedule, and were very surprised to hear the Dowager Duchess was still abed.
"This is most irregular," said the Duke, concerned. "Cathy, ought we to send for an apothecary?"
"I hardly think that will be necessary," said Alice. "The Du
chess told me only last night that she felt quite shaken by the dramatics at Mrs Davidson's party. I expect she is simply in need of rest."
The Duke hemmed and hawed and resolved finally to call for a doctor if the Dowager Duchess was not her usual self by the afternoon. He knew too well that an excess of medical attention often proved as calamitous to his aunt's nerves as no fuss at all. She had a lively imagination and was given to imagine all sorts of ailments for herself based on the shaking or nodding of a doctor's head.
Alice was about to depart for her daily turn about the gardens, pausing only to send a meaningful look in Kirby's direction, when Catherine stopped her.
"Have you written your reply to Agnes's letter?" she asked. "Do let me look it over – there are one or two things I should like to say to her, and I may as well add them to the end of your letter."
"I have not quite finished writing," said Alice. A white lie, as in point of fact she had not yet begun.
"You really ought to send it off today. You know how Agnes feels about prompt correspondence."
"Certainly," said Alice, trapped between her desire to speak to Kirby privately and the necessity of keeping Catherine from noticing that anything was amiss. "I will fetch my writing materials directly."
She met Kirby's raised eyebrow with fortitude, noticing that he was only just able to contain his laughter at her dissatisfaction.
After the letter was penned for Agnes, Catherine found a number of other small tasks for Alice to complete before she was free to do as she wished with her time. Any other day, Alice would have been happy to comply, particularly in the light of Catherine's revelation the night before, but she found herself chafing more and more with each request. For the first time in her life she wanted nothing more than the company of a man – one particular man – outside in the private walled garden, surrounded by the scent of roses. The idea was so enticing that she had some trouble convincing herself the only romance in it was the idea of danger surrounding the necklace, and not the rendezvous with the man himself.
"Alice, that's the third time you have sighed towards the window," said Catherine presently. "Is there something the matter?"
Alice almost dropped her needlework. "I was only thinking that it looks such a charming day," she stammered, praying that none of her inner thoughts were visible on her face. Catherine smiled indulgently.
"Perhaps the two of us should make the most of the fine weather. What do you say to a ride?"
"No!" cried Alice at once, and then flushed to think of a way to excuse herself. "Cathy - in your condition, is it wise to ride?"
Catherine frowned. "I am as much in the dark as you are. Harry has gone to engage Dr Wallace's services for me, so I must remember to ask him when he comes. But that may not be for several days. It is not an emergency, after all."
"Surely as the Duchess of Westbourne your demands on his time are more urgent than most?"
"I hate to think of taking advantage of my title in such a way. I should certainly think less of the doctor if he abandoned someone in greater need simply to chase after a titled patient." Catherine sighed. "Not that I am not grateful –"
"I know precisely what you mean," said Alice feelingly. "And I honour you for it. I cannot imagine how I would fare, Cathy, in your position – when all the world looks towards you to see how you dress and how you behave! Is it very hard, being a Duchess?"
"There are too many benefits to my position for me to complain," said Catherine. "I only need to think of the good I can do – the help I can render the poor, and the influence I have over the ton which can so often be cruel – to feel how much better off I am than most."
"I would not trade places with you for all the world!" Alice declared.
"We will have to see what sort of match you make," said Catherine with a wink. "For all we know you will find yourself just such another Duchess, or a Marchioness, and then I dearly hope you will learn how the benefits of a loving husband far outweigh the difficulties of a lofty position in Society."
"Pooh! Catch me marrying a Marquess." There was not a Marquess below the age of forty in all the ton, to Alice's knowledge.
"Well, then. There may always be a Viscount, or even an Earl. Keep your eyes open." Cathy was teasing, Alice knew, but the mention of Viscount brought the prickling thought of Mr Grantham into her mind. He had mentioned his father's title so often that she could not help but notice that he was someday to inherit it.
"I cannot abide all this talk of marriage. I am not a pig in a farmer's market, waiting to be sold to the highest bidder."
"No, and I am not a china doll," said Catherine. "Therefore if I feel up to a ride, I think I should go. I shall be sorry if you do not come with me."
"I wish you would wait until the Duke comes back," said Alice, growing more desperate now that Catherine's mind seemed to be made up. "At least ask his opinion, if you will not wait for the doctor. And that way he will be able to join us when we go. Isn't that a much better scheme?"
"When did my little sister grow so wise?" asked Catherine, with a fond smile. "Very well. I will not set out just yet."
"Let me go and fetch you some flowers from the garden in the meantime," said Alice, jumping to her feet with sudden inspiration. "That will make you feel as though the summer is all around you whether you go riding or not."
"How spoiled I am!" laughed Catherine. "I wonder how long this caring mood will last?" But she made no objection, neither did she try to follow Alice outside.
"Such a difficult business!" Alice thought to herself, as she made as much noise as possible to alert Kirby to the fact that she was about to leave. "I half think it would be easier to embark upon a secret love affair, than to gain five minutes alone with a gentleman for an entirely innocent purpose!"
The fact that her feelings for Kirby were growing less innocent by the moment was neither here nor there. Alice stepped outside into the golden summer day and wound her way through the Duke's elegant gardens until she was waiting for her co-conspirator in the warm shadow of the rose garden walls.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
There was something so impossibly charming about the sight of Alice surrounded by the bobbing blossoms of a white rose bush, with her auburn hair shining like fire, that Kirby found himself hesitating at the entrance to the garden, unwilling to disturb the scene.
Alice noticed him before he had a chance to move. Her eyes lit up. He could almost believe that delightful glow was meant for him – but such thoughts were pure delusion. It was the mystery which affected her. The dangerous excitement she felt for the world of criminals, gamblers and thieves. Though Kirby's heart rose in response to her smile, he was quick to quash it before he spoke. "Finally. A place to talk."
"I have been thinking –" Alice began, but he silenced her with a wave of the hand. There was a time to be heard and a time to listen, and it was Alice's turn to pay attention.
"Let me tell you what I discovered on my visit to Mallory's," he said, adding, with a hint of bitterness that he could not disguise, "an establishment where I will not, I think, find a welcome in future."
Her face plainly revealed her vivid imaginings of chases through the moonlight and knife-fights in dark corners. "What happened? Was it terribly dangerous?"
"Hardly," said Kirby shortly. "Though I must admit that I did your research a disservice by failing to believe it. I now have every reason to think that Mr Mallory is in possession of the necklace."
"I knew it!" she gasped. "What did he do when you asked for it? Did he challenge you?"
"Far from it. I doubt a man like Mallory has the honour to go through with a duel. No, I was simply thrown out onto the streets. Whatever he wants with the necklace, he isn't looking for a buyer."
"Then why would he take it?"
"I can't say. Perhaps someone engaged his services on their behalf? Though it seems very strange that they should choose Mallory. He isn't known as a criminal, though it's widely thought he gives sanctuary to all manner of unsavo
ury types."
"You were so brave to go looking for it," Alice murmured. That glow – merely girlish excitement, or something deeper? – still suffused her features. Kirby found he did not have the heart to disabuse her of her notions of his bravery. He wanted her to think him brave. He took a step towards her, drawn by the light in her eyes.
"You would have done the same yourself, had you been able."
"I would have been terrified to be manhandled and thrown out into the streets." Alice glanced downwards, blushing. "I was terrified enough to enter Mallory's at all. I have never been inside a gaming hell!"
"I should think not!" The very thought of the foul air in Mallory's breathing upon Alice's pale cheeks filled Kirby with dismay. She was too pure, too innocent, to enter such a place.
"I don't mind telling you that I was trembling with fear on the day you caught me."
He smiled. "You are not sorry, then, that I did?"
Alice wrinkled her nose. "I didn't quite say that."
"See, Miss Sharp," Kirby breathed, lifting her chin to bring her eyes to his again. "You are quite the hero yourself."
Her lips were only a few inches from his own. Kirby felt his breathing quicken. Being so close to a woman was hardly new to him. Why was his pulse racing so?
A dim memory of his promise to the Duke surfaced in his mind. "Damn Westbourne," he muttered. The crease of a frown crinkled Alice's brow.
"You – you are thinking of my brother-in-law?"
As Kirby drew her towards him, he had to admit that he was thinking very little. He had forgotten Westbourne. He had forgotten his honour as a gentleman, and the vow he had made. He had forgotten that Alice was so far above him as to be untouchable; she was naivety, she was youth, she was future promise – in short, she was everything he was not.
For here she was, encircled by his arms, and so close within his reach that he forgot everything but himself and his passionate desire to kiss her.
"I am thinking only of you."
Kissing Alice was everything he'd imagined. And he realised only now how vividly he had imagined it, pictured it over and over, though the thought was so forbidden that he'd crushed it down every time it arose. She was shy but eager, responding to his lips the way springtime blossoms into the heat of summer. Her gentle sighs and the curl of her fingers against the back of his neck excited him more deeply than was rational or wise.
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