Alice's Arranged Marriage (Home for Christmas Book 1)

by Joyce Alec

  4

  “This is our first outing together,” Charles murmured as Miss Jones looked steadfastly out of the carriage window. “You are not nervous, I hope?”

  He looked at her again, taking in her delicate profile and wondering if she felt as nervous as he. She had given no impression of being anxious but given how poorly she had been treated by both his aunt and himself, Charles was inclined to think that she had simply decided that she could not bear such remarks any further and so had thought to cover her emotions with a mask of nonchalance.

  “Miss Jones?”

  Her green eyes flicked back to his and she gave him the tiniest of smiles, before returning her gaze to the window. He felt his frustration grow but battled it down at once, reminding himself that, most likely, he was the cause of her silence. After all, he had allowed his aunt to speak to her in a most improper fashion and that must have injured Miss Jones greatly.

  Sighing to himself, Charles sat back and rested his head against the squabs, relieved that Lady Fossett had decided to remain silent also. She had made her feelings on Miss Jones quite clear the previous day and Charles had, in turn, made it more than apparent that he did not want her to say anything further to Miss Jones. He had to admit to his aunt that, of course, he had been a little taken aback by Miss Jones’ lack of propriety and her apparent inability to pour the tea, as would have been expected from any other English lady, but he had then had to remind himself that she was not from London and certainly had a very different upbringing from himself. He could not assume that she would know what was expected of her, or that she would behave with all the gentility and elegance of a young debutante. In time, he was quite certain that she would behave just as she ought, and that all would be just as it should be.

  However, she had not answered his question yesterday afternoon, when he had put that to her. That had brought him a little trepidation, but he had told himself that it was nothing more than a sense of overwhelming embarrassment at Lady Fossett’s remarks that had made Miss Jones quit the room.

  At least she is beautiful, he said to himself, taking in her profile again and finding himself smiling at her dark ringlets that had been pulled to the top of her head so that they might cascade down her neck. No one will be able to state that I have a plain wife.

  “You are staring at me.”

  He flushed and turned his head away, a little taken aback by her plain manner of speaking. “You are to be my wife, Miss Jones. I think it perfectly acceptable to regard you for a short time,” he replied, glad that the darkness of the carriage made it difficult for her to see his face given that his cheeks, most likely, held a slight touch of color.

  Miss Jones said nothing for a moment or two, then sighed heavily. “And do you think that I shall suffice, Lord Allerton?”

  “Suffice?” he repeated, a little confused. “What do you mean, Miss Jones?”

  “I mean,” came the sharp reply, “I mean to ask you if you think I will do for you. Will I suit? I am not a ‘diamond of the first water’ as they say here, but I must pray that my appearance is a little satisfactory.”

  Charles was nonplussed for a moment, not quite certain what his response should be. Miss Jones was more than a little beautiful but for her to ask him so directly was certainly unusual. Was she seeking a compliment from him? Did she want him to tell her that yes, he thought her quite lovely? Or was there truly a fear there that she would not do?

  “If you did not meet Lord Allerton’s approval, Miss Jones, you would already be back on a ship to America,” Lady Fossett said loudly before Charles had an opportunity to answer. “Do stop thinking so selfishly and focus on this evening. You must watch that tongue of yours. You cannot speak with such directness to other members of the ton and certainly not to those to whom you have not been introduced!”

  Charles heard Miss Jones sigh heavily and felt a small twinge of anger in his heart. Miss Jones had nothing to complain about, surely? She was to marry an earl. And whilst he felt for her having to start her life over in an entirely new place, he had to confess that there was a slight irritation growing within him over her manner.

  “The best thing to do is to remain silent unless you are spoken to,” he said firmly as the carriage drew up to the house. “And even then, speak only briefly and with consideration.” He let out a long breath, catching sight of the hard expression that wrapped itself around her features. “That will suit us all very well indeed.”

  “May I introduce the Duke of Sussex and his wife, the Duchess of Sussex.”

  Charles wanted to exclaim aloud with frustration and embarrassment as Miss Jones looked directly at the duke and then at his wife, plain interest written all over her face. She ought to be curtsying, ought to be murmuring a quiet hello, but instead it seemed that she had quite forgotten what was expected of her.

  “And how do I refer to you?” she asked, giving the duchess a quick smile. “I’m afraid no one has ever told me.”

  The duchess blinked rapidly in surprise, glancing up at her husband, who was, much to Charles’ relief, grinning broadly back at Miss Jones. Evidently, he found her a little humorous.

  “You refer to us both as ‘Your Grace’,” he told Miss Jones, who nodded happily. “It is very good to make your acquaintance, Miss Jones.”

  “Thank you,” Miss Jones replied, glancing at Charles, who gave her such a hard look that the smile was shoved from her face almost at once. She stared at him, startled by his frustrated look, only for a look of horror to cross her face. Closing her eyes for a moment, she turned back to the duke and duchess and sank down into a curtsy.

  Charles wanted to sink into the ground.

  “I am sorry,” Miss Jones said, her voice now filled with hopelessness. “I did not mean to… I hope I did not embarrass you, Lord Allerton.” She rose again but kept her head low. “Nor did I mean to insult you both, Your Graces.”

  Charles closed his eyes and let out a small but audible groan. This was not at all what he had hoped for when he had brought Miss Jones to the ball. He had expected her to remember what he had told her, had expected her to follow her instructions and, on the whole, to remain as silent as she could. That had not been what had occurred. Yet again, Miss Jones was proving that she was nothing more than a source of embarrassment.

  “We should depart,” he said hastily, as the duchess turned her hazel eyes onto him questioningly, her delicate features covered in confusion. “There are others still that I must introduce Miss Jones to and I would not—”

  “Please.” Miss Jones held up two hands, stepping back from him. “Please, Lord Allerton, give me a few moments.” She looked at him steadily, with a spot of color burning in each cheek. “You have dragged me from one acquaintance to the next and I am getting a little tired.”

  Charles’ hands balled into fists as he forced his irritation down. Miss Jones should not be speaking so candidly to him in front of other guests. Had it been anyone other than the duke and duchess, then most likely, there would be gossip about himself and his betrothed spreading all around the room.

  “Miss Jones, might I suggest that you retire to a quieter room?”

  Charles looked over at the duchess in surprise, seeing how she was smiling at Miss Jones, who was looking back at her with interest.

  “I can tell that you are finding this evening quite overwhelming,” the duchess continued without even a single glance in Charles’ direction. “It all must be very difficult for you.”

  As Charles looked back at his betrothed, he saw, much to his surprise, that she practically wilted in response to the duchess’ kind words. Her shoulders drooped, her head lowered, and a long, heavy sigh escaped from her.

  “Yes, I have been,” she told the duchess, betraying a weariness that Charles had not seen before. “There is so much to remember and I can tell that I am not getting everything right.” A quick glance was cast in Charles’ direction and to his surprise, he felt a sudden jolt of guilt, as though he had done this deliberately. �
��I’m afraid that Lord Allerton is quite ashamed of me.”

  The duchess frowned in Charles’ direction as a moment or two passed, making Charles realize—a little too late—that he was meant to say something to this remark. Perhaps he was meant to refute it and to state that he was not at all embarrassed by Miss Jones, but he could not quite bring himself to say such a thing.

  “If you will excuse us,” the duchess murmured, her brows knotting together in evident displeasure over Charles’ manner. “I will take Miss Jones for a short respite in another room.”

  “But of course,” Charles answered quickly, inclining his head. “That is very considerate of you, Your Grace.”

  The duchess did not smile nor nod at this remark. Rather, she watched him carefully for a moment, as though expecting him to say something more, before turning around and leading the way through the other guests, with Miss Jones following hastily afterwards.

  “Well,” the duke murmured as the two ladies disappeared into the crowd. “That is your bride-to-be, then?”

  Charles sighed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “It is,” he answered, a little embarrassed. “I am sorry for her lack of propriety, Duke. It is not deliberate.”

  “Of course it is not,” the Duke answered easily. “You need not worry on our account, Allerton. You know very well that Susanna and I shall not be in the least offended.”

  Nodding slowly, Charles looked around the room, seeing how so many of the older ladies were casting long glances in his direction. No doubt, news of his engagement to a young American lady was now being spread all around the room.

  “And how do you find her?” the duke asked quietly, his eyes a little concerned. “You seemed quite embarrassed by her a few minutes ago.”

  Charles threw up his hands in exasperation. “How could I not be?” he said, letting his frustration loose. “She is not at all what I expected. I had presumed her to be refined and genteel, when it is now quite apparent that there is a good deal lacking. Her manners are very ill indeed, her conversation is poor, and there is a bluntness to her way of speaking that causes me shame—although she, of course, does not yet realize it.” Resisting the urge to push his hands though his hair in exasperation, Charles dropped his arms and shook his head. “I must marry her, of course, but I fear that she will be more than a little embarrassing. Gossip will spread. Rumors will be created. And I must endure throughout, knowing very well that Miss Jones is a good deal less than she ought to be.”

  The duke said nothing for a few minutes, then blew out a breath, his eyes a little sharper than before.

  “I think you are a little too haughty, Allerton.”

  Charles stared in surprise at his friend, seeing the duke’s stern expression and feeling as though he were being reprimanded for some inexplicable reason.

  “You are being much too harsh also,” the duke continued firmly. “Have you given the girl herself any thought? Can you not imagine how difficult it must be for her at this present moment?”

  “I—I have tried, of course,” Charles answered, aware that it was a half-truth on his lips and nothing more. He had not truly considered her, if he was being honest with himself. “I have, of course, understood that she is very tired from her travels and that being in this new situation must be something of a struggle.” He winced as the duke narrowed his eyes, knowing all too well that his friend could tell when he was being less than truthful. “Although mayhap you are right,” he finished lamely, somewhat chastened.

  “I believe you yourself told me that her father made his fortune a little later in life,” the duke said, his tone still quite severe. “Why, then, would you expect her to behave in a manner that is in line with the young debutantes you have here this evening?” He peered questioningly at Charles, who could only nod in understanding. “Why, then, would you expect her to be so at ease with all of English society and to be correct in everything she both says and does? That is quite ridiculous, Allerton, for you know very well that she cannot reach such lofty standards. And besides which,” he finished with a dark frown, “it does appear as though she is doing her utmost to behave as you wish but that she finds it all quite overwhelming. I believe my wife saw that emotion in Miss Jones’ expression, in much the same way I did.”

  Charles frowned, looking at the duke steadily. “I did not see that in her face,” he muttered, now feeling a slight stab of shame over his lack of interest in Miss Jones’ feelings. “I thought her—”

  “That is because all you have been thinking of is your own situation and your own feelings this evening,” the duke interrupted with a wave of his hand. “You have been so afraid that she will embarrass you that you have done nothing but watch her closely and make it apparent when she has failed you. Little wonder Miss Jones is as anxious as she appears.”

  “Anxious?” Charles repeated, now feeling quite lost given that he had not seen any such expression on Miss Jones’ face. “Do you truly think her anxious?”

  The duke nodded firmly. “Indeed. She is so desperate to do as you wish that she is forever glancing at you, biting her lip, and looking so troubled that I wanted desperately to reassure her that she was doing very well. That is why I was not in the least bit insulted by her lack of manner. I could see that there is a good deal of struggle going on within her.”

  Charles dropped his head, rubbing the back of his neck and feeling a cloud of embarrassment settle over him. “I see.”

  “You will have to treat her a little better than that, Allerton,” the duke finished with an air of authority. “Give her the time and the assistance she needs to do as you expect. Treat her kindly instead of with impatience and I promise that things will improve.”

  Charles sighed heavily and looked back at his friend, seeing the gentleness in the duke’s eyes and knowing that all his friend wanted to do was help him.

  “Very well,” he muttered, dropping his hands to his sides and shrugging. “I shall do my very best.”

  “And I am quite certain my wife will make sure to help Miss Jones also,” the duke added, gesturing to a nearby footman and, as he arrived, taking a glass of champagne from his tray. “The protective way she led Miss Jones from your company tells me that she will be more than willing to do so.”

  “That—that would be very kind of her,” Charles stammered, feeling a little more awkward now in knowing that not only the duke but also the duchess thought him to be the ill-mannered one. “I would be very grateful.”

  “Good.” The duke drained his glass quickly and gestured toward the rest of the ton who were, by now, beginning to take to the floor for the next dance. “Have you any dances promised this evening, Allerton?”

  Charles shook his head. “No. None.”

  The duke frowned, looking at Charles in confusion. “Not even with your bride-to-be?” he asked, sounding a trifle concerned. “Why ever not?”

  “Because,” Charles explained, a little irritated now that the duke appeared to be finding yet more fault with him, “I do not know whether or not she can dance. I would not take her to the floor only for her to trip over her feet and be unable to dance her steps correctly.” He was aware that his tone was a little harsh and his jaw set firm, but Charles did not want to endure yet another reprimand. One had been more than enough.

  “Then may I suggest,” the duke answered, a slight lilt to his voice, “that you discover whether or not the lady can dance with all swiftness. That is one way for a gentleman and a lady to further their acquaintance and their intimacy.” He chuckled, and Charles felt some of the tension drain out of him. “You do not know, Allerton. She may surprise you.”

  “More than she already has?” Charles answered with a roll of his eyes. “I doubt that very much indeed. And besides which, even if she is able to dance, Duke, I hardly think that such a skill will make up for her other failings which are so apparent.”

  A slight sound caught his attention and he turned his head, his smile dropping immediately. Miss Jones was standing next to t
he duchess, apparently having rested for a few moments and then returned to his side. She was looking at him with wide eyes, the color fading from her face and the sorrow beginning to leach into her expression. The duchess was frowning heavily, looking at Charles as though he had done Miss Jones a great disservice when, in short, he had only been speaking honestly.

  “Your Grace,” he murmured, lowering his head quickly and then trying to force a smile to his lips. “Miss Jones. I hope you found a place to rest?”

  Miss Jones slowly lowered her head, her gaze now on the floor at his feet. She said nothing, leaving Charles with a swirling sense of guilt that only grew steadily.

  “We came to inform you that we wished to rest for a longer period, and that you might find us in the small parlor next to the ballroom,” the duchess said, her voice authoritative. “I will take Miss Jones there now, Lord Allerton. I do not think you should expect us to return with any great swiftness.”

  “But of course.” He inclined his head, willing Miss Jones to look up at him again, to acknowledge what he had said, but finding that she continued to keep her face downcast. The duchess said something quietly to her and Miss Jones nodded, before turning around and leading the way through the crowd, leaving both Charles and the Duke of Sussex standing together in silence.

  “I believe my wife will agree fully with everything I have said to you this evening,” the duke said mildly after a few moments. “You have not got a friend there, Lord Allerton.”