by Joanna Shupe
“With brandy.” Nellie smiled. “Three of the girls vomited into the shrubbery.”
Alice couldn’t help but chuckle. “Aren’t you ever worried about what people will think?”
“Never.” Nellie grimaced. “At least, not anymore. I learned what I think of myself matters much more. I promised my mother before she died that I would live every day like it’s my last and I intend to never break my promise.”
“I’m sorry.” Alice knew Mrs. Young had died when Nellie was a girl.
“Thank you. Incidentally, this is why I feel entitled to tell you that you don’t owe your mother a thing, Alice.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your mother.” Nellie looked over. “You see, my mother died when I was eight and I would give almost anything to get her back. But as much as I wish I had a mother—and believe me, I have spent many nights crying over it—I would not want yours. Do you understand what I am saying?”
“That your mother was not like mine?”
“Not all mothers belittle their daughters and make them feel small. You might not realize as much, but many mothers are loving and nurturing. Supportive. Friendly. Which is why you should not feel badly for cutting her out of your life when you marry. At all.”
“Cutting her—” Alice sucked in a breath. “I could never. She is family.”
Nellie reached over and clasped Alice’s hand. “Even a strong family can have a rotten branch or two. It’s better to cut those branches off for the tree to remain healthy.”
Alice considered this. Cut her mother out of her life? She hadn’t thought such a thing possible. “I would feel terrible.”
“Because you are a kind and decent person. But one thing I’ve learned over the years is that sometimes you must put your own happiness first—and women rarely have the opportunity to do so. Don’t squander your chance.”
Alice stared at her feet. Nellie understood. She understood the longing and frustration, the little ways that a person shoved their dreams aside because they were told they weren’t good enough. Or that it wasn’t proper. The thousand tiny cuts that shredded a person’s will until there was nothing left but blind obedience and surrender.
Alice said softly, “I dream of moving as far away as possible. Leaving New York and starting a family on another continent.”
“That would certainly be possible with Lockwood. But I suspect your interest lies elsewhere.” Nellie bumped her shoulder against Alice’s. “By the way, I saw you leave his room yesterday.”
Alice sat up, panic flooding her bloodstream and making it impossible to draw a breath. “What?”
“Don’t worry. I haven’t said anything to anyone. Save Kit, of course.”
“You did? What did he say?”
“That the two of you are merely friends. Business associates of a sort. Do you have feelings for him?”
“No,” Alice blurted. “Of course not. That would be absurd.”
“Why absurd? Has he hurt you?”
“No, absolutely not. I merely meant he is not the marrying kind.”
Nellie picked up a pebble and rolled it down the stairs. “In my experience, men aren’t the marrying kind until they are the marrying kind.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means they don’t consider marriage until it’s staring them in the face. Moreover, marriage is easier for men. They get the creature comforts of home along with regular bed sport. From what I’ve seen, women do all the hard work in a marriage.”
A myopic view, in Alice’s opinion. “Women get security, both financial and emotional, in a marriage. Children. A home of our own. It cannot be all bad.”
“For some women, perhaps.” Nellie brushed dirt from her hands. “But let’s not get philosophical. We need to know how you feel about Kit.”
“I’m fond of him, certainly, but it isn’t anything serious. We are helping each other. An even exchange of favors.”
“Was one of those favors that love bite on his neck?”
Alice dropped her head into her hands, heat enveloping her. “Oh, sweet heavens.”
Nellie bumped their shoulders once more. “I am joking, Alice. I don’t care if you kissed him up and down the beach at midday. But I do suspect kissing and love bites are out of the ordinary for you.”
Alice figured she might as well confess the truth behind her arrangement with Kit. Nellie would assume the worst, otherwise. “At dinner the first night, Maddie said Kit could turn even the shyest woman into a vixen. That gave me an idea. I went to him and asked . . .”
Nellie’s hand covered her mouth, her eyes dancing. “No, you did not! You asked Kit to turn you into a vixen!” She grinned. “Oh, this is too delicious.”
“You mustn’t tell anyone!” Alice clutched the other woman’s forearm. “I would be ruined and my mother would never forgive me.”
“I won’t tell a soul.” Nellie made a locking motion over her lips, as if she were turning a key. “I don’t believe in gossip and Lord knows society already punishes women enough. I would never add to it by curbing anyone’s fun.”
“Thank you.” Alice relaxed. “You are very easy to talk to. I wish I had your confidence and insight.”
“Both are hard won, I’m afraid. Which means anyone is capable of it. You just have to want it badly enough.”
Alice thought about that. Was such an attitude truly mind over matter? Nellie made it seem simple, but she hadn’t lived with Alice’s mother for twenty years. Even Daddy avoided Mama these days, spending more and more time at his office.
“Is he a good kisser?”
Nellie’s question startled Alice. “What?”
“Kit. Is he a good kisser? I bet he’s very, very good.”
Alice’s lower half clenched as the back of her neck crawled with heat. “Indeed, he’s very, very good.”
“Bully for you!” Nellie knocked her knee against Alice’s. “I like this. I think you might be exactly what Kit needs.”
Alice thought back to last night, with Kit sprawled on the bed.
My cock is hard all the time for you.
She still couldn’t believe he’d said it, drunk or not. Was it true? Did he desire her in that fashion, or had it been the alcohol talking?
“The question for you, dear Alice,” Nellie continued, “is whether he is what you need. A scoundrel is not an easy undertaking, not unless you’ve broken him first.”
“Broken him?”
Nellie stood and took Alice’s hand, pulling her upright. “We should head toward the house,” Nellie said. “Maddie is inside somewhere and the sooner we find them, the sooner this ridiculous game ends.”
Alice straightened her skirts and the two of them set off across the lawn. “Should we take the path instead?”
Nellie shook her head. “Cutting across the grass is more expeditious and I am feeling lazy.”
More like Nellie was anxious for the afternoon’s activity to finish. “What did you mean by breaking him first?”
“A man like Kit never has to work for female companionship. Everything comes easily for him, especially women. He needs to crawl through fire to earn the love of a good woman. I suspect you might be that woman.”
“That is ludicrous—”
All of a sudden Alice’s foot dropped out from underneath her and she crumpled to the ground, using her hands to break her fall. Sharp pain shot up from her ankle through her leg. “Ow!”
“Oh, no. What’s happened?” Nellie knelt at Alice’s side, her brows lowered. “Did you trip?”
Alice screwed her eyes shut as the stabbing ache in her ankle grew worse, stealing her breath. All she could do was nod.
Nellie shifted Alice’s skirts to see her foot. “You’ve fallen in quite a large hole. I am going to get help, Alice. I’ll be right back.”
Alice didn’t want the other woman to leave but she couldn’t force the words past her throat. She was too focused on not crying or writhing in pain. Digging her fingers into the soft gra
ss, she held on and tried to keep breathing.
Kit tapped the table with two fingertips, irritated beyond measure. Lockwood was charming the chaperones and his future mother-in-law, leaving Kit alone with his thoughts—which was never a good thing.
He couldn’t shake the memory of Alice engaging Lockwood in conversation a few moments ago, just as she’d done last night. Was she hoping to make a favorable impression on the duke? Was that why her mother’s comments had seemingly deflated Alice’s confidence?
Kit shouldn’t care. Once Harrison lured Maddie away from Lockwood, there would be nothing preventing Alice’s pursuit. And shouldn’t Kit encourage it? Then Lockwood could take Alice over to England, away from her mother, and start a new generation of ducal progeny. Hooray.
Yet the idea burned like acid in his mouth. She deserved better. Not him, of course—no, he’d make a terrible husband for any woman—but someone not so stiff and boring. A marriage between Alice and Lockwood would give mundane an entirely new meaning.
Movement just beyond the edge of the tent caught his attention. Nellie Young was there, motioning to him. That was odd. Then she put her finger to her lips, telling him to be quiet. Was something wrong?
Curious, he went out to see her. She stood behind the tent flap, clearly hiding from the chaperones. “What is it?”
“Come with me.” She tugged his sleeve. “Alice has fallen and hurt herself.”
Goddamn it. “Where?”
“The edge of the back lawn, near the stone steps to the Cliff Walk.”
Without waiting on Nellie, Kit broke into a run, his stomach in his throat. What had Alice been doing near the steps? Everyone else had gone toward the carriage house and the chateau. The beach was the last place Maddie would hide.
A crumpled figure lay in the grass. Alice. He sprinted toward her, not even caring that he’d lost his hat somewhere along the way. She raised her head and groaned, misery etched in her expression.
He knelt at her side and tried to see how badly she was injured. “Alice, sweetheart,” he said gently, and swept a lock of hair off her face. “Tell me what happened.”
“Ankle,” she gritted out.
Her legs rested near a giant gopher hole, and one foot was already swollen inside her slipper. No doubt the injury would worsen over the next few hours. “Let me carry you back to the tent.”
“No, Kit. My mother.”
Kit didn’t give a damn about Mrs. Lusk. “You cannot walk on it, Alice. The rules must be bent in extreme circumstances.”
“And I am here,” Nellie put in, slightly out of breath. “So it’s not as if you two are alone. Kit is right, Alice. You cannot walk on your ankle. Let him help you.”
Alice closed her eyes and grimaced. “Fine. Goodness knows this day cannot get any worse.”
Kit slipped one hand under Alice’s knees and one under her arms. Ever so slowly, he lifted her and cradled her against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and exhaled. A quick peek at her face revealed tears building on her lashes. “Am I hurting you?” he asked, trying not to jostle her as he moved.
“No.”
“Then what is it? Why are you on the verge of crying?”
She shook her head. “Just the pain in my ankle. Don’t worry about me.”
“I am worried about you,” he said. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
She dropped her head onto her arm, her face near his throat. “I’m an idiot. If I had been watching where I was walking, none of this would have happened.”
“It was my fault,” Nellie said. “I should have led us to the path instead of cutting across the grass.”
“Alice,” he said, turning his head toward her. “It was an accident. That’s all. Nothing to be embarrassed or upset about.”
“But—”
“I won’t hear anything more about it. If you won’t believe yourself, then believe me. I would never lie to you.”
She remained quiet as they approached the tent. Mrs. Lusk was the first to rush out, coming to stand directly in their path. “Alice,” she said with a frown, her gaze raking over Kit as if he’d deflowered her daughter in the middle of Fifth Avenue. “You stupid girl. What have you done?”
“She tripped, Mrs. Lusk,” he said. “Merely turned her ankle.”
Mrs. Lusk cast a brief glance over her shoulder at the other matrons. “I demand that you put her down. This is unseemly.”
“I’ll do no such thing, not until she’s settled comfortably.”
“Mr. Ward, as her mother I must insist you let her walk—”
“Mrs. Lusk,” he snapped, his voice like a whip in the breeze. “Kindly get out of my way, or I will carry her into the house and put her directly on my bed.”
The threat of Alice in Kit’s bedroom did the trick. Mrs. Lusk moved aside and Kit was able to get Alice under the tent and settled in a chair. The chaperones converged on Alice, offering up sympathy and remedies, and with reluctance he backed away, relinquishing her to the others. Instead, he went to fetch her lemonade.
It wasn’t much, but he needed to do something.
“Nicely done with Mrs. Lusk,” Nellie murmured out of the side of her mouth at the refreshment table. “I was prepared to tackle her, if necessary.”
“I do not care for that woman,” he said.
“Neither do I. Now, which of us is going to find Maddie and the rest of the guests?”
Kit snuck a peek at Alice, who was currently being besieged by the chaperones. Was she still in terrible pain? He hated that he couldn’t do more. Carrying the glass, he turned and took a step toward Alice.
“I’ll go,” Lockwood offered, and Kit stopped in his tracks.
Apparently the duke had overheard them. Nellie and Kit exchanged a look, and it was clear they were thinking along the same lines. No telling what the duke would find if Harrison and Maddie were alone in a dark place together. No, it was better if Kit went searching instead. “I have an idea of where Maddie planned to hide. I’ll go and send everyone back to the tent.”
Nellie inclined her head. “I’ll make sure Mrs. Webster has sent for a doctor.”
Needing to reassure himself that she was all right, Kit looked over at Alice. Her mother frowned disapprovingly at her daughter’s side, while the chaperones fussed and fluttered. Alice appeared miserable. A second later, she glanced up and met his eyes. I’m sorry, she mouthed.
She was apologizing to him? Whatever for? He should apologize to her for dashing out of the kitchen last night, for getting drunk and saying God knows what in his room. For agreeing to help her in the first place. The list was endless. Alice had done nothing wrong whatsoever.
He stared at the lemonade in his hand. What was he doing? Fetching her lemonade like some pimply-faced lad with a single hair on his balls? This was ridiculous. He was not a “fetch refreshment for the virgin” sort of man, and hovering around Alice would bring both of them undue attention.
Thrusting the glass in Lockwood’s direction, he muttered, “Here. In case Alice is thirsty.”
The duke appeared confused but didn’t argue. “Good idea. Might take her mind off the injury.”
Lockwood strode toward Alice, so Kit hurried in the opposite direction. It took no time at all to find the group in the pool’s changing room, and ten minutes later everyone had returned to the tent. The young ladies made more of a fuss over Alice than the chaperones, and it soon became clear that Alice was mortified. She stared at her lap and kept offering apologies. It was quickly decided that Alice should be carried up to her chambers, so Kit, Harrison and Lockwood each stripped off their coats and lifted a side of Alice’s chair. Slowly, they carried her inside the house and up the stairs.
The progress was tedious, made more so by Mrs. Lusk’s unnecessary and relentless commentary throughout. Kit couldn’t see Alice’s face, as he was positioned at the back of the chair, but her tense shoulders suggested her mother was compounding Alice’s humiliation.
“Mrs. Lusk,” he inter
rupted as they turned a corner. “With all due respect, what will make this go faster is silence.”
Harrison pressed his lips together, clearly trying not to laugh, but Kit ignored him. The only reaction that mattered was Alice’s, and he was relieved to see her shoulders relax ever so slightly.
Good.
When they arrived at Alice’s chambers, Mrs. Lusk preceded them and held open the door. They carried Alice inside and set the chair on the floor. Kit moved to scoop Alice up so he could place her on the bed—and Lockwood put a hand on his arm.
“As the only attached man here,” the duke drawled, “it stands to reason that I should be the one to lift her.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Mrs. Lusk said as she looked down her nose at Kit. “We would not want anyone to get the wrong impression.”
Palms up in surrender, Kit backed away and let Lockwood settle Alice on her bed. Her mother placed a pillow under Alice’s ankle and then shooed the men from the room. Though Kit had to clench his jaw to keep from protesting, he knew it was for the best.
Besides, nothing would keep him from coming back later tonight to check on her.
Chapter Eleven
Night had descended and Alice was reclined on her bed. With nothing else to do, she savored the delicious jambon à la gelée sent up by Mrs. Berman. The doctor had already come and gone, proclaiming the injury a sprain and telling her to keep off her feet for a few days. Many of the young ladies had visited, as well, sitting and keeping her entertained. Nellie apologized again for cutting across the lawn, which was unnecessary. The injury was no one’s fault but Alice’s, because she hadn’t been looking at where she was walking.
The only bright spot of the day had been when Kit carried her across the lawn. Though it was impossible, she could still feel the imprint of his hands on her body, the shift of his shoulders as he moved. He was quite strong and . . . fit.
He needs to crawl through fire to earn the love of a good woman. I suspect you might be that woman.
Nellie was wrong. Kit would never be interested in anything serious with her. He might find her attractive—which was, frankly, head spinning in itself—but marry her? Absolutely not. She had a better chance of finding and marrying a unicorn.