Chapter 12 #3
Alice laughed. “I do look peculiar,” she said. “Though I must say it is easier to use a spade while wearing breeches.”
“I am sure it is,” said Anthony.
“I wish I were the same as other women,” Alice declared.
“You look the same as other women to me,” said Anthony. “Well, when you are not dressed quite as you are now.”
Alice elbowed him in the side making him jokingly wince. “You know what I mean!” she said,
“I am really not sure I do. And, anyway, what is wrong with being a little bit different?”
“When you are searching for a husband during the London Season it appears there is rather a lot wrong with being different,” Alice said. “Everyone else is so poised and sophisticated and they speak French . . .”
“You learned French! I remember your French teacher marching down your carriageway in despair over your pronunciation.”
He was rewarded with the tiniest of smiles.
“They speak French fluently and . . . they know how to behave.”
“You behave perfectly well!” exclaimed Anthony. “You had one little hiccup last night which everyone knows was not your fault.”
Alice raised an eyebrow at him.
“If that is what they believe, there is very little harm in it,” said Anthony firmly. “It sounds like the man in question is a known menace on the dance floor.”
He took her hand in his, sending a tingle all the way up Alice’s arm. “Maybe you are right,” he said kindly. “Maybe you are not quite like other women. But why does that have to be a bad thing? Would it not be rather dull if we were all the same and liked the same things?”
“I suppose it would,” admitted Alice.
“You have many very fine qualities,” Anthony continued. “Of what consequence is it if one of them is not the ability to speak perfect French? That does not make any difference whatsoever to a man in love.”
The air seemed thick and Alice felt herself becoming warm as their eyes locked together.
“Thank you,” she managed to murmur. “Perhaps I should get changed now so we can drive back to Aunt Jane’s house.”
“Indeed,” said Anthony, giving his head a little shake. “Let me lead the way.”
Alice was soon clean and in her own clothes.
She joined Anthony in his drawing room where he was standing staring out of the window at the street outside with his hands clasped behind his back.
There were men working on repainting the front of the house, the sounds of them calling to one another carried into the room.
He turned to greet her as she entered the room.
“The . . . outfit is upstairs in the bedroom I used. May I leave it here? It is just a little difficult to hide at Aunt Jane’s house… My maid, Beth, has already found where I was storing it…”
Anthony raised his eyebrows.
“I thought I had done a good job hiding it! But I clearly had not. She will not say anything. And she offered to bring the parcel downstairs to the carriage for me so I would not be caught with it, which was kind of her. But I would really rather not have to get her to do so again. And cleaning it could be a problem . . .” Alice stopped to take a breath.
“It is no problem at all, and a much better idea as here is presumably the only place you will be wearing those clothes,” said Anthony. “I can arrange for them to be laundered when they require it and stored ready for you to use whenever you wish to.”
“Thank you,” said Alice, gratefully. “It was a kind idea and it has helped today, but I will not be using them again.”
Anthony looked surprised.
“I need to behave appropriately,” Alice explained with a shrug.
“I appreciate the efforts you have gone to to ensure I will not be seen by anyone, but, aside from anything else, it is not fair on Aunt Jane for me to be creeping around like this. She has spent a great deal of time and money on helping me succeed this Season, and it feels unkind to potentially sabotage it.”
“I understand,” Anthony said. “And it is good of you to be considering your aunt like that. Putting her feelings before your own. Though I would expect nothing else from you.”
Alice was shocked into silence by his words, not considering herself deserving of them. At the end of the day, she was doing all this for her own gain. Well, for her family, which was the same thing to her.
“It is all quite self-serving, I assure you,” she said jokingly.
Anthony shook his head. He seemed to think about saying more but decided against it.
“Thank you, again,” said Alice, breaking the silence between them.
“The offer to clean out my horses’ mess is always there if you change your mind.”
Alice laughed and elbowed him again.
“Oh,” Anthony said, “before I forget.” He walked over to a table and picked up a book from it. He handed it to Alice. “Because you enjoyed her other novel.”
It was a copy of Jane Austen’s ‘Sense and Sensibility’. “Thank you,” said Alice, turning it over in her hands.
“It is my pleasure. Now, let us return to your aunt’s house before she begins to worry about you and I get in trouble.”
Alice nodded, her heart heavy though resolved that today’s transgression could not happen again.