Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
As they came to a stop in front of Aunt Jane’s townhouse, a groom Alice recognised from Anthony’s stables came forward to help her dismount from Rosalind and, presumably, return the mare to his master’s care.
“Thank you for coming to see me,” Alice said to her brother. “It was good to talk things out.”
“That was not quite all I needed to speak with you about,” Henry replied, swinging down from his own horse. “I am not entirely sure what has passed between you and Anthony . . . ”
“Nothing has passed,” Alice said quickly.
Henry rolled his eyes. “Whatever it is, I have a message from him: he is giving you Rosalind. He sent you a note.” He reached into his pocket and handed her an envelope bearing Anthony’s familiar seal.
Alice opened it and gasped as she read the brief lines, She was always meant to be yours. A.
“He says she is happiest when ridden by you,” Henry explained.
“That is extremely generous of him,” Alice murmured, “but I could not possibly accept.”
Henry shrugged. “If you have an issue with his gift, you will have to tell him yourself. I am not acting as go-between, especially when neither of you will explain what you are quarrelling about.”
“We are not quarrelling,” Alice insisted.
“Then you will have no difficulty either thanking him or returning Rosalind to him. He is in London again, so it should be easy enough for you to do one or the other.”
Alice shot him a glare.
“He says she may remain in his London stables for as long as you wish, or be sent to our own stables at home.”
“I would like her to stay in London while I am here,” Alice said quietly, thinking what a comfort the mare would be. Of course she must accept her.
Henry nodded. “I shall arrange for her to be brought to Kent when you come back. While you are in London, simply send a message when you wish to ride, and Anthony’s grooms will bring her to you or escort you to her. Aunt Jane and I will discuss a suitable companion for your rides.”
“Thank you,” Alice said. “Could you please pass on my thanks to Anthony?”
“I think you ought to do that yourself,” Henry replied firmly. “A horse of Rosalind’s quality is an exceedingly generous gift and, as I have already said, I am not carrying any more messages between you two.”
Alice nodded. He was right. She would write to Anthony.
Alice dismounted and gave Rosalind a final pat before handing the reins to the waiting groomsman.
“I shall see you very soon,” Henry said gently, his frustration apparently faded. “And remember, you are welcome to come home whenever you are ready.”
Alice managed a small smile and went inside, her head full of Anthony and why he would make such a generous gesture after the way things had ended between them in the gardens.
Did he feel guilty? He certainly should.
He had followed her outside, deliberately sent Sir Marcus in the wrong direction, and placed her in a most improper situation.
Yet she had kissed him back with equal passion .
. . Great, now her mind was filled once more with memories of his hands on her, his lips claiming hers.
Would she ever be able to banish him from her thoughts?
The following day, Alice sat in her bedchamber with ‘Mansfield Park’ open on her lap.
Her mind, however, was occupied entirely with Anthony and the thank-you note she had yet to write.
Rosalind was such an enormous and thoughtful gift, what words could possibly do it justice?
Was this his way of apologising for what had happened in the gardens?
Probably a short, formal note would be best .
. . nothing beyond gratitude for the horse.
It would mark a polite end to their friendship, she supposed, though they were bound to encounter one another again in the future.
Something Alice was definitely not thinking about.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Come in!” she called.
One of Aunt Jane’s maids entered. “Your aunt and a gentleman are waiting for you in the drawing room, miss.”
“Oh,” Alice said, immediately flustered. Her thoughts flew first to Anthony, but she quickly dismissed the idea. The servants all knew him and would have said if the gentleman was him. It was outside the usual hours for morning calls, so it must be someone Aunt Jane was well acquainted with.
“Please tell my aunt that I will join them shortly. And then send Beth to help me tidy myself.”
“Yes, miss,” the maid replied with a curtsy.
Beth appeared promptly and quickly rearranged Alice’s hair into a neat but simple style.
A few moments later, Alice descended to the drawing room and found Sir Marcus sitting with her aunt.
She did not feel the rush of happiness she might once have expected, though it appeared he had forgiven her abrupt departure, which eased her conscience.
She hated the idea of being thought rude for deserting him.
What she overwhelmingly felt was a heavy sense of worry about what he had come to say, and what her answer must be.
And more than a tiny bit of her had been hoping that it somehow was Anthony waiting for her, no matter that she knew it could not be him or how awkward it would have been.
Sir Marcus rose and bowed. Alice returned a curtsy.
“If you will both excuse me,” said Aunt Jane, rising gracefully, “I must speak with Cook. I believe Sir Marcus has something rather important he wishes to ask you, my dear.”
She gave Alice a reassuring smile as she left, closing the door softly behind her.
The air in the elegant drawing room suddenly felt thick and oppressive. Sir Marcus began pacing before the marble fireplace.
Alice waited, wanting to delay the inevitable. She already knew what he would ask, and what her answer must be, despite months of effort directed toward this very moment. It was nearing the end of the Season. This might well be her last chance.
Finally, Sir Marcus stopped and turned to face her, clasping his hands tightly. “I was very sorry you had to depart so suddenly from Lord Tonbridge’s estate,” he began. “I had been enjoying getting to know you. I do hope you are quite recovered now.”
“I am, thank you,” Alice replied. She felt awkward standing and wondered whether she should sit.
She knew she ought to apologise for her sudden disappearance and say she too had enjoyed his company, but the words would not come.
“I went to speak with your brother this morning but, unfortunately, he was not at home. So I took the liberty of riding here directly from Kent, as I am away on business tomorrow,” he continued.
Alice opened her mouth to comment, but found that nothing came out.
“I suspect you can guess what I went to ask him.”
Alice managed a weak nod. She felt faintly sick.
“I would like to request your hand in marriage,” Sir Marcus stated. He paused, clearly expecting a response. When none came, his eyebrows rose slightly. Was this his entire proposal?
Presumably realising something more was necessary, he took a breath and added, “You are everything I require in a wife. I confess, I had planned to spend some time settling into the running of my estate before considering matrimony, but it appears fate had other ideas when your brother invited me to Lord Tonbridge’s house party. ”
“Henry invited you?”
“Yes,” Sir Marcus replied, frowning. “Not Lord Tonbridge himself, I might add. In fact, I received the distinct impression he would rather I had not been there, despite your brother’s assurances.”
She had asked Anthony to invite Sir Marcus after meeting him on Rotten Row. Why had he not done so? And it was true, he had not been particularly welcoming . . . Alice dragged her thoughts back to the present. She was in the middle of a proposal.
“Miss Fairfax,” Sir Marcus said, growing visibly agitated, “I have ridden all the way here to ask if you will be my wife.”
This was the moment her entire time in London had been leading toward. All the balls, the fittings, the morning calls, her aunt’s time and money. And now the proposal had come from a perfectly eligible, wealthy gentleman.
Alice closed her eyes for a moment, preparing herself. “I am honoured that you would ask me to marry you, Sir Marcus, but I cannot accept. I am sorry.”