Chapter 10
Alice tossed and turned most of the night, replaying Ethan’s words over and over.
While her intentions may have been good, wanting to see that day’s task through to completion, they were also selfish.
When Mr. Beaumont had berated her for detaining David without a thought, she’d become upset because it was true, she hadn’t thought about him at all—only how he might be able to assist her.
The multiple disquieting encounters she’d had at Hampton House were beginning to accumulate and constructed an unflattering picture of herself that she didn’t like very much. Though Priscilla advised getting to know herself, maybe Alice wasn’t worth knowing at all.
After talking with Nathalie yesterday morning, she’d hoped to show Mr. Beaumont her dedication to the garden in an attempt to soften him toward her. But it backfired spectacularly. Now he must be even more convinced that she was an unfeeling woman who only served as an impediment to his efforts.
Restless, Alice turned over once more, seeking a cool spot in the sheets.
Rather than the relief of smooth linen, her legs encountered a bundle of sheets, twisted from her uneasy churning all night.
Kicking her legs out from under the covers completely in frustration, she sighed in pleasure as the crisp night air hit her fevered limbs.
A moment later, no closer to quieting her racing mind or finding any kind of rest, Alice sat up and scrubbed her hands over her face, giving up any pretense of trying to sleep.
While she didn’t know the exact time, she did know that it was unbearably early and must be nearing dawn, as she could hear the first stirrings of servants waking up the house. But light had yet to creep over the horizon, the winter sun still making its appearance later in the morning.
Returning to her conversation with Nathalie the morning before, Alice tried to recall her exact words of advice in proving herself to Mr. Beaumont—that she should show a willingness to be part of the work, not simply oversee it.
Maybe that had been where she erred—enlisting David to complete the work without doing any of it herself.
Determined, Alice rose and began preparing herself for stepping out into the early-morning cold.
Opening her wardrobe, she comprehended none of her dresses were suitable for manual labor.
Her garments were either too fine, too flimsy, or too expensive for such an endeavor.
The dresses were beautiful, their beaded ornamentation meant to shine in the light of a ballroom, but they weren’t meant for anything useful.
Alice frowned at the parallel to her own life, which could not be overlooked, while contemplating her options.
Finally selecting a dress with the least amount of trimming around the hemline, she put on her sturdiest pair of half boots, layered a chemisette under her neckline, and added her warmest pelisse over top before heading downstairs.
Wandering out to the garden, she paused before proceeding to where David had been working last night.
Turning, she looked up to the sky, the cool morning air reinvigorating her after the night of little sleep and a disturbed mind.
It was peaceful out, and Alice took a moment to indulge in it, appreciating the glow that was just beginning to kiss the tops of the trees—their bare branches standing out like dark skeletons against the velvety umber of the sky above.
As a cold gust of wind swept past, it carried with it the distinct ring of a shovel hitting hard soil. Turning toward the sound, Alice made her way to where a new pathway was being cut into ground and was surprised to see Mr. Beaumont already hard at work.
It was a beautiful sight.
Watching the way he moved confirmed what Alice had suspected since arriving at Hampton House a week ago, it was Ethan whom she had observed from her window that afternoon, admiring the grace of his motion and ease in performing physical labor.
Suddenly, Alice felt it was imperative to earn the favor of this man whom she had come to greatly admire for his diligence and unrelenting faith in the good of those around him.
Rotating to deposit the shovel of newly released soil, he caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye, briefly holding the contact.
Straightening, Ethan leaned against his shovel and brought his forearm across his brow, swiping away the perspiration.
Alice approached and silently held out her hand, reaching for the shovel.
A flicker of surprise crossed his face, causing the corner of his mouth to twitch ever so slightly, before he surrendered the tool.
Bending to pick up another shovel that lay on the ground nearby, he didn’t resume his work immediately, but instead watched her to see what she would do.
Alice stepped forward until she was beside him, then hesitantly bent over, placing the tip of the shovel even with the fresh marks where a shallow layer had been lifted from the existing turf.
Putting her weight behind it, Alice stumbled when rather than piercing the soil, the head of the shovel stuttered and slipped over the hard ground.
She heard what sounded suspiciously like a snort of amusement behind her but ignored it, trying once more.
Positioning the tip at a deeper angle, she leveraged her strength at the end of the handle and let out a triumphant cry when a small amount of earth came up, but she huffed in frustration after a few more tries and very little progress.
About to give up, she paused upon feeling a presence behind her.
Mr. Beaumont came up close behind Alice and wrapped his large hand around hers, slowly shifting it up the handle of the shovel.
“There,” he said slightly exasperated. “You’ll have better leverage and be able to lift more at once.”
Ethan stepped away quickly to continue his own work, but not before her skin warmed from his touch and she caught a strong whiff of his scent.
It was a mixture of all his contradictions, an undertone of cologne that held notes of warm spice—cinnamon mixed with cedar—which defined his aristocratic roots, but the overlaying pungency of freshly turned soil showed the real truth of him, the man of simple labor he seemed to crave being.
Integrating both was a wisp of perspiration, a deeply masculine tang that made the dominating scents work together in a way that caused her to catch her breath, stirring something deep within her.
All together it created an unexpectedly harmonious fragrance that was not only unique, but uniquely him, like the very spice of earth.
Alice shook her head at the ridiculously romantic notion before determinedly returning to work.
Focused on keeping her hands in proper position where Ethan had placed them, she quickly formed a pile of discarded soil as she worked with more efficiency, the stretch of cleared lawn slowly extending toward the trees that lay ahead of them.
After half an hour had passed and the sky was fully lit, Mr. Beaumont paused and placed his hand on Alice’s shovel, stopping her work as well.
“That’s enough for now,” he said slightly breathless.
They stood together, the tension between them now eased, chests heaving and puffs of their warm breath clouding the cool air before them.
Once cold, Alice was now overwarmed from exertion, and she could feel tendrils of damp hair curling against her temples from the air laced with morning dew.
“I’m sorry about last night,” she finally offered, breaking the silence that hung between them.
“I sought to impress you with my dedication, but I see now all I accomplished was once again displaying just how selfish I can be. I should not have asked David to stay late—truthfully, it never crossed my mind that he had a family to return to.”
Ethan looked at her intently, assessing, his eyes scanning her face.
Eventually, his chest lifted with a large sigh and he relaxed his weight onto the handle of the shovel, leaning against it like it was the only thing keeping him vertical.
“And I’m sorry I was so harsh with you. I should not have yelled at you like that.
” He looked away as his body changed position, straightening once again, but sought out her eyes before resuming his thoughts.
“I know you were intending to do something good, and no real harm was done. All I ask is that you think through the implications of your decisions before taking action in the future.”
Alice was warmed by his heartfelt apology; she could tell by his direct manner and steady tone that he was sincere.
“My reaction had more to do with myself than with you, and I would like to lay this to rest and try to begin again.”
“I’d like that, too.” Oh, how much she would like that.
It weighed on her that whenever he was around, her best self always seemed to disappear.
Alice was more aware than ever of how little she thought about those around her who made her life comfortable.
She cared about these people—and was friendly with many of those who served in her London household—but she rarely thought about them beyond what they could do for her.
While it had been difficult to hear Mr. Beaumont accuse her of such indifference last night, she did appreciate the new awareness of her actions, even if it did cause her pain.
“I suppose I’m discovering how truly ignorant I am of how others live,” Alice offered a moment later.
“Most of my life has been spent in London.” She felt her cheeks warm at speaking so openly of her shortcomings and hoped the existing redness from the cold would obfuscate the tell of her discomfort.
“All of our servants lived with us and did not need to return to others at the end of the day. Their job was to serve until we retired for the night or no longer required assistance. I never considered it might be different here.”
“I can understand that,” he offered, his tone soft and kind. “In the future, I’ll try to remember that we come from different backgrounds and I’ll approach any situation assuming you have the best intent.”
“Thank you. And I’ll try not to go off plan without first sharing my reasoning.” She offered a genuine smile, but her mind lingered on something he had just said. As Ethan collected her shovel and headed toward the shed, she called after him.
“Why is that, though?”
Turning back, his brow furrowed in question. “Why is what?”
“You said that we come from different backgrounds, but that’s not really true, is it? We are both related to a marquess in one form or another, so how is it that we were raised so differently?”
Ethan looked at her thoughtfully before answering, head tilted slightly so that his light brown hair fell charmingly across his brow. Her fingers itched to push it back and feel it’s silky texture.
“I guess it has to do with how my family came into its title and how my father was brought up,” he offered.
“Your family has held the Wrexham title for generations, so you were raised by those who had never known anything except life within the aristocracy, constantly being affirmed in the belief that meant they held importance.” Alice nodded as he expressed the exact sentiment which had been shared with her throughout her life.
“But my family is different.” Ethan shrugged and Alice couldn’t help but notice the muscles that moved across his chest and beneath his waistcoat. She forced herself to concentrate on what he was saying, knowing it was important.
“My father was ten years old when his father became the Marquess of Hampton. He remembered life before they were elevated, when they lived and worked with others in the merchant class. His father had worked as a solicitor, with my father and then I, following in his footsteps. He wasn’t born believing he was superior to anyone simply because of the position his family held—that status was granted to them.
He understood that we’re all the same and that the hierarchy of the British class system has been imposed and sustained by those who have power, enabling them to keep it. ”
He shrugged once again and continued. “No one is inherently better than another, it’s only the luck of whom you were born to which determines how you are regarded by those around you. My father understood this and raised my siblings and I to understand as much.”
Alice knew her eyes must be wide by the time he finished speaking because Ethan looked at her with mild amusement, small crinkles visible around his eyes. “So no, Miss Pembroke. We are not that different at all, but we understand the world around us differently.”