Chapter Six
Alice had slept little the previous night. She’d woken with tired eyes and a less-than-sunny nature. Maggie had taken a single look at her and had a bath drawn, believing a soak in hot water cured a great many things. It had not.
“Your aunt has yet to rise, my lady,” Maggie said after finishing with Alice’s hair.
“Thank you, Maggie. Go to the kitchen now and take your tea with that bossy man of yours.”
Her maid smiled. “I’ll do just that, thank you, my lady.”
After she’d left, Alice wandered the halls of her father’s townhouse. He hadn’t set foot inside it for many years—not even to attend his son’s funeral—which had only confirmed in her mind that he was a weak, immoral, horrid beast of a man.
Yes, he had left Alice and her aunt to live as they pleased in his estate and townhouse, but she would never forgive him for choosing his mistress over burying his child.
Alice returned to her room and sat at the desk. She was the one who ran the family’s finances, and who ensured he had money to lavish on his mistress. She sent it through his trusted servant, a man who arrived on her doorstep with notes that never asked after her, only for funds.
“Coward,” she muttered.
She had spent the night thinking about Lord Stafford.
Alice saw him over and over, shirtless, his big body glistening with sweat.
Seeing his power unleashed should have been terrifying.
It was not, instead awakening something she’d never felt before.
A need for a man she neither wanted nor had room for in her life.
Alice had long ago accepted that she would never marry or bind herself to a man. It had been her choice because she refused to be dictated to, as her father once had. Then there were her memories of her brother, and of the pain he had endured. No, she would never allow a man control over her again.
Until last night, she had believed herself content with that decision.
But now Lord Stafford had kissed and held her pressed to the hard wall of his chest. What shocked her was the fierce surge of want she’d felt.
She might be innocent, but she was not ignorant.
Alice had read books and spoken to Maggie about what occurred between a man and a woman.
And in that moment, had he stripped her bare, she would have let him.
Blind need, that was how she’d named it. Blind to everything but the man kissing and touching her.
Alice liked control. Last night, she’d had none. He had taken it from her. It was a terrifying thought for a woman who survived through strength and self-possession.
She turned back to the papers Mr. Bradley, her father’s man of affairs, had brought her. Thankfully, he was no fool. He had soon realized that Alice was far more capable than Lord Smythe and had accepted that he would now take direction from her.
When the work was done, she sat back and thought about the new dilemma—Lord Stafford.
He knew Kenneth Jackson and had warned her to stay away, to abandon thoughts of revenge.
But she could not because she had promised Charles.
Even without that promise, she would have wanted to destroy the man who had taken her brother’s life long before his heart stopped beating.
“What do I do now?” Alice whispered.
Short of avoiding Lord Stafford, he always would be in her sphere. That kiss would lie unspoken but present between them.
She knew little about the man, other than women adored him and that he was polite and pleasant in society.
His two close friends, Lords Hamilton and Corbyn, were both married.
Alice had seen him speaking often with Lord Hamilton’s three aunts, who were Aunt Gwen’s friends.
They were strong-minded women who never hesitated to say what they thought.
She was certain Lord Stafford had suffered as Charles had. What Alice didn’t know was what she ought to do about it. Perhaps she would write a list. That usually helped her find the right path forward.
A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts.
“Enter.”
“Lord Stafford has called, my lady.”
Shock held her silent for several seconds as she stared at Phipps, her butler. “Ah—”
“I can send him away if you wish, my lady?”
Phipps looked every inch the proper butler, regal and unflappable. He had also been there for her, along with Maggie and Ezra, when Charles had died.
“Put him in the parlor, and I will be there shortly. Tea too, I think.”
“I will see to it at once. Shall I call your aunt to join you?”
“She is still sleeping, so please do not wake her.”
“Maggie—”
“We’ll leave the door open, so there’s no need to worry. Thank you, Phipps.”
Her butler bowed and left the room.
Lord Stafford was here. Why did that make her heart thud harder? Because last night he kissed and held you, idiot.
Alice rose and paced the room, shaking her hands. She lectured herself to be exactly who she had always been, strong and independent. When her spine finally stiffened, she left the room. A glance in the hall mirror confirmed she looked as she always did—composed and well put together.
The parlor door was open and Alice entered.
He stood at the window, looking down at the street below.
He was immaculate as always; his broad shoulders were encased in deep blue today, hair slightly mussed.
Large body seeming at ease, unlike Alice.
Everything about the Marquess of Stafford was big and intimidating, but she would never let him see that.
Alice showed no weakness. She had worked hard to be the cool, emotionless woman society saw.
A shield she’d built because no one, apart from Charles, had ever protected her.
Thankfully, her father had not forced her to marry. She kept his affairs running smoothly, and a son-in-law might have complicated that.
“Lord Stafford.”
He turned, shoulders first, eyes locking on hers before the rest of him followed. The man moved with surprising grace for his size. In moments, he was before her, bowing deeply. His gaze flicked briefly toward the open door.
“Is your aunt joining us?”
“She is not.” Alice’s eyes found the darkening bruise on his jaw from the fight last night.
He nodded. “Forgive me for my actions last night, Lady Alice. The only excuse I can offer is that when I fight, it takes me a while to calm down, and sometimes I am not entirely rational.”
Alice had seen that smile before, across ballrooms. She’d heard ladies tittering over him, calling him swoon-worthy.
“So, what you’re saying is I was the handy vessel to rid yourself of excess—”
“I would not call you a handy vessel, Lady Alice. You are an exceptionally beautiful woman, and let no one tell you otherwise. But what I did was wrong. I behaved like an animal. I hope you can forgive me.”
He thought she was beautiful. The words left her momentarily speechless. When had anyone last spoken to her like that? She couldn’t remember a single time.
“Of course, and I was not entirely blameless,” she conceded. Honesty mattered to her.
His lips twitched at her words.
“Perhaps the moment overcame me as well. Now,” Alice said, eager to move from uncomfortable territory, “is that all that brings you to an unmarried woman’s home at such an hour?”
“Your reputation is safe. No one saw me, Lady Alice. And as for why I came, it is to ask again what I asked last night, why were you there?”
“I believe I told you my actions are no business of yours, Lord Stafford.”
He studied her, and she had the uneasy sense he saw far more than anyone else ever had. It disturbed her, but she did not look away.
“Were you there because you knew it was possible Kenneth Jackson might attend, my lady?”
Alice was an excellent actress. By sheer willpower, she kept her face composed, or so she hoped.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because a year ago, I received some alarming news about him. I have been hunting him since.”
“You’ve not seen him since Blackwood Hall?” she asked, raising a brow.
“Some men have paid for what they did to us and to others, but not Kenneth Jackson. He disappeared from our world. Once we left, we never saw or heard from him again. That changed a year ago, and I realized I wanted justice. I have been hunting him ever since.”
Hunting him?
“What news reached you?”
“News that Kenneth Jackson was still committing unspeakable acts against young children. This time at a charity school here in London.”
“Dear Lord,” Alice whispered.
“He fled the facility when confronted by one of the benefactors after rumors of his actions reached him,” Lord Stafford added.
“And someone told you?”
“I overheard a conversation,” he said simply.
They fell silent, eyes locked for long, heated seconds.
“I know your brother was a Blackwood boy, Lady Alice.”
She nodded.
“Did he speak of his time there? Is that why you wish to find Jackson?”
Emotion choked her as it always did when she thought about the cruelty Charles had suffered at Blackwood Hall, and how it had broken him beyond repair.
“Why are you asking me this?” The words emerged hoarse, stripped of her usual composure.
“I have no wish to upset you, my lady.”
Alice turned from him to the window, staring down at the street below to steady herself. She knew he was still watching her. Breathing deeply, she turned back.
“You suffered terribly, didn’t you? Like my brother?” She hadn’t meant to ask but the words had escaped before she could stop them. She didn’t expect an answer. He gave one, with a single, grave nod.
“I…I’m sorry.”
He said nothing, his eyes unreadable.
“Charles was there for two years before he came home ill,” she continued. “He never fully recovered. His spirit was broken in Blackwood Hall.” She looked down at her clenched fists.
She heard him move, and moments later his boots stopped inches from hers. Polished black leather gleaming. Alice forced herself to meet his gaze.
“I knew he was a Blackwood boy, my lady. We have a list.”
“A list?”
“My friends, Lords Hamilton and Corbyn. We entered Blackwood Hall together. When we left, we made a list of everyone who had attended. Everyone who may have suffered.”
“Why?”
He looked so calm speaking of something that had to have scarred his soul.
“Because we made a vow when our torment ended—”
“When did it end?” she whispered, regretting the question at once. She didn’t want to know how long he had suffered.
“That is not my story alone to tell, my lady.”
“Of course.” Her voice softened. “What was your vow?”
“No Blackwood boy would walk alone.”
He spoke the words quietly, but his eyes had darkened, hardening with something fierce and implacable. Alice shivered. This was not a man one wished to make an enemy of, and she would do well to remember that.