Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
W hile brushing her sister’s hair out for the Duke’s ball two days later, Alice tried her best to reassure her. “It will work out, I promise.”
Dressed in a yellow gown with delicate daffodils stitched on the hem of puff sleeves and cascading down a stripe from Penelope’s right shoulder to her left hip, her sister smiled. “I think his lordship will love your costume.”
“I am sure Benedict will,” Alice agreed, trying not to think of the moment Edward had seen her in the same delicate dove costume.
While she was in business with Edward, Benedict was the one courting her and she would do well to keep both relationships apart.
“Are you sure Aunt will not be upset that we were invited, while she and Eliza weren’t?” Penelope asked, biting her lip.
“Officially, I was invited, with you as my chaperone,” Alice said while twisting her sister’s hair into a chignon and sliding the unadorned pins in. “I wouldn’t leave you home while I know you could benefit from a relaxing night away.”
Reaching for the sprigs of daffodil flowers, she slid them into the coiffure and stepped back to view her work. “You look like a summer garden.”
Twisting her head, Penelope smiled. “I always love when you do my hair. You still have your artist’s touch.”
“I haven’t touched a brush in months,” Alice lamented. “But hopefully one day I’ll return to my drawings.”
Plucking up the silk yellow mask, she handed it to Penelope while checking her hair in the brass mirror; instead of the updo she had worn the night she had crossed paths with the Duke, her hair was down in ringlets this time.
“If you marry him.” Penelope shook her head. “No, when you marry him, you will have all the time in the world to paint and sew and garden.”
Guilt assailed her from all sides and red assailed her cheekbones as Alice fought down the remorse which had tormented her in the early days.
Benedict is the one courting you. Edward is not.
A knock on the door barely preceded Eliza stepping into the room, clad in her dressing gown and bonnet. “I wanted to see what you two were wearing to the ball,” she said, her nose wrinkling with distaste at Penelope. “Is that what you are wearing?”
Looking down, Penelope asked, “What’s wrong with it?”
“Well, nothing,” Eliza shrugged. “If you do not mind wearing a dress outdated two seasons ago. It’s sufficient, I suppose, but nothing spectacular.”
Alice bristled at Eliza’s clear attempt to undermine Penelope’s confidence but as she opened her mouth to redress her cousin, Penelope seemed to shrug the subtle insult off.
“It is beautiful still. We may not get new in-season dresses as you do, but I am happy to wear it anyhow,” Penelope chimed. “I am simply going to chaperone. I doubt anyone will be looking at me. Let your mind be at ease, I hardly doubt that I will be engaged to the last eligible bachelor by the end of the night.”
Eliza’s scowl did not ease the worry in Alice’s heart. “Speaking of bachelors, what came of the lord who was dancing with you a few months ago, Lord Ratling, or Rutter. I—erm, oh yes, Rutledge . That is it. What happened to him? Why did he suddenly disappear?”
Color stained Penelope’s cheeks at the dig. “I do not know.”
“He lost interest in you, I suppose,” Eliza's fake sympathy did not match the ungodly glee in her eyes. “I am sorry, Penelope, but I would be lying if I did not admit that I could see that happening. He was much more… worldly-wise , if you understand my meaning. While you’re an innocent.”
This time, Alice had to step in, “I suppose that means you have more experience then? Please, regale us with your worldly tales.”
Lips pursing, Eliza said, “I just remembered something I should be doing. Please, excuse me.”
When she flounced off, Alice huffed, “I do not know how long I can go with her, Penelope. She grates on my nerves every day and just as I thought she could not go any lower, here she comes, trying to shatter your confidence.”
“She didn’t shatter anything,” Penelope replied with a soothing pat. “She tried, but I’m wise to her antics. I have been for a long while.”
“Good,” Alice reached for her mask and reticule. She paused to brush her fingers off the beading and thought back to the moment Edward had tried to remove her mask—and stifled a shiver. “I think it is time we leave.”
The carriage paused at the gate to the ducal estate and while the driver spoke with the guards at the gate, Alice gazed up at the house; built of golden Cotswold stone, the Valhaven house struck a kingly profile against the dark sky.
As the carriage rounded the circular drive, which had a grand fountain with a formidable Poseidon and a pair of sea nymphs at its center, Alice felt her heart lodge in the middle of her throat at seeing the imposing Palladian entrance and wide marble steps of the main building.
However—the carriage rounded the drive and took them around the house, a feat that took them more than ten minutes.
“What—” Penelope whispered, her head snapping left and right. “What is happening?”
“I am not sure,” Alice replied. “But I hope it is nothing horrible.”
The carriage came to another gate where two footmen stood and came to the door to help them down, and they bowed. “His Grace requested every guest to enter through the gardens, Misses.”
Twisting her head, Alice shared a look with her sister but nodded to the unconventional approach. “Will someone show us the way?”
“I will, Miss,” one bowed again. “Please, follow me. As you go through, His Grace has kindly asked that you pick a flower from any of the bushes that has a red ribbon tied to it and clutch it as you enter on inside.”
The garden was beautifully designed with statues, manicured hedges, and graveled walking paths. The scents of Lily-of-the-Valley, Wisteria, and roses wafted against her cooled skin, the stars a scatter of diamonds in the sky overhead.
Penelope paused to pluck a white rose from a bush, but Alice did not feel compelled to do the same. While wondering why the Duke had made such a strange request, she didn’t find a flower until near the end, a strange flower with white petals and deep purple sepals.
At the steps to the house, the footman said, “Please put the flower in your hair.”
This was getting stranger and stranger, but she complied, as did Penelope, before the footman led them inside. A corridor down and they descended the stairs to the ballroom—and Alice could see why they were asked to keep the flower.
The guests all had various flowers in their hair and the men sported the blooms on their lapels—but why ?
“Miss Alice,” the butler who took her invitation smiled. “The first dance you will have will be the one with the lord who has the same flower. His Grace wanted to make sure no one was left out of the festivities.”
“I…” She failed to find the right words. “I never expected such a thing.”
“His Grace only invited thirty-four guests, Miss,” the butler said again. “Eighteen ladies and sixteen lords.”
Alice blinked. She had counted only six bushes with the red ribbon, meaning almost everyone was bound to have a matching partner. Edward had crafted an ingenious plan. “With him and his brother making up the other eighteen,” Alice realized.
“Yes, Miss,” the butler replied with a deep bow. “Now, please, enjoy the festivities.”
Touching the mask, Alice laced her arms with Penelope, and they descended the stairs. While glad that there were not many guests around, Alice wondered if there was another set-up surprise coming their way.
“I’ll get some water,” Penelope unlaced her arm and headed off to the refreshment tables, while Alice spied the seating area. The white couches with jewel-toned cushions called to her but as she went, she paused and gazed up at the balcony above.
The man leaning on the balustrade overlooking his domain like a dark king was none other than Edward, his dark suit broken up by the white and purple flower in his lapel. His gaze met hers through the half demi-mask and a slow, satisfied smile curled his lips.
She felt unable to move, hesitant to breathe, until he inclined his head and mouthed, “Go on.”
The ties that held her firm snapped in half, and she moved off to the seating area, even though her legs felt heavier than lead. How was it that the man had the power to steal her breath with a mere look and even cut her legs out from under her at the same time? Her head whirled as if she were in the middle of a windstorm.
“Alice?” Penelope asked, a glass of water in her hand, her face knit tight with concern. “Are you all right? You look deeply bothered.”
“May I have some of your water?” She asked.
“Of course.”
Sipping the cool drink over her parched throat, Alice forced her mind to repeat the same mantra she had told herself for days. There is a future with Benedict, not with Edward.
To date, the reiteration had still not taken root.
To make matters worse—and she would never admit this to her dying day—she had dreamt about the man; four times. Without meaning it, she’d finished her sisters’ glass and embarrassed, told Penelope that she’d return with a new one.
At the table, she filled the glass, but took another as she felt that she would need it—then turned and almost ran into Benedict. The Marquess’ lips twitched as he took the glasses from her.
“I do think we need to stop meeting like this, dear Alice.”
Humored, she curtsied. “How have you been these past days, my lord?”
“Tired, overworked, anxious about another paper I may or may not have written intelligibly at midnight,” he said as they approached the seating area, and his eyes landed on Penelope. “Miss Penelope, how do you do?”
Smiling softly, Penelope replied, “Very well, my lord. His Grace surprised us with such a strange way of engaging his guests.”
“Edward has his moments of genius,” Benedict nodded. “But ask him to give me some pointers on my essays and he is suddenly a blank board.”
“I very much take umbrage to that statement,” Edward’s cool tone fell over the side of Alice’s neck and her hand tightened over her glass. “If I had to suffer through those ungodly long lectures and find a hundred and one books to write papers, you should too. How else are you going to learn?”
One-handed, she managed to curtsy. “Your Grace.”
He inclined his head. “Miss Alice.”
“Does anyone see the irony here?” Benedict asked, drawing her attention to the flower on his lapel—a white rose.
“T’is simple happenstance,” Edward shrugged. “And the rule is only for the first dance, not the whole night.”
“Speaking of dances—” Alice’s head angled to the eight-piece orchestra who were tuning their instruments. “—I think the first one is beginning- oh —”
Edward had swiftly swiped her glass and settled it on a passing waiter’s tray before he held her hand. “Will you join me on the floor, Miss Alice?”
Edward felt unrepentantly selfish holding Alice in his arms and did not hide his smirk when she realized the nature of the waltz they were about to dance when the first notes sounded.
Her expressive eyes widened. “This—this is the Viennese waltz!”
Gently taking her hand, he placed one on his shoulder and reached for her waist. “Are you unfamiliar with the faster-paced version?”
“Yes,” she said worriedly.
“Be calm.” Edward’s tone instinctively dipped to the one he used on nervous submissives. “Watch my eyes and follow as I lead. You will be fine.”
Pulling her bottom lip in, she glanced behind him at the orchestra, whose members were starting to play. The tempo of the authentic Strauss waltz was much faster than the other forms, but Alice did as he’d ordered and kept her eyes on him.
His grip on her hand had the same control, pulling her into the steps as his hand on her waist pushed her through them. Their steps broadened as the music picked up speed, but his eyes never left hers and his command of her body never wavered.
He liked the excuse the new waltz gave him to put his head close to her ear. “Good girl,” he whispered.
Alice’s lips parted as her cheeks warmed and his lips curled with delight while his fingers on her waist slid an inch lower, resting just above the dip of her hip.
The mad whirl of the waltz carried them away and with him being a physical man, Edward enjoyed dancing but hardly had found a woman who kept up with him. As the dance sped on, Edward drew her closer with each turn and it was not until their hips grazed, that he realized how scandalous the closeness was.
Briefly, he spotted her sister Penelope gazing at Benedict with pure wonder on her face.
Is something going on there?
He added more pressure on her waist, his hold firm and unerring, the heat of it searing through the silk of her gown. The smooth but fast-paced three-quarters melody soared around them, and Edward guided her into many turns with ease.
The music crescendo, reaching its climax with an abrupt flourish of brass, soon faded into nothing. He still held her hand as he stepped back, bowing while she curtsied.
He heard her discreetly pulling air into her lungs and he offered her his arm.
“After that, I think,” she gasped, “I need some water.”
Sweeping her off to the nook with the beverage fountain, he filled a glass with water and handed it to her. “You followed beautifully.”
Despite the strength and decisiveness she had shown on that first night they met, there was something about her—an inherent submissiveness in her true nature appealed to him on a baser level, while her bright mind and rapier wit engaged him on a personal one.
“That will be the first time,” Alice said kindly. “My aunt would disagree.”
“Alice, have you ever allowed yourself a moment to just… be?” He asked quietly.
She gazed at him, question heavy in her eyes. “What do you mean, Your Grace?”