Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
A lmost an hour after dancing with his lordship and no one else asking for her hand—she suspected rumors of her and Benedict’s courtship were already making their rounds—Alice escaped through the open terrace doors into the dark gardens.
The crowd was a frightful crush, and it amazed her that ladies of the le beau ton attended such lavish balls almost nightly. Moving in the opposite direction of a light and vibrant ballroom to a shadowed section of the lantern-lit gardens, she found a bench, tipped her face to the sky, and sighed.
“My wits begin to turn.” The somberness of the King Lear quote stilled her heart even more. “Benedict may be a staid choice, but he is also a sensible one. I cannot say so for Edward…”
Even though he makes your heart race…
Even though a mere look from him makes you shiver…
Even though his kiss will live in your dreams forever and a day…
Twisting her head over her shoulder, she could hear the strains of music spilling through the doors from the ballroom, beckoning her to return, but she didn’t want to be the target for unsavory matrons and jealous debutantes.
She watched quietly as a couple slipped outside, the lady giggling and the man swooping her into his arms. Turning away, she leaned forward and tried to assess her heart.
It was early days but Alice still felt guilt for having these feelings for Edward that she felt she should have for Benedict. Should she talk to Benedict or follow through with her plan?
After all, what is one more sacrifice on the top of the heap I’ve already given up?
“But can I sacrifice love… true love…” she whispered to herself.
The crunch of footsteps—light footsteps on the gravel had her looking up to find Penelope coming near.
“Alice?” She asked. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”
“I should ask you that same question,” she chided gently while standing. “You know it is dangerous coming out here by yourself, and before you say the obvious , yes, I know, I am doing the same thing. But—but I needed some air.”
Her sister looked to the house, “You need to come back inside. Eliza is up to her old tricks again.”
“With what this time?” Alice asked, not surprised that her cousin was sewing seeds of dissension. Eliza really despised when she was not the center of attention.
As they headed back, Penelope said, “From the little I heard, she was saying how she had a feeling Marquess Brampton isn’t all that taken with you and the reason he is not here is because he is looking for someone else.”
Grinding her teeth, Alice picked up her pace. More rumors would destabilize the already fragile reputation she had around Town. Entering the room, she tried to find Eliza but had to stall as the girl was being led off the sidelines to the dancefloor by a handsome young man who admittedly looked at Eliza as if she were a goddess in the flesh.
If only he knew.
Grimly, she glanced around, hoping Duke Valhaven was still around—but no, he was nowhere to be seen.
Her stomach plummeted; he must have left.
Despondent, she drifted to the seating area and sat, unsure of what to do next; but kept her head up and her back firm as she already felt the scathing gazes rippling all over her. She knew Penelope was right; Eliza had done it again and weaponized her cronies against her.
She twisted her head just a fraction and saw Miranda Valentine and two subjugates, their smirks hardly subtle as they whispered behind fans. It was like back in the schoolroom and her debut in polite company all over again. She felt alone—except for the prickling company of her aunt and cousin, which, frankly, was worse than being alone.
“Don’t mind them,” Penelope whispered. “They are simply bitter and jealous.”
Privately, Alice did not think they were either, but she knew they did scorn her as an outsider and were hateful that she had attained the attention of a Marquess and possibly a Duke. She bit her tongue and faced the dance floor again while Penelope went to the refreshments table.
“Miss Winslow?” She turned her head at a footman’s low whisper, her head cocked in question.
“Yes, sir?”
“This was sent for you, Miss.” The footman bowed and handed her a card.
“Oh, thank you,” she replied, her eyes dropping to the white square in his hand.
Delicately, she broke the seal and unfolded the heavy stationery; spinning it around, she saw the gold seal of the Valhaven Dukedom, and it was a formal invitation to a masquerade ball at his home.
A separate slip of paper was behind it and she saw the forceful slashing hand.
I’d like to say my brother was the one who invited you, but I cannot. I am the one and it is purely for selfish reasons. Please wear your dove costume again. I like seeing your face covered in lace.
Edward.
Duke Valhaven
Alice felt her heart thudding a tremulous beat. He wanted her in his home, yes, but she felt, very conflictingly, that he was not inviting her to see Benedict.
It could be the only safe way to relay what intelligence he has found out about Rutledge…
With her panic easing a little, she stowed the invitation and note into her reticule before Penelope returned with glasses of water in hand. Taking one, she teasingly asked, “The champagne is not to your liking this evening?”
Her sister returned a weak smile, “My stomach is not feeling very well tonight, so nothing strong will be good for me.”
“Ah, I understand,” Alice nodded as she sipped her cool drink. There were a million things that could turn her sister’s stomach; matter of fact, if she were honest with herself, she did not feel settled either.
The stares and gossip were one thing; the jealousy and treachery by Eliza were another—but the worst thing was her indecisiveness about Benedict.
Was she ready to go to Edward’s ball, though?
At that moment, the orchestra reached a crescendo, the invitation in her reticule felt as if it were burning a hole through the cloth, and a volley of emotions rioted through her head.
Calm down, Alice. Don’t be a ninny, it is going to be purely business. There won't be anything beyond the pale. And if it strays away from the matter at hand… I’d best put it right back on track.
Nothing untoward could or would come from this meeting. It was best if she kept it that way.
Seated in the cloaking darkness of his study at Valhaven Estate, Edward shifted the silk lapel of his black silk robe from his cooled skin and swirled his glass of rich Spanish wine.
Perched on the marble mantle above the flicking fire, a gold ormolu clock chimed the hour as eleven, the small sound distinctive in the silence, but it was not so silent that he did not hear the pads of his Irish Wolfhound, Atticus , as he came closer.
The dog sat on his haunches and was still taller than Edward's sternum. Smiling, he reached out to rub the hound's greying muzzle. “All right, old boy?”
Resting his head on Edward’s knees, the dog gave him a small sound rumbling up from his throat. “I know, boy,” Edward said, petting his ears. “It’s been troubling for me too.”
Another sound, a funny one, scarily resembling a human scoff came from Atticus and Edward narrowed his eyes. “Do I get a hint of judgment from you? Tell me then, was some female temptress that had slid under your skin also almost tempting you away from your good senses? Hm?
“The last time I checked, when I rescued you from that ditch so many years ago, there was no brother dog near you whose trust you were on the verge of shattering.”
Snuffling, Atticus moved to the rug near the hearth, did two circles before he laid on his belly before the fire; the red-gold light glimmered over his spotted grey coat.
He wouldn’t be moving for a while, Edward knew that.
Sipping a strong mouth, Edward knew it was time to take off to bed, but he knew he would not sleep a wink.
Pressing the cold glass to his temple, he sighed, “What in god’s name am I doing inviting her?”
Edward prided himself on strategic thinking, it was how he won chess games and outmaneuvered sly businessmen who thought they’d had him over a barrel. As far as he saw it, everyone and every situation was like a chess match, he had to move the pieces to his advantage.
However, he had no idea why he had shifted Alice closer to him when the logical thing to do was to keep her away from him.
Alice’s contradictions intrigued Edward. She exuded both girlish innocence and womanly allure… not to mention a strong-minded spirit. Recalling the way she’d nearly walked into the den of the devil without a single care made his lips twitch.
“She is a brave one,” he sipped his drink. “That is for sure.”
Despite his inexplicable attraction to Alice, he couldn’t deny she represented the sort of woman he’d once said he would rather be with than one of the milk-fed ladies of the ton.
She was headstrong, brave, and smart—no, if she had tracked Rutledge down to his club when most people had no idea he owned it, she was more than smart—and from that one kiss, he reckoned she had some passion slumbering under her skin. Even so, she carried herself as if she were a proper young lady.
“Certainly not a featherbrained twit like the rest of them…” he agreed. “I guess Benedict would appreciate my thoughtfulness of beating him to the punch in inviting her…”
Stop lying to yourself, Edward. You want her. Not as far as marriage goes, but something tells me she won't be the sort to be a mistress, a plaything until your intrigue and amusement wanes. Where is the in-between?
Pondering their interactions, he had to wonder if he’d imagined the magnetism between them. Was it a figment of his own lustful fantasies or had he truly felt something coming from her too?
He was hardly the epitome of morality, yet he’d never entice an innocent, and there was no question, Alice was an innocent.
His temple throbbed, “What in God’s name am I doing?”
“I’d ask you the same thing,” Benedict said while entering the room, a cup of coffee in hand. Dressed in a pair of loose trousers and a linen shirt, his brother added, “ I have a reason to be burning the candle at both ends, but I cannot say why you are up.”
Resting his glass on a small round table at his side, Edward admitted, “A moral dilemma is my problem this night, Benedict. I assume yours is trying to finish a treatise on Jean-Baptiste’s Political Economy.”
An aggrieved sigh came from the depths of Benedict’s throat, “How on earth do you know that?”
His smile was flickering. “Old man Favreau always gives that paper at this time of year. It is a timeless rite of passage for everyone who takes his class, and it is one everyone knows to prepare for.” He levered an admonishing look to Benedict. “Even you, if you had listened to me months ago.”
Laughing softly, Benedict took a seat and rubbed his forehead, “Would you happen to have your old paper anywhere, by the by?”
“No,” Edward replied. “You shall suffer on your own.”
“So,” crossing his legs, Benedict sipped his drink. “What is keeping you away from your bedchamber? What moral dilemma has stymied you? Are you figuring out how best to earn another windfall from a new investment?”
“The dilemma is emotional instead of economical,” Edward trained his gaze to the window across the room. The sliver of the moon peeked out from the clouds. “I am entertaining thoughts about a young woman that I should not be harboring.”
“What?” Benedict’s mouth fell. “Do my ears deceive me or am I hearing that my brother, the stoic, cynical, is having a change of heart? Is this the divine intervention I have hoped for so long now incoming? Dare I ask if you are falling in love?”
The scoff that left Edward's mouth was profoundly insolent. “Who mentioned love ? That is an emotion that I neither wish for nor will I ever indulge in.”
Besides, it does not truly exist.
“Lust, then?”
After a moment, Edward replied, “I cannot put a word to it. It is a cross between intrigued, admiring, hesitant, and yes, desirous.”
Logically, Edward knew he was toeing the line of despicable discussing this matter with Benedict, as he too had his eye on Alice. But he reasoned that if he kept things hypothetical and vague, his brother would not be any the wiser.
“The matter is she is not the sort who I believe will agree to or even understand casual bed sport without commitment, a thing I know I cannot give her,” Edward replied. “It also does not help matters that she has more pressing issues than to commit to any sort of relationship, be it casual or intimate.”
Shuffling his feet, Benedict shrugged, “Well, move on, then.”
“I cannot.”
“But she cannot give you the thing you want without you in turn giving her the security she needs,” Benedict said. “I’d say you are lodged between a rock and a hard place, old man.
“You have painted yourself into a corner, managed to engineer a double checkmate for yourself, dug a pit for yourself, floated yourself down a river with nary a row—”
“All right, all right, Christ,” Edward snorted. “Must you evoke every possible imagery of the situation?”
“Yes, because rarely do I get the chance to do so,” Benedict grinned. His smile faded a little, “Honestly though, I do not know what to do here because, on every other occasion, I am the one asking you for help, sipping drops from your almost infinite well of wisdom.”
“I am glad you find me that way but sadly to say, I am just as fallible as you are,” Edward replied, his words punctuated with a little sigh.
“What I can say is, follow your heart instead of your head this time,” Benedict replied while rising to his feet.
Canting his head, Edward asked, “When is the heart the most logical of all organs?”
“It is not,” Benedict grinned over his shoulder. “But when is your head the most emotional of all organs?”
Touché.
“Oh, by the by, I took the liberty of inviting your Miss Alice and her sister to our ball,” he said belatedly.
“Thank you,” Benedict replied. “I’d sent her the invitation and a note this morning, but I have yet to see a reply.”
“It is probably there but you haven’t looked closely,” Edward replied humoredly. “Now, go study.”
When his brother left, his footsteps fading down the corridor, Edward rubbed his eyes and could not help but laugh. When his carefree brother was the voice of reason, he knew things had taken a severe turn.
Even though he felt as if he was inching his way through a field set with traps and he was treading on the edge of a cliff—he would dare not do what Benedict said he should do; rather, he should start with getting Rutledge to own up to his actions.
She did pay me with a kiss after all.