Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
I t took Alice ten full minutes—and a calming turn in the cool gardens— before she returned to the ballroom with the maid the butler had arranged for her in tow. Edward was absent, to her relief.
Penelope was on the dance floor, twirling with Lord Rutledge; and the meeting moments ago replayed in her mind. This was all she had wanted, but she was not so sure that Penelope would appreciate how all this had come to be.
I do not need to tell her. All she needs to know is that I followed through on my promise.
The unbridled happiness on Penelope’s face eased her worry, but when she spotted Benedict chatting carefree with two men over the side, with a glass of champagne in hand, guilt wrenched at her belly—if it wasn’t already so knotted, she might be sick.
How could I do that to him? With his brother no less !
Dear god, how could she look Benedict in the eye now? Troubled, she went to the seating area and folded her hands on her lap while watching Penelope.
For once, the fear that had painted her sister’s face was now gone, and even with the turmoil wreaking havoc in her head, the one calm in the storm was that at least she had done right by Penelope.
What about you, what do you want?
She watched the two dance, and only then did she realize how many were staring and whispering behind their fans.
Beside her, she heard a woman say, “That’s the second time they have danced.”
“You know what they say,” another lady replied. “ Once is interest, twice is declaration… Who is she though? I have never seen her face before.”
“I hope she knows she is marrying the worst rakehell in London,” the first lady tittered. “At least she will be doing the rest of our girls a service by keeping his grubby fingers away from them.”
Alice felt her heart stutter; in making this right, had she somehow worsened the situation? Even so, if Penelope was increasing with his child, it would only save her face going forward. If she were to marry again, at least she would be an honorable divorcée and not a disgraced strumpet.
It will be all right. It must be.
“You were missing for a while,” Benedict’s voice made her jump, and for a moment, she couldn’t look at him out of utter shame.
Taking a moment to breathe, she forced a smile. “I felt a bit stifled, my lord. I went outside for a moment to get some air.”
His brows danced, “If it was any other lady than you, I would have asked if you were entertaining another man.”
Her stomach plummeted to her feet, and for a moment, utter, sheer panic blasted through her at the fear that he might have seen or been told that she had gone to see his brother moments ago. Her mouth dropped as fear temporarily rendered her speechless.
Benedict thought, then interpreted her expression as something else. His face fell. “I did not mean to make you aghast, Alice. I apologize. That was certainly not my intention. I was simply jesting, but I realize now the joke had taken a wrong turn.”
Able to breathe again, Alice said, “You had me for a minute there.”
“Edward always said that my tact is lacking,” he grimaced apologetically. “That was cruel of me. I am sorry.”
Glancing at her lap, Alice wondered if it was the best time to start a conversation she and Benedict had not had to date—the one where they were heading with the frequent meetups.
“Benedict,” she hesitated. “Are you… are we courting?”
His brows knitted in two. “Ah, I suppose I did not entirely make that clear. But I thought it was evident. Why? Are you not sure?”
“I had my doubts,” she gave him a weak smile. “It is simply the pressures, my lord. I felt the scrutiny and the whispers and the comments about us being together, and I began to second-guess myself. I am sorry.”
His face turned. “Do you doubt my intentions toward you?”
“Not anymore,” she tried to reassure him, but in truth, Alice knew she was doing her best to reassure herself.
Benedict’s face cleared. “Would you do me the honor of the next dance?”
She smiled. “I would love to.”
Penelope was beside herself in joy, sighing in relief, and giggling like a schoolgirl in love—who she should be, babbling how happy she was that Rutledge had come around, how happy he was to be back with her, and how eager he was to continue their courtship.
All through her sister’s happy sighs, Alice smiled and nodded, still unsure that they had taken the correct route to get Rutledge to fold.
Is blackmail ever a good idea?
“Alice?” The nudge in her side jolted Alice and belatedly, she realized that it probably was not the first time her sister had been calling her name.
Abashed, she shook her head. “I am sorry, Penelope. I’m a bit tired. What was that?”
“I do not know how to thank you.” Penelope shook her head. “To be honest, I never thought you would get him to come around, but you did. He told me that he was sorry for how he treated me and that his conscience had been ripping him in two.”
Just like mine is about Benedict and Edward.
“He said, when he met you at Almacks a week ago, and you told him how devastated I was about his absence, he realized that he had truly hurt me and wanted to make it right.”
“That’s good,” Alice smiled thinly. “I hope he follows through on his commitment.”
When they arrived at the townhome, it was a shade behind one in the morning and the house was utterly quiet as her aunt and cousin were asleep. After thanking her aunt’s carriage driver and wishing him a good night, Alice led them inside and quietly up to their rooms.
Penelope looped her arms around Alice and hugged her tight, whispering, “Thank you so much.”
“Have a good night,” Alice replied.
Entering her room, she paused to rest her back on the door while she sucked in a steadying breath before she plucked the pins from her hair. After dropping them in the jewelry box, she steadily disrobed before donning her night dress and going to wash her face.
She was tempted to fill a bag with ice and press it to her temple, she didn’t have a headache—it was her soul that tormented her. Aggrieved, she rested her head on a pillow and wondered how Edward felt about this. Did he have no shame at all in stabbing his own brother in the back?
Well, it takes two to dance, doesn’t it? He couldn’t have done what he did with me if I had not let him. We are both at fault here.
Upset, she closed her eyes and tried not to cry. She couldn’t let this go on much longer; it was either leaving Edward alone or letting Benedict go as well.
Sharing breakfast with Benedict was a rare feature these days but this Saturday morning was an exception. Edward walked into the breakfast room, nursing what looked like a third cup of coffee, looking decidedly troubled.
“After last night, I didn’t think you would be so somber,” Edward said as he took his seat. “Were you not over the moon, spinning around with your lady?”
Benedict sat his Sèvres cup down, with little care, not realizing—or perhaps minding—the splash of coffee that splattered the table.
Rubbing his knitted brow, Benedict sighed, “About that. I…” he puffed out a breath. “I feel as if I am having second thoughts, Edward, and it’s… there is nothing against Alice, she is a wonderful lady, and I like how different she is from the ton ladies, but I am not exactly sure how we… fit.”
Calmly, Edward poured a cup for himself and sat across to Benedict. “And what made you come to this realization?”
“I am not sure,” Benedict sagged into his chair. “It is nothing… solid. She asked me if we were courting last night, and it was then I realized how unlike courting we were. She must have sensed it too. You know those emotions that you get when you meet a lady, those giddy emotions—”
“Cannot say I ever have,” Edward shrugged.
“Honestly?” Benedict gaped.
The derisive snort Edward let out sounded like a bullet. “When have you ever heard me say that I’d fallen in love or even gotten close to it?”
Even though you might be getting closer to it than you thought.
“Never,” Benedict sighed. “Which, honestly, seems a disservice to you. You should allow yourself to feel something good once in a while, Edward.
“I can understand all about gaining money and steadying the ship to make sure the future generation is secure, but what about yourself? Doesn’t your inner person want to feel—to have an intimate connection with anyone?”
“Define intimate ,” Edward allowed a smirk to play over his face.
Rolling his eyes, Benedict muttered, “Not that sort of intimacy. Stop playing the dolt, Edward, it does not suit you.”
Setting the cup down, Edward said, “You know that you are the one primed to take over the ducal role the day you graduate, and the yacht is already primed to sail me back to Europe where I have mapped out a direction for the rest of my life.”
“Alone?” Benedict shuddered. “God forbid.”
“On father’s deathbed, he tried to make me promise that I would marry so that the title would not be passed down to you,” Edward grunted while hitching a boot onto the other knee. “But father was a bastard beyond all reason, so hence, the Dukedom is going to you. Another salvo to him beyond the grave.”
“That is not what you meant,” Benedict finished his breakfast. “But I get the gist.”
“Are you going to see Miss Alice today?” Edward asked.
“No, but mayhap in the week,” Benedict replied. “The lads and I are going rowing today.”
“Ah, what it was like to be twenty-something with no responsibility,” Edward teased. “How I envy you.”
“No, you do not,” Benedict shot back. “If you did, you would finish my papers for me.”
“Not if you paid me a king's ransom,” Edward laughed. “Now go away so I can think.”
With Benedict gone, he rubbed his face. “Alice, Alice. What do I do about you?”