Authors: Janet Kent
“That’s an idea,” Chadwick
answered coldly, “but I was thinking of Beatrix. Perhaps she should be
somewhere else.”
“Sent where? Bedlam? Don’t you
dare,” Alicia said, her whole body shaking. “She’s been locked up enough and
doesn’t deserve to be caged like an animal.”
Chadwick raised an eyebrow in
Beatrix’s direction. “Perhaps she acted like an animal. Perhaps her confinement
was for her own good.”
Alicia threw out her hands. “When,”
she demanded, “is locking someone away for months on end,
ever
for their
own good?”
“When that someone is unwed,”
came her aunt’s quavering voice, “and… in a delicate way.”
Alicia turned on her toes,
feeling like she was moving through molasses. She gaped at her aunt. “You had a
baby?” she breathed.
Beatrix returned her stare
without responding.
Alicia turned back to her father
and held out her hands, palms facing heaven.
Chadwick shrugged. “Dead.”
She felt her jaw drop. “How can
you be so callous?”
“Honey, leave it be,” came her
aunt’s voice, this time with a firm edge.
Alicia shook her head, trying to
clear her mind. Once again, the people she thought she knew proved themselves
to be strangers.
“Worry about your own life,
daughter, and don’t do anything stupid,” Chadwick said and pushed himself from
the wall. As he turned his back and headed down the corridor, his parting shot
reached Alicia’s ears. “I wouldn’t want the same thing to happen to you.”
She swiveled to face her aunt but
before she could ask the first in a barrage of questions, Beatrix held up a
hand in surrender and shook her head. “Not now, dear. I’d like to go lie down.”
Alicia hesitated for only a
second before ringing for a maid to help Beatrix to her room. No doubt the
child would have been Mr. Armitage’s. The product of a single night spent with
her aunt’s one true love. How terrible to have lost the baby. On the other
hand, as horrible as it was to admit, the lack of a baby helped Beatrix not to
be irrevocably scandalized. Her brother must have closeted her away for those
long months and let it be known Beatrix was “away in the country” so that
Society wouldn’t know the truth.
And it worked. Alicia had never
heard a single word breathed about a baby. Of course, the rumors about her
aunt’s indiscretion with Mr. Armitage had ruined her without need for any
additional ammunition.
If only Beatrix could have
married Mr. Armitage. He would have lived, and the baby might have lived, too.
With sudden clarity, Alicia
considered her romance with Rogue in a new light. As tragically romantic as
Beatrix may be, Alicia did not desire a similar fate. Nor did she want Louis.
She would have to ensnare Mr. Morrisey, and fast.
Maybe tonight.
* * *
Of all the lousy luck, Mr.
Morrissey was nowhere to be found. She’d encircled the crowded ballroom twice
now, nodding at acquaintances and murmuring to friends, but she hadn’t caught
sight of him. Perhaps he was at some other party, although with the Season not
yet underway, Alicia couldn’t think of another scheduled for tonight. Perhaps
he chose to stay home or visit the gentlemen’s clubs. Wouldn’t that be just the
sort of hand Fate dealt her?
Disappointed, Alicia headed back
toward the refreshment room. She’d checked in there right before her last
circuit of the ballroom, but it wouldn’t hurt to check again. How was she
supposed to get him to fall in love with her if he wasn’t around?
Alicia sipped a glass of tepid
lemonade and tried to think. She couldn’t leave the ball unless she was going
home, and that would serve no purpose. She would have to wait, and hope Mr.
Morrissey appeared.
As she took another sip, a
cloying smell drifted to her nose and ruined the sugary taste of the lemonade.
The refreshment room was perhaps an unwise place to hope for privacy.
“Ah, cousin,” Louis said with a
smirk. “Standing around by yourself, drinking lemonade?”
With all the drama in her life
the past few days, she’d completely forgotten to come up with a plan to rid
herself of Louis for the night. Frustrated, Alicia decided to show him some
drama of her own.
“Ahh!” she yelped. “Lemonade? I
didn’t want lemonade! I wanted water!” She thrust the lemonade at him with such
sudden force that the sticky liquid slopped over the sides as he grabbed at the
glass. “Water is good for the body. Water is good for the heart. Water is good
for the soul. Lemonade is society poison!”
Louis scowled at her and tried to
hold the glass steady with one hand while he used his handkerchief to mop up
the wet lemonade with the other hand.
“For God’s sake, cousin. It’s not
like it’s whisky.”
Jumping backward, Alicia recoiled
as if worms were springing from the glass. “Whisky? In lemonade? I had no idea.
I’ll never drink it again. I’ll never trust another refreshment room. Take it
away! Take it away!” She waved her hands with such flailing energy that she
knocked the glass again, spilling the rest of the lemonade on Louis and
speckling his cravat with tiny yellow droplets.
Louis clutched the now-empty
glass in his wet hands and took a menacing step closer.
Alicia threw her hands over her
face and affected piteous sobs. “I’m quite overset. I’ll never be the same!
I’ll try to find my way to the retiring room so that I can recover in private.”
Through lowered lashes, Alicia
looked up in time to see Louis shake the moisture from his wet fist and stomp
off into the crowd. Just in case he decided to come back in order to get in the
last word, she flung herself around with her hands still covering her face,
intending to make dramatic, lurching steps toward the retiring room.
Instead, she ran into a solid
wall of masculinity.
Praying that Fate could not be as
cruel as she now suspected, Alicia peeked through her parted fingers at an
expertly tied
Trône d'Amour
. With trepidation roiling in her stomach,
she tilted her head up higher and her arms fell to her sides. How wonderful.
Mr. Morrissey had arrived.
He put his hands on her shoulders
and moved her off his chest so that she stood a more appropriate distance
before him. “Are you all right?” he asked, a note of doubt in his voice.
Was she all right? Even her scalp
was blushing. This was unquestionably not the best method to attract a future
husband. Now she really would have to go to the retiring room and collect
herself. “I’m fine,” Alicia mumbled, and slipped past him, hoping he wouldn’t
follow her into the crowd.
Once she’d splashed some water on
her face and calmed down enough to think about her situation with a clear head,
she realized she’d have to apologize to Mr. Morrissey. No doubt he thought her
a ninny, and men did not often wish to marry ninnies.
Squaring her shoulders, Alicia
marched from room to room, trying to find him. Unbelievable. He’d disappeared
again! Had her theatrics frightened him so badly that he’d actually left the
entire party?
Just when the first waves of
despair began to creep in on her newfound resolve, Alicia caught sight of Mr.
Morrissey exiting to the garden. Pasting a serene smile on her face, she ambled
through the crowd toward the door. It wasn’t until she took her first step out
into the bracing air that she realized someone was following her.
Louis.
“There you are, cousin. Far from
the refreshment room, as promised,” he sneered. “Don’t worry. Once we marry,
I’ll make sure you get nothing
but
water.”
Alicia looked around, but thanks to Louis’ untimely
intervention, now she couldn’t see Mr. Morrissey anywhere. And she and Louis
were alone in the garden. Marvelous.
“I don’t know what your problem
is, cousin,” he said in injured tones. “I’m quite the catch. Perhaps you’ll
realize that tomorrow.”
“Oh?”
“I’ll be going on a trip with
Chadwick in the morning, and you’ll be stuck here without me,” Louis said and
tossed his head. “I’m impossible not to miss.”
“No doubt,” Alicia muttered, taking in his enormous
cravat, straining belly, and wind-whipped hair. “Look,” she began in her most
persuasive tone. “I don’t think you really want me.”
Louis sniffed. “How arrogant to
presume you could possibly know what I want.”
“You’re right, I don’t know what
you want. I just can hardly believe that what you want is
me
. What if I
promise to help you find someone else? Another woman, someone you could love?”
“Another… what?” Louis goggled at
her.
“Why would you marry someone you
don’t even like?” Alicia asked in her most reasonable voice. “There’s no sense
either of us suffering, especially when you can’t stand to be around me. I’ll
find someone else to marry, and I’ll help you to–”
Louis grabbed her by the shoulders
and gave her a shake so vicious that her teeth rattled. “Do not try to play me,
cousin. You’ll find no one else. You’ll marry me if I have to make you marry me
myself.”
Alicia struggled to free herself
from his grip. “How could you possibly make me?”
“Look around, cousin,” Louis said
with a superior smile. “We’re alone. Young ladies get compromised in gardens
every day. All I have to do is stand here kissing you until someone else walks
out, and you’ll have no choice but to marry me.”
Ew, disgusting. The very thought
of kissing Louis induced bile to rise in her throat, and the idea of being
forced to marry him at the expense of her reputation infuriated her. Alicia
twisted as hard as she could, but she couldn’t free herself from his grasp.
Louis let loose with a loud
cackle and brought his face so close to hers that his putrid breath choked in
her throat. Alicia flung her face from side to side, hoping he couldn’t kiss
her if she wasn’t holding still.
Louis merely smirked. “Get ready
to be ruined,” he whispered.
* * *
Ian cut between two hedges and
strolled back toward the house. He wasn’t accomplishing much tonight. If all he
planned to do was wander about by his lonesome, he might as well head back to
his townhouse.
As he ambled toward the house, scuffling
noises caught his attention. Frowning, Ian peered across the hedge and saw two
people struggling in the dimly lit courtyard. Ian quickened his pace. A man
held a wriggling woman locked in his arms. When she fought to free himself from
his grasp by contorting her body and twisting out of reach, he flipped her
around, pinned her arms, and lifted his heels to loom over her further. The
woman bent so far backward, Ian feared both combatants would topple over before
he could interrupt.
The house door swung open,
spilling light across their faces. Ian almost stumbled at the shock of instant
recognition.
Alicia Kinsey. And her disaster
of a fiancé, Louis Larouche.
The exaggerated pursing of
Larouche’s lips despite the open door spoke volumes of his intention, and the
panic written on Miss Kinsey’s face as she writhed in his arms left him no
choice but to intercede. Ian cleared his throat.
“What ho, Miss Kinsey! So there
you are,” he called. “Is it time for my dance already? How dreadfully remiss
I’ve been, to have made you come outside to find me. I do beg your pardon. Will
you forgive me?”
Larouche’s furious expression
during this rambling speech was priceless. Miss Kinsey, on the other hand,
looked as though she might faint with relief. With one final wrench, she jerked
herself from Larouche’s grasp and stumbled toward Ian as curious onlookers
began to step out from the house.
“Er, yes,” she managed in a dry,
scratchy voice. “I’m not sure I wish to dance after all. I… I was feeling a bit
lightheaded and came out for a spot of fresh air.”
“Just so,” Ian agreed, casting a
bland smile over her shoulder as Larouche stomped past the puzzled couples and
marched back into the house. Ian looped Miss Kinsey’s arm through his. “Shall
we stroll a bit in the garden, then?”
Miss Kinsey nodded, helpless
gratitude shining in tear-brimmed eyes.
Ian led her a short distance to a
stone bench, wishing to be alone enough to afford the semblance of privacy but
also careful to remain within sight of the house and the other outdoor
revelers. He had no wish to lead her from one suspicious situation to another.
As soon as she was seated, he
clasped his hands behind his back and studied her face. Her lower lip quivered
and she stared off into space, blinking rapidly, but she’d managed to pull off
a decent exit without flaming the fires of the scandal Ian felt sure Larouche
hoped he’d start. What in the world was his problem? There was no point to
compromising someone one was already engaged to. Larouche was a strange
creature.
“Are you all right?” he asked in
his softest voice.
As if the question were the worst
possible thing he could have said, she slapped her hands over her face and
burst into silent tears. Ian jumped and looked over his shoulder to make sure
nobody watched them too closely. The last thing he needed was for someone to
think
he
was making unwanted advances on Miss Kinsey.