Chapter Four
As she walked along the sand, Figaro pulled on his lead in an attempt to chase a seagull.
The blue-gray waves danced and sparkled in the summer sun.
With her first breath of salty sea air, Alicia felt more herself.
The tension that had gripped her stomach since the ball eased away.
Had she stayed longer at the ball, what might have happened?
She was not about to dwell on it now. Papa had found them a magnificent house in which to stay, situated on the Lower Esplanade.
Lord and Lady Spenborough owned it. The couple was away on the Continent and would be traveling until later in the year. They had left the house fully staffed.
When she returned to the house, Alicia instructed the maid to unpack her few things and joined her aunt downstairs. Together, they walked to the Lanes to have afternoon tea at a teashop.
The Lanes thronged with people; friends greeted her aunt, who then introduced them to Alicia.
They spoke breathlessly of seeing the Prince Regent and how they looked forward to his ball on Saturday evening.
A belated invitation had been sent to Aunt Elizabeth, which included Alicia.
Her father had called upon acquaintances and doors opened that were closed to many.
They entered one of the shops, and Alicia bought a silk shawl for her mother, as well as pipe cleaners and a handkerchief she would embroider for her father. She also purchased a pair of long, white evening gloves to wear to the festivities, having found she’d lost one at Lady Blake’s ball.
As Alica and her aunt walked on, a familiar lady with a parasol rounded the corner. She stopped to greet Aunt Elizabeth. Lady Forrester’s sharp eyes focused on Alicia as her aunt introduced her.
“I am familiar with Miss Bolton. Are you escaping the heat, Miss Bolton, or has something else brought you here?”
“We are to attend the Prince Regent’s ball,” Alicia said.
Lady Forrester’s expression soured. “Oh? Well, I imagine I shall see you there.”
“We may.” Alicia hoped fervently that she wouldn’t. “But I’m sure there will be quite a crush.”
The lady unfurled her parasol and went on her way.
“My, she looked positively ferocious,” Aunt Elizabeth said, gazing after the woman.
“I think she hates me,” Alicia said, wondering if she should burden her aunt with the whole unfortunate episode that she would rather forget. “Although I don’t know why.”
Her aunt stopped and gazed at her. “There’s a story here, and I’d like to hear it. Come, we’ll have our tea.”
As they drank their tea and partook of a plate of luscious cakes and tartlets, Alicia explained what had happened at Cambridge, where she had seen Lady Forrester, and how she had wasted no time in telling her father about Figaro’s misadventure.
“My goodness.”
“I saw her again at the ball, and she appeared livid to see me dance with the duke.”
“Extraordinary.” Aunt Elizabeth thoughtfully popped a piece of iced lemon cake in her mouth. “It might be because she is Sir Laurence Hardwick’s sister.”
Alicia put down her cup. “Is she?”
Her aunt nodded. “And the family is keen to see the duke marry their daughter.”
Alicia frowned. “But why would she think I’m a threat?”
Aunt Elizabeth smiled, like the cat who had licked up all the cream. “I can’t imagine. Shall we go?” After paying, they left the shop.
Her aunt turned to her. “I brought my diamond pendant and earrings down with me, but I don’t care to wear them. Would you like to wear them to the ball?”
Alicia gasped. “Oh, Aunt, of course I would. They are magnificent!” She faltered. “But I doubt Mama would approve. She thinks I’m too young to wear her diamonds.”
“But this is a very special occasion, and we need not worry her with it.”
“Is it so very special?”
“You never know who might be at the ball.”
Alicia couldn’t fathom what her aunt meant.
She could be quite abstruse at times. But she took her aunt’s arm and strolled together to the end of the Lanes.
When they’d rounded a corner, the cool, refreshing, salty air flowed over them.
The blue-green sea ebbed and flowed toward the limitless horizon.
“I’m looking forward to the ball,” Alicia said. “It was such a good idea to come here.”
“It was, my dear.”
When they’d entered the house where they were staying, the butler held out a parcel. “This is for you, Miss Bolton.”
“For me?” Alicia was mystified. She took it and thanked him. Then studied the small package. “There must be a mistake.”
Her aunt shook her arm. “For goodness’s sake, do open it, Alicia. I am consumed with curiosity myself.”
Alicia removed the ribbon that bound it and opened it out. Inside was a single white glove. “It’s the one I lost at Lady Blake’s ball.”
“Is there a card?” her aunt asked, peering over her shoulder.
“Yes.” The crest was unmistakable. Her breath caught. Alicia read out the gold lettering. “‘Regards, Exeter.’”
“I thought so,” Aunt Elizabeth said with profound satisfaction.
There was no postage. “Does this mean the duke is here in Brighton?”
“I suspect he is. No wonder Lady Forrester is so angry.”
Alicia grinned as excitement thrummed through her. “He is sure to go to the Prince Regent’s ball.”
“Of course. I am as excited for you as I was for myself when I held an ace, king, and queen in a game of whist.” She took Alicia’s arm and led her to the stairs. “You need to rest so that you look your best tonight.”
*
In the library of the house bequeathed to him by his father, Robert sat on a wing-backed chair with his booted feet resting on the fireplace guard.
He lowered the note that had just been delivered.
The evil intent behind the words he had just read made him clamp down hard on his jaw.
Lady Forrester had felt it her duty, apparently, to ensure he was conscious of how Miss Bolton was considered by Society to be an unprincipled young woman who had inveigled herself into his life by scurrilous means.
First, by throwing her dog into the river to gain his attention, and then by ensuring she appeared wherever he was, such as at Lady Blake’s ball, and even here in Brighton.
Beware, Lady Forrester’s hurried scrawl warned.
The girl will stop at nothing. She has set her cap at you.
He cursed and rose to his feet, crumpling the note and throwing it into the fireplace.
It appeared that Lady Forrester had been behind the vicious article in the magazine, which was also a pack of lies.
The woman was unhinged. When he’d called on Prinny that afternoon, he had been informed that Miss Bolton and her aunt had accepted the invitation to the prince’s ball.
The Prince Regent had cocked his head like an inquisitive peacock. “Is marriage in the wind?”
“A little too early to tell,” Robert had said cautiously. “Would you approve of the match, Your Highness?”
“Certainly. We number Viscount Bolton among our friends, and Miss Bolton is a pretty chit. Told her father so. Thought she’d marry well.
” He’d snapped his fingers at the hovering footman, who’d rushed to refill their glasses with a fine claret, then he’d sat back and tucked his thumbs into the pockets of his embroidered, gold silk waistcoat stretched over his rotund stomach.
“I expect I shall enjoy this ball excessively.”
Robert hoped he would, but the thought of her marrying some other fellow made the wine taste sour.