And so he pulled away.
"Alice," he sighed. He was surprised to hear the word falling from his own lips. He had not intended to groan her name, but instead to say something very sensible. Something to rebuild the barrier of friendship, of age and experience, which he had shattered.
"Kirby," she answered. There was such trust in the way she gazed at him! It tore the heart.
What was happening? A mere kiss had never caused him to lose his senses before. Was he ill? Kirby strove to rekindle his sense of responsibility.
"Call me Richard." Blast! That was not what he had intended to say!
Twin dimples appeared on Alice's cheeks. He brushed one tenderly with the crook of his finger.
"Richard," she repeated softly.
He could not hear the birdsong, he could not see the sky, he could not feel the breeze. There was only Alice. He reached forwards to draw her to him again...
"I think not," she said. One of her fingers was pressed coyly against his lips, keeping them from hers.
"Alice, don't deny me," he breathed, trailing his hand down the gentle curve of her spine.
"There is something you must ask me before we do any more of that." She spoke so seriously! How had a chit of a girl managed to keep her head, when his was so wildly spinning?
"What is that?" he asked, smiling. Her eyes widened as if it were obvious.
"Why, Richard, I am waiting for you to propose to me."
Later, Kirby would hate himself for the noise he made in response. He would blame it on his surprise, on the delirious joy that lingered from the kiss, on all manner of things... But in the end these were no more than excuses.
He had no-one to blame but himself. His bitter, cynical, and callous self.
He laughed.
"I don't understand the joke," said Alice primly. Kirby kept laughing.
"Why on earth would a beautiful young debutante like you want to throw away her chances on an old rogue like me?"
She touched his cheek, smiling as if she had understood him. "You're not so old."
Kirby let her go abruptly. "I am sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, Alice. I have no intention of marrying." What had he been thinking only moments before about the dangers of kissing a young girl in her first Season? Now his fears were truly coming home to roost!
"But you kissed me."
"Yes, and I should very much like to do it again without any of this foolish talk of matrimony."
She pushed him away. "That was my first kiss."
"And it was most wonderful," he said soothingly.
"A privileged moment I had hoped to reserve for my husband," she added, with tears in her eyes. A great weight settled on Kirby's heart.
"Alice," he groaned. "I am not fit to be anyone's husband."
"You really don't intend to marry me?"
The little choke in her voice tore him open. How he wished he had a better answer to give her! For one wild moment he even considered...
No. How could he imagine such a thing? Mrs Alice Kirby? Alice, who might marry a Duke or an Earl?
Alice, who was so brave and passionate and beautiful?
She was not for him.
"I never had any intention of it." His throat was almost too dry to speak. If this was the sort of pain honesty caused, he was glad he usually avoided it. "I did not think you were so desperate for a husband as to wish to marry me."
Alice backed away from him until she hit the wall. No tears fell – Kirby was glad of that – but their bitter beginnings lit up her eyes from within. He felt impaled upon that watery gaze. "I think we had better have no more to do with each other."
"If that is what you wish. But Alice, you must promise me one thing."
"Must I?"
He cleared his throat. "You will let this business of the necklace alone. It is too dangerous. You must cease your investigations and abandon it as a lost cause."
Alice tilted her chin upwards proudly. Kirby reflected, somewhat bitterly, that she had never looked more beautiful than she did now, in her hurt and rage. "You have no claim on me, Captain," she said. Kirby tried to find the words to plead with her, but his cunning seemed to have deserted him. Before he could gather his wits again, she was gone.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The words which resonated through Alice's mind throughout the rest of the day and the following night were those she had least expected.
I am not fit to be anyone's husband.
As she lay awake, toying listlessly with the lace edging of her nightgown, this was what tormented her.
How could Kirby have such a low opinion of himself?
How could she have been so spineless as to allow him to persist in his delusions, crushing her own hopes in the process?
She knew now that she loved Kirby above all other men. The passion of her emotions frightened her. The way he had kissed her – the way his hand had tenderly cupped her face – it was all seared into her memory as if she had been branded by a hot blade.
Yes, she loved him – and she had been too afraid to tell him. She had been too taken aback to explain to him all the good qualities she saw which made him, in her eyes, the ideal husband. His bravery. His kindness to the old Dowager Duchess. The speed with which he had defended her from Colonel Moore.
All this said nothing of his handsome face, his muscular body, his taut grace while dancing, and the perfection of his kiss. Alice was ashamed to admit that it was these which disturbed her sleep that night, rather than his finer qualities.
Even his refusal – his insistence that she should not waste her chance of snaring a Lord or a Viscount – even that spoke well of him. Would it have been different if she had explained her heart to him? Or would he still have turned her away?
Alice was unhappy, naturally, but she could not find it in her heart to hate Kirby. In fact, she was in the grip of a firm resolution.
She would not give up. She would persuade him to propose to her and accept the happiness fate had brought them, or she would end her life a spinster.
"Have you passed a pleasant night?" asked Catherine. Alice had given up on sleep for the time being, and found her sister arranging a bouquet of flowers in the drawing room.
"I can't say that I have," she yawned, touching one of the pretty yellow blooms.
"You look well on it. There are roses in your cheeks." Catherine lifted Alice's chin to inspect her. "Yes, you look absolutely radiant this morning."
Alice hid her smile of triumph. She had no doubt that it was love that lent a glow to her complexion. She revelled in the thought that Kirby would see her, not pale and heartbroken, but happy and in good looks after their last exchange. She did not want to torture him for long, but he deserved a little teasing.
"The Duke is spoiling you," she remarked, nodding towards the flowers. Catherine bit her lip.
"These are not from my husband. They are a gift from my brother-in-law, Mr James Marsden."
"James!" Alice clapped her hands. The Duke's brother always made wonderfully wicked company.
"Please do not speak of him so familiarly!" Catherine was agitated, and at first Alice could not imagine why.
"But we are family, more or less." James had been the one to finally bring Catherine and the Duke together. If there was anyone to whom Alice might confide her plans for Kirby, it was him.
Catherine, however, had very different ideas. "We are going out," she said, taking Alice's arm. "We will spend the morning at Lady Helena's. She is having a garden party."
"I thought you detested Lady Helena?" Alice lowered her brows. "Tell me, sister, is this a ruse to keep me away from Ja – from Mr Marsden?"
Catherine did not find it funny. Alice strove to conceal her laughter. "Two weddings between the same two families! Would that not be something?"
"I doubt that marriage is at all what James Marsden has in mind, when it comes to any eligible young woman," said Catherine sternly. "Harry sent him off to the countryside to keep him out of trouble an
d it appears he has gotten himself into the most fearful scrape. They are discussing it now in the library and I can only pray that it does not come down to a duel, as it did with their youngest brother. Come, let us go down to breakfast. We will not keep the Dowager Duchess waiting, and we will be out of the way before the gentlemen appear."
They were not quick enough, however, to avoid Captain Kirby. Alice kept her head held high, buoyed by Catherine's comment on her good looks. Kirby lowered his newspaper long enough to see who had entered and excused himself without delay. Alice had the satisfaction of catching him in a sideways glance at her as he left the room. He could not bear to hold her gaze; he dropped his head as if scalded and hurried away.
"The Captain is in very poor spirits this morning," remarked the Dowager Duchess as she cracked open an egg. Now that Catherine was Duchess, the old woman no longer had the highest precedence, but they were all happy to defer to her sense of dignity and allow her to keep her place at the head of the table. "He spoke not three words to me all this while, and ate very little!"
Another symptom of love which could not help but be pleasing to Alice's ears. She took her seat at the Duchess's side and helped herself to two boiled eggs. The sight turned Catherine faintly green.
"Please excuse me," she said, hurriedly rising from her seat. "I find I have little appetite this morning."
As she rushed away, the Dowager Duchess shot Alice a sharp look which suggested she had surmised a great deal more than she was at liberty to say.
"So we are left to break our fast alone, my dear."
"The gentlemen may join us presently. Have you heard that Mr James Marsden has come back from Larksley?"
Alice regretted sharing the news immediately. A shadow passed across the Duchess's wrinkled face. "That is good news," she managed. Alice touched her arm.
"Is there anything wrong?"
The Duchess sighed and passed a hand across her eyes. "I have a very soft spot for all the Marsden gentlemen. They cannot help but remind me of my own dear son... He was just of an age with young James. Just of an age."
Alice knew that the Duchess was prone to fits of low spirits which might last an entire day if she were not quickly distracted. "I have had the most interesting intelligence from Captain Kirby. I wonder he did not share it with you."
"Oh?" The Duchess perked up immediately, catching the whiff of an intrigue. "What's that?"
"It turns out that Mr Mallory almost certainly is your deceitful gentleman caller."
"Indeed! And what does the Captain propose to do about it?"
Alice let her teaspoon tinkle gently against the glass as she stirred in her milk. "Nothing, Your Grace."
The Duchess's formidable eyebrows lowered. "Nothing?"
"He believes Mallory is not a person to be trifled with. He advised me to consider the necklace as gone for good." Alice felt a small pang of guilt at the necessity of painting Kirby in this less-than-admirable light. She was certain that he only thought of her and the Duchess's welfare – but she was even more certain that the fears of any mere man would not stop her from achieving her aims.
"What is your opinion?" asked the Duchess.
"I am not at all acquainted with Mr Mallory." Alice paused. "I do not believe, however, that there is absolutely nothing to be done."
"I am of your opinion." A new light had appeared in the Duchess's eyes. It was an expression of fearlessness and fortitude that Alice had never yet seen there. What a formidable woman the Duchess must have been, before age and tragedy brought her down!
"Do you intend to confront Mr Mallory yourself, if Kirby will not do it?" asked Alice, leaning closer. The Duchess's mouth set into a firm line.
"I cannot see that we have any other option. I must and will recover that necklace. I do not ask you to accompany me, dear girl. For all we know, I shall be running headfirst into horrible danger."
Alice was impressed by the old woman's resolution. "I am with you to the end," she said. "I swore I would help you recover the Westbourne Sapphire, and I am a woman of my word."
The Duchess grasped her hand across the table and squeezed it gratefully. "You are a fine girl, Miss Sharp. I only wish that out of all my acquaintance I knew a single man who might contend with your spirit."
Alice smiled wryly. "You do not think I should mourn Colonel Moore?"
"My dear, if he cannot see your obvious merits, he is nothing more than a fool. I pity him."
They were forced to abandon their conversation by the return of Catherine, who still looked pale.
"Alice, I can see you've been chatting away with not a thought for Lady Helena. It will be a great snub to her if we arrive late."
"Of course, Cathy. I will be ready presently." Alice gave the Duchess an ironic smile. "I promise I am doing my best to become a fine lady, but the company at Lady Helena's is not entirely to my liking."
This was more than hint enough for the Dowager Duchess to pounce on. "Ah ha! Doubtless there is some gentleman whose suit you do not desire to entertain?"
"I know who she means," said Catherine teasingly. "It is that same gentleman who sent those beautiful lilies. I must confess he does not know you well, Alice, if he thinks to woo you that way."
"He does not know me at all," said Alice. Catherine was right: she had been thinking of Mr Grantham and his smothering attentions. His family were intimate friends of Lady Helena's and he was certain to be there. "Cathy, will you do me the favour of staying at my side throughout the garden party so that I do not risk being caught alone with anyone?"
"It is quite acceptable for you to speak quietly with a young gentleman, as long as you do not hide yourselves away from the party," said Catherine, her eyes dancing.
"Cathy, please! I cannot bear the thought of a moment's conversation with him. He is so very false, and overbearing to boot!"
"I'll do my best," Catherine promised. "Though I'm afraid it will mean you trailing me around as I speak to all the people I am required to pay attention to."
"I never spent so much time wooing the ton in my day," complained the Dowager Duchess. Catherine sighed.
"You came to your position by a much more conventional route than I did, I fear. Alice, I am going to fetch a bonnet, and I will stop by your room to pick up yours so that we may make a swift departure."
"Thank you." Alice felt her arm being tugged by the Dowager Duchess as Catherine left again.
"You will do well to keep at your sister's side, young gentleman or no," she whispered. "In her condition, she will appreciate the attention."
"What condition is that, Your Grace?" asked Alice mildly. The Duchess tapped her nose.
"Nothing gets past me, young lady!"
Alice's thoughts turned instantly to Kirby. She could not help but smile to think that nothing less than a burgeoning love affair had slipped under the noses of the Duke, of her sister, and even the perspicacious Duchess!
But was it truly a love affair? Those words had not been spoken on either side. Alice knew her own heart, but Kirby's she could only guess at...
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kirby was listening to another man's problems, and his heart should have been eased to hear he was not the only one suffering. Sad to say, his own woes remained at the forefront of his mind.
James had taken it into his head to fall headlong in love for the first time in his young life, with a lady much above him in station and not likely to return the emotion. Harry spent a great deal of time laughing at his brother, who was notorious for his strong distaste for the institution of matrimony.
"And did I not hear you say," Harry was saying, to James's chagrin, "on the occasion of my own marriage, that you yourself would never submit to such a prison of every man's freedom?"
"I did say that," James admitted. "But what I meant was that I could not then picture the lady whose love would not feel like a prison."
"And when you swore that we would see you dead before we saw you married?"
"Well, I meant tha
t I thought I would die before finding true love!"
"You have an answer for everything," Harry laughed. "But Kirby here is my witness – you and he were ever of the same opinion! At least I can rely on Kirby as a man of his word. There is a man who will be forever a bachelor."
Kirby fought to smile at the comment which cut him to the quick. Forever a bachelor – it was true. But now it was true only because he was not fit to be the husband of the only woman he had ever wanted.
James, on the other hand, was a fair-faced, strong-jawed, broad-shouldered man of three-and-twenty. He had an easy smile and a sharp wit. He bore no title, it was true, and he had only his brother's fortune to recommend him – but any lady with feelings of substance would not let a lack of title stand in her way. Harry would see that James had money enough to live a comfortable life. There could be no objection to his marriage from any quarter.
"Oh, but you have not heard the whole of it," James groaned when Kirby told him as much. Harry was astonished to find Kirby spouting such a favourable view of marriage, but was smart enough to keep quiet. "When I said that the lady was far above my station, I hardly did justice to my predicament. She is the daughter of the Duke of Rawly –"
"And what if she is? You are a Duke's brother," said Harry reasonably.
"And he intends for her to marry his closest friend, the Marquess of Chiltern. She is to be a Marchioness. What can Mr James Marsden offer her in comparison to that?"
"If you love her," said Kirby, laying a hand on James's shoulder, "and if she loves you, you are offering her far more than most people can dream of. Go to her, make your feelings known, and be happy."
"That's the advice of the notorious Captain Kirby?" asked James with a half-smile. "I had hoped you would instruct me to drown my sorrows with drink and women of questionable virtue. Now I see you are as changed a man as I am! Pray, who is the lucky lady? And when may I wish you joy?"
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