And there was the pool where Alicia had learned that falling in the water fully dressed was nothing at all like taking a dip in a shift and that pinchpenny fathers took a dim view of careless daughters who ruined nearly new frocks that were supposed to last through three girls.
Forgetting entirely her plan to stop at the hilltop, Alicia let memories pull her from one spot to the next. A favorite picnic spot, the thicket with the best berries in summer, the stile by the dairy pasture where Antonia had torn her petticoat.
Her entire life had been spent in these grassy hills. She topped the last rise and looked down upon Sutherland itself.
It was even shabbier than she remembered. The drive needed graveling and the gardens languished, the long neglect visible even in winter.
The house itself looked smaller. Those elderly stone walls had been too small to hold her then. She would surely burst them now, should she ever be allowed within again.
Which she wouldn’t.
She ought to leave before someone spotted her . . . although there were precious few servants about. She heard someone pounding nails in the stable and a scullery boy she did not recognize came out to dump dirty water in the yard, but where was the bustle she recalled from her childhood?
Could it be that her family hadn’t come home for the winter yet? Emboldened by the deserted state of the scene below, she let the ache in her heart draw her nearer.
She kept to the outer garden, stepping carefully through the fallen limbs and leaves that had yet to be cleared from autumn. There was a small garden structure nearby where she used to lie on the bench for hours, dreaming of the life her mother told her she could live—a life with a wealthy handsome man who would adore her and who would be happy to spill his pounds into Sutherland, allowing her parents to live in security and comfort and providing high connections for her sisters’ marriages to boot.
All of which Alicia had very properly wanted for herself—but it was the part about the handsome man who adored her that kept her dreaming her youth away.
The small Greek-styled temple was full of garden debris and creature scat, the stone bench that had played as Ophelia’s couch now caked in bird droppings.
“Of course,” Alicia whispered to herself. “Isn’t that the way of dreams?”
“Yours perhaps,” snapped a high voice behind her. “But then you never bothered to care about anyone’s dreams but your own.”
15
Alicia turned to see a tall girl with telltale auburn hair. The angry eyes took five years away and left only one answer. “Antonia?”
Alicia took an automatic step forward to embrace her youngest sister. Antonia drew back as if a serpent threatened her.
“What are you doing here?” Antonia wrapped her shawl more tightly and glanced over her shoulder. “Papa told you never to set foot on Sutherland again. I heard him.”
Alicia drew herself up. “I don’t have a father anymore, remember? Therefore, I need not obey one.”
A flash of envy crossed Antonia’s expression. Then her furious gaze turned fearful with the sound of a footfall on the garden path. She drew back, as if to be spotted a distance from Alicia would be less blameworthy than to be found too close.
Which, of course, was entirely sensible. As the footsteps neared, Alicia looked about her for an exit or a place to hide, but since she didn’t care to drop to her knees behind the filthy bench, she resigned herself to dealing with an ugly scene.
It wasn’t as though anyone here would physically harm . . . at least, she was fairly sure of that, sabotaged opera box or no.
Alberta rounded the corner of the building. “Tonia, Mama is looking for y—”
Alberta had changed as well. Always cheerfully plump, now Alberta was divinely curvaceous, even more so than Alicia, with a large bosom and a tiny waist. Alicia hoped her middle sister stayed out of the Prince Regent’s path.
Alberta’s eyes widened. “A-Alicia?”
Resigned to more accusations, Alicia folded her hands before her. “How have you been, Bertie?”
Alberta’s rushing embrace nearly knocked Alicia from her feet. She let her arms come about her sister, closing her eyes against the rush of gratitude that swept her.
Alberta’s emotional babble continued for several long minutes—not that Alicia minded, of course—until a sharp word from Antonia prompted Alberta to let go.
Still, she kept hold of Alicia’s hand as she turned on Antonia. “Do not admonish me, Antonia. You are not the elder!”
“And yet I am the wiser,” Antonia shot back. “We cannot behave as though nothing has changed!”
As she moved between them, Alicia was reminded of how she had always been the peacekeeper between these two very different girls.
Now it seemed that she was the bone of contention as well.
“Antonia, Alberta has not done anything but greet me. However, Alberta, Antonia is quite correct. We must not forget how very much has changed. I would not hurt either of you for the world—”
“It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?” Bright fury flashed in Antonia’s eyes. “You have no idea what your wanton behavior has cost us—all of us!”
Alicia looked from one sister to the other. It was true that they both looked rather pale and she had certainly never seen the temperamental Antonia so tightly strung.
Antonia’s accusations hurt, but did not surprise. However, Alberta’s defense did.
Her more sanguine sister rounded on the younger one with red-hot anger. “Shut it, Tonia! You know nothing of the real world—you know nothing of what caused Licia to do what she did—not that I believe more than half of those stories, and neither should you!”
Alicia looked at Alberta in surprise. “You don’t believe I spent the night with Almont’s stable boy?”
Alberta flapped a scornful hand. “Of course not. What a mad idea. You were ever notional, Licia, but you were never cruel. You might have sneaked the lad some cake in a napkin, but you wouldn’t use him so poorly for the world.”
The perfectly Alberta-esque logic of that made Alicia smile. “Thank you, dear.”
Antonia was not so easily convinced. “The fact of your ruination does not change. It makes no difference who you allowed yourself to be seduced by.”
Alicia opened her mouth to point out that it made all the difference in the world to Society’s eyes, but it was Alberta who leaped to her defense once more. “Oh, shut your silly trap, Tonia. She cannot help it now.”
“No one can help us,” Antonia said sourly. “Bertie’s beau won’t ask for her hand until his father gives permission, and he won’t do that unless I marry very well, for he says that one might cancel out the other. And no one will court me until they’ve seen Bertie make a good match.”
Her sisters were lost in limbo, cast there by her own actions. Alicia felt sick, and doubly furious at her parents. She’d been a fool, it was true, but she’d been a sheltered child. The entire matter could have been covered up, made to go away, had they only stopped to think before exposing her situation to all of Society.
“Antoniiiiaaa!”
Their mother’s voice came from the direction of the house.
Lifelong habit kicked in. The three of them ducked quickly behind the temple and pressed their backs to the wall.
“What does she want?” Antonia asked Alberta.
Alberta grimaced. “She wants you to retrim her gowns again. She says you have the better knack.”
Alicia looked at her sister. “Why doesn’t she have Pitt do it, as always?”
Antonia slid a filthy glance her way. “Because Pitt is gone, like the others. We’ve almost no staff at all now.”
Alicia looked to Alberta for confirmation. Bertie shrugged reluctantly. “It’s true. But it isn’t your fault, Licia—”
“The devil it isn’t!” Antonia pushed away from the wall. “We were ever poor, Alicia, but not destitute. If you’d managed even the most mediocre of matches, Papa could have obtained some sort of
loan from the family, enough to keep Sutherland going a bit longer!”
Alicia straightened. “I didn’t send Sutherland into ruin, Antonia. I didn’t cause Papa’s gambling or Mama’s spending. And another loan would only mean another debt, for it would be gone as quickly as the others.”
Antonia flushed. “At least we would not be eating poultry every night for a year!”
Alicia raised a brow coolly. “I would have adored having poultry more than once a month in the last five years. As it was, I could scarcely afford bread.”
Alberta flounced between them. “Oh, stop it. I don’t want to play ‘who is suffering more’ right now.”
Alicia let out a breath. “Nor do I.” She was getting angry at the wrong party, anyway. Her sisters were caught in a terrible trap.
Bertie’s young man would wait until Antonia married, and Antonia’s beau would wait until Bertie married—and her sisters would wait their lives away.
Money had the marvelous ability to wash away any sort of family stain—but the Lawrences had no money.
Until now.
Alicia turned pleading eyes toward both girls. “I know it seems hard that I ask you this, but trust me. I can help. I just need time.”
Time to find Wyndham’s mystery lord. Time to undo some of the damage she had been so hell-bent on creating only yesterday.
Time to make sure that her parents didn’t ruin another Lawrence sister in their desperation.
Stanton had little to do that morning but wait for the descent of the Prince Regent—and mull over his dilemma with Lady Alicia—so he stationed himself by the front door of the great house in order to learn as much as possible about the other guests.
Despite Stanton’s efforts to investigate before he left London, it seemed that the guest list to Lord Cross’s parties was one of the best-kept secrets in Society. Apparently every one involved was quite determined to make sure it stayed thus. How reassuring it must be to know that what happened on Cross’s estate never left its borders.
There were quite a number of guests lingering in the hall already, mostly ladies and, well, women who weren’t ladies. Stanton felt like a crow among the flowers in his classic black, while the women swirled about him in their brightly colored morning gowns.
It was a superior place to hear the latest gossip, however. Stanton listened carefully even as he tried to portray an air of indolent boredom. He must not have been terribly successful, for the ladies nearest him gazed at him warily and spoke in low tones.
Still, they found him less interesting than the new arrivals. It looked as though this were by far the most popular party of the early winter Season.
Lords, gamblers, and a few men of the church came through with their companions, each arrival renewing a storm of gossip. Stanton learned more than he’d ever wanted to know about the various gentlemen’s sexual practices, but not much more.
Then the front door opened to reveal a large, vaguely barbaric silhouette, one that was entirely familiar to Stanton.
Bloody hell, what was Greenleigh doing here? Dane was followed by the buxom Valkyrie form of his lady, Olivia. Stanton was stunned that Dane would bring his lady wife to such a gathering, but Olivia seemed anything but offended. She gazed about with eager curiosity, then spotted him and smiled very briefly before continuing her examination of the grand entrance hall.
Stanton decided that nothing forbade him from casually greeting another man of nearly equal social status and strode forward to castigate Greenleigh.
Dane saw him coming and grinned. “Don’t charge at me like that, Wyndham. People will think we have a history.”
Stanton forced his demeanor to one more relaxed. “Why are you here?” Well, almost relaxed.
Dane folded massive arms. “The same reason you are.”
“But you brought your lady!” If Stanton could have, he would have swept the intrepid Olivia right back out the door and into her carriage.
“Olivia adores fireworks.” Dane lifted a corner of his lips. “To be truthful, she brought me. I wasn’t convinced that you needed help.” He rubbed the back of his neck ruefully. “Unfortunately, Lady Dryden has a most unique method of gaining the cooperation of Reardon and myself.”
“She set your wives upon you, didn’t she?” Damn. It was a very good thing he was immune to such influence. Someone had to rein Lady Dryden in before she disturbed the careful balance of the Four. “Well, at least Reardon had the sense to—”
Dane was looking over Stanton’s shoulder. “Ah, yes . . . about that—”
Stanton turned to see Lord and Lady Reardon entering the house. Nathaniel was immediately deserted with no more than a fond kiss on the cheek as his lady, Willa, spotted Lady Greenleigh in the hall.
Lady Reardon was small, dark, and curvaceous next to the statuesque Lady Greenleigh, but the two were obviously thick as thieves.
Stanton turned back to Dane with a frown. “I had— have—a plan,” he said grimly. “My plan is simple, unproblematic, and requires no assistance from the other Three. Is that clear?”
Dane shrugged. “Wyndham, I’m here for the food. If Lady Dryden has any purpose other than to keep a few extra pairs of eyes on the Prince Regent, I know nothing about it.”
“Hmm.” Stanton gazed at him sourly, then across the grand hall to where Reardon stood with the two ladies. “I suppose we should expect Lord and Lady Dryden as well?”
Dane grinned. “I’m surprised they are not here already.”
Stanton fought the urge to sigh in resignation. “This certainly explains the last-minute additions to the guest list.” He refrained from complaining about being forced to share a chamber with Lady Alicia—what the Three didn’t know wouldn’t do Stanton any harm.
“So, where is the infamous Lady Alicia?” Dane asked genially. “Olivia is positively panting to have a look at her.”
Sleeping in our bed. Of course, Stanton couldn’t say that out loud, no matter that it gave him a tiny, unwanted sense of satisfaction to think it.
Then again, it was getting rather late. Surely she had risen by now?
“I’ll have a go at finding her, shall I?” Stanton smiled casually.
He must not have been very good at it, for Dane looked askance at him. “You do that,” he said. “I’ll try to keep the ladies at bay for the moment.”
Unfortunately, Lady Alicia was nowhere to be found. Where could she have gotten herself to this time?
Stanton cursed wearily. This was beginning to cost him his habitual composure.
At last he thought to check the stables. The weather wasn’t encouraging for a ride, but one never knew with Alicia.
When Cross’s groom told Stanton that he’d seen Lady Alicia walking into the east wood, Stanton’s first thought was that she was disobeying him again.
His second thought was that she was meeting a new lover.
His third, much worse, thought turned out to be the right one. She was headed home.
Damn. When he’d made this devil’s bargain with Alicia, he’d sworn to himself not to inflict her upon any sort of decent society. Now here she was, flinging herself into the very den of the upright.
To be truthful, he didn’t know who he was more worried about—Sutherland or Alicia herself.
It wasn’t difficult to track someone who wasn’t particularly inclined to hide their passage, so he was able to follow her meandering path easily. He ought to be able to catch up to her before she—
Cresting the last hill and looking down on what must be Sutherland, Stanton cursed. He’d never been much of a curser before, but he was becoming rather proficient, if he did say so himself. And who wouldn’t curse if they were saddled with the willful and outrageous Lady Alicia? Stanton permitted himself a moment of sympathy for the parents of what must have been a truly trying child.
There was no sign of her, but there was no sign of a ruckus either. Her trail led into the rear gardens. Perhaps no one had yet detected her presence.
Following
her on foot now, Stanton led his horse through the neglected gardens until he approached the rear of a battered garden structure. There was a heated argument coming from within.
Stanton blinked. It sounded very much as if Alicia were holding a fierce, mad three-way argument with herself!
Turning the corner, Stanton spied a trio of Titian beauties with tempers at least as bright as their hair. Two stood toe to toe, their voices growing more shrill by the moment. Alicia— Good God, could it be true?—appeared to be the voice of reason, her tone more one of mediation. Stanton felt an insane chuckle rising in his chest at the very thought of a world where Alicia was the rational one.
Alicia’s sisters, for who else could they be, were very nearly as pretty as Alicia herself. There was a plump, buxom sister and a slim, elegant sister. Three passionate, tempestuous flame-haired young women in one place? The mind boggled.
“Alicia was only doing what she had to do to get out of this awful valley!” The bosomy one said. “You hate it here as much as she ever did, Antonia, don’t deny it! At least she lives in London now, and chooses her own lovers, and goes to the opera in beautiful gowns—”
He saw Alicia put a hand on her sister’s arm. “Alberta, you mustn’t think it. My life is nothing to envy!”
The slender one, who was Antonia—he was going to figure this out if it killed him—shook Alicia off like an insect and turned on her. “You come here, after all these years, and put such thoughts into her head! If she follows your path, I am doomed!” Antonia threw out her hands. “Do you realize that even by talking to you today we are putting our fragile reputations in danger? What if someone has seen us? What if—” Antonia froze as she saw Stanton standing at the corner of the temple. “Oh, no.”
Alicia turned and saw him there. Several expressions flashed across her lively features, but the one that caught his attention was pride. Possessive satisfaction, the sort of thing one might feel about having a fine family home or a beautiful horse.
The fact that she felt that way about him was a bit disturbing, but he would have to address that later. At the moment, it seemed as though Antonia were planning to faint.
Celeste Bradley - [Royal Four 04] Page 14