by Hatch, Donna
Willard eyed their gowns. “Where did you get those?”
“Elizabeth let us borrow them, Uncle.”
He nodded in approval. “Where are you going?”
“The dinner party at the Hancock’s, remember? We’ve already sent our acceptance.”
“I’d forgotten. I’m sorry but I cannot attend with you. I have an appointment.”
Robert arrived, miraculously looking well groomed and sober enough to drive Alicia and Hannah to Elizabeth’s dinner party. Male cousins could only loosely be considered an appropriate escort for young ladies, but they had no one else. Robert often took on the role of her protector whenever he was not too foxed. Uncle Willard had lost his own phaeton in a card game, and the family coach had been sold. Robert’s was the only remaining carriage.
They bid good night to Uncle Willard and entered the carriage. The one horse that remained of the enviable horse flesh that once filled the stables pulled Robert’s carriage. They rode in comfortable silence.
Robert cast a sideways glance at them. “How pretty you both look tonight.”
Alicia smiled. “You look dashing, Cousin. I hope you will exercise restraint tonight. We depend on you to drive us home.”
“Yes, Mother,” he mocked.
She sighed. Since Armand’s death, Robert’s drinking had become alarming. She feared he would kill himself with it.
They passed through the darkened countryside under a clear, starlit sky. Robert turned the carriage down the Hancock’s drive. Light poured from every window of the Hancock’s home. As the carriage rolled to a stop, footmen hurried to assist.
Inside, Elizabeth and her parents greeted them warmly. “The other guests are gathering in the drawing room.”
Charles, Elizabeth’s brother, clapped Robert on the shoulder. “Come join me at billiards?”
“Really, Charles, you ought to stay with the rest of the guests,” Elizabeth scolded.
“We’ll be out later, Lizzy.” Charles made a loose wave.
Robert followed Charles into another room while Elizabeth and Alicia exchanged looks of disapproval. Hannah nervously smoothed her dress, casting furtive glances toward the doorway of the drawing room. Elizabeth linked her arms through theirs and drew them both into the drawing room where the guests had divided into smaller, similar age groups. Catherine, in all her glory, sat next to her friend Marie, holding court with the young Mr. de Champs and the dark-eyed Captain Hawthorne.
Catherine waved to her, a false smile pasted upon her face. “Alicia, Hannah, come join us.” She perused Alicia’s gown, but her composure seldom revealed any emotion except contempt.
Hannah’s erratic breathing revealed her nervousness. Poor Hannah. She always became dreadfully shy in the company of others. She would be terrified in the midst of the London Season, if she made it there. Alicia drew her sister with her and glided over to them with the grace of a queen.
The gentlemen quickly jumped to their feet and made room for them, Mr. de Champs fetching a nearby chair. Next to the raven-haired beauty of Catherine, Alicia felt plain and drab, but at least she was impeccably dressed, thanks to Elizabeth’s generosity.
Alicia greeted each in turn. Catherine’s friend, Marie, smiled kindly. Alicia often suspected that Catherine had befriended Marie because of the girl’s plainness; next to her, Catherine’s beauty shone. Or perhaps Catherine liked Marie because she did not view her as a threat. But Alicia clearly posed no threat, either. Catherine, the beautiful daughter of a wealthy baron, was clearly Alicia’s superior in many ways. So why did Catherine dislike her so much?
“Marie is telling us her system of finding the perfect husband.” Catherine wore a sly smile.
Marie beamed, basking in the center of attention for a change instead of simply shadowing Catherine, unaware that her friend mocked her. “Yes. I have written down my desired qualities in a husband. Then when I speak with a gentleman, I find out as much as I can about him. I have a code that I use based on what I learn of him and how many of his qualities meet those on my list.”
The gentlemen present seemed undecided whether or not they approved of this so-called system.
Feeling the need to rescue the poor girl, Alicia turned to Marie. “What are these desirable qualities, Marie?”
“He must be a learned man and appreciate poetry and art.”
“Are these of interest to you?” Alicia asked.
Marie smiled hesitantly. “Yes. I’m not beautiful, nor am I a great conversationalist, so I have little to offer most men. Perhaps if we share the same interests…” She shrugged.
“Nonsense, you’re a delightful conversationalist and you are quite comely,” Mr. de Champs protested gallantly.
Alicia’s opinion of the young man rose even higher.
Marie giggled. “You are kind, sir, but I know what I say is true. However, I can discuss these interests and I want someone who appreciates them as I do.”
“Isn’t she clever?” Catherine interjected, purposely drawing attention back to herself. Catherine glanced at something behind Alicia, as if contemplating her next move in a game she played, but Alicia resisted the urge to see what had drawn her attention.
The raven-haired beauty lifted her chin. “I shall marry for love, of course, but my family honor is a consideration. Our interests need not be similar. In fact, I would encourage my husband to pursue his own hobbies and pleasures. And, unlike some, I will not marry simply for title or great riches. I only wish to be kept comfortable.”
Alicia had no doubt that Catherine’s definition of comfortable living would require much more than many other people’s definition of wealth.
Catherine affected a demure posture. “I would consider any gentleman of good breeding.” She smiled, falsely sweet. “What about you, Alicia? If you had a choice, what kind of husband would you choose?”
As all of Catherine’s words sank in, Alicia stared, wondering if her uncle’s intentions were common knowledge. Likely. Joining a group that included Catherine had been a grave mistake. Her pride would have been better spared if she had simply declined their invitation. Yet to move to another group now would only confirm Catherine’s veiled insinuations.
Alicia moistened her lips. “I would choose a gentleman who is honest and kind. One who values the opinions and feelings of others. And who is mild-tempered.”
Catherine appeared too satisfied, as again, her eyes moved upward to something behind Alicia. Had she said too much? But the handsome Mr. de Champs’ encouraging nod gave her courage to continue. Next to her, Hannah stared at her in rapt admiration.
“What else, Lissie?” Hannah asked, her voice just above a whisper.
Alicia drew from her heart. “I have no interest in men who gamble or drink excessively. And most of all, I desire a husband who would be capable of fidelity.” She stared out of the blackened windows, forgetting the others, forgetting her discomfort. “I wish, more than anything, to marry a man I love, and who truly loves me in return.” Surprised at herself for speaking her desires so boldly, Alicia’s face heated. She twisted her hands in her lap.
Marie sighed dreamily. “Ohhh, so do I.”
Hannah offered a timid smile. “Like Maman and Papa.”
Mr. de Champs gave her his full attention, admiration clear on his face. Captain Hawthorne’s thoughts could not be discerned, but then he smiled. Again, his dark eyes drew her.
Catherine’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “How ... sweet.” Insult dripped from her words as if she found Alicia a romantic fool. Catherine’s glance swept over all the gentlemen. “Oh, excuse us. We are chattering away and not letting you say a word. Tell me, what qualities do you desire in your ideal lady?”
A brief, uncomfortable silence followed. That was the first tactical error Alicia had ever seen Catherine make.
Someone directly behind Alicia spoke. “I’m sure our preferences are as varied as we are, Miss Sinclair.”
She knew that voice. With dread, Alicia turned to a broad che
st in a black superfine suit with a dark blue waistcoat. Her gaze moved upward to a snow-white cravat and a diamond stickpin, then further up to his beautiful, masculine face. She fell into his glittering sapphire eyes. She caught her breath. She had almost forgotten how deadly handsome Lord Amesbury was.
Deadly being the key word.
His eyes met hers and something akin to gentleness showed in his. She stilled. Gentleness? In the eyes of a killer? She turned away, clutched by dismay.
The walls closed in on her. She needed to escape. Now. She did not wish to hurt Elizabeth’s feelings or drag Hannah away from the party, who despite her shyness, appeared to be enjoying herself. But Alicia could not bear to endure the presence of the man who had destroyed Armand. How could she leave without causing a scene?
Hannah touched her hand, her brows raised in concern and inquiry.
Elizabeth’s father, Mr. Hancock, standing next to Mrs. Hancock, cleared his throat. In response, the other guests’ conversations died down. Mr. Hancock greeted his guests and invited them to enter the dining room. According to precedence, the guests filed into the dining room as a footman hurried in and whispered urgently into Mr. Hancock’s ear.
Mr. Hancock listened, nodded, and beckoned to Alicia. “Miss Palmer, come with me, please.”
Alicia touched Hannah’s arm. “I’ll join you in a moment.”
Hannah’s eyes opened in abject terror at the prospect of dining without her, but Mr. de Champs gallantly offered his arm. “If I may, Miss Hannah?”
Alicia smiled in gratitude at Mr. de Champs before following Mr. Hancock out of the room.
In the corridor, Mr. Hancock turned to her. “Robert has fallen and hit his head.” Before she uttered a word, Mr. Hancock held up a hand. “It does not appear to be serious, but we’ve sent for the doctor. I assume you’d wish to see him.”
“Thank you, sir.”
She followed him down a paneled corridor to an open door. Cigar smoke hung heavy over the billiards room. Robert lay sprawled on a sofa pressing a cloth to his forehead. Alicia sprang forward and picked up his limp hand.
“Robert?”
He opened his eye and grinned crookedly at her.
“You’re foxed,” she accused.
“Good thing. Prob’ly would’ve ‘urt much worsh if I weren’t.”
She dropped his hand with a frown. “You wouldn’t have fallen if you weren’t.”
“Ah, Lishie, you’ll make shome man a perfect wife one day. You’ve got the nagging down jusht right.”
She let out her breath. He wouldn’t be needling her if he’d been truly hurt. He removed the cloth from his head, but the bleeding resumed with a vengeance. Alarmed by the sight of so much blood, Alicia grabbed his hand and pressed it and the cloth back over the wound.
“You’ve ruined everything, Robbie.”
“Alwaysh manage to.”
“I want to go home. Lord Amesbury is here.”
Robert cursed and tried to sit up.
Alicia pushed him back down. “You’re in no condition to go anywhere now, you idiot.”
He closed his eyes and slurred, “Shorry, Lisshie. Should’ve talked Armand out of accepting that challenge to duel. But I was so hot to shee him humiliate that arrogant viscount. Should’ve shtopped ‘em.”
“Hush, Robbie, it’s not your fault. Lord Amesbury should never have issued the challenge.”
When the doctor arrived, he ushered Alicia out. While she paced the floor outside the room, a footman motioned to her. “Dinner is still being served, Miss.”
Alicia nodded. She might as well eat; it would be some time before Robert would be in any condition to move. Shyness had probably paralyzed Hannah without Alicia beside her.
She halted. Lord Amesbury was in there.
“This way, Miss,” the footman urged.
She gathered her courage. Dinner. She could face dinner with him. And she would do it without falling apart. Hannah counted on her. Alicia found her courage and entered the dining room with her head high. Instead of one long table, smaller round tables dotted the dining room. Hannah eyed Alicia, worry touching her face.
Alicia leaned down and spoke into her ear. “All is well. Robbie fell, but it’s merely a little bump. The doctor is looking in on him as a precaution.”
Hannah nodded and Alicia took the empty seat between Mr. de Champs and Mr. Hawthorne. To her dismay, Lord Amesbury sat between Marie and Catherine, which put him directly across from her. She tried to keep her gaze off him, but he seemed to pull her attention like a magnet.
How deceived she had been by his pleasing face and form, his charming manners, his dry wit! She had failed to see the heartless monster that lurked beneath. The kindness he displayed must have been an act. She had little experience with men, and Lord Amesbury hid his thoughts so effectively that she could be sure of nothing. Yet, he behaved in a gallant manner, compassionate and understanding instead of condemning when he aided her after she fled Mr. Braxton.
She shivered. Every time she remembered that horrible, humiliating experience, her stomach lurched.
Feeling his gaze, she glanced Lord Amesbury’s way. A smile touched the corner of his mouth. How easily he smiled. How lightly he must take life.
And the lives of others.
She focused on her plate. With his eyes upon her repeatedly, discomfort heated her face, and she found it difficult to enjoy the wonderful repast before her or maintain a polite conversation with the kind and charming Mr. de Champs beside her.
Catherine turned her charm upon Lord Amesbury with a vengeance. “Tell me, Lord Amesbury, do you enjoy the fox hunt?”
“Yes, very much.” He wore an unreadable expression.
Alicia dragged her gaze away from him again.
Catherine demanded she be the center of attention and cooed, “I have no doubt you are a great shot.”
An image of Lord Amesbury shooting her twin brother forced its way into Alicia’s mind. She choked.
“I have that reputation,” the viscount replied.
Alicia pressed a napkin over her mouth.
“I understand you are new to this area?” Catherine eyed him as if she suspected he was made of sweet cream.
The viscount appeared distracted as he swirled his drink in his hand, but he met her gaze politely. “I came often as a child, but this is my first visit here in years.”
Alicia gripped her utensils with whitened knuckles.
“Do you travel much?” Catherine persisted.
“During the war, I served aboard a Navy ship, so my travels were limited to duty. Since then, I have enjoyed a bit of travel to more desirable locations.”
“You must be rather bored with dreary old England after your life abroad, my lord.”
“Not at all. England offers a number of interesting diversions,” Lord Amesbury’s voice rumbled.
“Do you consider horse racing an interesting diversion, my lord?” asked Captain Hawthorne. “We have an informal race here each year. There’s some nice horseflesh here, not racers, mind you, but good for a hunt. The Baron Von Der Au has a beautiful Arabian, and he has a private racecourse on his land that we use.”
“When is the next race?” asked Lord Amesbury, sounding genuinely interested.
“Thursday next.”
“Excellent.”
“You enjoy the races, my lord?” Catherine interjected. “Do you own racehorses?”
“A few, and a new colt who’s untried as of yet, but I believe he will be a winner. His pedigree is impressive.”
“I can see that you are a man of varied interests.” She smiled, and then lowered her eyes in a perfect imitation of a demure lady.
Only Alicia’s self-control kept her from rolling her eyes. She wondered how gentlemen could be so easily deceived by her obvious charade. But then, Catherine was also beautiful and wealthy. She had much to offer. Except a heart. But that probably would fail to deter most men.
Alicia turned her attention away from Catherine and her
prey. She focused instead on the truly wonderful meal in front of her, but with the man who destroyed Armand sitting so near, she could hardly eat more than a bite.
“Whom do you favor for the race, Hawthorne?” asked Mr. de Champs.
The dark-eyed captain rubbed his chin. “The marquis has a new stallion he claims will sweep the others.”
Mr. de Champs smiled. “Ah, but the baron’s Arabian won the derby the last two years in a row. My bets are on his horse.”
Lord Amesbury leaned back, something forbidden glittering in his blue eyes, a hint of a smile on his full, sensitive lips. It awakened that undesirable awareness of him.
Alicia felt ill. Dueling fiend. Killer! She’d made a foolish mistake in deliberately putting herself in company with Lord Amesbury. She should have asked to eat in the kitchen with the servants. Or feigned a headache and taken a tray in a bedroom. Stifling the rising emotions his nearness brought, she battled her frayed nerves. Those searching eyes pierced her, stirring a cyclone of anger and sorrow. With a smile, he raised his glass to her.
She turned away and tried to think of something intelligent to say to Mr. de Champs, who, while charming and handsome, seemed almost effeminate compared to Lord Amesbury.
Footmen cleared away the dishes from the table and placed them on trays. A gasp behind her caught Alicia’s attention, but before she could turn around, a crash echoed through the dining hall, and something warm and wet landed on the back of her neck and shoulder. Stunned silence followed the noise.
“Oh, no,” the footman wailed from behind Alicia.
Gravy splattered her neck and shoulders and slid down her arm.
Horrified, the footman rushed forward with a cloth to try to mop up the gravy mess. “I’m s-so s-sorry, Miss,” he stammered.
Mortified to have so many eyes focused on her, Alicia wished she could disappear. “It’s all right.”
“Good heavens, Alicia,” Elizabeth cried. “Are you burned?”
“No, it’s only warm.” To the footman she said, “No harm done.”
By now, the footman’s ears and neck were as red as his face as he frantically attempted to clean up Alicia’s gown. His gaze darted to Mr. and Mrs. Hancock in fear of their reaction. Other servants abandoned their duties to clear away the broken dishes and the ruined food on the floor. The footman’s well-meaning ministrations only spread the mess on Alicia’s gown.
