He stared back at the house. His blood was boiling. Then he saw a lace curtain twitching in an upstairs window. He raised his eyes, staring at it hard. Was it her? Was she staring out of the window, making sure that he was leaving?
He rapped on the carriage roof, hard. “Drive on,” he cried. The driver cracked the whip, and they were away, down Piccadilly. He stared out at the street without seeing anything.
He had never been treated so cavalierly in his life. He didn’t know what he had been thinking when he had decided it was a good idea to visit her. The Lady Charlotte had shown her true colours. This strange infatuation was finally done. He felt as though he had just stepped out of a thick fog and suddenly seen the light again. He took a deep breath, vowing to forget about her entirely.
Chapter 14
Lord Percy strode eagerly along the long hallway toward the drawing room. On impulse, he veered left, taking a detour to the gardens at the back of Millington House. The rose garden was in full bloom. He stared in confusion at the flowers, scratching his head. What colour would she prefer? He really had no idea. All this courtly romance stuff was new to him.
His eyes narrowed, staring at the rose bushes with confusion. Deep vermillion red. Pale pearly pink. Snow white. One bush had flowers the colour of a ripe peach. He smiled slowly. Yes, that would be perfect. He had seen her wearing a gown of almost the exact shade. He reached out, tearing off a bloom, yelping as a thorn snagged his hand, drawing blood. Damnation, he thought, watching the blood drip onto his black breeches. At least it hadn’t fallen on his fresh white shirt – that would have been a disaster.
Rose in hand, he went back inside, continuing his path. He was on a mission. Miss Drake was in that drawing room and he was resolved to speak to her, and tell her at long last how he felt about her. His courage was up, and he needed to do it before it started flagging. The detour to the garden to pick her a rose was an inspired touch, he thought. He could go down on bended knee, and present it to her, telling her that even though the rose was beautiful, it could not match her sweet perfection. She would like that, wouldn’t she? Ladies all loved roses and poetic words, didn’t they?
He was almost there. But he pulled up short when he heard voices talking within. The door was slightly ajar, so he could hear clearly what they were saying. His heart sank. Miss Drake wasn’t alone. The other voice was that of her mother, Lady Hastings. A truly terrifying woman, with her large girth and booming voice. If she wasn’t monopolising conversations, she interrupted them, and she often talked over her daughter. It irritated Percy to the extreme. But he was too scared of her to pull her up for it.
His heart sank further. If her mother was with her, they must be waiting for the duchess. It couldn’t be Sebastian. He had disappeared early, as he did most days now since he had taken his advice and called on Lady Charlotte. Percy had tried to ask him about how the impromptu visit had panned out, but Sebastian was surly and snarly, barely talking civilly to anyone.
Obviously, Lady Charlotte hadn’t welcomed him with open arms into her home, thought Percy. It was the only explanation for his brother’s moodiness. Percy had decided to give him a wide berth, like you would an angry hedgehog who was baring its quills. He never messed with them, and he never messed with his brother either when he was in one his moods.
He stared at the rose in his hand. What should he do? But at that moment he heard Lady Hastings hiss at her daughter, quite menacingly. He leaned closer to the door, straining to hear. It wasn’t gentlemanly to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help himself.
“You will keep trying,” Lady Hastings was saying. “I do not care if he appears indifferent to you, Alicia! These things take time. It is rather like tackling a large, intricate embroidery. Every small stitch you make goes towards completing the bigger picture. That is how you must approach this task, my girl.”
“But Mama.” Alicia’s voice was weary. “I have tried everything to make him like me. But he still looks at me as if I am simply intolerable and he cannot wait to get away from me. It is dispiriting.”
Percy heard heavy footsteps and realised Lady Hastings was walking closer to her daughter. The woman had the tread of a baby elephant, he thought.
“We have discussed this so many times,” said Lady Hastings, snorting like a bull. “It is your responsibility to marry well, for all our sakes. Alicia, you know our precarious financial situation. A marriage with the Duke of Richley’s eldest son would secure the future of your family.”
Alicia sighed heavily. “Of course I know of it,” she said slowly. “It is all I have heard talk of for the past three years of my life. I must marry well and save my family from imminent ruin …”
Lady Hastings gasped. “Our proud family name dragged through the mud. We would lose our ancestral home.”
“I know.” Alicia’s voice was weary. “But why does it have to be him? There are many other wealthy gentlemen in London. Many who think me charming and gaze at me with admiration. Why must I pursue the marquis, when he plainly does not like me?”
Lady Hastings sighed. “He is the heir, Alicia. Not only is he extremely wealthy, he will become a duke one day.” She sighed again. “Think of it, my precious. Picture it. You will be a duchess. The grandest title a lady can achieve, save for becoming a princess.”
“I would have as much luck trying to become a princess,” said Alicia tartly. “I might as well try to ensnare Prince Edward as the Marquis of Wharton.”
“Alicia!” Her mother’s voice was sharp. “You are being impertinent. I will not tolerate it. You must try harder, that is all. If he mentions books he likes, tell me, and I will procure copies so you may read them. If he mentions music he likes, you should learn how to play the piece …”
It sounded as though Alicia choked back a sob. “I do not care for the books he likes. Nor am I an accomplished enough pianist to play the complex pieces he admires. Mama, we are ill suited. Why can’t you see that?”
“Ill-suited?” Her mother’s voice was shrill. “How can that be? You are a lady, he is a gentleman. Do you think your father and I were as matching as a pair of turtle doves when we first joined in holy matrimony? No! But we grew together over the years, as most do.”
“What about love?” Alicia’s voice was low.
“Love?” Lady Hastings was scornful. “Love is a notion invented by poets and painters. We are aristocrats, Alicia. Perhaps the lower classes can choose their partners based around such a flimsy, transient emotion, but we cannot. We must marry skilfully, and well. Love does not come into it, and you would do well to get that idea out of your head entirely.”
“Yes, Mama,” whispered Alicia. She sounded defeated, as if she had already known the outcome of the conversation. “You are correct, as always.”
“Mama knows best,” said Lady Hastings. “And you deserve only the very best, my precious.”
Percy had heard enough. He was so angry at Lady Hastings that it took all his willpower not to storm into the room and scold her soundly. He had suspected, of course, that she was the motivating force behind Alicia’s determined pursuit of his brother. So had Sebastian. But he had not realised the extent of it. This cold-blooded, single-minded pursuit of Sebastian was all Lady Hastings’ idea. Alicia did not want it at all. She was being forced to by her mother. Lady Hastings was like a jockey whipping a flagging horse, thought Percy despondently.
He backed away sadly, drifting down the hallway. His mother had been delayed, but she would be here soon and he didn’t want to have to explain why he was loitering in the hallway, eavesdropping on guests. But as he tiptoed back down the hallway, his eyes registered something. Her scarf was lying on the hallstand. He hesitated for a moment, then lay the rose on top of it. When she came to collect it, the rose would be waiting for her. He couldn’t give it to her himself, but she should have it. It had been picked just for her, after all.
He had another gift for her, waiting in his room. Unlike the rose, this one had been planned for a while. A neckl
ace designed just for her by one of the best goldsmiths in London. He didn’t know why he had done it, only that he had been compelled to. But, as with the rose, he couldn’t give it to her openly. He must find another way.
***
Percy dipped his spoon into the blancmange, desultorily scooping up the jellified liquid, then tipping it back into the bowl. He was so nervous he couldn’t focus on eating and didn’t know how he had got through the previous courses. He stared around the grand table at the family and guests his mother had assembled for one of her interminable dinner parties.
His father was presiding over the whole affair at the top of the table, as always. A large man with a bulky physique, he was elaborately dressed – as always – but he looked as though he’d been stuffed into his blue dinner jacket tonight. Had his mother insisted he wear it, even though it was obviously too tight? His father’s complexion was always florid, but tonight he was glowing, as if lit from within. He was wearing his usual powdered wig, despite it no longer being fashionable, and it had tilted slightly, giving him a slightly dishevelled air. His face was grimly set as he mechanically spooned the blancmange into his mouth. He didn’t look happy and had barely spoken a word the whole evening.
At the opposite end of the table sat the duchess, blissfully unaware as always that her guests were not having the time of their lives. She alone seemed perfectly satisfied with the evening. She was impeccably coiffed, as always. She had dispensed with her mob cap this evening. Tight greying red curls rested on her forehead beneath her blue headband, with the rest of her hair piled high above it. Her blue chiffon gown matched perfectly, of course, and the diamond necklace she wore offset the outfit perfectly.
Percy’s eyes slid to his brother, sitting opposite him. Sebastian didn’t look happy either. His brother’s dark eyes flashed with irritation whenever Miss Drake, seated beside him as always, asked him a question. But he answered politely enough. Sebastian had been well schooled, of course, and even if he was suffering an apoplexy Percy rather thought he would try to maintain decorum. He was going to be the Duke of Richley one day, after all. But the strain of it seemed to be testing even his brother’s patience this evening. Was he still mooning over the elusive Lady Charlotte? It rather seemed he was.
Percy couldn’t help it. Like a sunflower seeking the sun, his gaze rested on Miss Drake. Alicia. He turned the syllables of her name over in his mind. She looked even more stunning tonight, if that was possible. The magenta silk gown suited her peaches and cream complexion and brought out the blue of her eyes. Her golden hair was piled atop her head, secured with a diamond pin, with loose ringlets framing her face. She felt his gaze on her and raised her head, smiling politely, but then turned back to Sebastian. Percy’s heart seized. He knew now that she was only doing the duty her mother had forced upon her, but it still rankled that all her smiles and words were for his brother, not him.
His hand slowly strayed to the pocket of his dinner jacket, touching the necklace coiled like a snake at the bottom of it. He had decided that he must do it tonight. He couldn’t put it off any longer. Since the day he had overheard Alicia’s fraught conversation with her mother in their drawing room the necklace had been tormenting him with its presence. He knew he couldn’t give it to her openly – she would politely refuse it. But give it to her he must. If he couldn’t declare his admiration for her openly, he must seize any opportunity he could to do it covertly.
But how? He remembered her reticule, a small beaded bag, lying on the hallway table. She had placed it there when the guests had left the drawing room and proceeded to the dining room. He knew she would retrieve it when the ladies drifted back into the drawing room after dinner was over. He knew that a lady didn’t like to be without her reticule for very long.
Percy’s heart started to beat a little faster. He must get to the bag before she retrieved it. He knew how he was going to do it now. The gentlemen always excused themselves after the dinner was over, retiring to the study for cigars and brandy. The duke prided himself on his collection of cigars and his finest French brandy and was always eager for the dinner to end so he could indulge himself. He would have his chance then – when the gentlemen left for the study, but before the ladies left the table for the drawing room.
“Percy,” his mother said sharply, causing him to jump. “You are rather away with the fairies this evening. What on earth is the matter with you?”
Percy felt beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. “Why, nothing at all, Mother.” He improvised quickly. “I was just thinking how wonderful the dessert is, and indeed the whole meal. I declare that Cook deserves praise for all her efforts tonight.”
“Indeed.” The duchess raised her eyebrows. “You’ve never taken the least interest in Cook’s culinary delights before.”
Lady Hastings, seated next to Percy, nodded vigorously. “A superlative meal, as always, your grace. I declare that our own cook should take lessons from yours.” Her head swivelled towards her daughter. “Don’t you agree, my precious?”
Alicia looked a little startled. “Oh, yes, I suppose that would be a good plan …”
Lady Hastings turned back to the duchess. “Madam, perhaps you could advise my daughter on the intricacies of menu planning this evening? I fear she is still ignorant of a lot of what is required of a married lady who sets up her own establishment, and it would greatly benefit her to learn from such an esteemed personage as yourself.”
The duchess preened a little. “I would be delighted, Lady Hastings.”
The duke cleared his throat, staring at his wife. “Perhaps you ladies could leave that scintillating conversation until after the gentlemen have left, my dear?” He threw his napkin on the table. “And on that note, gentlemen, I believe it is time to retire to the study.”
The gentlemen stood up at the duke’s command, bowing to the ladies, following him out of the room and down the long hallway towards the study. Percy trailed behind, making sure the others were well ahead of him. He only had a few moments before the ladies would rise from the table and start making their way to the drawing room.
But Sebastian stopped just past the hallway table, staring back at him. “What is it, old fellow?” he called. “Not keen for a brandy tonight?”
Percy forced a smile onto his face. “I just remembered … I forgot a handkerchief, and I have a damnable sniffle.” He sniffed dramatically. “I might just duck up to my rooms and get one. I will see you in the study in five minutes.”
Sebastian looked puzzled but shrugged. “As you wish, brother. We wouldn’t want you sniffling into the tumblers and spoiling the brandy, would we?”
Percy laughed. “No, indeed.” He doubled back, making out that he was about to race up the stairway. Sebastian kept walking. Percy waited until he was sure that all the gentlemen were gone, then he quickly ran to the hallway table, his eyes scanning it for Alicia’s bag amongst the others lying on the table.
There it was. A small white lace bag, embellished with netting and embroidered with silk floss, covered with tiny glass beads. The bag was a frippery that all the ladies loved and would never be seen without. Percy knew it would contain a handkerchief, calling cards, and perhaps smelling salts if Miss Drake was susceptible to the vapours.
He reached into his pocket and withdrew the necklace. The candlelight on the table caused it to sparkle for a moment in his hand. He stared down at it, hoping that she would like it. It had cost him a small fortune, being made from the finest gold with a single diamond hanging from the chain. However, it was a simple enough design. He could almost see it around her swan-like neck, the diamond nestling in her bosom …
He heard footsteps and the sound of ladies chatting. They were on the move. He didn’t have time to be standing here imagining her wearing it, like a simpleton. Quickly he dropped it into her bag, placing it back on the table where it had lain. Then with a beating heart he scurried down the hallway towards the study.
Chapter 15
Miss Alici
a Drake smiled smugly to herself as she stepped down from the carriage, following her mother onto the pavement outside the dressmaker’s where they had pulled up. Her hand strayed to her throat, making sure that the necklace was still there. Her mother had insisted that she wear it, of course, since they were visiting Millington House this afternoon after their shopping on Bond Street.
Lords to Be Enamored With: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 68