Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
“We should not have come,” Alice’s mother whispered in her ear as they stood against the ballroom wall. “We would have been better off staying home.”
Alice noticed scornful looks and ugly whispers all around them. She had grown accustomed to being the target of ridicule. She sighed quietly.
At first, she had stupidly thought that her mother’s new position as the Dowager Duchess of Fitzroy would offer them some protection from the derision of the ton.
Of course, that had been naive. The members of the nobility poured disdain upon her poor mother not only for being a former servant but for the crime of loving a man she was not married to.
And they despised Alice for her low birth and background.
When she first entered society, she had tried valiantly to fit in.
She wore fashionable gowns in pale, washed-out colors, bowed her head, and curtsied deeply.
She ignored the pointed glances and whispered comments with a sweet smile.
Her demure behavior had done no good. It only seemed to increase people's viciousness.
They believed her reserved countenance gave them leave to step on her.
She swiftly learned that no amount of politeness or display of gentility would remove the stain of her birth. So she no longer tried.
Alice wore the style of dress she liked.
Gowns that she knew people would find scandalous for an unmarried girl.
She met their nasty looks with cold glares and returned any vulgar comments she heard with retorts sharp enough to draw blood.
She refused to allow these people to get away with slighting her or her mother, so she showed them that their opinions did not matter, which enraged them more.
She sometimes imagined herself as a marble statue with a heart of pure stone.
For that was the only way she could carry on.
And she blamed her father for this. Alice did not see her wealth and rise in status as a boon.
She despised being a part of this contrived world, and every morning she woke up and cursed the Duke for forcing her into it.
“I will not be cowed by such fools,” Alice snapped, giving a young girl staring at her openly a wrathful glance. The girl gasped and hid her face behind her fan, breathlessly whispering to her friends, the ridiculous miss.
Alice could only imagine the words being spoken about her: She is so cold! How can someone with her prospects be so unpleasant? She had heard that and worse before. She would not allow it to penetrate her heart.
“Please, Alice, they are your betters and...”
“They are not my betters," Alice snapped.
Her mother refused to believe that being a duchess made her the equal to any lady in society.
But she was more than equal to them. She was a kind and caring woman worth more than a dozen of these sour-faced matrons.
She was above them as far as Alice was concerned.
"You no longer reside below stairs, Mama.
You are a duchess, and I am the daughter of a duke, is that not so? "
“Yes, of course, it is,” her mother smiled as if just thinking about her late husband gave her joy while it gave Alice nothing but grief. “The Marchioness has been especially kind this evening.”
“Yes, she is a sweet lady,” Alice said, turning her head to look at Beatrice, the Marchioness of Bath.
She was the only woman Alice could consider a friend in society.
At least, as close to a friend she was likely to ever get.
She smiled at Beatrice and caught the gazes of the other people around her resting on her with interest. Luckily, their glances did not seem malicious in nature, only curious. “Do you know who is with her?”
“Well, the marquess is the darker gentleman on her arm. The tall man is the marchionesses’ brother, and beside him is his wife, Anna.
I do not know the third gentleman,” her mother said, and then her voice dropped to a whisper, leaning close to Alice, and she knew her mother had some gossip from her years as a servant to impart.
“Mrs. Klane is the only living child of the Marquess of Willington, and rumor is that her father sold her in marriage to Mr. Klane to settle his debts.”
“Heavens, what kind of gentleman would do such a thing?” Alice whispered back. Even as she said it, she thought it was probably no worse than how the gentleman of the ton seemed to look at her as if she was merely a means to an end with a hefty dowry.
“Silas Klane would. He has earned himself the moniker of Lucifer of London,” her mother said, her eyes sparkling with the joy of a juicy tidbit. “He and the marquess both have rather scandalous pasts, from what I understand.”
“Well, if they can survive such gossip and scandal, then surely we can follow in their footsteps,” Alice said.
She was pleased to see her mother smile for the first time since they walked through the door.
“I would never have known I was in the presence of such notorious personages if you hadn't said so.
Money, titles, and fine clothes have apparently worked wonders for their reputations. "
“You might be right.” Her mother laughed, and Alice felt a swell of joy.
This was what she wanted; for her to see beneath the veil of the ton and not think herself inferior to them.
Alice hated to see her mother so miserable when she was cut by society.
She wished she could do as she did and dismiss them in return.
"But regardless of that, no one here is as fine as you are, my dear, no matter their titles. "
“Oh, stop, Mother,” Alice said, but she stroked the skirt of her gown.
It was made of heavy dark silk, unlike the airy fabrics the other young ladies draped themselves in.
Alice loved the sense of power; of grandeur the rich material gave her.
She found it much easier to hurl barbed comments at importunate gentlemen if she wore sumptuous, expensive silk and was swathed in diamonds.
It was one of the few delights she had in her new status.
She no longer had to wear coarse dresses in drab colors.
“It is why they are so rude, Alice,” her mother smiled sadly, touching the satin of her daughter's glove. “If you were plain, they could pity you and would more readily embrace you. But you are the wealthiest, most beautiful lady here, and it threatens them.”
Alice knew her mother was right. She touched the necklace at her throat.
It was a delicate collar of round diamonds and emeralds that complimented her dark green gown.
The fine clothing and expensive jewelry were all part of her armor.
Whenever she entered a ballroom, she donned this proverbial chain mail to look beautiful and fearsome during her societal battles.
No matter what else they could say about her, they could never say she didn't look like an heiress.
“Of course, for how dare a lowly servant be pretty,” Alice sighed and rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately, the gentlemen do not seem to be threatened. Indeed, my dance card was full of all the usual wolves within moments of crossing the threshold."
“You are extremely eligible, my child,” her mother smiled. “Perhaps you might deign to find a suitor on that dance card some evening.”
A gentleman across the room looked at her curiously, and Alice saw the covetous look on his face. It was almost too predictable how the gentleman at these events saw her as a prize to be won. A fox to be hunted. It sickened her.
“That is highly doubtful,” Alice stated and distracted herself from her darker thoughts with a lighthearted comment. “I have yet to find a worthy conversationalist among them. You know I could never marry a man who could not keep up with my wit, Mother. It would bore me to death!"
“Oh, Alice,” her mother giggled. “I know you have no patience for the rites of courtship. You were not raised for it, but you must understand the importance society places on such things."
“Indeed, I do not,” Alice declared. She took out her fan and flapped it in front of her, blocking out the gentleman's inquisitive gaze.
“I should very much prefer forthrightness to all the simpering and pretty words. If a man desires my dowry and their son to be a Duke, why can they not state it plainly? Why do they have to give me false flattery and meaningless declarations of affection? I could perhaps respect a man who gave me the benefit of honesty and did not speak to me as if I was a fool.”
“Excuse me, Miss Fitzroy?”
Alice turned her head. The third gentleman standing at the marquess’ side was now in front of her.
He was quite handsome, to be sure, with dark, thick hair and bright green eyes.
He shared a similar warm, olive complexion with the marquess.
She sighed. It didn't matter how attractive he was, as he was undoubtedly here to try his hand at the servant-turned-heiress, just like they all were.
“What do you want?” Alice asked brusquely and felt her mother stiffen at her impertinence. The gentleman did not seem put off by her manner. He simply bowed formally and offered a soft smile.
“My name is Marco Alegria. I am a sort of neighbor of yours,” he said. “I am sorry that I did not come to call and offer my condolences on your father's death. I was detained on a business matter of a dire nature. I do hope you might forgive my inadvertent slight.”
The last thing Alice had use for was condolences for the Duke, and she sighed impatiently.
“That is polite, Mr. Alegria. However, I think I should thank you rather than forgive you since I received more condolences than I needed.”
“Alice!” Her mother scolded, nudging her in the side, but Mr. Alegria only chortled.
“Indeed?” Marco said. “I should also assume you were inundated with flowers too.”
Something about his unfazed expression made Alice feel as if she might actually smile from genuine mirth for once.