Chapter 6 #2
“My plan with Clara is just as important as your plan for the new hotel on Coney Island,” Aunt Maude continued. “I need all the help I can get, and I’ll expect you to put a smile on your face and spend time in Clara’s company whenever possible—whether you want to or not. No more running away.”
“She is in over her head,” he said. “She wasn’t made for this life.”
Was I that repulsive to him? I caught my reflection in a tall mirror. Though I wore a lavish silk gown and was adorned with diamonds and pearls, I saw what Alec saw. I heard what he heard. The poor Irish girl from Five Points with the course accent and ill-mannered relatives.
How was I supposed to convince a duke I was any different if I couldn’t even convince Alec?
I stepped farther away, not wanting to hear more. Their muffled voices rose with passion.
When things finally quieted, the door opened, and Alec appeared. He stepped out of the parlor and looked around the hallway until he found me.
His shoulders were stiff, and his head was held high—but when his gaze met mine, it lowered a notch, and he smiled at me.
It took all my strength to return the smile because I knew it wasn’t real.
None of this was real.
Though he was very good at pretending.
He walked toward me, and I could see he was uncomfortable—possibly embarrassed. A grown man didn’t like to be told what to do, even if Aunt Maude was like a mother to him.
The last thing I wanted was to be the object of their disagreement—or the person Alec was forced to be around when he wanted to be anywhere else but here.
I swallowed the uneasiness that crept up my throat and fought the urge to run. Where would I go? I had agreed to this charade, and I needed to stick to the plan. If I couldn’t face Alec, how could I be presented to the Queen of England?
What was my alternative? Return to Five Points?
I shuddered just thinking about it.
Alec stopped in front of me, his blue eyes searching my face.
Was he wondering what I’d heard?
“I’m sorry,” he said. “She is one of the most stubborn, single-minded women I’ve ever known.”
“She wants what’s best for you.”
He made a sound and shook his head. “She wants what’s best for the Hill name.”
“Which includes you.”
“I suppose.” He ran his hand through his hair, causing it to turn into a riot of curls. “She expects us to dance, so she’s sending for Peter, who is probably asleep in his bed. The poor man.”
It was my turn to apologize. “I’m sorry.”
He frowned. “Why are you sorry? You’re the one who’s exhausted.”
“I know you’d rather not dance with me.”
His lips parted and he looked confused for a heartbeat. “That’s not—” He paused and then started over. “I hate seeing you exhausted and in pain.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“One dance,” he said. “And no more.”
Was that all he could stand? I tried not to let my disappointment show, but it was impossible. I had to look down at my hands, so he wouldn’t see the hurt in my eyes.
“Hey,” he said as he set his fingers under my chin and gently lifted my face to look at him. There was a strange expression in his gaze. “Were you hoping to dance more than that?”
I swallowed and forced a smile. “I’ll dance as many as you desire.”
He stared at me for a moment and then shook his head. “What I desire is rarely what matters.”
His response was strange, but I hardly had time to discern his meaning when he grinned and offered me his arm.
“Besides, you know what they say when an unmarried couple dances more than two times together.”
I frowned and shook my head. “What do they say?”
He leaned closer, as if he was taking me into his confidence. “That they must be madly in love and an engagement is soon to follow. Unless you want the gossips to talk, you must never allow a gentleman such liberties.”
I slipped my hand through his arm and allowed him to escort me to the front parlor, where the grand piano sat. “And what if the gossips talk?”
“Then your reputation could be ruined and your chances of marrying a duke will be reduced.”
“For dancing with a gentleman more than two times?”
“That is only the beginning,” he said. “Has Aunt Maude taught you ballroom etiquette yet?”
“She told me that a woman must never move about a ballroom unescorted and that a gentleman must take her onto the dance floor and off again.” I spoke slowly, trying to ensure my words sounded proper. “A woman must never go anywhere without an escort. To be seen walking alone is frowned upon.”
Peter, the footman, entered, smoothing back his hair. His eyes were sleepy as he offered a quick bow and then moved to the piano.
I wanted to apologize to him, but Aunt Maude had told me that I should never apologize or thank the staff for doing their job.
“What would you like, sir?” Peter asked Alec.
Alec looked to me. “What would you like?”
No one had asked my opinion in weeks.
“A waltz?” I said, uncertain.
“Is that what you want?”
It had been the easiest dance for me to learn, so I nodded.
“A waltz, Peter,” Alec said.
Peter began playing a song I had heard earlier in the week.
It was a hauntingly beautiful tune that had swept me away.
I didn’t know the words—or if there even were lyrics to the song—but I loved it.
There hadn’t been a lot of music in my life in Five Points, and if there was, it was Irish folk songs.
Alec bowed to me, and I curtsied, as I’d been taught by Aunt Maude. I lifted the train of my evening gown into my right hand and took a step toward Alec.
He paused for a moment, and I wondered if he was having second thoughts about dancing.
I stood, waiting for him, my heart thumping hard against my breastbone. What if he walked away? Decided he didn’t want to honor Aunt Maude’s request?
Finally, he took a step toward me, his face very serious, as he slipped his left hand around my waist.
I caught my breath. The dancing instructor had been close, but I had felt nothing.
This was much different.
Alec took my left hand into his and we looked at each other for a heartbeat before he began to lead me around the floor.
Just as I feared, I felt clumsy and awkward in his arms. My feet didn’t want to move properly, and I couldn’t seem to remember anything I’d been taught.
I stared down at my feet, trying to keep time.
“Keira.” Alec whispered my real name.
I hadn’t heard it since he’d left.
“Look at me,” he said.
I did as he instructed.
His blue eyes were filled with compassion—and that twinkle I had come to recognize.
“Don’t focus on your feet or what you’ve been taught. Listen to the music, feel your partner’s movements, and, above all else, enjoy the journey.”
“Journey?”
“A dance is like a journey,” he said. “There is a beginning, a middle, and an end—and so much to discover along the way about the person standing opposite from you.”
“And what are you discoverin’ ’bout me?” My words lilted with an Irish brogue.
I didn’t know why I asked that question, slipping back into the cadence of speech I’d used since childhood.
Would he think me too forward? Or would he think I was trying to flirt?
After all, we were supposed to be doing that, too.
“You are inexperienced.”
Embarrassment warmed my neck and cheeks and I had to look away.
But he wasn’t finished. “You’re a breath of fresh air, Keira O’Day. Sweet, gentle, and innocent. Unsullied by this world you’ve entered.”
I looked back at him and saw the honesty in his gaze.
“It is my prayer that it will not ruin your tenderness,” he said.
“Sure now, and you’ve forgotten where I grew up. There’s nothing pure or tender about that.”
“I could never forget where you grew up.”
Of course he couldn’t. He knew the worst part of me and would always know.
We finished the waltz and then Peter played a polka—but I was so exhausted, I almost collapsed. When Peter asked if we wanted a third dance, Alec shook his head.
“I believe we’re done,” he said to the footman. “You may retire.”
“Very good, sir.” Peter bowed and left the room, looking as relieved as I felt.
“You should go to bed,” Alec said to me. “May I escort you to your room?”
I nodded and placed my arm through his.
We left the front parlor and entered the main hall. The wall sconces had been dimmed, and the house was quiet.
The stairway looked daunting as we came to the base of it.
But I drew up my strength with the hem of my gown, and we began to ascend.
Alec didn’t rush me, for which I was grateful.
The silence stretched between us, so I said, “Did you have a successful business trip to Newport?”
He didn’t need to answer for me to know it was disappointing. I could tell by the slope of his shoulders, the heaviness in his footsteps, and the way he let out a weighty breath.
“We have a business rival who is opening a hotel next to ours this summer and we’re already seeing our reservations dwindle.
We cater to a wealthy clientele, and they have expensive tastes.
Garfield’s hotel will be electrified. It would cost a fortune to electrify ours—and we couldn’t have it done by the summer, even if we tried.
We’re also building a third hotel on Coney Island and that has cost more than we budgeted—much more. ”
Did I admit I had overheard him discussing this issue with Aunt Maude? What would it hurt?
“Mr. Garfield’s daughter will be goin’ to England, too?”
He looked at me, surprised. “You’ve heard about Louise?”
“Aye.”
“Yes, she will be searching for her own duke.” His words sounded strangely bitter. Was he in love with Louise?
“And if I find one first? Will that help your hotel?”
He was silent for a moment and then said, “That’s what Aunt Maude believes.”
I lifted my shoulders with renewed energy. “Then I will do my best to win the heart of a duke before Louise Garfield.”
We came to the top of the stairs and Alec led me across the gallery to my room.
When we arrived, he turned to me.
“What do you want, Keira?” His gaze was intense as he studied me.
It was the second time he’d asked me that question, but this time, it felt different. Not simply what I wanted to do with my life—but what my heart longed for.
What did I want? Beyond freedom from Five Points, a little cabin next to a stream, and being able to live comfortably?
“I want to know where I came from.”
“Aren't you from England?”
I shook my head. “I was born in England and raised by my Irish relatives. I want to know me parents. At least, me mother, if she’s still alive. I want to know who I am.”
The upper gallery was dim, but I could see Alec clearly. His handsome face was gentle as he smiled.
“I understand,” he said. “But please, don’t lose who you are in the process of trying to answer that question.”
He lifted my hand and placed another kiss on top. Then, with a gallant and exaggerated bow, he said, “I have escorted you safely back to your room. My task is complete.”
With a grin, he winked at me and then turned and walked across the gallery to his room on the other side.
His words had been meant to tease—or flirt—but they hurt more than I wanted to admit.