The Stranger She Married

by Donna Hatch

  Alicia felt her face heat, remembering his nearness as he looked at 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 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.

  "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.

  Mrs. Fitzpatrick patted her arm. “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. She looked scheming.

  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 sleeping. Will you and Hannah stay here? 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 had ended?

  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 attracted to that man?

  Mr. de Champs touched her arm briefly. “Miss Palmer, are you unwell?"

  "I'm ... just tired, I think."

  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 appeared. “No trouble at all, young Miss Palmer. Not out of the way at all. We insist."

  Alicia drew a fortifying breath. The Fitzpatrick house lay off the same highway 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.” Mr. Fitzpatrick cut in. “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 to the coach but 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. Hannah settled beside her furthest from the door. A lantern hanging from the ceiling illuminated the dark velvet trappings of the luxurious coach. The Fitzpatricks seated 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 child, 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. As she realized that she had fallen asleep in their company, a flood of mortification swept over her.

  "Oh, no. Oh, please forgive me.” Then, to further her shame, she became aware that her head had fallen onto Lord Amesbury's shoulder.

  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. For a moment, she was sorry she had discovered it. The fantasy had been so sweet.

  He smiled. “Aunt Livy is right. There is nothing to be concerned about."
/>   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. 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. “Thank you, my lord,” she said coldly.

  His mouth curved upward as if he found her ire amusing. “You are quite welcome, Miss Palmer."

  She battled a sudden heaviness and waited with her back to the carriage for Hannah to alight. Lord Amesbury's heavy footsteps started toward her, but Alicia hurried up the front steps of her home as quickly as she dared.

  "Miss Palmer."

  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 loose his arm and die? Had he cared?

  She wanted to hurl these questions at him, but knew she would 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. Or upset Hannah, who did not know Lord Amesbury as 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. “Please, 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, I apologize, but Miss Palmer, allow me to—"

  "You've done enough. 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 my head hurts."

  "What was that all about with Lord Amesbury?"

  Alicia sighed. “Nothing I wish to discuss at the moment."

  Hurt, Hannah sat down on the bed. “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 ever truly interested her, had killed her twin.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  CHAPTER 6

  Alicia swept downstairs wearing her borrowed gown of pale amber moiré. Robert had 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.

  "Where are you going, Cousin? How pretty you look."

  "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 looked down ruefully 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 instead."

  "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.

  "Miss Palmer. How lovely you look."

  Evoking first pleasure, then dismay, that richly resonant voice set her nerves on edge. Steeling herself, she looked 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 had been nothing but rude to him every time they met, and yet he always treated her 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.

  She wanted to reject him. She truly did. Then why did her hand move to his arm?

  Only to avoid a scene in front of the Hancocks, of course. His gaze held hers and for a moment, she thought she saw sorrow and gentleness there. She looked away.

  "Mrs. Hancock!” Catherine's carefully schooled contralto voice called out. “Please, come join us. And Elizabeth, lovely to see you again. Good day, Alicia. Lord Amesbury.” Her eyes locked on Lord Amesbury, though she greeted the ladies. “Come, join us. We've more food than we could possibly eat.” She already sat between Captain Hawthorne and Mr. Walters, both very handsome young men, but needed Lord Amesbury to have the complete ensemble.

  The viscount glanced at Alicia and then turned a gracious, if aloof, smile upon the raven-haired beauty. “How kind of you, Miss Sinclair, but we have a picnic spot already prepared. Good day. Come, ladies, shall we?"

  Surprised, Alicia looked up at him. Perhaps she'd misjudged him. If the viscount saw through Catherine's beauty to the false, title- and fortune-hunter that lurked underneath, perhaps he was less shallow than she assumed. Other gentlemen stumbled all over themselves to gain her favor.

  Catherine's face fell at the viscount's rejection, but she rallied and turned a venomous gaze to Alicia. Under Catherine's stare, Alicia raised her chin a fraction and tightened her grip on her handsome escort's arm, just to spite Catherine. Certainly not because she wanted to be in the viscount's presence.

  Sitting next to Catherine, Captain Hawthorne's eyes rested upon her, his dark eyes holding her gaze a moment longer than seemed polite. Awkwardly, Alicia smiled, which he returned, but something in the coolness of his gaze gave her pause.

  Lord Amesbury led them through the emerald lawn spread with chairs and blankets. Unfurled parasols dotted the sun-drenched landscape like colorful clouds floating above the ground. Fragrances of honeysuckle and lilac wafted across the breeze. Other couples and families walked or sat in groups as they enjoyed the clear summer day, reveling in the anticipation of the race, or the hunt of the two-legged kind. Ladies fluttered their eyes and flirted with gentlemen, who in turn joined the game with their own agendas.

  Mr. de Champs’ wide smile flashed as he nodded at them in greeting. When Mr. de Champs met her eyes, his guileless smile broadened. After he introduced them to the lovely redhead on his arm, they chatted for a moment before parting.

  "Miss Palmer!"

  Oh, no. That nasally whine could only belong to Colonel Westin. She halted an
d turned, wishing she could ignore manners for a change.

  Colonel Westin frowned at her. “You never took a turn about the garden at the ball with me. Then I called upon you yesterday and was told you were not at home.” He glowered in disapproval. “If I agree to marry you, I will expect you to report to me your whereabouts at all times."

  Stunned at such an outrageous statement, Alicia took at step back. Horrible, hateful man. She would rather marry a disfigured cripple than him. She made a mental note to tell Uncle to send their regrets for the tea tomorrow. She paused. She couldn't. Regardless of her feelings for the man, he remained her best prospect for saving her family from prison.

  Lord Amesbury broke in smoothly. “You are not wed, nor are you even affianced. Therefore it is not her duty to report to you at all, sir. Come, ladies, our picnic awaits."

  Alicia found herself drawn into Lord Amesbury's eyes. He had come to her rescue, instantly and incisively protecting her, and putting Colonel Westin in his place. She could not deny his action had been nothing short of gallant. As he looked down at her, a lazy smile appeared on one side of his mouth.

  She severed their eye contact. She would rather be indebted to anyone but Armand's slayer. And now, she might have just lost her family's one hope of rescue.

  "The nerve of that man!” Mrs. Hancock cried. “You can be sure I'll never put Colonel Westin on any of my guest lists."

  "That was most chivalrous of you to come to her defense, Lord Amesbury,” Elizabeth said.

  "Quite right, sir. Glad you cut him. I shall be sure Mr. Hancock cuts him dead the next time that odious man has the nerve to address one of us,” sniffed Mrs. Hancock.

  Elizabeth turned to her. “Surely that wasn't a prospect."

  Alicia shot a warning look at her friend and then risked a glance at the viscount. He wore an impassive expression, but his jaw had hardened. She did not wish to discuss her situation within hearing of anyone else. Least of all, Lord Amesbury.

  She realized her hand clenched his arm, and she purposely relaxed her fingers. “He has not yet made a formal offer,” she replied quietly, hoping her friend would drop the subject.