Chapter 34
As it would seem, a determination to change the course of one’s entire life was not easily accomplished in an afternoon.
Alice had been steps from the kitchen when she’d run into Mrs. Trumble exiting a storage space. The woman had come up short, hands clasped over her stomach. “Ma’am, we need your approval on the menu before the performance tonight.”
The play. Alice had somehow entirely forgotten the play.
Which was how she’d found herself thrown back into her hostessing duties, struggling to push one Henry Ainsley from her mind.
It ought to have been far easier, as he’d been absent all afternoon. Additional guests had arrived, lunch had been served, and party members had mingled and interacted all day.
Her eyes shot to the door. Half the additional guests were now gathered in the drawing room—several friends from around the island included in the evening’s event. Many would stay overnight to be a part of the masquerade.
Play, masquerade, farewells, and then she would be free. The final week was slipping away. She usually loved the idea of impending solitude.
Why, then, did her stomach sink at the thought?
Julia appeared in the doorway, and after her—Alice leaned to the side to better see, and her anticipation fell—only Jennings.
Her eyes flicked back to Julia’s face, searching for confirmation that the young woman was happy. She did not find it. She found only a mask of pleasantries that Alice feared was often on her own facade.
The smell of alcohol preceded the arrival of Lieutenant Shelbourne at her side. “Mrs. Seymour,” he said, with a slight bow. Very slight.
She took a minute step away from the man. As a part of her upcoming creed, she would be choosing not to invite Shelbourne to these parties any longer. All the man did was lay about and drink. He could do that at his own home next summer.
“Were you in need of something, lieutenant?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. You had a . . . uh . . . necklace, didn’t you?”
Her brow furrowed. “Pardon me?”
He waved a hand as if trying to remember. “A necklace. Yesterday. Green gems?”
The man must be more drunk than she’d realized to be talking of her jewelry. “Ah, yes, I do believe I did.” She took another step away.
He nodded, pressing his fist against his mouth. “Very pretty it was. Where’d you get it?”
“Where did I—I hardly remember. George, I imagine.” Her eyes darted about, seeking escape.
They landed on Sir Henry, who’d just entered the room in a deep blue coat and tan breeches. Could the man not have the decency to look poorly after crushing her heart into a thousand pieces?.
She jerked her gaze back to Shelbourne, her heart pounding traitorously.
“George always did like the pretty jewels. I remember this one lass—well, I suppose you don’t want to hear all of that.”
Alice gave a tight smile. “If that is all, I do need to be greeting my guests.”
He hiccuped. “It was just very pretty, is all. You should wear it again.”
“I am certain I shall.” She broke free of the man. Against her will, her eyes scanned the room again. And there he was.
Sir Henry was parallel with her, on the opposite end of the room, when he turned his head, his eyes catching hers.
She wished desperately to look away. Wished with everything she had that this man did not have this hold on her. But he did, and she could not.
His steps faltered, and he froze. His throat worked in a swallow.
At last he bowed his head and continued on. She went the opposite way to greet the rest of her guests at the door.
Like ships in the night, they passed one another. Nothing more than a brief interaction to remind them of the time they’d inhabited the same space—shared the same view.
The play, by all accounts, was a smashing success.
Thanks to the man they’d cast as Puck, their showing of A Midsummer Night’s Dream was more a comedy tonight than any other time they’d performed it as part of one of her house parties.
The mischievous fairy who wreaked havoc by causing the other cast members to fall in love with the wrong people.
On the far side of the room, where the furniture had been cleared, Henry attempted a somersault, crashing into Lord Danbury’s leg’s who hopped on one foot until he regained his balance.
Henry jumped up, miming, putting the love potion in Lysander’s eyes when the audience knew it was meant to be put in Demetrius’s.
Alice hated how much she loved the excuse to watch him. He was perfectly cast. So charming and capable of bringing a smile to others’ faces, but she could tell his heart wasn’t in it. As the audience laughed again, his eyes landed on her with an intensity that belied his antics.
Had they been as the characters of the play, led astray in ways of love by outside forces?
After George and their apparently loveless marriage, why would fate be so cruel as to give her another man that she could not have?
The play reached its climax, the couples coming together as they were meant to. But not Puck. He had no other half. No love interest.
Again, his eyes met hers across the room.
If only she could rewrite the ending. But that would be impossible. It would require altering the entire story.
She turned away, slipping out of the room to ensure the tea was prepared and ready for her guests.
Tea, masquerade, farewells.
Then she would be free.