The Stranger She Married (Rogue Hearts Series)

by Hatch, Donna

  Alicia held up her hand, halting his efforts. “Please don’t be distressed. I shall simply retire to another room and clean up.”

  Elizabeth rose. “I’ll help you, dearest.”

  “No. Don’t trouble yourself, Lizzie, please. You have guests. I can manage.”

  Alicia turned to Hannah whose eyes shimmered in tears of sympathy. “Enjoy your dessert, Hannah. I’ll return in a moment.”

  Alicia refused to meet Lord Amesbury’s gaze that settled heavily on her. She made the mistake of glancing Catherine’s way but instantly regretted it. Catherine’s condescending slant to her mouth revealed no sympathy for Alicia’s plight, but rather glee at seeing her thusly embarrassed. Other guests observed the incident with various expressions of pity and amusement. Both were equally humiliating. Elizabeth’s mother, Mrs. Hancock, came to her feet at the same time as Lord Amesbury’s aunt, Mrs. Fitzpatrick.

  “Here, my dear, I’ll accompany you.” Mrs. Fitzpatrick strode to her side.

  Alicia blinked. She hadn’t even noticed the older lady in attendance; she’d been too focused on Lord Amesbury. Mrs. Hancock sank back down in her seat with a grateful smile at Mrs. Fitzpatrick.

  “That’s very kind of you,” murmured Alicia still fighting tears of humiliation.

  Mrs. Hancock gestured to a nearby maid. “Go with Miss Palmer and help her.”

  The maid came forward and led them to an empty room. The footman followed, still apologizing.

  Alicia took command over her tears and turned her attention to the distraught footman. “It was a simple mistake. And only a very few dishes were lost. Do not be so distressed.”

  Mrs. Fitzpatrick nodded. “Quite right. No one is angry, lad. If I sacked every servant who dropped a dish, I would be doing my own serving.”

  “Thank you for being so forgiving,” the footman said.

  Mrs. Fitzpatrick made a shooing motion. “Go on with your duties, lad.” With a sigh of gratitude, the footman bowed and departed. Inside the empty room, the maid poured water into a basin and moistened a nearby towel. She rubbed a bar of milled soap over the towel until it produced suds and used it to carefully wipe the back of Alicia’s neck, shoulder, and arm, before turning her attention to the sleeve.

  Mrs. Fitzpatrick smiled benevolently. “You handled yourself beautifully, Miss Palmer. I know you were terribly embarrassed to be the center of such unwanted attention. And you were, indeed, most understanding about it.”

  “I’ve dropped my fair share of things,” Alicia admitted.

  “The other day my nephew asked about your family.”

  Alicia paused. “Your nephew? Lord Amesbury?”

  “Yes, I am so pleased he finally came to visit. He does not often attend the London Season and I do not have as many opportunities to see him as I would like.” She smiled proudly.

  “You seem quite fond of him,” Alicia said in undisguised surprise.

  “I sense in him a kindred spirit.” Mrs. Fitzpatrick probed Alicia’s face. “Did you enjoy your dance with him at the Sinclair ball?”

  With a start, she wondered what he had told her. She pretended interest in the maid’s clean up efforts. “Of course. You said he asked about my family?”

  “Indeed. He has never expressed any interest in the family of a young lady before.”

  Alicia’s face warmed at the memory of his nearness when he examined her mother’s picture in her locket, the intensity of his gaze, his arm around her waist when she had stumbled. He was nothing like what she’d imagined of the man who shot Armand. But then, he had been eager to duel Mr. Braxton when he discovered her fleeing the man. At the time, she’d thought he was being chivalrous. Now she knew he enjoyed bloodshed.

  “I hope he behaved as a gentleman,” Mrs. Fitzpatrick said.

  Alicia gave a start. “Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he?”

  “He plays the role of a scoundrel with relish. In his defense, underneath it all he is a surprisingly decent man. He came home from the war dramatically changed. But I think the right lady can uncover his true self buried deep inside under all those protective layers.” She pinned Alicia with a stare. “He’s quite wealthy in his own right.”

  Alicia could think of nothing to say in reply. Even if her nephew wanted her—an unlikely possibility—she would never marry the man who had killed her brother as surely as if he had put a bullet through Armand’s heart instead of his arm.

  “Now, there, all is well, Miss,” the maid said triumphantly. “It should dry perfectly clean.”

  Alicia lifted her arm and craned her neck to examine the sleeve. Only a damp spot remained of the gravy spill. “Thank you. That was most expertly done.”

  The maid bobbed a curtsey and waited expectantly. With sinking dread, Alicia realized the maid was expecting a vail but Alicia didn’t have a shilling to give her.

  “Allow me.” Mrs. Fitzpatrick handed the maid a coin and smiled at Alicia. “Will you and your sister come have tea? We will be attending a house party next week, but I would love to receive you the following week.”

  Alicia returned the smile. “Thank you.”

  They returned together to the others. In their absence, a game of whist had begun. Alicia watched with mingled disgust and amusement as Catherine set her wily sights on her prey; the viscount and his bank account. Although to be fair to Catherine, any young lady would be interested in a young, handsome, wealthy, titled lord. But Catherine did not look starry-eyed as if she found him charming and handsome; a decidedly scheming light glinted in her eyes.

  Naturally Lord Amesbury appeared to be enjoying the beautiful lady’s company. Not that Alicia cared. Catherine could have that dueling fiend! Clearly they deserved one another.

  Elizabeth came to her. “The doctor said Robert will recover nicely but recommends he stay and rest tonight. He’s resting comfortably. Will you and Hannah stay for the night? We can send word to your uncle.”

  Alicia involuntarily glanced at Lord Amesbury. She was loath to remain under the same roof with that man a moment longer than she must. She returned her focus to Elizabeth. “I had hoped to return home soon.”

  Elizabeth’s face fell. “Oh. Well, then Mother and I could accompany you home.”

  “And leave your guests?”

  A slight frown touched her brow. “I suppose that would not be appropriate.”

  Alicia sighed. “No.”

  Elizabeth took her hand. “What troubles you, Alicia? You have not enjoyed yourself all evening.”

  “Forgive me, dearest. Your party is lovely. I’m just a bit out of sorts.”

  Elizabeth studied her face. “Something else is wrong. You were unhappy even before Robert fell. Before the gravy accident. Oh, dear. This has not been a good evening for you, has it?”

  Alicia put her arm around her. “You are not to blame for any of it.”

  Captain Hawthorne appeared, his dark eyes probing. “I just heard about your cousin.”

  “He had a fall, but he will be fine,” Alicia said.

  “That’s a relief.” He smiled, his dark eyes intense upon her face. Alicia realized that his smiles never seemed to touch his eyes. He seemed troubled. His father’s poor health? Was soldiering still difficult even though the war was over?

  The game ended among cries of victory and defeat, drawing their attention.

  Mr. de Champs joined them. “I am relieved you did not suffer any ill effect from the mishap at dinner, Miss Palmer. And your sleeve is even dry now.”

  What a shame her uncle would not consider men such as Mr. de Champs or Captain Hawthorne as suitable husbands. True, they were not outrageously wealthy, but they seemed decent men, much more so than her current would-be suitors. But, no, Uncle needed more money than they could, or would, give him for her.

  Lord Amesbury entered the circle, his disturbing nearness making the room too warm. She deliberately averted her eyes. How could she have been initially attracted to that man?

  Mr. de Champs touched her arm briefly. �
�Miss Palmer, are you unwell?”

  “I’m ... merely tired, I think.” Alicia gave him what was probably a wobbly smile.

  Mrs. Fitzpatrick edged closer, concern in her face. “I have called my carriage. May we offer you a ride home?”

  And ride in the carriage with her nephew? “No! Ah, I mean, no thank you. I don’t wish to impose.”

  Mr. Fitzpatrick’s voice boomed next to her and she jumped. “No trouble at all, Miss Palmer. Our pleasure.”

  Alicia drew a fortifying breath. The Fitzpatrick house lay off the same road as Alicia’s home, but hers was several miles beyond. It would most certainly be out of the way.

  “You’re very kind, sir, but—”

  “Not at all, not at all. We insist.” Mr. Fitzpatrick patted her arm. “Don your wraps, there’s a good girl. Where’s your sister?”

  Hannah arrived then, watching Alicia curiously, while the footmen brought their wraps.

  Mrs. Fitzpatrick smiled as if she enjoyed a great joke. “Come, ladies, your cousin will be well cared for here. I’m sure they’ll send him home right as rain in the morning.”

  “You’re very kind,” Hannah said softly.

  Alicia found herself ushered outside. Lord Amesbury strode next to her, but she kept her arm wrapped around Hannah’s and her eyes fixed on the ground. As she reached the coach, she hung back and waited for the nobility to enter first. She glanced up expectantly at the viscount since he clearly outranked her poor, untitled self but he motioned her in ahead of him. As she stepped in, his hand appeared under her elbow, steadying her.

  Holding her tongue out of respect for Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick, she swallowed and uttered a breathless “thank you” instead of the scathing words that entered her mind. She seated herself inside the comfortable coach. A lantern hanging from the ceiling illuminated the dark velvet trappings of the luxurious coach. Lord Amesbury handed in Hannah who stepped around Alicia and slid into the seat beside her farthest from the door. The Fitzpatricks settled across from them. The viscount eased himself down next to Alicia, his thigh casually brushing against hers.

  Alicia shrank back from him and edged closer to Hannah. “This is too kind of you, Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick,” she managed.

  “Nonsense, my dear; we are happy to do it.” Mrs. Fitzpatrick happily leaned back against the cushioned seats. “This gives us further opportunity to speak with you.”

  Fortunately, they did not require much from her in the way of conversation, and Mr. Fitzpatrick kept them entertained with his dry sense of humor. Despite the hateful Lord Amesbury’s magnetic and disturbing presence, Mr. Fitzpatrick and his charming wife’s easy banter and unbelievable tales soothed her nerves and she actually began to relax as she listened to them.

  “You’re home.” The viscount’s voice sounded very near.

  Disoriented, she rubbed her eyes. The coach had stopped. A flood of mortification swept over her; she had fallen asleep. And worse, her head had rested on Lord Amesbury’s shoulder.

  “Oh, no,” she gasped. “Oh, please forgive me.”

  Amusement danced on his mouth. “I hope I provided some comfort to you, Miss Palmer.”

  There seemed no end to the embarrassments she must suffer in front of them. Or him.

  Appalled at herself, she stammered, “Thank you. I mean, I’m so sorry. How rude of me.”

  “Think nothing of it, my dear,” soothed Mrs. Fitzpatrick. “The hour is late and the evening eventful. I’m fatigued, myself.”

  In the lamplight, the viscount’s face appeared deceptively soft and gentle. As she beheld his masculine beauty, the compassion and gentleness in his eyes, she had to remind herself that his face concealed a black soul, a duelist, a killer. For a moment, she was sorry she had discovered it. The fantasy had been so sweet.

  He smiled. “Aunt Livy is right. You have no need to be concerned.”

  Mr. Fitzpatrick agreed. “Quite right. We are all confident in our own ability to entertain guests. You were merely tired. Good evening, Miss Palmer. Miss Hannah.”

  “Good night, sir,” Alicia said. “Madam. And thank you very much. We’re both in your debt.”

  “Any time, my dear.”

  Lord Amesbury handed her out of the coach but Alicia snatched her hand out of his as quickly as she dared. “Thank you, my lord,” she said coldly.

  His mouth curved upward as if he found her ire amusing. “You are quite welcome, Miss Palmer.” His amusement faded, and he turned grave, almost looking vulnerable. A ruse, clearly.

  She turned away and waited with her back to the carriage for Hannah to alight. The moment Hannah stepped into her line of sight, Alicia hurried up the front steps of her home as quickly as she dared.

  “Miss Palmer,” Lord Amesbury called.

  No. Contempt flooded her until she thought she would drown. Only a man with no conscience could smile as he did after taking an innocent boy’s life. Had he known before he pulled the trigger that the young man he dueled would lose his arm and sicken and die? Had he cared?

  She wanted to hurl these questions at him, but she would probably burst into tears and make a scene. She had already been the center of unpleasant attention once tonight and did not care to do so again. Nor did she wish to upset Hannah, who had not discovered Lord Amesbury was the man who shot Armand.

  “I have nothing to say to you, Lord Amesbury,” she threw over her shoulder.

  He caught up to her. “Miss Palmer, please wait.”

  She turned. “You’ve done enough.”

  “Alicia, listen to me.”

  Shaking in anger, she turned in the middle of the steps. “I have not given you leave to call me by my Christian name.”

  “You’re right, of course, I apologize, but please allow me to—”

  “Leave me alone!”

  Alicia bolted up the stairs and continued running until she reached her room. Before she could shut the door, Hannah wormed through. With the door closed, Alicia leaned against it and drew a steadying breath.

  “What has gotten in to you tonight, Lissie?”

  Alicia shook her head. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I’m very tired and out of sorts, what with the gravy and Robert and all.”

  “What was that all about with Lord Amesbury?”

  Alicia sighed. “Nothing.”

  Hannah sat down on the bed, her shoulders hunched over and her mouth turned down. “Why does no one ever tell me anything?”

  “Forgive me, Hannah. I am a bit concerned for Robert. And the matter with Lord Amesbury is ... not something that I wish to discuss in my present mood.” She went to Hannah and put an arm around her. “Let’s wash and change and retire. Things will look brighter tomorrow, you’ll see.”

  What a disaster the last few days had been! Instead of attracting a husband, she had only run from every man who showed any interest in her. She pressed a hand over her mouth. Heaven help her but the only man who truly captured her attention, and, for a few brief, mad moments, her heart, had killed her twin.

  CHAPTER 6

  Three days after the dreadful dinner party, Alicia swept downstairs wearing her borrowed gown of pale amber moiré. Robert sauntered by with his cravat and hair mussed as if he’d just arisen. She shook her head at him but he grinned lazily back at her. For a moment, he appeared as he had before Armand’s death, carefree and playful.

  “Where are you going, Cousin? How pretty you look.”

  She twirled around to show off her gown. “Elizabeth and her mother have invited me to attend the horserace at the Van Der Au’s.”

  “Oh. Yes. Hmm. Planned on attending. Hannah not going?”

  “She has a headache.”

  He frowned at his dressing robe. “I suppose I ought to bathe and change. Or at least change.”

  With mingled affection and disapproval, Alicia frowned. “You need a shave, too. I don’t think there’s enough time before the race begins for you to pull yourself together, Robbie.”

  “Probably right. I believe I’ll have a brandy in
stead.”

  “Leave it alone, Robert,” she pled.

  “Have a nice time at the race.” He waved over his shoulder as he headed to the library.

  Uncle Willard appeared as the Hancock’s carriage pulled up to the front steps.

  “Elizabeth is here, Uncle. Good day,” Alicia said.

  “Tomorrow we are invited to the home of Colonel Westin for tea,” Uncle Willard informed her.

  Alicia gulped and fought the urge to burst into tears. “Yes, Uncle,” she replied meekly.

  Heavy of heart, she climbed aboard the Hancock’s coach, but Elizabeth’s contagious excitement broke through Alicia’s melancholy. Despite Mrs. Hancock’s calming influence, they were exuberant when they arrived at the Van Der Au’s estate for the race. The whole countryside appeared to have come. Carriages lined the drive leading up to the private racecourse.

  “Miss Palmer. How lovely you look.”

  Evoking first pleasure, then dismay, that richly resonant voice set her nerves on edge. Steeling herself, she forced her gaze up at Lord Amesbury’s smiling face. “My lord,” she said shortly.

  “Mrs. Hancock. Miss Hancock.” The viscount smiled at the other two ladies, but when his gaze returned to Alicia, his eyes softened with true warmth.

  Alicia faltered. She treated him rudely every time they met, yet he always responded with kindness. If only he had been kind to Armand.

  “May I escort you lovely ladies?”

  Before Alicia could open her mouth to refuse, Mrs. Hancock accepted. Lord Amesbury offered his arm to the lady.

  She glanced at Alicia with a motherly smile. “Thank you, my lord, but I can walk with my daughter. Miss Palmer needs an escort.”

  Alicia pressed her lips together while Elizabeth and Mrs. Hancock fell in step together, leaving Alicia to walk with Lord Amesbury. He smiled and held out his arm.