5. Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
L ady Fairfax guided them across the ballroom floor with practiced ease, weaving between clusters of guests, avoiding the groups with graceful steps. Alice clutched her wineglass to her chest, Captain Lacey’s cutting words eating at her mind. Her mother cast several sharp glances her way, no doubt noting her rigid posture and far-away look.
Her mother leaned in as they walked, ensuring they were not overheard by Lady Fairfax.
“If he asks to dance, remember to have him approach you,” Mrs. Montrose said. “Let him work for your dance card.”
Certainly Alice would not be afforded a dance tonight, not in the emotional state she was in. Not after her interaction with the captain.
Fortune hunter.
The thought burned into her, threatening to consume her from within. Her stomach churned—whether from hunger or shame, she could not be certain. She had, indeed, fasted to fit into her old ballgown—but she was experienced at abstaining from food under her mother’s direction. The room felt as though it was spinning slightly, the countless candles creating halos in her vision as she struggled to maintain her composure.
And now she was about to meet a duke.
They approached a quieter corner of the ballroom, where servants bustled about with bottles of wine and buttery hors d’oeuvres. The mere sight of food made Alice’s stomach lurch treacherously. But their destination was not the refreshment table—rather, they were heading toward a solitary figure standing beside it, beaming as he applauded the end of a dance.
He looked exactly as Alice had imagined a young duke might—tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair that swept across his forehead in an elegant wave. His neck was thick, his arms substantial beneath his perfectly tailored coat, yet there was something unexpectedly gentle in his gray eyes as they sparkled with genuine delight at the surrounding festivities. What struck her most was that, despite his obvious power and status, he stood alone, content to watch rather than command the attention of a crowd.
As they drew near, his thick eyebrows rose and his smile widened.
“Lady Fairfax,” he said, opening his arms in welcome. “It is a pleasure to see you again. Please, do not let me take up your time—I know you are busy with your guests.”
“Are you attempting to wriggle away from conversation already, Your Grace?” Lady Fairfax’s tone was playful, causing the duke to flush slightly.
“Oh no, of course not, I would never—” He raked a hand through his hair, betraying a nervousness that seemed at odds with Alice’s preconceptions of what a duke should be. The sight of his humanity slowed her racing heart, if only slightly.
His gaze shifted to Alice and her mother, eyebrows rising once more as he glanced back to Lady Fairfax.
“I see you come bearing new friends?”
“Indeed. Your Grace, may I present Mrs. Montrose and Miss Alice Montrose.” Lady Fairfax turned to Alice and her mother. “This is His Grace the Duke of Gainsbury.”
They exchanged curtsies and bows with grace, though Alice could feel her mother’s critical eye upon her, no doubt measuring the exact angle of her curtsy against the countless hours of practice.
“How are you acquainted with the dowager?” Elias asked, his question directed at Alice rather than her mother.
The captain must have addled her wits more than she realized, for all her mother’s careful instruction seemed to flee her mind. Rather than allowing her mother the customary three seconds to respond for her, Alice blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“My mother is part of her strange club.”
A heavy silence fell over their small group, and Alice could practically feel her mother’s mortification radiating beside her. The duke’s eyebrows drew together slightly in confusion, and Alice wished desperately that she could turn back time and sew her big mouth shut.
He seemed to sense her discomfort, his kind eyes softening as he smoothly redirected the conversation.
“Ah, well, I myself know the dowager through a mutual acquaintance who should be in attendance tonight.” He glanced around the room, then his face brightened. “Speaking of whom—here he is now.” He made a sweeping gesture with one large hand. “Lacey!”
Alice’s blood ran cold.
Captain Lacey approached their group with measured steps, and Alice felt both her mother and Lady Fairfax tense slightly beside her, no doubt remembering his earlier display of rudeness. The captain did not spare Alice so much as a glance as he joined them, his attention focused solely on the duke.
“Allow me to introduce—” Elias began, but Alice cut him off, her words sharper than she intended.
“We have met.”
“I would not consider that a proper introduction,” Captain Lacey said, throwing her own words back at her without missing a beat.
“Yet an introduction it still was.”
The entire group looked between them with varying degrees of confusion and concern. Mrs. Montrose’s elbow found Alice’s ribs, a clear warning to hold her tongue. Alice did not know what had come over her—it was as though another person entirely had taken control of her faculties.
And it all stemmed from him —the insufferable captain who had somehow shaken loose every carefully placed lesson, every meticulously practiced response, until her mind felt like a box of tangled string and needles upended upon the floor. His mere presence seemed to strip away years of her mother’s training, reducing her to stumbling through each interaction. That he stood there now, watching with those judgmental eyes, only served to scatter what remained of her wits.
“Does anyone require refreshment?” Captain Lacey asked smoothly, his gaze falling pointedly on Alice’s glass. “Miss Montrose seems to have quite enjoyed the wine.”
Alice froze as her mother’s eyes snapped to the nearly empty glass in her hand, her eyebrows arching almost as dramatically as the captain’s. The smug look on Lacey’s face made it clear this had been his intention all along—to draw attention to her apparent overindulgence in order to start a conflict with her mother.
“You are enjoying the wine?” The duke’s face lit up with genuine pleasure. “What do you think of it?”
“I—that is …” Alice stammered, her mother’s disapproving gaze burning into her.
“His Grace shipped cases of this vintage back from his Grand Tour as a birthday present for the dowager,” Lady Fairfax interjected smoothly, seeming to sense Alice’s distress.
“Indeed,” Elias said. “I must say, the Italians truly understand the art of winemaking. The vineyards near San Gimignano were particularly wonderful.”
Captain Lacey motioned to a passing servant, who moved to refill Alice’s glass. Her grip on the crystal stem was vice-like as she fought the urge to refuse. Before she could protest, her mother leaned close, her whisper urgent in Alice’s ear.
“You must accept it. Show His Grace that his taste is impeccable.”
“Pardon?”
Alice shot her mother a wide-eyed look of disbelief, but Mrs. Montrose’s expression brooked no argument. As Lady Fairfax received her own fresh glass, Alice slowly extended hers, allowing the servant to pour with expert precision.
“Drink,” her mother commanded under her breath. “ All of it.”
Alice caught Captain Lacey’s eye, noting how his smug expression faltered slightly as his attempt to get her in trouble with her mother backfired. She quickly shifted her attention to Elias, putting on her most radiant smile.
“Please, Your Grace, tell us more about your time on the Continent?”
Elias’s face lit up as he launched into tales of his travels—of mysterious monasteries where brown-robed friars made wines in ancient cellars, of coastal towns where local boys rode waves onto weathered docks, of sunsets that painted entire valleys in shades of gold and purple. For a moment, Alice forgot the insufferable captain standing opposite her, lost instead in the duke’s storytelling.
There was something magnetic about the man. He possessed a natural charm that drew others in, as though he were the sun and they were mere planets caught in his orbit. His conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by graceful gestures and perfectly timed pauses that had them all laughing in delight. He made it look so natural, as though he had been born to command attention while somehow remaining utterly humble.
Alice found herself intoxicated by his presence.
And—she had to admit—by the wine as well.
Throughout their conversation, her mother had continued to prod her whenever she paused in her drinking, and Alice had dutifully complied, choking down the horrid, tannic vintage. Now, on an empty stomach, the wine seemed to curdle inside her, burning a hole through her middle. Though it had taken the edge off her earlier anxiety, her muscles relaxing and laughter coming more freely, it had also made her terribly light-headed. She could feel her pulse throbbing in her temples, and the room had taken on a peculiar, dreamy quality.
As they caught their breath after an amusing anecdote about a nautical mishap in Venice, the duke turned toward Alice with an almost bashful expression.
“Miss Montrose,” he said, “if I may be so bold, might I have the honor of signing your dance card?”
She caught her breath. Though this was what she and her mother had dreamed of, she had not dared hope it would come so soon. The fortnight’s celebrations had several assemblies, musical evenings, and garden parties, so she had steeled herself, allowing herself time enough to learn if there might be any other eligible gentlemen worth pursuing. To be thrust into the duke’s orbit so quickly felt rather like being pushed into a quadrille without knowing the steps.
Alice extended her wrist automatically, then remembered her mother’s rules about making gentlemen approach her first. She jerked her hand back awkwardly, resulting in a strange gesture that made her look as though she’d changed her mind entirely.
“Oh! I—that is—how silly of me,” she let out a nervous laugh that sounded awkward even to her own ears. “The light is better over there, perhaps?—”
But as Elias stepped forward, Alice thrust out her arm again, nearly striking him in the chest. He dodged her with a grace she would only expect from a ballerina on stage, making her feel like an oaf in comparison. There followed a flurry of stumbling apologies from both parties until Alice, mortified beyond belief, simply yanked the card from her wrist and thrust it at him, pencil and all.
“This does simplify matters,” Elias said kindly, handing his glass to Captain Lacey so he might have hands free to sign, using his own thickly muscled thigh as a backing.
Alice caught the captain’s eye once more, her cheeks burning as she recognized the barely concealed amusement in his expression. He seemed to drink in her social blunders with as much relish as he had her wine.
Remembering her mother’s command, she took another sip from her glass.
She was so distracted by Lacey’s insufferable countenance that she didn’t notice the duke’s return until he was mere inches away. She froze, terrified of accidentally striking him again. He took her hand in his, and even through her glove, she could feel the warmth of his touch as he raised her wrist to re-tie the dance card. She caught a whiff of him—salt and citrus peels—that sent her reeling.
“I trust we shall be more graceful during our dance,” he murmured.
Though his tone held no malice—indeed, Alice was suspecting the duke was incapable of any sort of cruelty—the words still struck her.
Clumsy fool.
Yet even as the dark thought rose unbidden in her mind, she smiled brilliantly and executed a flawless curtsy.
“Thank you, You Grace.”
Elias offered one final, gracious bow, his gray eyes meeting Alice’s for a fleeting moment that seemed to stretch forever. There was something in that parting glance—a question perhaps—that made her breath catch in her throat. But before she could decipher its meaning, Captain Lacey had already begun steering him away, one hand placed possessively upon the duke’s shoulder as though marking his territory. Alice watched them retreat through the crowd, the captain’s head bent close to his friend’s as they spoke, and she could not shake the unsettling feeling that they discussed her.
Lady Fairfax lingered only moments longer before Lord Fairfax appeared at her elbow, murmuring something about a matter requiring her attention. Their hostess departed with an apologetic smile, leaving Alice alone with her mother and the distinct impression that she had somehow failed a test.
Her mother immediately began a swift, whispered critique of Alice’s every misstep, but the words seemed to come from very far away. Alice took another sip of wine, her gaze following the duke’s retreating form. Despite her gracelessness, despite Captain Lacey’s obvious disdain, despite the genuine possibility that the duke already knew of their fortune-hunting schemes, she could not deny the man’s charm. Even if it was hopeless, even if she was destined to fail, she would try her best to win him.
After all, what choice did she have? This, indeed, was the only chance at happiness she would likely be afforded. And she would do everything in her power to claim it.