by Joyce Alec
“It is inappropriate for you to ask me such questions, Miss Jones,” Lord Allerton said firmly, shaking his head at her as though she were a small child who had done something wrong. “Such matters are not for you to discuss.”
Bristling, and with the memory of the note’s harsh words still embedded deeply in her mind, Alice lifted her chin and glared at Lord Allerton. “I have every right to know, Lord Allerton.”
“You have no need to know,” he said, his eyes narrowing a little. “What is the reason for such a question? Have you some intention of ending our engagement?”
“Have you any intention of marrying me?” she retorted, flinging the question back in his face. “Or have you decided against me?”
Lord Allerton stared at her for a long moment, his mouth a little ajar as he looked back at her. Alice held his gaze steadily, her heart pounding furiously as she watched him, refusing to be cowed by his apparent shock. She was not about to hide away, but instead fully intended to seek the truth about what he had arranged with her father. If there was money in it for him if she ended the engagement, then she would know that the note had come from Lord Allerton, whereas if he himself ended the engagement, there might very well be nothing at all by way of financial reward.
“The banns have been called, Miss Jones,” he answered tightly, his face a little pale. “I cannot think that there is any other proof required as evidence of my intention to marry you.”
She shook her head, finding his explanation less than honest. “You have not answered my question, Lord Allerton,” she insisted. “What did my father promise you should I—”
“I shall not answer such questions!” Lord Allerton exclaimed, startling Lady Fossett awake. “They are inappropriate for you to ask, Miss Jones and, as such, I shall not dignify them with an answer.”
Lady Fossett blinked wearily, her eyes fixing upon Alice immediately as opposed to Lord Allerton.
“Just what is it you are doing now, girl?” she asked in a dispassionate voice. “Bringing yet more difficulty and trouble to Lord Allerton, no doubt.”
Alice closed her eyes and forced herself to take in three deep breaths, knowing that she might otherwise explode with fury. Recalling what the duchess had said, she got to her feet carefully, not wanting to stumble or make a fool of herself.
“I might find it easier to believe that you want to marry me still, Lord Allerton, if you were not so very distant,” she said coldly, seeing how he looked away from her, his jaw tight. “You have not called upon me often, refused to attend social gatherings with me, and otherwise continued on with your life as though I am not a part of it now.” She glared at him, wishing he would look in her direction but seeing that he was determined not to do so. “I have spent more time in the company of the Duchess of Sussex than I have with you. One might think that you care very little for the lady you are to marry and have no desire to further our acquaintance.”
Lord Allerton looked back at her then, his expression tight but his eyes troubled. There was no anger there, she realized, holding his gaze and refusing to be intimidated. What was it he felt? Was he ashamed of her? Embarrassed by her lack of propriety? Or was he simply to be this sort of husband? A gentleman who would spend more time away from his estate and his wife and more time in London and Bath, doing whatever he wished to do?
“I have every intention of marrying you, Miss Jones,” Lord Allerton said, a little hoarsely. “However, you cannot pretend that your behavior is entirely as it ought to be. I do not take you to social events because I fear that your manner and your speech will embarrass both myself and my family’s good name.”
My family’s good name.
Those words rang around her mind, forcing her to recall the letter that had been so horrible in its sentiments. She did not want to believe that it had been Lord Allerton who had written and sent it but found that her mind was beginning to force her in that direction.
“I have been doing my utmost to improve,” she stated, her own voice rasping with emotion. “Even the duchess has come to help me, and she is not embarrassed to be seen out with me, Lord Allerton.” Lifting her chin and hearing Lady Fossett begin to grumble behind her, Alice narrowed her eyes and fixed her gaze on her betrothed. “I will be ready and prepared for your arrival this evening.” So saying, she turned her back on Lord Allerton and began to make her way toward the door, feeling a mixture of satisfaction and anxiety swirl through her.
“This evening?” Lord Allerton called after her, sounding entirely uncertain. “What do you mean? We have no plans to attend anywhere together this evening.”
She turned back to him, pasting a small smile on her face. “I am aware that you have no intention of taking me to whichever social occasion you plan to attend, Lord Allerton,” she told him sweetly. “But I refuse to be pushed to one side and forgotten about. We will attend together. If you will excuse me, I must go and prepare.”
There was a silence that followed her words, with Lord Allerton and Lady Fossett exchanging glances. Alice shrugged inwardly and turned, making her way toward the door with swift, hasty steps. She had stood up for herself, had made it quite clear that she was not about to be treated in such an inconsiderate manner by the gentleman who was, very soon, to be her husband. Besides which, she had no intention of giving up her engagement, for fear that her father would be left both disappointed and considerably poorer for it. From what Lord Allerton had refused to say, Alice perceived that there was some financial gain for him should she call the marriage off. Lord Allerton was about to learn that she had intention of doing so. One note would not force her away from her betrothed, no matter what he hoped. She would not disappoint her parents, regardless of how difficult she found things. They would wed, she would become the Countess of Allerton, and all would be well.
“A ball, Miss Jones.”
She glanced behind her, seeing Lord Allerton’s face slowly going crimson as he looked at her.
“The Earl of Stirling is hosting a ball this evening,” he continued with a slight shrug. “I will call for you with the carriage.”
Nodding, Alice said nothing more—did not even thank him for his consideration—but turned around and quit the room entirely. She had been successful with her plans at least, which meant that his evening, she would be stepping out with Lord Allerton by her side, as his betrothed. The ton might talk, there might come a good deal of whispers and yes, she might very well make some sort of mistake, but Alice was determined. One note was not going to change her mind from what she had agreed to.
Lord Allerton was about to find out just how stubborn she was.
6
The ballroom was beautifully decorated, Charles had to admit. It had holly garlands and winter wreaths, red berries and all manner of greenery on almost every wall. Long, thick strands of ivy had been tied from one side of the wall to the other, giving the guests the impression of being out of doors, should one look up for a time. Curled ribbons of gold and silver were strung below candelabras, and a huge, roaring fire sent orange and yellow flickering up the walls. All in all, it was magnificent.
It was, of course, the very sort of thing Charles had come to expect from Lord Stirling. The gentleman held a vast estate in Scotland, but came to London every winter, stating that things were a good deal easier to manage here in town than in Scotland when it was cold. Of course, the gentleman had a huge fortune and so was more than happy to throw what was one of the most magnificent balls of the Little Season. It was one that Charles had to admit he looked forward to, even though he now had Miss Jones by his side.
“You need only greet Lord and Lady Stirling,” he murmured as they moved forward in the receiving line. “This is not the time to ask questions or attempt to further your acquaintance with them.” He glanced down at Miss Jones and was surprised to see how her eyes flashed angrily. “I am only stating this in order to aid you, Miss Jones,” he finished, in the hope that this would placate her somewhat. “I mean nothing else by it.”
Miss Jones said nothing but turned her head away, making it quite clear that she did not care for what he had said. Charles, a trifle confused, set his shoulders and put a broad smile on his face so that Lord and Lady Stirling would think nothing was amiss.
“Lord Stirling, Lady Stirling,” he beamed, bowing low over Lady Stirling’s hand. “How good to see you here in London again, and thank you for your kind invitation.”
Lord Stirling, who had long been an acquaintance of Charles’, chuckled as he greeted Charles. “You know very well that I would not have thought to forget you from our invitations,” he said warmly. “It is very good to see you again also.”
Charles nodded, making to move forward, only for a slight cough to catch his attention.
His cheeks burned with embarrassment. He had not done as he ought. Of course, Miss Jones had never been introduced to Lord and Lady Stirling before and, as such, he should have immediately done so.
“Forgive me,” he stammered, seeing but ignoring the small sparkle of delight in Miss Jones’ eyes, as if she found his mistake to be rather humorous. “Might I present Miss Jones, daughter to Mr. and Mrs. Jones from New York, in America. She is,” he continued, seeing Lady Stirling’s eyes light up with interest, “my betrothed. We are to wed in a few weeks’ time.”
Lord Stirling, who was clearly a little surprised at this news, having only just returned to town and perhaps not had the occasion to hear the local gossip, immediately bowed toward Miss Jones and greeted her warmly.
“New York?” Lady Stirling repeated, the words spoken carefully as though she had not heard of such a place before. “How intriguing! Miss Jones, I am very glad to make your acquaintance. You must, of course, come and speak to me again later this evening. I am very interested indeed in your background. How very exciting this all must be for you!”
Charles swallowed his pang of guilt, knowing full well that Miss Jones had not found any part of her new life here in England to be exciting. Rather, she had endured nothing but difficulty. He could not pretend that he was not the cause of some of that difficulty either, given that he had made every attempt to stay away from Miss Jones and not bring her into society as he ought to do. He had convinced himself that there was no particular need to do so, given that they would soon wed and then return to his estate, never once thinking of what she might feel about his decision to treat her in such a way. Even the duke’s hard words to him had not impacted Charles as much as they should have, for he had not truly taken them to heart. Yes, they had made him uncomfortable and a little guilty, but he had chosen not to do as he knew was expected of him, telling himself it was for the best. And Miss Jones had been the one to suffer.
“I have had a most enjoyable time thus far,” Miss Jones replied in a quiet voice, smiling softly at Lord and Lady Stirling. “The ballroom looks quite wonderful and I am very much looking forward to dancing this evening.”
A wave of astonishment crashed over Charles as he stared at Miss Jones, having not expected her to speak with such refinement and courtesy. In fact, he had expected her to tell Lady Stirling directly that she had found no enjoyment whatsoever in English society thus far, and that she would put the blame for such a thing solely at Charles’ feet.
She had not done that, however. Instead, she had spoken carefully and wisely, making certain that there would be no embarrassment on either side. He watched her with growing surprise as she inclined her head again, and then moved toward him, accepting his arm without any hesitation.
“You—you did very well,” he managed to say, still quite taken aback by her change in demeanor. “Thank you.”
Looking up at him, her green eyes glittering, Miss Jones let out a small but mocking laugh. “You think very poorly of me, I must say, Lord Allerton,” she said bluntly. “Thankfully, I have had a very kind lady come to call on me regularly, to the point that we now consider ourselves to be very good friends indeed. It is she who has helped me in my attempts to improve, who has clearly expressed what is expected of me and what I must do in society in order to gain their respect.” Looking away from him, Miss Jones let out a long breath and set her shoulders. “And yet you are surprised.” The disappointment in her voice sent a pang of guilt through his soul and he had to turn his head away, realizing that he had done her more of a wrong than he had first thought.
“You said you were looking forward to dancing this evening,” he said, trying to cover his own embarrassment. “Is that the truth, Miss Jones? Do you enjoy dancing?”
She looked up at him sharply. “If you mean to ask me whether or not I am able to dance, Lord Allerton, then the answer is yes, I am able to do at least a few of the required dances. The waltz, the cotillion, and the country dance are the three that I am most certain of.”
Charles said nothing, his mind scrambling with what he had just been told. He had always presumed that Miss Jones did not know how to do any of the required dances, which meant that he had not even thought of asking her to dance. Now, it seemed, he had been quite wrong. He had made a presumption and it had made him look quite foolish.
“The duchess has been very kind,” Miss Jones murmured again, throwing him a quick glance. “A dancing master was sent for last week and I spent a good few hours one afternoon ensuring that I was correct in all my steps.” A hint of anger entered her voice. “So you need not fear that I shall embarrass you, Lord Allerton. I will not stumble, turn the wrong way, or knock into someone else.”
“No, no, of course not,” he stammered, feeling more than a little foolish. “That is excellent news, Miss Jones. Of course I should be glad to put my name down for the waltz.”
“As is expected,” she mumbled, turning her head away and seeming to wilt a little. Charles berated himself repeatedly as they continued to make their way through the ballroom, feeling as though he were the one who ought to be walking with a lowered head and a sorrowful heart. This evening had only just begun and already he had discovered more about Miss Jones than ever before. He had not known that the duchess had spent so much time with her, or that a dancing master had been found for her. Evidently, the duchess’ time with Miss Jones had brought about a good deal of change—but Charles knew that it was not the duchess’ responsibility to have done such things. It was his and his alone, but he had spurned those duties and decided to leave Miss Jones well alone, telling himself that it was for the best—although he meant, of course, that it was for his benefit as opposed to hers.
“Ah, there you are, Lord Allerton!”
The Duke of Sussex appeared just to his right, forcing Charles to come to a stop whilst Miss Jones curtsied beautifully, greeting the duke and his wife in the appropriate manner.
“You look quite lovely this evening, Miss Jones,” the duke said, and Charles felt a flush of shame climb up his neck. He had not said a single thing to Miss Jones as regarded her appearance, even though he found her quite beautiful.
“Your gown is truly lovely,” the duchess added with a bright smile. “Although I must hope that you will still wish to come to my dressmaker later this week? She is quite delighted at the thought of putting your trousseau together.”
“Oh, yes,” Miss Jones answered, her hand dropping from Charles’ arm. “I am very much looking forward to that appointment.”
Charles cleared his throat, frowning hard. “Your trousseau, Miss Jones? I thought my aunt was to ensure that such a thing was arranged.”
Miss Jones and the duchess looked back at him as one, sending a ripple of unease up Charles’ spine. What was it he did not know? An awkward silence surrounded them for a few moments, as the duchess and Miss Jones exchanged a meaningful look.
“I think,” Miss Jones said carefully, her eyes now back upon his, “that Lady Fossett has found it difficult to remove herself from the house lately. It is very cold and she feels the chill very badly. I did not think it right to press her.”
The duchess smiled broadly at this, her eyes warm as she nodded her agreement. “Yes, that is the very expl
anation I was searching for,” she said, looking pointedly at Charles and making it quite clear by such a look that this was not at all the reason for Lady Fossett’s refusal to help Miss Jones with her trousseau. “And I was, of course, very glad to offer my help. The time is very short indeed and there is a lot of work to be done.”
Charles swallowed hard, going hot and then cold all over as he realized the difficulties Miss Jones had faced ever since she had arrived. With his unwillingness to encourage her out into society, and with his aunt’s coldness and despair over Miss Jones’ character, the lady had been left entirely to her own devices. Had it not been for the Duchess of Sussex, then he did not know what would have occurred—and it would all have been his doing.
“I do hope you are dancing this evening, Miss Jones,” the duke said, interrupting Charles’ thoughts and holding out one hand for her dance card. “My wife tells me you dance very well indeed.”
Miss Jones blushed and, inexplicably, Charles felt a thrill run straight up through him, making him catch his breath. For the first time, he noticed the gentle curve of her neck, the delicate beauty of her genuine smile. He found himself filled with a longing that such a smile might be directed toward himself at some point, as though he were a trifle jealous that the duke had managed to receive one from her first. He knew that Miss Jones was beautiful, yes, but as his eyes continued to linger on her, he realized that she could be quite enchanting.
He had just been too blind to see it.
“Ah!” the duke exclaimed, making Charles jump violently. “The cotillion! My wife tells me that you have had extensive practice at this particular dance, Miss Jones.” He smiled at her and wrote his name down. “I would be very glad to take you to the floor, I must say.”
“You are very kind, Your Grace,” Miss Jones murmured demurely. “I will do my very best to be the most excellent of dance partners.”
