Chapter 13
When Alice was a girl, she remembered feeling terribly jealous of Harriet, whose father owned one of the local tin mines. Harriet, because her father “worked” in the tin mines, was allowed to participate in the procession from Guild Hall to Knill’s Steeple on Worvas Hill while she, the daughter of an aristocrat, was not. Ten girls under age ten, all daughters of fishermen or tin miners, a widow, and the mayor, a mix determined by John Knill more than seventy years prior. Alice had been six, Harriet five, and she watched with fierce envy as her younger friend marched along, not truly understanding why she had not been chosen.
At eleven, John Knill day was the most exciting day of her life. At sixteen, it seemed rather silly to her. Why were they still performing this ceremony for a man who was long dead, and whom many now believed was a bit touched in the head?
Fifteen years after her first John Knill day, the ceremony was identical except for the little girls and perhaps the style of dress, and Alice looked at the celebration with fondness and nostalgia and was glad her little village protected its traditions—even if they were a bit odd. Seeing the excitement on the faces of the ten girls who had been chosen made her remember how happy Harriet had been that day, one of the few happy days her friend had ever had as a child.
Everyone in St. Ives and many from the surrounding villages watched the procession of ten girls, all in their pretty white dresses, as they made their way through town in memory of John Knill, who invented the celebration in his own honor. Every five years, the townspeople would gather and they’d all head to the pyramid obelisk on Worvas Hill. Alice waved to Harriet, who was standing across the lane looking rather miserable. It was obvious from the stern look on her mother’s face that Harriet must have done something objectionable. Harriet, in her mother’s eyes, was always doing something objectionable. Alice gave her a smile and a wink, and her friend’s face brightened a bit. Of all her friends, Alice prayed Harriet would find a husband who could take her away from her mother.
Everywhere she looked she saw familiar faces, but not the one face she’d hoped to see—Henderson’s. He’d been there when she was sixteen, hanging about with Joseph and a few other lads. Funny how so many memories of her youth included him. The people of St. Ives loved their traditions, and this one was one of their favorites and for Alice, this would be the first time she’d be old enough to attend the John Knill ball.
She remembered with fondness when she was sixteen and had snuck out of the house and, along with her friends, spied on those dancing at the ball hosted for years by Eliza’s family.
“I’m going to meet my husband at the John Knill ball,” Harriet had announced as the four of them had sighed in unison to see one young couple gazing adoringly into one another’s eyes.
“If you wait that long, you’ll be an old maid,” Rebecca had stated.
“I’ll only be twenty-two.”
“Twenty-two is well on the shelf. That’s what my mother says, at any rate.” Rebecca always held a wealth of information, most of which came from either her mother or older siblings.
Five years later, all four women were unmarried with only Alice having a prospective husband. Since Berkley’s visit, Lord Northrup had only increased his campaign to win her hand, much to her mother’s clear annoyance. As they were getting ready for the ball, Alice’s mother had come into her room and wondered out loud if Lord Northrup was overstaying his welcome.
“Mama, you would not be saying that if Lord Berkley had not made an appearance.”
Her mother didn’t even try to deny it. “Lord Berkley would be an excellent match for you, Alice.”
Alice, whose maid was finishing up her intricate coiffure, stared at her mother through the mirror’s reflection. “What if I were to say to you that I didn’t want to marry either Lord Northrup or Lord Berkley?”
“I would say you were being silly. Both are good men. It’s just that Lord Berkley is the slightly better man.”
Alice laughed and her mother joined her. “You have to admit, darling, when the two men are side by side there really is no comparison.”
“I do not have to admit any such thing.” She paused to thank her maid before dismissing her. “You are correct, Mama, but it’s not about a title or his stature. I truly don’t care for how Lord Northrup treats Henderson.”
Elda waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, that. He’s a snob. Most people are.”
“Lord Berkley isn’t.”
Elda smiled. “That’s why he’s the better man for you, my dear.”
It was on the tip of Alice’s tongue to tell her mother that she thought Henderson the best man of all, but she knew that would only cause her mother distress. It was one thing to welcome a man into your home, it was quite another to allow that man to marry your daughter. Henderson’s declaration had been in the forefront of her thoughts during the three days since Lord Berkley had visited that first time. The earl had returned one other time, but Henderson had not accompanied him. Knowing he was still in St. Ives was driving her a bit mad. On the few outings she had made with Christina or her friends she had been tense, as if at any moment Henderson would leap out and publicly announce his intentions. Worse, she wanted him to. In the days since his visit, she couldn’t stop wondering where he was, what he was doing, if he had been serious when he’d said he loved her.
What bosh. He couldn’t love her.
But his parting words to her when they’d been alone haunted her: I really did come to stop the wedding, you know.
Was it possible? Had he actually hurried from India to stop her wedding? She thought back on that morning and tried to recall how Henderson had looked, how he had looked at her. No, she thought, he hadn’t acted like a man relieved, like a man who’d nearly lost the woman he loved to another. Oh, why was he fueling her doubts this way? A man who loved a woman did not leave for four years then return on the day of her third planned wedding and suddenly announce he was in love. But a man who was ashamed of his actions, who felt guilt and obligation after ruining a girl, would make such a declaration.
Alice pressed her cool fingertips to her temples, drawing a worried look from her mother. “I’m fine,” she said. “I have to admit these recent events have been quite wearing. I came to St. Ives to escape excitement and intrigue and it seems it has followed me home.”
Her mother gave her a quick hug. “Someday you may crave this sort of excitement, my dear. I do admit having Lord Northrup show up to beg forgiveness and having Lord Berkley show interest in you is rather more excitement than I expected this summer as well.”
Alice stared in the mirror at her reflection for a long moment, seeing only the girl she always saw. “Would it be so terrible if I never married, Mama?”
Elda sighed and put two gentle hands on her shoulders. “No,” she said, giving Alice a small squeeze. “It would mean I would never lose you. But it would also mean I would never get to hold your children and watch them grow. And neither would you. I cannot imagine how very dreary my life would have been if I didn’t have you children. We’ll figure this all out, shall we?”
“Yes. I just hope you support my decision.”
“I’m sure I will.”
* * *
The night of the John Knill ball was with thick with fog. Light from the Godrevy Lighthouse hardly made it to shore as it sliced through the night. The air was moist and by the time Henderson walked up the steps of the Lowell Hall, his hair was covered with a fine mist that created annoying curls even though he had applied a thin layer of pomade to keep it in place.
It had been more years than he could count since he had taken part in an English ball. Joseph had gained him entry into a few, but he never had been comfortable in his formal wear. Lord Berkley, horrified that he didn’t employ a valet, had let him borrow his for the evening. The poor man was put in a state when he saw what Henderson had been planning to wear, and quickly engaged a tailor to “create a proper fit, sir.” Henderson had to admit the suit fit him far better than it had, and he felt rather polished in his pristine clothes, highly polished boots, and intricately tied cravat. Perhaps when he returned to England for good and set up a house, he would make use of a valet.
As he entered the home, brightly lit with glittering gaslight chandeliers, he was struck by how many people were already inside. The house buzzed with conversation, punctuated with laughter, and Henderson took a fortifying breath. Although he had spent many summers in St. Ives, he didn’t know many people outside their small circle of friends, and now Henderson found himself amongst a crowd of strangers. He searched for a familiar face, and went still when he recognized Gerald Grant. Four years hadn’t changed him all that much. He’d been a bit younger than the rest of them, and he still looked like a schoolboy. One look at him and Henderson almost laughed aloud at the thought that Gerald, who at best reached his chest and was as slight as a bean pole, could have been responsible for the deaths of four robust men. He’d forgotten how diminutive he was, a wiry, ginger-haired man with pale blue eyes who seemed about as threatening as a puppy.
Still, it did not hurt to speak to him, for old time’s sake.
“Hello, Mr. Grant. It’s been a long time and I see the years have been good to you.”
“My word, Henderson, is that you? As I live and breathe, I cannot believe my eyes. How long has it been?”
“Four years, give or take.”
“What are you doing here?” It was a simple enough question, but given his mood, he thought he heard just the slightest emphasis on the word “you.”
“I was invited by the hostess’s daughter, Miss Eliza Lowell.”
Gerald grinned. “Get that chip off your shoulder, Southie, I meant what are you doing here in St. Ives?”
Henderson remembered that old irritation he had felt whenever the lot of them had included Gerald in their plans. No one had called him Southie but Joseph, and the fact that the other man did so now was profoundly annoying. “No one calls me Southie anymore. And I’m here on business with Lord Berkley.”
“Business. Ah. Have you heard about Sebastian? Tragedy that. Thought it might be murder, but I hear the coroner just today called it an accident.”
“I saw him the night before he died. In fact, I was there when his body was found.”
Gerald’s eyes widened. “You don’t say. The night before? I suppose in a way that’s a good thing. You got to see him, say good-bye. Get caught up, all that.”
They stood together in awkward silence, Gerald rocking from heel to toe as he looked over the crowd. “He didn’t mention a Mr. Stewart?”
Now, that was odd. Sebastian had asked him the very same question. Joseph ever mention a chap named Stewart?
Schooling his features, Henderson tried to act bored, as if that question didn’t leave him reeling. “Stewart? No, why?”
Gerald shook his head. “No reason. Just an old school chum.” He turned fully to Henderson and smiled, putting out his hand. “It was good seeing you again, Henderson. Perhaps before you return to wherever you came from—ha ha—we can get together and catch up.”
“Of course. It was good to see you, Gerald.”
Henderson watched the smaller man walk away, his curiosity more than piqued. Who the hell was Mr. Stewart?
His thoughts were interrupted when he saw Lord Berkley coming toward him, looking none the worse for having loaned his valet out.
“I see Mr. Carter made himself useful,” Berkley said, referring to his valet.
“I think I’m finally seeing the value of having a valet,” Henderson said on a laugh. The two men hadn’t seen each other since their visit with the Hubbards, after which he’d expressed his gratitude to his new friend. Berkley had waved his thanks away, saying the entire campaign was a welcome distraction.
“The Hubbards are here already with Northrup trailing behind them like a puppy, and Lady Hubbard has been trying to catch my eye for about an hour. I do believe she has completely misunderstood my interest in them, so I will endeavor to do a better job of pushing their interests toward you.”
Henderson saw Alice with Northrup on the opposite side of the room and felt a sick twist of nausea at the thought of failing in his quest to win her hand. She wore a light blue gown that exposed her back and shoulders, and the thought that the other man might actually touch her, lay his hand upon that impossibly soft skin, made him a little mad. Berkley’s low chuckle pulled him from his thoughts, and he felt his cheeks blush to be caught staring so intently at Alice.
“I think you should learn better to school your features, Mr. Southwell. If her father saw you looking at Alice just now, I fear he would have thrown you from the room. My God, you really do have it bad. She’s completely ruined you.”
Dragging his eyes away from Alice, Henderson took a deep breath. “I love her with all my heart.”
“Then it’s very good you found me.”
“I am grateful, but I still don’t understand why you are going to such lengths to help a stranger.”
Berkley shrugged and wiped a bit of lint from his jacket. “If I wasn’t here, I’d be in that horror of a house I own.”
“You cannot renovate?”
“My lovely late wife destroyed all records pertaining to the home. My father loved Costille, one of the few things we shared. After a small fire ruined one of the rooms, he commissioned an artist to make a catalogue of all the rooms to record every last detail. He was obsessed with maintaining the history of the old girl, and now it’s all ruined.” Berkley shook his head. “I do not care to discuss this, if you don’t mind, Southwell. The reason I came to this ball was to forget about what was destroyed and lost, not to brood upon it. I do enough brooding when I am home.” Berkley’s voice faded away as if something, or someone, across the room had gained his attention.
Henderson couldn’t help the fleeting—and disloyal—thought that the rage Berkley must have felt when he saw his ruined home would have driven some men to murder.
Harriet Anderson passed by at that moment, her head down as she hurried along. “Hello, Miss Anderson,” Henderson called, and the woman stopped abruptly, as if slamming into a wall. Henderson had always thought Harriet pretty, if a little awkward, and because he had been painfully aware of her crush when she’d been younger, he’d always endeavored to be kind to her.
“Oh! Mr. Southwell. I didn’t see you there. I’m so glad you decided to come.” She glanced quickly up at Berkley, who was now fully distracted.
“Miss Anderson, please allow me to introduce you to Augustus Lawton, Earl of Berkley. Lord Berkley, one of Miss Hubbard’s dearest friends, Miss Harriet Anderson.”
“Yes, a pleasure,” he said, without looking down at Harriet, who stood looking up at him expectantly, her expression falling slightly as he walked quickly away.
Harriet let out a small laugh. “I do believe I have never made a smaller impression on someone.”
Watching Berkley walk away, Henderson shrugged. “I daresay he didn’t realize how rude he just was. Clearly he was distracted.”
And then, as they both watched, they realized just what had distracted Lord Berkley to the point of rudeness—Harriet’s sister, Clara.
“It looks as though Clara has gained yet another admirer,” Harriet said, her voice tinged with amusement.
Turning, Henderson looked at Harriet, trying to gauge whether she’d been insulted by Berkley’s behavior, but he saw nothing in her expression that would indicate anything other than amusement. Clara Anderson was a stunning girl. Even when he’d been in St. Ives four years earlier he remembered admiring her, along with every other man in St. Ives, and he was frankly perplexed that she was still unmarried. It must be difficult, he thought, to be the younger sister of such a beauty. Harriet was pretty and clever, but unfortunately paled in comparison to her older sister.
A dance card hung from Harriet’s wrist, and Henderson was suddenly inspired to ask for a dance. “Miss Anderson, do you have any dances open?”
In all his life, he’d never seen a woman’s cheeks blush so quickly and so red. She glanced down at her wrist as if surprised to see the card dangling there; then she looked up at him and, impossibly, her cheeks grew even more scarlet. “I—I’m sorry. No.”
It was the oddest thing. Henderson was quite certain she was lying.
Now, why would she lie? Henderson should have let it go, a gentleman would have, but curiosity won out over politeness. Here was a girl who had had a crush on him in her youth, who, frankly, still seemed to have a bit of a crush, and she was refusing to dance with him. The same woman who had seemed so relaxed a minute before, now looked as if her bloomers were on fire and she was impatient to find a bucket of water to douse the flames.
“I’m sorry, Miss Anderson, but I don’t believe you.” He said the words softly, and she immediately dipped her head.
“I feel horrid, Mr. Southwell. I do.” She took a deep breath. “It’s my parents. Do you recall the Christmas ball? I had just come out and you were there with Joseph. My parents. I, oh, this is mortifying.”
“You were forbidden to dance with me.”
She nodded, little jerking movements.
“I hadn’t realized,” he said.
“I’m sorry. I would love to dance with you, I would. But my mother would see and I’d never hear the end of it. You must understand, my mother—”
Henderson held up a hand. “Please, there is no need to explain. I completely understand.”
“Do you?” she asked rather fiercely for such a shy girl. “Because I don’t understand.”
He smiled at her and the crease between her eyes smoothed. It was odd to him, this prejudice, and he’d only just recently experienced it. He supposed one could tolerate a bastard child and pretend to be welcoming, but when that child becomes a man and begins to look at a high-born lady, things change entirely. He’d been gone from England for far too long. Or perhaps not long enough. “Please, do not distress yourself over this. I shall have my dance another time, when your mama is not in the room.”
Harriet smiled. “I’d better go. Thank you for being so understanding, Mr. Southwell.”
Henderson watched her walk away, feeling a deep uneasiness. All these years, people had been whispering behind his back, keeping their daughters away, and he hadn’t known. Though looking back, it had been a bit odd the number of full dance cards he’d encountered. A few girls had danced with him, but now he wondered if it was only because they hadn’t known. Part of him wished his grandfather had never made that push to send him to Eton, to make him believe he was equal to anyone. To find out the truth now was rather devastating.
Of course he knew that bastards were not something parents looked for in a son-in-law. He wasn’t that naïve. He supposed he hadn’t realized the extent of it all. Joseph and the Hubbards must have shielded him from comments when he was younger. Their protection, their acceptance, had allowed him to move among the elite, particularly in the country, much more easily than if Joseph had not been his champion. But Joseph was long gone and he was left to experience such bigotry without his friend’s protection. It was damned unmanning.
Particularly since the woman he loved now seemed further from reach than ever.
* * *
“I do not think I can bear to see him touch you any longer.”
Those words, low and harsh, nearly made her swoon with desire. Alice was standing at the refreshment table, about to pour herself some lemonade, when Henderson came up behind her and whispered in her ear, causing her entire body to heat. She paused, then continued to pour, aware her hands were now shaking just slightly.
Turning, schooling her features so no one would see the desire in her gaze, she mentally prepared herself to greet him coolly. But when she saw him, Alice had to use every ounce of will to hide her feelings. He was just that stunning.
“Good evening, Miss Hubbard,” he said. Henderson was a handsome man, tall and lean, but she couldn’t recall seeing him in formal wear. Freshly shaved, hair trimmed, clothes tailored to precision, he looked like a member of the aristocracy. Only his grin ruined, or rather improved, the effect.
She was suddenly, fiercely glad that Henderson had been invited to the ball, even though his presence caused her all kinds of anxiety.
“You are looking rather dapper this evening, Mr. Southwell,” she said, just a tad more breathy than usual.
Henderson looked down at himself as if he were unaware what a striking figure he cut. “I have Lord Berkley’s valet to thank. The man turned a sow’s ear into a silk purse. Or in this case, a silk cravat.”
“Quite dashing.”
“And you, Miss Hubbard, are lovely as well.” His warm gaze looked her up and down, making Alice feel more beautiful than she had ever felt. “Where is my nemesis? The last I saw him, he was hovering around you like a bee to a flower.”
Alice pressed her lips together to stop from laughing. “He is dancing with Eliza,” she said, nodding toward the dance floor. “He really is such a charming man.” An odd sound erupted from Henderson and Alice this time could not suppress her laughter. “Did you growl?”
“I don’t believe you understand the state I am in, Alice. I need to touch you. Now.”
Her eyes widened slightly and she could feel her body react shamefully to his pronouncement. She didn’t know what had come over her ever since that one foolish, wonderful night. It was supposed to have been one night, a good-bye, a way to live the rest of her life without regrets. Henderson was not supposed to still be here, tunneling into her heart relentlessly, saying outrageous things that made her entire body heat. “Henny, that is hardly a proper thing to say.” She desperately wanted to seek equilibrium and trying for some sort of decorum was the only way she knew to do it.
“And I am hardly proper.” He looked about, making certain they could not be overheard. “I should have thrown you from my room. If I had, I wouldn’t know what lies beneath that gown. I would not spend every night aching for you, every minute of the day wanting you. I swear by all that’s holy, you will be mine, Alice. I cannot allow something as inconsequential as my birth to keep you from me.”
She swallowed and looked away, unable to witness the anguish in his face. The impact of what he was saying swirled around her; it was heady stuff but it also filled her with trepidation. This was no game to Henderson; he meant every word he said and Alice was suddenly uncertain what to do with such knowledge. He stood before her, declaring his love for her. There was no glint of humor in his gaze as there had been on their walk in the garden. Instead, she saw pain and desperation. And love. Biting her lip, she scanned the ballroom for her mother and father, and was shocked to see them both looking at the two of them, concern in their eyes.
“My parents have been watching us, Henderson.”
“I hardly care.”
“But I do, and I know you do too. You cannot come up to me in the middle of a ball, with my fiancé”—at his sharp intake of breath, she held up a supplicating hand—“the man I was planning to marry, in the very same room. Henderson, you cannot.” She rubbed her forehead wearily. Between Lord Northrup, her parents pushing her toward Lord Berkley, who had absolutely no interest in her, and Henderson, who was standing in front of her declaring himself to her, she had never been so entirely confused in her life.
“I cannot? But I have. I love you and I intend to marry you and I intend to prove to your father that I am worthy of you.” His expression suddenly changed, growing hard and almost unrecognizable. “Unless you do not want me to. My God,” he said, letting out a humorless laugh. “It never occurred to me that you were simply humoring me. That you, like everyone else, only pitied me.”
“My dear, our dance.” Lord Northrup turned toward Henderson and extended his hand, and Alice wrenched her gaze away from him. “So good you could come, Mr. Southwell. Formal wear suits you.”
To Alice’s burning ears, Lord Northrup sounded incredibly patronizing, even though she suspected he was simply being kind.
“Of course, my lord,” Alice said, extending her hand and acutely aware Henderson likely wanted to wrench her away from Northrup. “And Henderson. You could not be more wrong, and I intend to prove that to you.” She smiled at him, praying he understood completely what she meant. By the sudden light in his beautiful eyes, she realized he did and the relief she felt, that she hadn’t hurt him, was profound.
As she whirled around the dance floor with the man everyone in the room assumed she would marry, Alice could only think of Henderson. Her heart, so heavy not long ago, felt as if it would lift her to the ceiling. I love him. I really do.
“My darling, you’re not listening to me at all.”
Alice looked up to see that indulgent smile on Northrup’s face that she’d seen so many times, as if he were looking at a silly child who believed in fairies. “I was not, my lord. I do apologize.”
“I noticed Lord Berkley has not visited with your parents this evening. I do hope that means he has turned his attention away from you. It was rather disconcerting, you know, to think your parents could be swayed in favor of another suitor. After all, we are practically engaged.”
Alice found herself shaking her head. “No, my lord, we are not.” Dancing at the John Knill ball was not the place to formally end things with Lord Northrup, so Alice gave him a small smile meant to lessen the blow of her words. Northrup tightened his lips slightly, but other than that did not react to her words. She imagined he still thought he needed to grovel for missing their wedding.
“Of course. I understand. I only hoped that we could have come to a resolution by now, given my perfectly reasonable explanation for having missed the ceremony.” What started off as a gentle discourse ended with clipped words that clearly showed he was losing his patience.
“I’m glad we are in accordance then,” Alice said, choosing to misunderstand his tone. “If you don’t mind, I would like to end our dance a bit early. These shoes.” She grimaced to show she was in pain, and he led her to her parents, who still stood together at the edge of the dancing. Instead of glaring at Henderson, they were now glaring at Lord Berkley, who seemed to be enthralled with Harriet’s sister Clara.
After Northrup left her side, her mother leaned toward her. “Lord Northrup seems out of sorts. Is everything well between you two?” her mother asked, and Alice nearly laughed aloud at how transparent her mother was. Lord Berkley could be out of the race, it seemed, and now they were happy to bet on the other horse once again.
“Nothing that cannot be resolved,” Alice said, trying to be as truthful as possible. She could hardly announce that she was in love with Henderson and he had all but proposed to her. This would require some patience and time, for she knew as much as her parents admired Henderson, they did not see him as potential husband material. As the granddaughter of a duke and an earl, she would be expected to marry a titled man or at least one from a titled family. Not only was Henderson a bastard, he was the bastard of two commoners, so far below her own station it was nearly unthinkable that she consider such a marriage. But she was more than considering it.
She was looking forward to it.
Hugging the joy that threatened to burst forth, Alice couldn’t help but allow something of what she was feeling to show on her face as she watched Henderson on the other side of the room. He was looking at her, his gaze intense, and she smiled at him just to let him know all was well. Then he motioned his head to the right. The doors that led to the terrace were to his right.
As she watched, he slowly strolled to the French doors, pulled one open, and stepped out into the darkness. Alice thought her heart might jump right out of her chest. How on earth could she casually make her way to the terrace with her parents seemingly watching her like two hawks?
“Aren’t you two going to dance?” she asked, trying to think of some way she could rid herself of her parents without seeming obvious.
Elda gave Richard a look and her father let out a sigh. “Very well. My lady, would you do me the honor of joining me on the dance floor?” he asked formally, and Elda let out a laugh.
“It would be my pleasure. But unfortunately, my dance card is quite full,” Elda said, pointing to her imaginary dance card, which her father pretended to take from her and rip into tiny pieces.
With that, he brought his wife onto the dance floor with a wink for Alice, which only made her feel guilty for her subterfuge.
Are you really going to do this?
She knew what would happen if she met Henderson outside. They would kiss and he would declare his love for her again and Alice knew this time she would do the same. When she’d gone to his room all those nights ago, she truly hadn’t realized just what might happen. She knew it was wrong and risqué, but this was Henderson and they’d hardly shared more than a kiss. Yes, she’d gone to say good-bye, and yes, she realized they might kiss—and perhaps a bit more. But in all her imaginings she had not thought the evening would end as it had, with them naked in bed and with her nearly losing her virginity.
This time, she knew precisely what she was doing. Certainly, they would not make love, not at the John Knill ball, but this was much more calculated on Alice’s part. She knew she was going out to the terrace to declare herself, and she knew they would kiss and plan and scheme and try to come up with a way to make her parents agree to their match.
Giving her parents a fond look, Alice made her way to the French doors where Henderson had just disappeared. She stood there with her back to the door, her hand on the latch, and watched the dancers twirling by, her heart beating hard in her chest. Trying to look as nonchalant as possible, she pushed down the latch and slipped outside, keeping her eyes on her parents who were on the farthest part of the dance floor. Thankfully, they seemed absorbed in conversation and were not looking around, but rather at each other, so Alice felt confident she had made her escape without being seen. The cool air washed over her as she stepped into the darkness.
The terrace was narrow and stretched the length of the large home. Looking left then right, Alice took only one tentative step before a large, warm hand grasped her upper arm and pulled her swiftly and surely away from the light of the ballroom. She followed Henderson willingly, trying not to laugh aloud. Had she ever felt this happy in her life?
Henderson spun her about and they came to a stop, well hidden from anyone who might casually step out onto the terrace by a small alcove formed by another set of doors. He immediately dipped his head to kiss her, but she slapped a gloved hand over her mouth, preventing him. Letting out a small sound of protest, Henderson jerked his head back and stared down at her, his eyes glittering in the light of the bright moon.
“I need to tell you something,” Alice said in a rush.
“Go on.” His words were stiff, his entire body taut and waiting.
“I love you. I don’t want there to be any confusion on your part. I love you with all my heart and I always have. When you left, you took my heart with you and now you’ve brought it back. I never loved any of the men I was planning to marry, but you left and you never wrote and I didn’t know what to do.”
He laid a hand against one cheek, and Alice pressed against it, as if she could somehow absorb him into her. Then, letting out a long, heavy breath, he said, “That’s all I needed to know, Alice. I realize your parents will resist a match between us, but I will not give up until your father gives his consent.”
“We could elope,” Alice said with some reluctance and just as much hope, and was mostly glad when Henderson immediately rejected that idea.
“Your father would never forgive me. I think your parents will come around, love.”
Alice smiled. “I like that. Love. Oh, Henderson,” she said, throwing her arms around him. “Why can this not be as easy as telling my parents we are in love?”
She felt his arms wrap around her and for that moment had never felt more safe in her life. “Perhaps it will be as simple as that. Your parents don’t hate me, they’re just being good parents I suppose. Not wanting to taint the bloodline with God knows what. My father could be a criminal for all I know.”
“Or he could be a duke.”
Henderson chuckled. “Or a king.”
“Yes, I like that. A king. You do have rather a princely air about you this evening.”
“A good valet does wonders.” He let out a low sound. “God, it’s good to have you in my arms again. I feared it would never happen.”
Henderson pulled back just enough so that he could dip his head and kiss her, his lips warm and firm and wonderful against hers. On a sigh, Alice opened her mouth, welcoming his greedy tongue, feeling the desire that had been on the edge of her consciousness for days surge through her body. What was it about Henderson that spoke to her body this way, that made her wish they were naked and that they were joined? Such thoughts should embarrass or shame her, but all Alice could think about was how beautiful it would be when they finally consummated their love.
His manhood pressed against her center, and Alice let out a soft moan. It felt too good, too much. As if her body wanted to burst out of her skin, and she knew what the ending was to this feeling, that blissful completion. To feel that again, now, was so very, very tempting. “We should stop, Henderson. I feel… I feel too much.”
“I know. I know. But just another kiss and …” He brought one hand to skim the flesh above her gown before cupping one breast as he let out another guttural, primitive sound that made Alice’s blood grow even hotter. The night air was cool, but Alice had long ceased to feel anything but Henderson’s touch, hear anything but the low masculine sounds he made whenever they kissed. Her nipple grew erect beneath his palm and he moved his hand over her, teasing her, making the feeling between her legs intensify to the point that she began to move her hips in an effort to ease the ache.
“Please, Henderson. We have to stop,” she said, her voice tense with need.
He chuckled low. “One more kiss,” he said, and dipped his head so he could mouth her nipple over her gown.
Alice let out a small screech, the sensations too much. She was close to grabbing his hand and dragging him off the terrace and into the garden. Never in her life had she felt this way, as if she had no control over her body. It was very nearly frightening, the need that was coursing through her, making her contemplate such a thing.
“Henderson, stop. Oh, God, don’t…” I can’t take any more.
He did stop, abruptly so, and it took Alice a second to understand what had happened, that her father, with a feral sound she’d never heard in her life, had ripped Henderson from her arms.
“Get your filthy hands off my daughter, you low-born cur,” he said, his voice terrible and harsh in the quiet of the night.
“My lord, I—” But Henderson’s words were stopped when Richard backhanded Henderson across the face, the sound of the impact sharp and awful.
Henderson looked as stunned as Alice felt. Never had she seen her father act in violence. It was so far from his gentle nature, Alice could only stand frozen in shock at what was happening. What had they been thinking; they both knew how dangerous such a clandestine meeting could be.
“I assure you, sir, I mean no disrespect to—”
“Say another word and I shall murder you where you stand.”
“Father, no. You don’t understand.” He continued to stare at Henderson, his expression cold. “Father, please. Nothing untoward happened, we…Papa?”
Her father stumbled backward, one hand clutching at his chest, the other reaching out blindly behind him for the terrace rail, but missing. Before he could fall heavily to the hard marble beneath their feet, Henderson lunged forward and caught him and Alice let out a small scream.
Henderson, holding her father awkwardly in his arms, looked up at her. “Tell your mother to call a physician.”