by Joyce Alec
“But of course,” she answered quickly, reluctantly sliding her hand free of its warm hiding place and then placing it on Lord Allerton’s arm. His free hand reached around and settled on hers as it rested there, giving her back a little warmth so that her fingers would not turn blue. A tremor ran through her, but Alice ignored it completely, telling herself that she ought to be on her guard when it came to Lord Allerton.
“Might I ask, Miss Jones, what you did at home during the Christmas period?” he asked, surprising her again with his evident interest. “As I may have told you before, I have always enjoyed the Christmas season, particularly here in London. There are so many dances and soirees, and all with roaring fires, wonderful games, carols and singing, and certainly a good deal of superb food.” He smiled at her and something within Alice shivered violently, spreading sparks all through her. “My favorite has to be bullet pudding.”
“I—I am not certain we do very much at all,” Alice answered, turning her head away and looking straight ahead instead of up into his face. “We have a very nice dinner, of course, which we share with some friends.” Her heart squeezed painfully as she thought of her parents, finding herself missing them desperately. “My father is determined to treat his employees well. Therefore, he makes sure that every man has an extra coin or two as well as a warm meal to eat on Christmas Day.”
Lord Allerton said nothing for a moment or two and, as she looked up at him, she saw that he was watching her carefully, his eyes flickering with concern and sympathy.
“Your father sounds like an excellent man,” he said softly. “He made his fortune later in life, I understand.”
She nodded, her heart breaking all over again at the thought of her dear papa. “But he has been generous with it and I am glad of that.”
“More generous than I, it seems,” Lord Allerton muttered, not looking at her but rather staring straight ahead, his jaw working furiously. Alice said nothing for some minutes, not at all certain what it was Lord Allerton was thinking but certainly having no eagerness to interrupt him. “We give to the poor a little more than usual at Christmastime, of course.” He twisted his lips and looked away, clearly a lot on his mind.
Alice held her breath.
“And do you have the same things as we do?” he asked abruptly, turning the discussion back toward Christmastime. “A service at the church? Spiced oranges decorating the tables? Mistletoe, ivy, holly and the like spread throughout our homes? We only bring in holly and evergreen on Christmas Eve, of course, and wind them into wreaths along with rosemary and laurel.” A small light entered his eyes. “The smell is quite wonderful.”
Alice could not help but smile, seeing his eagerness and the questions burning in his expression and wondering at them. Was he truly this interested in her and what she had to say?
Briefly, she told him of the decorations they might place about the house—although they would never dream of putting an orange out for display, given that they were so very rare and certainly expensive. She talked of her parents’ house, about how she and her mother would direct the staff to decorate the house with various bits of greenery as well as a good many candles. Her heart and mind were filled with memories as she told Lord Allerton how they would sit about the fireplace in the drawing room and listen to her father, Mr. Jones, as he repeated the story of Christ’s birth. It was the same every year and gave her such joy that it almost took her breath away as she realized she would not be there with them this Christmas—or the next, in fact. Perhaps it would be some years before she could join them again.
“I have made you sad.”
Lord Allerton’s voice was gentle, his fingers pressing hers with a tenderness that she felt touch her heart. Tears began to pool in her eyes and she turned her head away, not wanting him to see her sorrow.
“I will do all I can to make this Christmas time just as lovely for you as I can,” he promised, sounding so genuine that she wanted desperately to believe him. “You have given up a great deal to come and join me here and I want you to know that I am grateful to you.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat and dashed away a single tear with her other hand. “You do not want me to return to America, then?”
There was a moment of stunned silence and, as she dared a glance up toward Lord Allerton, she saw the stricken look on his face. A look that spoke of hurt, of pain. Had she wounded him by such a question?
“I can only apologize if I have ever given you the impression that I want you to return home,” he said after a moment or two. “No, Miss Jones—Alice—no, that is not what I want.”
To hear him speak her name sent a thrill up Alice’s spine, although she could not explain her reaction to it. Seeing his slight frown, she tried to put a nonchalant smile on her face before lifting one shoulder.
“I know I have been a trial for you,” she said, as though this was her explanation. “It is quite understandable if you wish me to return home.”
“No, no, indeed not!” he protested, sounding quite fervent. “I am aware that I have behaved very badly toward you, Alice, but I want to make amends. Surely you can see that?”
She nodded slowly, feeling an uncomfortable prickling bite at her shoulder. She was meant to be asking him about the arrangement between himself and her father, but yet, as they walked on, she found that such a desire was beginning to fade. He appeared so fervent, so completely honest, that she did not want to speak to him of such a thing for fear it would put them both entirely at odds. Again, she felt herself flood with doubts. Doubts that he had been the one to write the note. Doubts that he was as genuine as he said. Doubts that he could be trusted. They continued to rage all through her, making her feel more and more ill at ease.
“The banns will be called again next Sunday,” he said before she could think of something more to say. “And then we shall start having to make arrangements in earnest.” His smile was bright and warm, and Alice found it impossible not to smile back. “I do hope you do not mind being married in London. We could travel to my estate, but the roads will be bad for a month or so yet and I dare not risk it.”
“London is quite perfect,” she found herself saying, as though she were the one who wanted to put him at ease. “And I will remove to your townhouse thereafter?”
A slight flush crept into Lord Allerton’s cheeks, but he nodded and then looked away. Alice’s smile remained as a warm, swirling sensation began to run through her, something she could not explain. It was as though she were getting to know Lord Allerton all over again, as though this was his true self. A gentleman who became a little embarrassed at the thought of marriage, of sharing his house with his wife. A gentleman who was kind and considerate when he wished to be, who could show an interest in her life and in what she thought of certain matters. Perhaps this would not be as bad as she had feared. If they continued in the same vein, then surely they might have a pleasant enough arrangement?
Your presence is unwanted.
The words from the second note hit her hard, making her breath hitch as the smile was thrown from her face. She was becoming so caught up with the newly delightful presence of Lord Allerton that she had quite forgotten that he might be the one who had written the notes in the first place. Reminding herself that she did not know the gentleman very well at all, Alice steeled herself and forced the question to her lips.
“Lord Allerton, I must ask,” she said, a little surprised at how forceful her words sounded. “What arrangements have been made should I wish to end our engagement and return to America?”
Lord Allerton stopped dead, his face frozen in surprise.
“I have asked you before, I know, and you have refused to answer, but I will not be moved on this,” she continued, pushing as much determination as she could into her heart. “What did my father say would happen should I wish to return home?”
Lord Allerton cleared his throat abruptly, his brows lowering and a flicker of anger beginning to burn within them. “I do not think you need as
k me such a thing, Miss Jones.”
“Regardless of what you think, Lord Allerton, I must know,” she said firmly. “I am quite insistent.”
“So I can see,” he muttered, lifting his gaze from her face and turning them both around so that they might begin to walk back to the carriage. “There is nothing in place, Miss Jones. Nothing at all.”
Alice frowned, somehow convinced that Lord Allerton was not speaking the truth. “If I wish to return to America, then there is no arrangement made for me?”
“None,” he stated firmly. “If you wish to return, then I would, of course, make the arrangements for you. I would not prevent you from returning, if that is what you are asking me, Miss Jones.”
He does not call me Alice now, she thought to herself, a little ruefully. It was quite clear that her questions were bringing a good deal of distress to Lord Allerton, but Alice found that she did not particularly care about his difficulties. She wanted to know for certain what her father and Lord Allerton had agreed on.
“Your father did say that you had agreed to this arrangement, however,” he continued sharply. “I did not think that you came here with the intention to change your mind.”
“I came because I had no other choice in the matter,” she told him pointedly. “Did you think that I begged my father to find me a situation?” About to say something more, Alice had to force herself to remain silent for a moment, thinking about her dear father. “It is not as though I think my father cruel for doing what he did,” she said, her tone a good deal calmer. “But I would not have you believe that this was what I wanted, Lord Allerton.” She looked up at him steadily, their steps slowing. “Can you be honest with me?” she asked, seeing his brows lower all the more. “If I return to America, do you gain anything from my departure?”
Lord Allerton’s expression twisted, his forehead puckered as he looked back at her. She wondered if he was silently battling between what he thought he should do and what she was asking him to do, as if there was a great danger in either one or the other.
“Might I ask you first, Miss Jones, why you seek to know such a thing from me?” he questioned, his voice no longer frustrated but rather holding a quiet curiosity that gentled her own anger. “If you have no intention of leaving my side and fully expect to marry me, then why are you asking me such a question? Why does it matter?”
Alice hesitated, thinking quickly and carefully. If she told him the truth, and if he was the one to write the notes, then he would know that his plan had failed. Although surely by now, given that she had asked such a question, he would know that she was suspicious at least. Her eyes looked up into his own as they both came to a standstill, facing each other. There was a quietness, a stillness, that surrounded them now, as gentle flakes of snow began to fall all around them. And then, in that moment, the questions he had asked, the questions in her own mind, began to fade away. It was as though she were being caught up in a trance, for looking into Lord Allerton’s eyes was captivating her in such a way as he had never done before. There was a quiet handsomeness about his features that began to wind through her, quickening her heart and sending an excitement running through her—an excitement that she could not explain.
“I do not want you to leave, Alice.”
His voice was like a whisper on the wind, brushing all through her and sending a frisson of anticipation spiraling through her. The gentling of his blue eyes reminded her of the sky on a cloudless, sunny day when there was nothing but warmth and light and color. Her mouth opened to answer him, only for him to raise her hand to his lips and press his mouth to them in a quick kiss. She could say nothing then, feeling her questions dying away, her heart pounding furiously as she tried to make sense of what was happening to her.
“We should return to the carriage now. Your cheeks are pink with the cold.” Lord Allerton smiled at her, offering her his arm, and, still feeling as though she were walking in some sort of dream, Alice took it without hesitation, needing to lean on him for support. They walked back quietly together without another word passing between them. What was it that she felt? What was this new excitement that had captured her heart? And why had a simple look from Lord Allerton chased all of her questions away?
She could not explain any of it. As much as she tried, she could find no simple explanation for her reaction to Lord Allerton. It was as if everything within her had shifted and changed in one moment, leaving her feeling breathless and a little weak.
But you still did not find an answer to your question, said a small voice within her as she was handed up into the carriage. You did not manage to press him.
Sitting back in her seat and ignoring the dark looks sent by Lady Fossett, Alice allowed a flurry of frustration to rush over her. Whatever had occurred, it had been enough to set her mind from what she had been intending to say, meaning that she still did not know if Lord Allerton had made an arrangement with her father should she decide to bring an end to the engagement. She still could not be sure whether or not he was writing the letters to her. Her feelings were so confusing, so conflicting, that she struggled to even put her thoughts into coherent order, such was her difficulty. Daring a glance toward Lord Allerton as he rapped on the roof, she caught his gaze and saw him smile at her with a brightness in his expression she had not seen before. A faint heat climbed up into her cheeks and she looked away, feeling herself smile and wondering at it all the more.
Just what was she to do about him?
9
One Week Later
“My brother called upon me today.”
The duke looked back at Charles in surprise. “Indeed?”
“More than that, in fact,” Charles muttered, his jaw working hard. “He was waiting for me in my study when I arrived back from calling on Miss Jones. The staff had been unable to prevent him from walking in.”
The duke shook his head. “That is ridiculous.” He eyed Charles keenly. “I hope you did not…?”
Hearing the rest of the unspoken question, Charles shook his head. “No, I gave him nothing. I threw him from my house, in fact.” He sighed heavily, hating that he had been forced to do such a thing and recalling, with some pain, just what his brother had called him. “I want to help him, but I know I cannot.”
The duke said nothing but nodded and held Charles’ gaze steadily.
“As for the matter of Miss Jones, in that, you were quite right, Duke.”
It took a good deal of effort for Charles to admit such a thing to his friend, but as he was well aware that the duke had been perfectly correct in urging Charles to treat Miss Jones in a much more considerate fashion, he knew that he ought to acknowledge as much.
“Oh?” The duke lifted one eyebrow, his lips twitching.
“I should have been more considerate of the difficulties that Miss Jones faced when she first arrived,” Charles said heavily. “I was not as I ought to have been and for that, I am sorry.”
“It is not to me you should be apologizing,” the duke answered with a hard look. “I must hope that you have spoken to your betrothed.”
Charles nodded, directing his gaze pointedly toward where Miss Jones and the duchess stood, talking together as some of the other guests moved about them. “I have,” he replied, seeing the duke nod in approval. “However, I do not think that she is yet fully willing to trust me. She appears… reluctant.”
The duke did not appear surprised. “She cannot trust your word as yet. That is fair. She does not know you particularly well, given that you have made no great effort to further your acquaintance.”
“I am doing so now,” Charles answered hastily, a little uncertain as to why he felt such a desperate urge to have Miss Jones trust him, to have her smile up at him in the free and open manner she seemed to do with both the duke and the duchess. “It has been some time since the duchess spoke to me and since then, I have done all I can to ensure that I have changed my ways entirely.”
The duke chuckled, tilting his head and regarding Charles caref
ully. “And yet you stare at her with such a fervor that I fear you are losing your heart to her.”
It took a moment or two for Charles to realize what the duke had said, and even longer for him to turn, face his friend, and then shake his head with such determination that the duke laughed aloud.
“You may try to protest and state that you feel nothing for her, but I am quite certain that would not be the truth,” he said with a grin. “You are to be wed in ten days’ time, are you not?
“I am,” Charles answered, feeling rather uncomfortable at the duke’s comments. “The final banns will be called on Sunday, and we will wed only three days afterwards.”
“The day after Christmas Day,” the duke murmured, a gleam in his eye. “You could wait for another week or so until the festivities are over entirely, but something tells me that you do not wish to wait even a moment longer than you have to.”
Charles bit back a sharp retort, telling himself that the duke was, in fact, quite right and that he did not need to hide it from his friend. There was something about Miss Jones that was beginning to make its way into his heart. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to be by her side. She was interesting, witty, and even though she spoke bluntly at times, he found that he quite liked the honesty that came through in her words. And yet, there was still something that she was keeping back from him, something that she was unwilling to let go of. He feared that he knew what it was, but the truth of the matter was that he did not wish to speak of it to anyone.
If he told her the truth, then she might think that he cared only for the money and would return home regardless, just when he was beginning to care for the lady herself. He wanted a wife. He wanted someone to live life with, to share in the joys and the difficulties that he knew would come. He wanted someone to talk to, to share what he felt and to listen to her in return.
He wanted Alice.