Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Alice and Anthony returned to riding together in Hyde Park the following morning. As much as she had enjoyed Sarah’s company the previous day, Alice could not help enjoying riding Rosalind more than being in the barouche, despite it only having made her feel ever so slightly queasy.
It was not until they reached Rotten Row that Alice remembered the handsome stranger she had planned to ask Anthony about.
“There was a gentleman you spoke with briefly yesterday. He was tall and rather well-dressed. He rode a chestnut stallion. I do not believe we have been introduced before. Is he a friend of yours?”
Anthony’s expression tightened. “I spoke with several gentlemen yesterday,” he replied lightly, his gaze fixed straight ahead.
Something in the way he deliberately avoided looking at her made Alice suspect he knew exactly whom she meant but had no intention of enlightening her.
Why? It would be simple enough to say if the man was married or betrothed.
She considered pressing the matter but thought better of it.
Experience with both Henry and Anthony had taught her that pushing them rarely yielded satisfactory results.
If the man Anthony had spoken with was the gentleman he seemed, presumably she would bump into him at some function or other in the near future.
The weather began to threaten rain, so they did not ride as long as Alice would have liked. She did not mind getting wet, but neither she nor Anthony wished to face Aunt Jane’s disapproval should they return soaked through.
“Are the balls you have attended so far everything you had imagined?” Anthony asked as they reluctantly began their return to Aunt Jane’s house.
“They are fine,” Alice said. Then, worried she sounded ungrateful for all her aunt’s efforts, she added, “They are very glamorous and interesting. I have met a great many important people.”
“But you would still rather be at home with Duchess?” Anthony guessed with a knowing smile.
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “There is a lot to remember - the names, the etiquette, the steps of so many dances . . . And of course the embarrassment when one gets them wrong, as I recently discovered.”
“Yet you have received even more invitations since that incident,” Anthony said. “Everyone knows it was not your fault. And from what I have seen, you are managing very well.”
Alice blushed at the memory of their waltz. “Honestly, I think it is more luck than skill that my partners have not ended the evening with very sore toes.”
“Practice makes perfect?” he suggested.
“I agree wholeheartedly, but that is precisely the problem. I have had so little opportunity to practise. You and Henry would never deign to rehearse with my sisters and me, so we were forced to dance together. And Charlotte and Margaret always made me take the gentleman’s part.”
Anthony tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his amusement. “But you are smaller than them.”
“I pointed that out many times, but they outnumber me and got their way. Anyhow, I know most of the dances, sort of, and just sometimes, backwards . . .”
“Would you like to practise with me?” Anthony asked.
“Now?” laughed Alice, looking around the park theatrically.
“Later today,” he clarified with a roll of his eyes.
“The next ball is this evening, and I have another dress fitting after luncheon.”
“Lady Jane will retire for a time before preparing for tonight’s ball. I will meet you in the library. There is plenty of room, and we shall not be disturbed.”
Alice found herself nodding before good sense could intervene.
The afternoon dragged interminably after Alice and her aunt returned from the modiste. They sat down for some tea, and were soon joined by Anthony.
“Alice has been telling me how much she enjoys riding with you, Lord Tonbridge,” Lady Jane said, making Alice blush. “You have made such a difference to her stay.”
“And I have been enjoying riding with her,” Anthony replied, his voice warm. “Miss Fairfax is a very accomplished horsewoman and excellent company. It is a pleasure.
“Do you have plans to go out together tomorrow?”
“Alas, no. Alice will no doubt require the morning to recover from tonight’s ball, and I have an appointment in the afternoon.” Alice felt a little glow inside her that she knew the secret that Anthony was planning to visit Charlie and take him some new toy soldiers he had bought for him.
“I hope you will be able to ride again soon. I am sure the fresh air does you the world of good,” said Aunt Jane, looking contentedly between the pair of them before returning to her newspaper.
Alice felt unkind wishing her Aunt would hurry up and finish reading so she would retire to her room, but she could not help it. She felt jittery and excited and struggled to remain composed.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Aunt Jane folded up her newspaper and declared she was going to have a rest.
Feeling quite illicit, Alice caught Anthony’s eyes as her aunt left.
He got up and walked past Alice, saying quietly, “I will see you in the library in five minutes.”
She watched him as he walked out, a shiver of anticipation running down her body.
This meeting was perfectly innocent, she told herself firmly.
Anthony was practically her brother and, as her brother, he was simply offering to help her with a problem she had.
There was nothing clandestine about it. They were just being secretive because .
. . well, it was embarrassing that she needed Anthony to help her with her dancing, that was all.
But then why did she feel so nervous? And why was it so hard for her to wait just a few minutes until she went to join him and she would get to re-experience the emotions she had felt as they had danced together before?
She managed to force herself to wait a full six minutes before going to the library. She opened the door slowly, so worried about being caught that she feared it making any noise.
The library was quickly becoming Alice’s favourite room in her aunt’s house as her desire for more books to read increased.
Originally designed and populated with books by Alice’s uncle who had passed away before she was born, it was a large square room with a high ceiling like all the rooms in her aunt’s house.
Floor to ceiling bookcases lined every wall and there was a large desk in one corner with some paperwork belonging to Anthony scattered on it.
There was plenty of space to dance and, as the room was rarely used by anyone other than Alice and Anthony occasionally when he had business to attend to, Alice had to admit that it was a good choice for a meeting place.
Anthony was standing by the window gazing out over the gardens at the back of the house. He seemed unusually tense, his shoulders rigid.
“What would you like to start with?” he asked, not looking at her.
“Um . . . ” Alice’s mind was blank. “There are um . . . ”
Anthony took a visible breath. “I imagine the waltz is the dance you have had the least opportunity to practise,” he said.
Alice’s heart thudding heavily.
“Was I truly so terrible when we danced it before?” she asked.
“Not at all,” he said quickly. “It simply seems sensible to focus on the one you dance least often. It is becoming more popular.”
Alice gulped. “But what about music? We have none.”
“We shall have to do without and count the beats in our heads.”
Almost before Alice knew what was happening, Anthony had crossed the room, and took her hand, putting his other hand on her waist. She looked up and felt dizzy as her eyes met his and she placed her hand on his shoulder.
If she had thought waltzing with Anthony at a ball with people around them was an intense experience, it was nothing compared to this moment.
They danced in silence, the only sound the swish of Alice’s dress and their breathing, which Alice was having a hard time keeping in check.
It was as if all the feelings that had been building up towards him were rushing to the surface.
So many of her beliefs about him had been proven to be complete misconceptions and the reasons she disliked him and did not want to be anywhere near him were somehow .
. . gone. Something at the back of her mind was reminding her of her list and that Anthony most definitely was not on it, but this was being drowned out by the heat from his hand on her and the smell of . . . well, him.
And suddenly they were not dancing anymore. Alice was not even sure how long it had been since they had stopped. They let go of each other’s hands and Anthony reached up and ran his fingers softly down Alice’s cheek.
Alice realised she had stopped breathing. She took in a breath as she tilted her head up instinctively and her lips met Anthony’s.
The shock of that first kiss meant Alice’s legs almost gave way beneath her, but Anthony was there to catch her.
He pulled her closer to him and the kiss became deeper.
Alice groaned as he slipped his tongue into her mouth and her hands were in his hair as she felt him reach up and cup her face gently.
All thoughts other than this kiss were erased from her mind.
“Anthony,” she breathed into his mouth, completely lost in the moment.
Suddenly he stiffened and gently but firmly pushed her away. “Alice . . . we never . . . I apologise.”
What was going on?
“It is quite all right,” said Alice. She took a step towards him, but he moved further away.
“It is not. I allowed the moment to overcome me. I should not have. I am here in your brother’s place, as your guardian, to protect you from men like me.”
“I do not want protecting from you,” Alice whispered, her heart racing.
Anthony shook his head, looking utterly tormented. “I think it best I do not attend the ball tonight. I will leave a message for your aunt.” His voice cracked slightly. “I am sorry.”
He turned and left the room before she could respond, leaving Alice standing alone, her lips still tingling.
Anthony paced his bedroom, furious with himself.
What had he been thinking? That was exactly the problem, he had not been thinking.
He had promised Henry he would look after her.
Protect her. Instead, he had allowed his self control to dissolve completely.
He had finally managed to convince Alice he was not the terrible person she had been so certain he was, and then he went and molested her.
Proving that he was just the sort of man she had believed him to be: a pleasure seeker, with no self-restraint, who preyed on innocent young women.
Come to think of it, she probably had not imagined he could be that bad.
At least he hoped she had not. Well, she certainly would now.
He had not been able to resist though. After having her dislike him for so long and then finally being able to get in her good favour, seeing her look up at him with such trust in her beautiful eyes .
. . It had been his undoing. And now he had destroyed everything between them that he had worked so hard to build up over the past weeks.
And not just that: it terrified him how close he had been to ruining her and destroying her life. It had taken all his willpower to pull himself away from her supple, yielding body. Thank God he had.
It was not just Alice’s and his own futures that would have been affected.
His life was closely entwined with Sarah and Charlie’s.
He loved his half-brother deeply, yet Charlie’s existence put a stain on his family’s name.
Anthony would always make sure Charlie was provided for, but he also had to protect his mother, even after her death.
She had done nothing to deserve the scandal of his father’s past leaking out.
If Charlie’s existence became known, Anthony had decided he would claim him as his son, to save his mother the embarrassment of not only a philandering husband, but one who would throw the mother of his child out on the street.
There was no way in the world he could offer for Alice knowing that there was a very real chance he and his family would be shunned by society.
He could never ask Alice to share in that burden, nor could he condemn her to a life of whispers and social ostracism.
He would marry Sarah, and soon now there was nothing holding him back since his mother had passed away, establishing her in his London house which he was making perfect for her and Charlie, while he himself would stay on the estate he loved, and make Charlie his heir.
He did not care what society thought. He would do right by Charlie.
The only woman he wanted was Alice anyway, and he could not have her.
The only honourable path was to stifle his own feelings and help her find a worthy husband, someone unburdened who could love her openly as she deserved.
He would make his own list of suitable candidates and steer her towards someone he believed she would be happy with.
Even if the thought of another man touching her made his blood boil.
He had thought, foolishly, that friendship might be enough.
That proximity might satisfy the ache in his chest. But after that kiss, he knew the truth: staying close to Alice Fairfax was becoming more dangerous with every passing day.
And yet, no matter how hard he tried, he could not seem to stay away.