Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Now Alice had somewhat of a goal, she found life to be a lot more satisfying. She had her riding, she had her exercises, and she had her newfound intention of seeing Helena married to the man she wished to marry.
Provided, of course, that he was suitable.
This was what being a Duchess was about, she realized. And really, it wasn’t so bad. The Duke was good to her, she had more freedom in his household than she ever had at home, and she also had the power to make things happen.
“Frederick…” she murmured in the carriage to the soiree. “Might I ask you for a favor?”
He raised his brows at the sound of his Christian name. “You must want it badly if you are prepared to ask me.”
“It’s about Helena.”
His brows creased. “What about her?”
“She is in love with a young man whom I think she ought to be able to marry.”
His fingers drummed across his knee; she found her gaze unaccountably drawn to that simple movement. “And why is this any of my concern?”
“Well, you are close friends with her brother.”
“Why does that mean I should intercede on her behalf?” He tilted his head at her. “What has you so eager to stand in her defense, anyway?”
“Because she is a shy girl who is too afraid to speak up for herself,” Alice replied. “And because isn’t that one of the honors of being a Duchess? I have the influence to make things happen.”
“And if it is a passing infatuation?”
“She is twenty, Frederick. Do you think I was foolish and didn’t know my own mind at twenty?”
“Would you have rather married whichever boy you had a fancy for at twenty, then?”
Alice lifted her chin. “You mean, if I’d been given a choice?”
“If you could choose now,” he added smoothly. “Think of someone you had an inclination for. Would you choose them now?”
The honest answer was no. She would never have chosen any of her beaus to marry, and they certainly hadn’t chosen her after the accident.
“I never felt anything strongly enough for any of them,” she shrugged. “Helena is in love. She told me so herself.”
His brows rose. “So you have never been in love?”
“Is that so surprising? The time when I might best have met a gentleman to fall in love with, I was convalescing. My aunt and uncle hardly encouraged visitors.”
“I see.”
“What of you?” she swiftly put in. “Have you ever been in love?”
He considered her carefully, and her cheeks burned.
“No,” he said at last. “I don’t believe so. When I was a young man, still at university, I fancied myself in love with a very charming young woman, but it ended before it could really begin, and since then, I have not held a tendre for anyone I can recall.”
Her heart beat faster, though she didn’t know why. “I see.”
“So tell me, Alice.” He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs now, and in the swinging light of the lantern, she could see the way the material stretched over the muscles in his upper legs. Her head spun and her mouth felt dry. “Remind me why I should intervene for Helena?”
“Well, once I meet the man in question and ascertain if I think he would be good to her…” She licked her lips.
“He is a younger son and due to join the army. She believes he will distinguish himself, but it is obviously a risk, and one I presume Lord Denshire would prefer not to engage in. But marrying a gentleman one loves—that is a cruel fate indeed.”
“Is it?” His eyes were hypnotic, holding her captive. “And you, I suppose, would know?”
She drew herself up. “You know I never desired our marriage.”
“I do.” He leaned back again, taking up his former position as though he had leveled every ounce of intensity he possessed at her in the space of a heartbeat. “What will you give me in exchange?”
“In exchange?”
“I will do all I can to make your life comfortable, but I never agreed to intercede in others’ lives. That is not at all my way. Tell me then—for what reason should I speak up for her? She has a tongue in her head; she can confront her own brother. I see no need for my intervention.”
“But you would if I offered you something in return?”
“Perhaps. If the man in question is worthy.”
She rubbed her damp palms on her skirt. “I asked for him to be invited tonight so I could ascertain his character, as far as I can.”
“I see. A good beginning.”
“And if I think he is attached to her and would make her happy, I wish to encourage the match as far as possible. And you, as my husband and a Duke to boot, may have influence here I do not.”
He inclined his head, eyes still on hers. “I expect so. But the question still remains, my dear. What will you give me for this?”
“You will speak with Lord Denshire?”
“I will exert all my considerable influence to make this happen.” He cocked a brow at her. “Well?”
“What would you like?”
“That’s not for me to ask.”
Odious man. She scowled at him, and thought she saw the corner of a smile in return before he tucked it away. No doubt he was enjoying teasing her.
Unbidden, her mind returned to the kiss they had shared after he had gifted her the mare. Was he hoping for something of that nature again?
If she gave him that, she risked losing herself to him. But what did she have to offer aside from her time, attention, and those demonstrations of affection he so clearly desired from her?
“You may… massage my leg,” she finally said, and his eyes widened in surprise. “And help me walk. In short, you may aid in the recovery of that which you damaged in substitute of the physician. Do you accept?”
His eyes narrowed. “Every day?”
“That would be convenient, yes. Before any evening engagements so I don’t take over too much of your time.”
“Ah, you mistake me, Alice,” he replied with a frankly devastating smile. “That is not my concern in the slightest.”
“So… you accept?” she narrowed her eyes.
“I do.” He held up a finger. “On the condition that, having spoken with this gentleman, I also believe he is of good character.”
She almost scoffed at the idea of him judging character, but upon reflection, she decided it might be useful to have a male opinion. After all, there were many things about men that were still a mystery to her.
“Very well,” she accepted, holding out her hand to shake—which he did so with another twitch of his lips into a smile. “We have a deal.”
Frederick had not expected Alice to concede to him so readily, nor to have accepted his offer of a deal. That she had perched herself with such composure upon his arm as he escorted her into Lady Cavendish’s drawing room was, in itself, a quiet victory.
The soiree was an intimate affair—modest in scale, yet promising all the usual diversions: dancing, cards, dinner, and the idle intrigues such evenings invited. Frederick was reasonably certain he wouldn’t be bored.
Especially certain with Alice on his arm.
The moment they entered the room, she searched for Helena, and once she spotted the girl, she dragged him over to speak with her.
“Where is your Mr. Kingsley?” Alice asked in greeting. She hadn’t seemed to notice that in her eagerness to move across the room, she had barely used her stick. “We must speak with him.”
Helena glanced nervously at Frederick, who offered her a reassuring smile.
Ordinarily, he would never involve himself in Denshire’s business, but he saw no problems with promoting the match if it was indeed a good enough one.
She may be the daughter of a Marquess—the only daughter, moreover—but he had known her since she was a girl, and underneath that shy demeanor, she had a stubborn streak.
A streak he rather suspected his wife would cultivate.
“I shall assist if I believe this Mr. Kingsley is worthy of you,” he whispered. “Just as I would do for any sister of my own.”
“Thank you,” Helena replied coyly.
Alice surveyed the room rather as a general might survey his troops. Frederick found it infuriatingly endearing.
He had never meant to find his wife anything more than passably agreeable.
The best case scenario, as far as he was concerned, was for them to get along, have tolerable enthusiasm for one another in bed, and otherwise not interfere too much with each other’s tasks.
He wanted her to forgive him, embrace the life he had offered her, and for the rumors around his honor to die down.
Instead, he had a firebrand on his hands who seemed as liable to destroy him as bring him peace, and he found it unaccountably intoxicating.
“Mr. Kingsley is that man over there,” Helena whispered, nodding into a corner where a sandy-haired young man stood alone, a glass of wine in his hands. “Be kind to him. And don’t tell him of my intentions—I have already had to explain once that my mother doesn’t approve of the match, and—”
“Say no more,” Alice replied and turned a sickly sweet smile to Frederick. “You would not say anything, would you, dearest?”
“Upon my honor, never.”
She grunted at the sound of his honor, sending irritation shooting into his chest, but before he could argue the point, she slipped her hand into his arm and bade him to help her across the room.
Eyes followed them wherever they went. Although some of the talk around their marriage—and its scandalous origins—had died down, they were enough of a rarity that people still went out of their way to glimpse them.
Alice’s spine straightened. “Am I such an oddity?”
“Only when you drink too much.” At her glare, he laughed down at her. “You are not at all such an oddity, but you must remember how you barged into the church at my first attempt at marriage. It is not your limp that sets you apart.”
Evidently, that was the right thing to say, because her chin lifted again as they reached Mr. Kingsley.
“Your Graces.” The man bowed at once. He was a pleasant-faced lad, young but not overly so—Frederick estimated him to be in his early-to-mid twenties. Not a bad age for a girl of twenty, especially when he intended to distinguish himself in the army.
“Mr. Kingsley! How are you enjoying the party thus far?” Alice slipped her arm from Frederick’s to offer her hand to Mr. Kingsley, who bowed over it in some confusion.
“Very well, Your Grace.” He looked around the room wistfully, and Frederick did not fail to notice the way his gaze fixed on Helena’s for longer than was traditional.
“This shall be my last for a while, I fear. I’ll be entering the army as of next month, and I expect I will be training for some time. ”
“Oh, of course,” Alice beamed. “If I had a brother, I believe I would be proud if he held such ambitions. What rank?”
“Lieutenant, though I hope to become Captain soon enough.”
“I have no doubt you will,” Alice nodded approvingly. “And then you shall make a very nice addition to our drawing rooms. We do so like to see our redcoats, don’t we, Your Grace?”
Frederick bowed slightly. “Indeed we do. An honorable occupation, to be sure.”
“Well, we younger brothers must make do,” Mr. Kingsley said, bowing a little in response. “And it will be an honor to act in defense of our country.”
Alice sent a questioning glance up at Frederick, and he did his best not to feel too gratified that she was trusting to his knowledge here. “But Napoleon is no longer a threat, is he not?”
“No,” he assured her. “But it is in England’s benefit to maintain a strong army.”
As Alice engaged the young man in more conversation, speaking with far more presence than he once would have presumed her capable of, Frederick thought back to what he knew of the boy—which was little.
He was the younger brother to Lord Henshaw, a gentleman approaching thirty who had done little with his time or title other than drink and make merry.
Everyone knew him well as a rake. He, too, was here somewhere, his connections having gotten him an invitation.
But as far as Frederick knew, Mr. Kingsley, as was often the case with younger brothers, was a far more sensible man.
He had to be, given his future was not assured.
The army certainly was a respectable position for him, and if he did well for himself, it would be a comfortable life.
They would not have above two horses and one carriage, he imagined, and would not be able to afford a permanent residence in London, but he doubted Helena—a girl whose nose was always in a book—would care much for that regardless.
He could certainly see her doing worse for herself than a captain, provided he was granted the position.
“I have another question, sir,” Alice suddenly said, her heart-shaped face open as she looked up at Mr. Kingsley. “Are you a man of constancy?”
The man flushed. “I like to consider myself so, yes.”
“And if you were to come back as a captain and Lady Helena had not married?”
“Alice,” Frederick murmured. “Don’t embarrass the man.”
Alice smiled kindly. “I’m on your side,” she explained. “I think one should marry for love if at all possible, and when there is love, I believe the best course is to follow where it leads.
“If you feel that strong affection for Lady Helena, and she returns it, and she is content with the life you can provide her, then I see no reason why you should not marry. But tell me, in two years, will you feel the same way? Because where there is no love, it is foolishness to throw oneself into a permanent institution.”
Mr. Kingsley paled, but he offered her a stiff, formal bow. “My heart and mind will remain unchanged no matter how much time passes, Your Grace.”
Alice grinned. “Excellent. Come, Your Grace.”
Frederick bowed his head to the other man and followed his outspoken wife to the table of refreshments. She turned to him, a glass of punch in her hand and an expression of unusual openness on her face.
“What do you think about him?” she asked. “Do you think he would make for a good husband?”
“I think you near scared him out of his wits.” Frederick folded his arms and leaned against a pillar. “He doesn’t even know you.”
“When one marries, they must defend their choice to the world at large, and they cannot know everyone in it,” Alice pointed out. “Besides, if I am to help her, I should know that he will treat her well.”
“And do you think he will?”
She hesitated, and music started up. Frederick glanced at the line of dancers.
A waltz—a relatively new addition to drawing rooms, but one that would allow them some opportunity for private conversation.
And, if he was honest, he wanted to get his wife in his arms again.
This seemed like the best excuse to achieve that.
He held out his hand. “Dance with me?” he asked, and she looked up at him, eyes magnetic, lips slightly parted.
He yearned to kiss her.
He yearned to do unspoken things to her when they got back home. But for now, he would settle for a dance.
“I can’t,” she murmured after a second. “My leg—”
“We don’t have to get the steps perfect.”
Slowly, her fingers curled around his. “Catch me if I fall?”
“It would be my pleasure.”