Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25
ONE WEEK LATER
“ O h, my heart, look how marvelous this is!” Pure delight danced over Aunt Agatha’s face, the fan in her hand beating up a storm as she gazed over the Duke’s foyer a week later. “All the beau ton is here! I cannot wait to make acquaintances.”
Lords in their dark ball suits and ladies clad in every shade of the rainbow twirled with elegant vigor across the dance floor to the sensual strains of a waltz. Chatter and laughter floated in the air, and the champagne flowed freely. Yet no surge of excitement raced in Alice’s veins.
Instead, a hollow cavern of dread had settled in her stomach an hour ago, and pure reluctance now had her breastbone trapped in a cage. It was eight days since the evening Benedict had announced his courtship to the family, and two weeks since she had last seen the Duke, and as happy as she was for Penelope—she couldn’t stomach seeing Edward again.
“This time, dear, you might want to settle for two or three and familiarize yourself with their names first instead of guessing the titles of the whole room,” Uncle Richard cautioned his wife.
“Yes, yes,” Aunt Agatha tutted. “Penelope dear, when you have a moment, thank Marquess Brampton for us. Such a night like this will surely lighten the tedium I have been feeling of late.”
“And since when have you been feeling this way?” Richard adjusted his ill-fitting evening jacket. “You certainly haven’t told me such a thing.”
“I have,” Agatha scowled. “You just have not been listening.”
Letting her relatives quibble in one ear and out the other, Alice looked around, half-wanting and half-dreading seeing Edward among the crowd. She did spy Benedict, though he seemed blissfully unaware of them. He was halfway across the room, engaged in lively conversation with two other men, a glass of sparkling champagne in one hand, the other tucked into his trouser pocket.
She wanted to be anywhere but here.
“Shall we get a drink before the next dance?” Eliza chirped before swanning off to the refreshment nook.
Despite it now having been a week since Benedict had officially broken his courtship with Alice and informed the Thorpe’s of his intentions to court Penelope, Eliza had not uttered a word to Alice. She had looked at her though, with scalding jealousy and bristling animosity.
At first, Alice had just brushed it off as nothing different, but now, Eliza’s silence was not boding well with her. Eliza’s suitor, Baron Portman , had come around twice, and it had taken all of her strength to not be ill when she saw the fake smiles and simperings Eliza had put on for the lord. A lord whom, just a month ago, she had been utterly determined to avoid entertaining.
“I’ll get us some water,” she told Penelope before following her cousin.
While waiting her turn, she spotted her reflection, her grim reflection in a mirror—and couldn’t help but stare; Alice did not see that hopeful, vibrant undaunted woman stare back at her in the mirror anymore.
She did not see the innocent girl who had longed to dance all night at balls or stroll in the gardens with a beau beneath the stars hoping at most for a curt peck on the cheek. The person looking back at her was one darkened by lost hope, disappointment, worry, and fear.
“I had assumed the rumors to be untrue,” Miranda Valentine sneered behind her fan. “The Duke truly is scraping the bottom of the barrel inviting your kind here.”
Alice huffed in irritation, and before even gathering her thoughts, spun to face the lady squarely. “Pray tell, Lady Valentine,” she began, “when was your last courtship?”
Miranda’s face soured as if she’d sucked a lemon, and Alice walked right past her to fill the glasses with water, only to hear Miranda snidely say to Eliza, “She doesn’t know, does she?”
Her head jerked to the two as she listened in.
Eliza sniffed. “What is between me and His Grace is between me and His Grace.”
Alice’s hand trembled at the mention of Edward. What had happened between her cousin and him that she did not know about? More importantly, when did it happen?
It seems my decision to avoid Edward has been changed without my consent.
Taking the drinks back to her sister, she sat and quietly sipped at hers.
“Do you plan on dancing tonight?” Penelope nudged her.
“No,” she replied. “I haven’t the feeling for it.”
“Not even if Lord Brampton asks you?”
Her gaze shifted to the lord in question; tonight, his waistcoat matched his eyes, his blue-grey brocade and charcoal trousers fitted superbly to his virile form while a sapphire stick pin winked in the folds of his cravat.
The light from the gas chandelier and the candles gently kissed the chiseled contours of his face. He was a fine man; just not fine for her. Not anymore.
“Not even then,” she replied.
“Whyever not?” Penelope asked. “Oh, he is so devilishly handsome tonight, like a fairytale prince. I can only wish he’d ask me to dance—” The wistful sigh left her mouth before she clamped her teeth tight. “I am so sorry, Alice. I feel like a—a deplorable person, for talking of him like this soon after you ended your courtship.”
“You won’t hurt me,” Alice assured her, her eyes flickering above Penelope’s shoulder. “I have made peace with our parting and you, you might not need to make that wish after all.”
Her sister’s thin brows notched into one. “Why?”
“Miss Alice,” Benedict’s smooth voice drawled from behind them. “How do you do?”
“Quite well, thank you,” she rose to curtsey. “Thank you for having us again. Your home is sublime.”
“Wound to my pride as it is, I cannot take any credit on that front. That is entirely on the shoulders of my brother,” Benedict rounded the chairs. “I happen to be an agent of chaos around here.”
Laughing softly, she said, “I find that hard to believe.”
“It is true,” he smiled, his warm gaze settling on Penelope. “The next time you have a moment, ask Edward why we had to replace all the glass chandeliers with copper candle holders. Alas, I must confess, I am not here to regale you with stories of my youth. Miss Penelope, may I ask you to do me the honor of partnering with me for this next dance?”
Before she could answer, Penelope looked to Alice as if seeking permission. Dutifully, she waved her younger sister on, and while the pair of them swept off to the floor, she cast around for Edward. It had been half an hour and she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him.
The twenty-piece orchestra soon started the waltz, and many ladies and gentlemen joined the pair; the moment Benedict swept Penelope in his arms, Alice could feel the weighted speculation of everyone in the ballroom buzzing across her skin like barbed insects.
With the room soon thoroughly distracted by the new couple, Alice used their eyes away from her to slip into the balcony she’d been eyeing since the moment she had stepped into the hall; escaping through the French-style doors that led to an unconventional circular balcony that rose over a daffodil garden.
It was quieter outside, and she took a moment to take a deep breath. The ball was rather overwhelming for someone who was not used to such events. So many titled individuals, so much laughter and music, so many expectations and rules.
She saw the silhouette of the elusive Duke immediately, standing out of sight in a corner, gazing out into the darkness. True night had fallen now; the only light came from the moon and that which spilled out from the manor house.
She could not imagine how many candles had been used to create the heavenly soft glow that filled the ballroom—but how was it that he looked better in shadow?
“I am sorry to intrude,” she choked out. “I—I’ll leave.”
“Nonsense,” Edward said without so much as facing her; his tone level but… hollow. “The balcony is large enough to accommodate the both of us.”
The night air was cool and carried the budding scents of spring and she breathed deeply while resting a gloved hand on the stone railing. The roar of a ball in full swing seeped through the glass panes of the double doors behind her, even though she’d kept them half-closed for privacy.
“Have you been out here all this time?”
“Yes,” he replied. He slid a finger under his collar. “I felt stifled inside. Strangely enough, I do not feel better out here either.”
“Is it the ambiance or is it something else?” she asked quietly.
“I haven’t slept for days.”
She kept her gaze on the dark flowers but spoke to him, “Why?”
“I shan’t answer that,” he replied.
“Then, will you at least tell me what interaction you had with my treacherous cousin Eliza?” Alice pivoted to him. “When was this and why was it?”
“Leave it alone, Alice,” he said firmly.
“And the fires of hell will turn to ice,” she said as firmly as he did. “I will not leave here until you tell me. I was going to find you and ask you anyhow.”
In three large strides, he immediately closed the distance between them. He snatched her wrist and forcibly pulled her into him, causing her to crane her head up and meet his steely eyes. Instantly, her heart took another rhythm. The authority in his pale gaze was oddly… calming, as it dropped to her lips.
Does he dare kiss me… here?
His brows lowered. “Alice—”
“Tell me,” she ordered.
Muttering a curse, he sighed and pulled away. “Weeks ago, your cousin decided to go to the London Gazette to spread rumors of you and spread malicious lies about how you lost the only possible marriage proposal because of some truly foul… bodily habits.
“She was going to paint you as a vulgar slattern which would have effectively ruined any future chance of having a marriage or good standing with the ton. I stopped her and placed the fear of god inside her. If she uttered one word to any scandal rag, I’d sweep her.”
Stunned, Alice couldn’t find the words. “You—you did that? For me?”
“Of course I did,” he muttered. “I told you I’d protect you, didn’t I? Why would that end because of the divide between us? I can protect you from afar, Alice. I want to.”
“But you—”
A sudden, blood-curdling scream echoed from the ballroom, sharp enough to slice through the music and laughter beyond the doors. Alice and Edward exchanged a single glance—then bolted.
The scent of candle smoke and perfume hung heavy in the ballroom as they burst inside. The crowd was no longer dancing. Gowns rustled as clusters of guests pressed back, gathering against the walls like a tide retreating from something dangerous. Murmurs rippled through the sea of faces—fear, confusion, disbelief.
At the center, Benedict stood tall, still as a statue. His face was pale, his hands loose but ready at his sides.
And facing him was Rutledge .
His once-elegant attire was in complete disarray—plum waistcoat stained, cravat gone, shirt hanging open at the throat. His face, glistening with sweat, was twisted with rage, damp curls clinging to his temples. His eyes, bloodshot and wild, darted from Benedict to the crowd, then back.
And in his trembling hands… a pistol.
“You!” Rutledge spat, voice raw and slurred, thick with drink. “You think this is finished? You think—” He staggered a step closer, the gun lifting higher—the black barrel was now mere feet from Benedict’s chest.
“My lord…” Benedict cautioned, voice calm but low with warning. “Please, put down the weapon.”
The viscount barked a laugh. “Put it down? Is that an order, my lord ?” The mockery was thick, curling into a sneer. “You—you pompous bastards . You ruined me! You—”
Benedict took a measured step away from the fireline of the crowd. “You are very clearly in your cups, old boy. Don’t do something you might—”
“Don’t talk down to me, you smug son of a bitch!” Rutledge roared, spittle flying, his face blotched scarlet with fury. “Where is he?! Where’s that damned brother of yours? Edward! I know you’re here, you coward!”
“Stay here,” Edward ordered her. He then beckoned a footman over silently and whispered to him, “Get the other men with you and guide the guests out of here, I will not have one of them splintering a fingertip on a shard of glass much less get a bullet to the brain.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the footman bowed.
Anxiously, Alice watched Rutledge wave the gun around like a madman while the footmen began to usher the guests away little by little. Thankfully, the crazed man took little notice of them as he appeared too fixated on Benedict.
“You destroyed me!” Rutledge’s voice was rising, unraveling with every breath. “You and that brother of yours—meddling, scheming, tearing my life apart for your own bloody amusement! I’ve lost everything! Do you hear me? Everything!”
“Everything you lost was your own doing,” Benedict muttered, his voice cutting sharp across the tirade.
Rutledge’s bloodshot eyes narrowed further. “My doing ? My doing? You’re just like him. Just like your brother! Hiding behind your bloody titles, your hypocrisies—while I’m hunted like a dog because of you! ” His voice cracked on the last word.
He stumbled forward another step. The gun was now so close Benedict could almost touch it.
And then finally—Edward spoke.
“Is this what you’ve become, Rutledge?”
Rutledge spun. His gaze snapped toward Edward, standing calm. That half-second of distraction was all Benedict needed.
He lunged.
His fist connected hard with Rutledge’s jaw—once, twice. A solid punch directly in his eye socket before following with an uppercut that sent Rutledge flailing.
He only had a moment to bask in his victory before Rutledge was back on his feet, throwing himself atop him, sending them both crashing to the table of refreshments behind them.
Distantly, Alice heard the screams of other guests as glass and China shattered and splintered around them; as frantic and horrified as she was about Benedict, she desperately cast around for Penelope. Where was she ?
Benedict was defending himself from Rutledge, pummeling him as they scrambled on the old floorboards until he managed to land a gut punch that had sent the drunk doubling over.
“Are you going to do something?” Alice pleaded of Edward in desperation, her gaze flitting back to the fighting pair.
“ Not yet… ” Edward whispered. “Benedict can hold his own. Lord knows he will come for my head if I try to drag him off Rutledge presently.”
She held her breath as Benedict kicked the pistol away while grabbing Rutledge by the collar and slamming him into the nearest wall. A familiar gasp had Alice almost whirling to her right to catch sight of her sister, who had artfully and slowly maneuvered away into the remaining crowd. She slipped out from under Edward’s arm and dashed over to Penelope, hugging her tight.
Her sister was trembling in fear while watching Benedict apprehend Rutledge. Most of the ballroom was empty now, except for the few guests who had lingered on and now stared with abject curiosity and horror—while a select group were simply utterly delighted to see the scandal unfolding before their eyes.
“You lost that wager fair and square, take it like a man!” Benedict snapped, the lie rolling off his tongue easily, clearly making sure no word about Penelope slipped out and directing the narrative elsewhere. “I’ll have you arrested for threatening my life. You’ll die in Newgate.”
Rutledge was shaking his head, swallowing thickly, his throat working over and over and over again. His face turned sallow, moments before he lurched forward. Benedict jolted out of the way before the man vomited on Benedict’s shoes, the sick grey and smelling foul.
“God’s blood,” the marquess swore. “You are a mess.”
Stepping forward, Edward’s cold voice dampened half of the room, “Should I deliver you to Grimes?”
Rutledge went ashen, “No. God no…”
“You have five minutes to get out of my house. Consider it a courtesy headstart. I’ll be having you thrown into the prison hulks before your head can spin twice,” Edward snarled. “Unless you would prefer an unending, unrelating banishment to New Holland to work under the blistering sun feeding pigs?”
“I—I’ll go,” Rutledge spluttered, his blear eyes flickering to Penelope, but not a word came from his mouth to her.
“Ramsay,” Edward called his butler forward. “Kindly throw this dunghill beyond my gates and if he dares darken my doorstep again, be free to put a bullet between his eyes. Oh, and have the constables alerted.”
“My pleasure, Your Grace,” Ramsay smirked, hauling Rutledge to his feet and taking all the more satisfaction from it.
Then, he turned to Alice, but she decidedly turned away and began fussing with Penelope. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Edward step over the broken glasses and crockery, salvage one glass, and fill it from the still-bubbling champagne fountain.
Lifting it like a toast, he announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, I hope this is enough fodder for your breakfast tables for days to come, and please, do not embellish anything for the scandal sheets tomorrow. Now, shall we take a recess for supper?”