Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Alice was walking down the aisle. Her gown was beautiful, a radiant, soft pink fabric that floated for yards behind her, and Beth walked at her side, holding her arm.
She was dressed as a proper bridesmaid should be and not as a servant, and when Alice drew up to the altar, white petals fell from the sky in a shower.
“You are lovely, Alice,” Beth whispered to her, holding her bouquet, made of beautiful white butterflies that floated away on the breeze. “You are truly worthy of being a lady.”
Alice turned to face Marco, ready to speak her vows. His face was as open and kind as it always had been. His hair was perfectly styled in thick waves, and his eyes were dark and full of humor and lust. Her vows were easy to speak, but other words came too, drifting up from her heart.
“I burn for you,” Alice whispered to him. “I want none but you, my beloved.”
“You are to take this woman to be your wife?” A voice asked Marco, a voice that sounded oddly like the dead Duke. When Alice looked to her left, he was there, Alice’s mother on his arm, presiding over their wedding with a dissatisfied look on his face. “I expected better.”
“Do not say that,” Alice said quickly, looking to her mother for support but her mother only turned her face away indifferently. “Marco wants to marry me! I think I am in love with him!”
Suddenly, uproarious laughter broke out all around them. The faces of the ton crowded in, pointing and shrieking with amusement, and Alice's father and mother only looked more ashamed.
“It is not funny!” Alice exclaimed. “He loves me too! He’s going to marry me!”
But when Alice turned to look at Marco, he was laughing too. His face twisted horribly into a mean expression that made Alice’s blood run cold.
“Do you really think I would consent to be your husband?” Marco sneered. “You are nothing more than a bastard servant. I would never sully my name by marrying you.”
“You said you wanted me,” Alice cried out, trying to catch hold of Marco, but he was suddenly too far out of her reach.
“I lied,” Marco whispered, and the words felt like knives cutting into her flesh and drawing blood with their malice.
Alice gasped, blinking in the intense summer light as it poured through her bedroom windows.
“Are you well, my lady?” Beth asked. She was pulling the curtains wide and looked at her with concern.
“Yes, of course,” Alice said curtly, throwing off the sheets and rising for her toilette. She needed to shake off the unsettling dream. She brushed it aside as nervousness. She was to be married in a few short days, after all.
Alice tried to forget her dream while she washed and dressed.
As she scrubbed her face, she tried to wash away the memory of her mother and father's disappointment as well as the pain of Marco's rejection.
But they lingered, just like every other nightmare Alice had since discovering the playing cards in Marco's library.
Since that day, she had seen less of him than she liked.
He had been needed at the site of his new factory, and Alice and her mother had been busy with wedding preparations.
Alice's days were consumed with the minutiae of the nuptials.
She had to decide which flowers to have at the ceremony and choose the dishes to be served at the wedding breakfast. Yet even with all of this to occupy her, her mind still fell back to those playing cards.
She didn't understand why Marco had them or what they meant.
And she couldn't fathom why William Cromer despised her so.
She wondered if it could all be connected or if she was making too much of everything.
Yet she couldn't stop thinking that Marco was keeping secrets from her.
“You’ve not been sleeping well,” Beth observed softly as she buttoned up Alice’s gown. It was of a light, airy teal blue fabric that would suit the day's heat.
“I know,” Alice sighed.
“Is something troubling you?”
“Only pre-wedding nerves, I am sure,” Alice said firmly, trying not to think of the playing card she tucked in her reticule.
“Perhaps you shall feel better after your outing with Mr. Alegria this afternoon," Beth said.
“Outing?” Alice asked, frowning at her maid.
“Do you not remember? You and Mr. Alegria are going to the art exhibition with the marquess and marchioness," Beth reminded her. Alice’s stomach swooped.
She would see Marco in a few hours. She could not tell if she was excited or full of trepidation.
Her mind had been so troubled of late, and his absence had not helped matters.
“Oh yes,” Alice said, trying to cover her disquiet. “I had completely forgotten.”
As Alice walked down to breakfast; she pondered all that had been worrying her lately, all the lingering questions she had for Marco, and she made a decision.
She could not live in this state of confusion any longer.
She would pose her questions to him outright this very day as she could not marry him with such uncertainty in her heart.
She entered the breakfast room feeling lighter than she had in ages.
Her mother was already there, many sheets of paper beside her morning tea.
“There you are, darling!” her mother exclaimed. “I despaired seeing you before luncheon; you have been sleeping so late recently. There is so much to do today."
“Good morning, Mother,” Alice said, trying not to be sullen as she gestured for the servant to pour coffee for her, not tea. “What must be done now? You know I am spending the afternoon with Marco, do you not?”
“I know, darling, but the rest of the invitations must go out today. They simply must,” her mother said, staring down at her list.
“I was unaware there were still more people to invite,” Alice said. "But I will finish them before the post comes." She thought the monotonous task might soothe her nerves until she could speak with Marco.
“No, my dear, these must be hand-delivered, given the importance of the personages,” her mother said tartly. “By one of us, preferably. It should have been done already, but the time just got away from me, and now it must be done today, so we do not cause offense.”
“We must hand-deliver them? Really, Mother?” Alice groaned.
“However you feel about it, you are the daughter of a duke, and the proprieties must be observed.” Alice caught the sharpness of her mother’s tone.
They had still not completely reconciled their disagreement about children.
Alice knew it was not her mother’s way to discuss things so openly, but she could not help wishing she could simply accept her father’s failings.
Yet she knew if that had been possible, perhaps her mother would have given up on the Duke long ago.
“Very well. Who must we call on today?” Alice sighed. Her mother smiled gratefully.
“Let me see. Lord Worthington, Lady Grantham, and certainly Sir Hackman..."
“I shall deliver the last,” Alice said abruptly, an idea forming inside her mind.
“Truly?” Her mother looked relieved.
“Neither of us has much love for the man, but I would spare you the trial of having to deal with him, mother," Alice said sweetly as she sipped her coffee.
Neither she nor Marco had been pleased when her mother insisted that Hackman be invited to the wedding.
She had argued that as a friend of her father's, it would be an unforgivable slight to exclude him.
Still, it mattered not who witnessed the rite, as long as they were married, so the couple relented.
But now Alice saw this as a chance to get some answers.
“That is very kind of you,” her mother smiled. “Thank you, darling.”
“Of course, Mama,” Alice said, reaching for a pastry. The thought of finally understanding those playing cards drove Alice to eat quickly. She wanted to be off as soon as possible in case she lost her nerve.
She took Beth with her and they soon arrived at Hackman's house. It was only when she had climbed out that Beth leaned through the window to ask a question.
“Are you sure about this, my lady? Shouldn’t I go inside with you?” Beth asked quickly, a frown on her face.
“I am just dropping off an invitation, Beth. What are you so worried about?” Alice asked as she straightened her gown and took the invitation out of her bag.
“He was terribly rude to you at the opera,” Beth whispered, staring at the imposing brick house.
“He was, but I am above his pettiness," Alice said tartly. “Just wait here, I shan't be long.”
With that, Alice strode up and knocked. She expected a footman or a butler to greet her, but Hackman opened the door. He frowned when he saw her, the expression turning his ruddy face ugly.
“Good morning, my lord,” Alice said, trying to affect a jovial, pleasant tone.
“Miss Fitzroy.” Hackman looked over her shoulder as if to see if she was alone and spotted Beth watching them from the coach with a frown on her face. “What brings you here?”
“I came to give you this,” Alice said, handing over the invitation. Hackman looked at it with distaste. “As a friend of my father’s, my mother has impressed upon me the importance of personally inviting you to my wedding.”
Hackman sighed heavily and stepped back, gesturing for her to enter.
What she could see of the house was not finely furnished.
It was, in fact, very spartan, as if everything had been stripped away.
He led her to the drawing room, and she surreptitiously looked around, trying to hide her shock at the empty spaces where the portraits must have hung.
“Are you amid a redecoration, my lord?” she asked politely.
Hackman ignored her and merely waved the invitation through the air with a frown. “So you mean to go ahead with this charade?” he muttered. Alice tried not to bristle. After all, she did want answers from the odious man.
“I would hardly call my wedding a charade,” she said lightly.
“Is it not?” Hackman snorted. “You have known that man for mere moments yet are about to pledge yourself to him for life.”