13. Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
T he gown arrived at Alice’s chamber just before the evening’s social gathering, a sparkling spectacle of pale pink silk. She sat on her bed, running her fingers over the fabric as her mind wandered back to the afternoon’s croquet tournament. Something about the duke’s easy forgiveness left her unsettled. It seemed too simple, too clean a resolution after such mortification. Deep within, a voice whispered that such kindness must be false—that no one could truly be so forgiving.
Ruin is what you deserve.
A sharp knock at the connecting door between her chamber and her mother’s startled her from her dark thoughts. Alice hesitated, her heart quickening at the prospect of confronting Mrs. Montrose after their quarrel. But there was nothing for it—they would have to face each other eventually. She crossed to the door and opened it.
Her mother stood perfectly coiffed for supper, her silver-threaded golden hair arranged fashionably beneath a lace cap, her evening gown of deep blue silk complementing her features. Though lines showed at the corners of her eyes and mouth, Mrs. Montrose carried herself with the same grace that must have caught the dowager’s attention all those years ago.
“Mother,” Alice said softly.
“We shall be tardy if we dawdle,” Mrs. Montrose replied, as though the previous day’s tension had never existed. She swept into the room, bringing with her the familiar scent of lavender water.
“Are you certain all is well? I must apologize if I?—”
Her mother raised a hand, cutting off Alice’s words. “We need not speak of it.” She gestured to Miss Eastridge, who had followed her into the room. “Come, we must prepare you properly.”
As the maid began her work, Mrs. Montrose paced the chamber, outlining her plans for smoothing things over with the duke. Alice tried several times to explain that relations with His Grace had already improved, but her mother spoke over every attempt, lost in her own strategies. The dowager’s warning about excluding Mrs. Montrose from her efforts to win the duke’s favor seemed more prescient with each passing moment.
Miss Eastridge worked her magic once again, and Alice barely recognized the elegant creature who stared back from the mirror. But her mother seemed uninterested in the transformation, focused entirely on dispensing advice which Alice let wash over her, unheeded.
After some time, Alice gathered her courage, knowing she must say something before they entered society.
“Mama, I wonder if perhaps ... if I might attempt to resolve this situation myself?”
Mrs. Montrose went still, her face draining of color. Quickly, Alice pressed on.
“It was my error that created this predicament, after all. I made this bed, as they say, and I feel I should be the one to address it. I would not wish to cause you any additional distress.”
To Alice’s horror, her mother’s eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, my poor darling girl.” Mrs. Montrose pressed a handkerchief to her trembling lips. “You must be so frightened.”
“Mama—”
“To face such ruination alone! No, no, I cannot allow it.”
You are a worthless daughter.
“You are a wonderful daughter,” Mrs. Montrose said, pulling Alice into a fierce embrace. “We shall weather this storm together. Even if His Grace will have nothing more to do with you after such a catastrophe, I shall support you through it all.”
Alice caught Miss Eastridge’s eye over her mother’s shoulder, and they shared a wide-eyed look. There would be no reasoning with Mrs. Montrose tonight. Alice simply patted her mother’s back, maintaining a polite silence as they prepared to join the evening’s entertainment.
They followed the sound of music to Fairfax Hall’s grand music room, where tall windows draped in gold silk were pulled back to expose the twilight sky beyond. A lady wearing a perfectly crafted daffodil pin sat at a carved pianoforte, her fingers dancing across the keys with grace.
The space had been arranged to accommodate dancing, with chairs and settees pushed against the walls to create an open area in the center. Though more intimate than the last ball, the gathering still hummed with energy. Small groups clustered near the windows, while others gathered in the center to prepare for what looked like a country dance.
Alice’s eyes found Elias immediately. He stood in the center of the forming sets, waiting to begin the next dance with a lovely young woman Alice did not recognize. She searched herself for jealousy at the sight but found only a hollow ache—not for his attention, she realized, but for her own failings.
“To think she believes herself worthy of His Grace’s attention,” her mother whispered, eyes narrowed at the woman speaking to Elias. “How provincial her movements are—His Grace is far too kind to endure such company.”
Alice’s stomach clenched. A footman approached with a tray of wine glasses, but she waved him away, unwilling to risk a repeat of her previous disaster. They found a spot along the wall to observe the festivities, but before they could settle in, a stir at the entrance drew every eye in the room.
The Dowager Countess swept in on the arm of Captain Victor Lacey, his scarlet coat a shocking splash of color against her pearl-gray silk. There was something unsettling about how matched they seemed—two predators perfectly at ease in each other’s company. Victor leaned down to whisper something into the dowager’s ear, and to Alice’s astonishment, the older woman threw back her head in genuine laughter. Not her usual calculated social titter, but real, unrestrained mirth.
Alice remembered Victor’s casual mention of his standing invitation to Fairfax Hall, and suddenly wondered exactly how deep his connection to the dowager ran. As if sensing her thoughts, both turned to study her with eerily similar expressions—sharp, assessing, almost cunning in their intensity.
Alice suddenly wondered if the joke had been at her expense.
When they began making their way toward her, Mrs. Montrose muttered some excuse and practically fled. Alice reached for her mother’s sleeve, but she was already gone, leaving her daughter to face the approaching pair alone.
Alice smoothed her skirts and dropped into a curtsy, almost faltering when Victor executed a bow of such perfect grace that it seemed to mock his usual uncaring demeanor.
“Good evening, my lady, Captain Lacey,” she managed.
“Good evening, Miss Montrose,” the dowager replied. “I see you’ve already been snubbed by His Grace.”
Alice glanced toward Elias, waiting with the rest of the couples as the musicians took their places. The candlelight caught in his dark hair, highlighting the firm line of his jaw as he smiled down at his partner. He held himself with the same natural grace she’d observed during their croquet match, though this time his athletic build was displayed prominently in his evening attire.
“I have only just arrived, as you have,” Alice said carefully. “The duke had already secured a partner when I entered, and there was nothing to be done about it.”
“Ah, well.” The dowager’s eyes glittered as she looked up at Victor. “I find it most unseemly for a young lady of your quality to stand on the sidelines without a dance partner. Perhaps Captain Lacey might oblige while His Grace is otherwise occupied?”
Victor’s expression suggested he’d been stabbed.
“Dance? With a-a lady?”
The dowager’s fingers tightened on his arm like talons.
“It is the gentlemanly thing to do. Come now, we would not want you causing a scene.”
She practically shoved him toward Alice, and for the first time since they’d met, Victor appeared genuinely flustered. His hands trembled slightly as he took hers, and then— oh . The scent of him hit her like a physical force. Iron and musk, utterly masculine and devoid of artificial perfumes. Just him, raw and overwhelming. The smell seemed to carve holes in her defenses, her entire body humming with awareness as he led her to take their places in line on the opposite side of the duke and his partner.
Elias caught sight of them as they took their places, offering a cheerful wave that Alice could not help but return. But when she turned back to her partner, Victor’s expression had darkened like storm clouds gathering on the horizon, his thoughts clearly far from the dancing about to begin.
“Do you not usually dance with ladies at such gatherings?” she ventured.
“I do not,” he replied curtly.
The music began—a lively country dance that required them to weave between other couples, their hands meeting and parting in intricate patterns. Given his earlier stammering reluctance, Alice had expected him to be a poor dancer, yet he moved with surprising grace, each step precisely placed. The difference between his obvious skill and his earlier hesitation puzzled her.
“You seem quite comfortable with the Dowager Countess,” Alice said when they came together again. “Are you perhaps related?”
“No.”
“Then how long have you been acquainted?”
“Five years,” Victor said, his shoes clicking against the floor as they turned about each other.
“Do you often accompany her to such events?”
He remained silent through several measures of music, and Alice feared she’d overstepped. But as they came back together, he finally spoke, his voice pitched low for her ears alone.
“I do not. Though I make it a habit to join the Dowager Countess for tea as often as I am able.”
“Oh?”
They separated again, moving through the pattern of the dance that took them around other couples. When they next joined hands, Victor’s impressive eyebrows had drawn together in obvious concern.
“This may seem absurd, particularly given the sizable crowd her birthday celebration has drawn, but I believe the woman to be lonely.”
“Lonely?” Alice could not keep the surprise from her voice. “But she has her son and daughter-in-law here at Fairfax Hall. And then there is her Garden?—”
“I suppose you are right,” Victor conceded, though his tone suggested otherwise.
Alice studied him with fresh eyes as they moved through the steps.
“Are you telling me you spend your leisure hours in the company of elderly ladies out of compassion? If I did not know any better, I would say that was quite the kindly thing to do.”
He rolled his eyes, but a smile played at the corners of his mouth as they came together, forearms touching as they spun around each other. When he spoke, his voice dropped to a whisper that sent shivers racing down her spine.
“Please, do not speak so loudly. I have a reputation for wickedness to maintain.”
A most unladylike snort of laughter escaped Alice before she could stop it. Victor’s answering grin was positively devilish as he stepped away, hands folded properly behind his back.
They continued their dance, Alice’s mind whirling at this new image of Victor as the dowager’s confidant. Just as she gathered her courage to probe deeper, to peel back more layers of this puzzling man, the music drew to a close.
Without ceremony or farewell, Victor executed a stiff bow and practically fled, leaving her standing bewildered in the middle of the floor. Her brow furrowed as she watched him retreat, wondering what she could have possibly said to provoke such a reaction.
Perhaps she had overstepped after all.
Shaking her head, she turned to see Elias still conversing with his partner, his rich laughter carrying across the room. As she watched him charm the assembled company, she hoped she might yet have another chance to finally prove herself worthy of his attention.
Her mother reappeared at her side as the next dance was forming, looking perfectly composed despite her earlier retreat.
“Mama, were you attempting to avoid the dowager?” Alice asked quietly.
“Nonsense, my dear. I merely needed to refresh myself.” Mrs. Montrose adjusted her lace cap with steady fingers, though Alice noted she kept glancing toward the corner where the dowager still held court. “Now then, what are your intentions regarding His Grace?”
Alice watched as Elias concluded his conversation with his previous partner. He stood alone for the first time that evening, and her heart lifted at the prospect of dancing with him.
“I thought perhaps I might?—”
“You mustn’t approach him,” her mother cut in sharply.
“But Mama, surely after the croquet match today?—”
“The croquet match?” Mrs. Montrose’s eyes widened. “You did not tell me you had interaction with His Grace this afternoon.”
“I was attempting to earlier, but?—”
“No matter. The situation remains delicate.” Her mother’s grip tightened on her arm as Elias glanced their way. “After such a disaster, it would be unseemly to appear too eager. A man of his station must be the one to smooth things over.”
“I do not think?—”
“Men enjoy the chase, my dear. It is like hunting—they must believe they are the ones pursuing the quarry.” When Alice opened her mouth to protest, her mother pressed on. “Trust me on this. I have far more experience in these matters.”
Elias began moving in their direction, a warm smile playing about his lips. Alice’s heart leaped—but before he could reach them, her mother practically dragged her toward the refreshment table.
“Mama, I believe he meant to speak with us.”
“Precisely. And now he shall have to work harder for the privilege.” Mrs. Montrose selected a glass of lemonade with satisfaction. “You must make him prove he is truly a gentleman.”
Alice watched helplessly as another group of guests intercepted Elias’s path. The opportunity slipped away like water through her fingers. She could not help but remember the dowager’s warning about pursuing this without her mother’s interference.
“Are you certain this is wise?”
“My dear girl,” Mrs. Montrose said, patting her hand. “There are rules to this game. The sooner you learn them, the better.”
But as Alice observed Elias being drawn into another dance, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her mother’s rules belonged to a different game entirely.
And those rules might cost her everything.