by Joanna Shupe
Rage tightened Kit’s muscles, and he shoved Lockwood with both hands. “You don’t know what the hell you are talking about. Furthermore, you have no right whatsoever to keep me away from her.”
“As her escort tonight, her welfare is my responsibility. Therefore, I have every right.” Lockwood stepped forward, rolling his shoulders like a bare-knuckled fighter in the ring.
Oh, so that was it, then? In a blink, Kit shrugged out of his coat and tossed it on the wooden table in front of a too-quiet Alice. If Lockwood wanted a fight, Kit would be more than happy to give him one. “Hardly, you pompous, overprivileged, stick-up-your-arse—”
Lockwood lunged and threw a punch, but Kit blocked it and offered up one of his own. Unfortunately, Lockwood twisted out of the way so Kit’s fist glanced off his ribs instead of inflicting damage.
“Stop it!” Alice put her hands between them, and soon Franconi was there, too, pushing the men apart. Tugging on Kit’s sleeve, she dragged him away from the duke. “Stop, both of you. Just stop!”
She was breathing hard and her eyes were wet, and the anger instantly left Kit’s body. He hated seeing her upset. “Forgive me, Alice. For everything. I am so sorry. I will find a way to keep that story from running, I swear.”
“What on earth is going on in here?” a voice shrieked.
Alice stiffened and grew paler. “Oh, God, no,” she whispered as she shut her eyes. “Please, no.”
Mrs. Lusk rushed into the kitchen, her expression awash in horror and disapproval. Her gaze swept over Kit and Lockwood, then settled on Alice. “What on earth are you doing in here? When they told me you were hiding in the kitchen, I nearly didn’t believe it. Have you lost your mind, Alice? Get out in that dining room at once.”
“Signora, how nice to see you again.” Franconi greeted Alice’s mother like a long-lost cousin, kissing her on both cheeks. “You look well.”
“Hello, Chef Franconi. I do apologize for my daughter’s rude behavior. I will get her out of your kitchen at once.” Mrs. Lusk gripped her daughter’s arm, and Alice winced. “Your Grace, I’ll have her settled at your table presently.”
Tears started leaking from Alice’s eyes and Kit’s chest twisted, like a fist was squeezing his lungs. “I do not think continuing dinner is in Miss Lusk’s best interest at the moment, ma’am.”
“I will decide what is in my daughter’s best interest, thank you very much. Which, incidentally, does not include any more floral deliveries from a worthless scoundrel like you.”
“You sent her flowers?” Lockwood peered at Kit, then his face cleared. Nodding, he gave a deprecating, humorless laugh. “I see. It’s nearly happened again, hasn’t it? Astoundingly poor luck on my part.”
“I apologize,” Kit said. No use pretending he didn’t know what Lockwood was talking about, and he wouldn’t deny his feelings toward Alice. “It’s nothing personal.”
“Really? Between you and your friend Archer, it feels quite personal. However, I won’t dig in my heels this time.” Straightening his vest, he inclined his head toward Alice. “Miss Lusk, I wish you the very best of luck.”
“Your Grace,” Alice rushed out. “I am deeply sorry for all of this. It was never my intent to harm you or embroil you in another scandal. Yet it seems I’ve done both.”
The edge of Lockwood’s mouth hitched. “One thing I will say about this country: it is never boring. Good evening to you all.”
When the duke started to leave, Mrs. Lusk’s eyes went wide. “Wait, do not leave yet. She is normally well behaved. She won’t give Your Grace a lick of trouble.”
Lockwood paused at the door. “It’s not the trouble that is the problem, madam. Good evening.”
Mrs. Lusk whirled in Kit’s direction, her lips pressed tight. “This is your doing, you complete imbecile. You have ruined my daughter’s chances at becoming a duchess. Ruined her chances at happiness. How dare you?”
“Madam, if you would just listen—”
“I do not need to listen to you, Mr. Ward. You are a lazy, shiftless, idiotic man who takes whatever he wants without thought to the consequences. You’ve drawn Alice in with your false flattery and—”
“Mama,” Alice shouted, the word reverberating off the tile. “Stop saying those horrible things to Mr. Ward and to me. To everyone. Just stop being so horrible.”
All the waiters and kitchen staff froze at the outburst, the room still except for the sizzle of food on the range. Mrs. Lusk’s mouth fell open, then she narrowed her gaze. “How dare you speak to me that way? I am your mother, and everything I have done has been for you.”
“No, it’s been for you. Please do not pretend otherwise. If you cared about my happiness at all, you would not act like this, as if I am a constant embarrassment to you.”
“You stupid girl. I have tried to make you a better person, which has clearly failed. Tonight, you have run off the best marriage prospect in the last three seasons. Now what will you do? Who will marry you now?”
“I am going to marry her.” The words were out of Kit’s mouth before he could stop them.
Instead of expressing relief, Alice seemed to shrink, withdrawing into herself. “You don’t mean that.”
“Indeed, I do.” More tears fell from her lashes, her lips pink and puffy from crying, and she was still beautiful. He’d never tire of looking at her, at discovering every little thing about her. “I want to marry you.”
“As if Mr. Lusk or I would ever consent. Give our only child over to you? Absurd,” Mrs. Lusk said derisively. “Her dowry could buy her another duke or a European prince.”
“I don’t want to buy a husband, Mother.” Alice swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I want to marry for love.”
“That is ridiculous. No one of our station marries for love.” Her mother glanced around, as if just noticing that they were attracting attention in the kitchen. “This is unseemly, Alice. Come along. We shall continue this upstairs.”
“Wait,” Kit said, a little desperately. He had the strangest feeling that if Alice left the kitchen, he’d never see her again. He’d already lost one person dear to him; he couldn’t stand to lose her, too. “Let me explain, Alice.”
Mrs. Lusk gasped at his use of her daughter’s given name, but he didn’t look away from Alice. She was shaking her head but hadn’t yet moved, her feet rooted to the floor. Before she could react, however, her mother grabbed her arm. “Upstairs, Alice. Now.”
The touch jolted Alice out of her thoughts. She yanked her arm from her mother’s grip and stepped back. “No, Mama. You return upstairs. I need a minute with Mr. Ward.”
“Alone? Absolutely not.”
Alice’s chest rose as she drew in a deep breath. “I am staying to talk with him. Here, in full view of the kitchen staff. Your presence is not required, so go upstairs.”
“I don’t think—”
“Now, Mother,” Alice ordered loudly, her voice hard and sharp.
Mrs. Lusk blinked, as if she couldn’t believe Alice had dared speak to her in such a manner. “We will discuss this impertinence when you return to your room.” She spun on her heel and stomped out of the kitchen, nearly colliding with a waiter in the process. “Get out of my way,” she snapped, and pushed through the swinging door.
Alice exhaled, her shoulders drooping, and Kit lowered his voice. “I meant what I said. I want to marry you, Alice.”
A fresh tear slipped from the corner of her eye, slowly rolling down her face. “No, you don’t. You feel sorry for me and you feel guilty. I’d rather have a husband who wants me only for my dowry.”
“You’re wrong. I care about you. I would be honored to marry you.” That only made her cry harder, so he rushed to explain. “Alice, I need you. In my life, at my side. Day and night.”
“Please, Kit. Just leave me alone. We have done enough damage to each other. There’s no need to make things worse. By tomorrow, I’ll be the laughingstock of the entire city—”
Her voice broke and she pushed by h
im, running from the kitchen and toward the back stairs. Defeat crashed through him, hurt and anger burning his throat. He’d ruined everything by not telling her sooner. Just as he suspected, she didn’t believe him . . . and thanks to Hearst and his newspaperman, she never would.
He stood there for a long moment, his mind reeling. “Was that your idea of a proposal, signore?” Franconi leaned against the wall and wiped his hands on his apron. “Because that was depressing.”
“What do you mean?”
The chef shook his head. “You have to speak from here.” He poked Kit in the chest. “Tell her you love her. So, do you love her?”
There it was—the tug deep in his chest when he thought of Alice. Overflowing happiness, so much so that he feared his chest might crack open with the force of it. Yet panic lurked not far behind, like storm clouds on a sunny day. There was every possibility he’d ruined his chance with her for good. He might never see her again.
Was love a combination of such tenderness and fear? A bone-deep affection haunted with the worry it could all disappear in an instant, mixed with a desperation to never leave her side? If so, then he was drowning in love for her.
“I do.”
“Then why are you standing here?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chest heaving, Alice hurried up the staff stairs. Everything had gone so horribly, horribly wrong. The entire city would be laughing at her in a matter of hours. Posing as a chef, cooking in a supper club, chasing off a duke . . . she was positively ruined.
Her throat closed. Oh, God. What had she done?
Unable to take another step, she collapsed against the wall somewhere between the third and fourth floors. Being ruined wasn’t even the worst part. No, the look in Kit’s eyes, the pity and guilt, had shredded her heart like strips of paper. He didn’t wish to marry her. He merely wished to save her—and she would never marry a man for those reasons.
Years and years with her mother, as joyless as the white, unadorned walls of this stairwell, stretched out in front of her. There would always be the snide comments about Lockwood, the probing questions about Kit. The reminders of her failings to find a husband. Alice would never escape.
This is your doing. You have no one to blame but yourself.
That was true. She had gone to Kit in Newport, hoping to change her life—and she had. Except in the end, it had changed for the worse, not the better.
She rested her forehead against the smooth plaster as more tears slid down her cheeks. Despite everything, though she was ruined, she could not regret those moments with Kit. Their encounters had been wonderful, with more passion than she’d dreamed possible. Those memories would carry her through the dark days ahead, when she was back in Boston with her parents and hiding inside their home.
Lord, that prospect was depressing. She stared at her shoes. Perhaps she’d stay here all night. Better this than facing her mother’s anger.
You can withstand it. You’ll not let her make you feel small and stupid, not again.
No, she wouldn’t, would she? Not after what had been said in the kitchen. Alice felt relief at putting her mother in her place. It had been a long time coming. Now they would forge a new relationship, one where Alice voiced her opinions more often. Starting tonight.
Or perhaps they would sever their relationship altogether. Cut off the rotten branches so that the tree might thrive, as Nellie had suggested.
No better time like the present. Alice had nothing to lose. Literally nothing. No marriage prospects, no reputation, no Kit. By morning, she’d be the laughingstock of the city. Her mother held no sway over Alice’s future because there was no future. Let them send her off to a convent or an asylum. She no longer cared.
Resolve settled in her veins, a steely determination she’d never experienced before, but one she knew was here to stay. A new chapter had begun in Alice Lusk’s future, and whatever happened would be without her mother’s criticisms. Straightening off the wall, she marched up the remaining stairs.
She didn’t bother going to her own suite. Instead, she walked directly inside her mother’s room. Mama was pacing, giving orders to her maid about packing their things. When Alice came in, her mother stopped and glared, her hands on her hips. “I hope you are happy, young lady.”
“I am not happy, no. In fact, I’ve never been happy—except for when I am away from you.”
“A mother’s role is not to make you happy but to ensure you are raised properly. To see that you make a good match. Which is now impossible thanks to what just happened in the dining room. You are a disgrace!”
“No, I am not.” Alice’s body shook with anger and words poured out of her mouth. “I am many things you would not begin to understand, but none of them are bad. I am a kind person who cares about other people. I love cooking and serving food. I like wine and flowers and being in a kitchen. Furthermore, I fell in love with Christopher Ward. He made me very, very happy, Mama.”
Her mother’s eyes bulged. “Has he ruined you? I swear, I will—”
“You will do nothing. Whatever happened between Mr. Ward and myself is private. I won’t have anyone forced to marry me, be it for my reputation or my dowry. And if you try and push it, I will leave and you will never see me again.”
The lines on her mother’s face hardened at the threat. “After all your father and I have done for you? I cannot believe how ungrateful you are being.”
Ungrateful? Alice dashed away a rogue tear. “Should I have been grateful, Mama, when you called me stupid? Or when you ripped food out of my hands? Or made me dance with the old men with fetid breath because, as you put it, how could I expect better in a husband? You have spent my whole life telling me how little I matter to you and everyone else. So do not lecture me about gratitude.”
“I said those things to toughen you up. The world is a cruel place for women. You must be practical, Alice.”
“I didn’t need toughening up. I needed your unconditional love. I needed someone to listen to me, to make me feel like I matter. You never did that.” But Kit had. A sharp lance of pain went through Alice’s chest, but she pushed it aside for later. “You didn’t even want me to have friends my own age. I’ve been drowning for years in loneliness and insecurity, but I am done. I don’t care what happens to me anymore. I’ll go live abroad, find work in someone’s kitchen. A restaurant. Anywhere, if it means getting away from you.”
“You are hysterical,” her mother said, but there was worry in her eyes, as if she feared Alice might mean it. “And your father will never allow any of that.”
“Daddy loves me, far more than you ever did. Who do you think called you home to Boston for three days? Daddy did that for me because I asked him to. Because he knows how impossible it is to be around you.”
Every angle on her mother’s face sharpened. “The two of you conspired against me? I should have known something was amiss. I suppose this was when Mr. Ward seduced you.”
“He did not seduce me—I seduced him.” It was quite gratifying to watch her mother’s face lose all its color. “Yes, I seduced him, Mother, and I am now ruined. Furthermore, it was the best experience of my life!”
Her mother gasped. “You . . . you . . .”
“Do not dare call me a single nasty name, not ever again.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, her mother said, “Pack your things. We leave for Boston first thing. Your father will be heartbroken to learn what you’ve done.”
Doubtful, but Alice would rather explain to Daddy and take her punishment than spend another minute under her mother’s thumb. “We shall see, won’t we? Until morning, Mother.”
Heart pounding, Alice yanked open the door and escaped into the corridor. Her skin was hot with anger and frustration, the pent-up fury boiling in her veins like water on a range.
In the corridor, a familiar figure leaned against the wall in front of her room.
Kit.
She wiped any hint of expression off
her face and tried to appear calm, though every part of her longed to feel his arms wrapped around her just once more before she returned to Boston. But she had to look out for herself now. Silly crushes on men uninterested in marriage were out of the question. “Why are you here? I said all that needed to be said in the kitchen.”
“Yes, but I didn’t. May I come into your room?”
“You are wasting your time.”
“No second spent in your presence is ever wasted. Please, let me talk to you.”
“I’d like to be alone, Kit. And you should be chasing that reporter, not me. That story will ruin your supper club before it even opens.”
“You come first, Alice. Always. Do you not yet understand? I am besotted beyond measure. You’ve stolen my heart from the moment we met in Newport.”
Her own heart squeezed, soaking in the words like a dried-out sponge. But was it real . . . or pity?
Perhaps privacy would be better. She opened the door to her room and he followed her inside. Instead of sitting, she crossed to the opposite side of the room, putting as much distance as possible between them. “You are telling me what you think I wish to hear, just so I will let you rescue me. But I won’t marry someone who pities me, who feels sorry for me. I won’t marry you to assuage your guilt. We would only make each other miserable.” Like when Kit took a mistress in a few years and stopped coming to her bed. That would kill her slowly, like a thousand tiny cuts to her heart.
“I don’t need to rescue you. I decided to win you before this all happened.”
She narrowed her gaze, studying each of his familiar features, from the dark eyes and perfect nose, to the high cheekbones and sharp jawline. He appeared sincere, but she was skeptical. “Kit, there is no need to lie—”
“I have never lied to you, not once, and I never will.” His mouth hitched and he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “Why do you think I sent you the flowers? I even went to that terrible Van Allen tea party to see you.”
Alice’s jaw fell open. “What? You went to a tea party?”