Chapter 17
“I am terribly sorry, my lord, but I’m madly in love with another man and cannot in good conscience allow you to continue to court me in hopes that we will marry.” No, that wasn’t quite what she wanted to say. “While I will continue to hold you in the highest esteem, my lord, I’m afraid I cannot marry you.”
Alice smiled at her reflection and nodded. That was much better. She’d informed her mother of her decision when she’d returned from her knitting group, an announcement that was met with stony silence. While she did not exactly give Alice permission to end her relationship with Lord Northrup, her mother did not outwardly forbid her to reject his proposal, and so Alice chose to take that as implicit permission. This rift between herself and her mother felt odd and uncomfortable, but Alice had faith that her mother would come around and accept Henderson. After all, she’d accepted him when he was Joseph’s best friend.
Northrup at this very minute was waiting in the parlor for her; she’d promised a game of checkers that morning and this meeting would be perfect for sending his lordship on his way. When she entered the room, he was sitting at a small table setting up the board, and Alice felt an unexpected twist of sorrow. He really was a good man and she did not want to hurt him, but she feared she was about to.
“My lord, I was wondering if we might talk.”
Northrup looked up and immediately stood, his smile slowly fading as her words and tone hit him.
“Ah,” he said, and there was so much unsaid in that single syllable.
“I am sorry. I do want you to know that I admire you and hold you in the highest—”
“Please,” he said. “You don’t have to continue. I cannot say I am surprised. I suppose I was holding out hope you would come to care for me as much as I care for you. That is it, isn’t it? You do not love me in the least.”
Alice shook her head, feeling horrible. “I wanted to. I thought we would suit, but so much has changed in the past few weeks. I have come to realize I would make you a terrible wife, that you need someone better, not as apt to argue or be cross.”
He smiled sadly. “You would have made me a wonderful wife. Had you loved me.” He swallowed, and for a fleeting moment Alice thought he might break down, but he gathered himself, straightening his jacket as if putting his emotions in order.
“Thank you so much for understanding. I do feel horrible and mean, but I know this is the right thing to do.” This was far more dreadful than Alice had thought it would be; Northrup seemed truly distraught and Alice found herself fighting tears.
“The right thing for now,” he said, and touched the tip of her nose with his index finger. “If you should change your mind, please do write me.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to assure him that would not happen, but instead she simply smiled and said, “Thank you.”
As Alice watched Lord Northrup leave the parlor, no doubt heading up to his room to pack, she was hit with a powerful rush of relief that left her nearly giddy. One chapter of her life was over, a very dreary and upsetting one, and now she could get on with the rest of it. Hugging herself to hold close the complete joy she felt, Alice slowly walked from the parlor, stopping suddenly when she spotted her mother descending the stairs.
“I just saw Lord Northrup,” she said. “Oh, Alice, how could you? How could you throw away such a chance?” She shook her head, her eyes filling with unshed tears, dousing that fierce joy Alice had been feeling just moments before.
“I am sorry, Mama, truly I am. But I don’t love him. I never have. I thought we would suit, that liking him would be good enough. It isn’t. Now that I know what it is to love someone—”
Her mother let out a sound of exasperation. “A good marriage requires so much more than love, Alice. I thought you understood that.”
“I do understand. It’s about understanding and laughter. Sharing dreams and values. Henderson and I are friends, the best of friends, and we have been for a very long time.”
Elda shook her head and looked so sad, Alice felt her heart wrench. “He didn’t write for four years, Alice. And now he’s suddenly in love? How can you be so naïve? Do you think it’s pure coincidence that he had to come to St. Ives? I like Mr. Southwell, you know I do. But I fear he’s a bit more opportunistic that either of us realized.”
Narrowing her eyes, Alice said, “Opportunistic? You think his secret plan all along was to somehow trick me into marrying him? That he returned to England for me and not for his relief efforts?”
“Perhaps.”
“No. You don’t believe that, Mama. I know you don’t.”
Elda let out a long sigh. “I don’t know what to think anymore,” she said, sounding weary.
“Then I shall do all the thinking for us,” Alice said, making her mother chuckle lightly.
“Come here, my little sunshine,” she said, using Alice’s childhood nickname for the first time in more than ten years. Letting out a small sound, Alice threw herself against her mother and burst into tears.
“I dislike arguing with you, Mama. It is purely awful.”
“I know. I do not care for it either.”
Lifting her head, she asked, “Does this mean you are accepting Henderson?”
“Not yet,” Elda said, but Alice leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder and smiled.
* * *
That night, Alice went to bed feeling better than she had in days. Everything would work out—she just knew it. In her heart, she knew her mother would relent; it was her father who was her real worry. After all, her father was the one who’d asked that Henderson leave, who’d struck Henderson, who felt most keenly his obligation to maintain Alice’s social rank. But he would come around. As she lay in the darkness, she fought that terrible feeling in her stomach when she recalled her father’s anger, his ugly words, memories that only served to feed her doubt.
Her window was open, letting in the cool night air, and she gazed out at a nearly full moon, trying to push away her doubts. She really should get up and shut the window, for it was quite chilly, but instead she snuggled deeper beneath the covers and closed her eyes, only to re-open them less than a minute later.
Someone—and she had quite a good idea who—was tossing pebbles at the windows of the empty room adjacent to hers. Really, she thought, if Henderson was going to do something as foolish as come to her window in the middle of the night, at least he should have been careful about which window to hit. If he’d erred on the other side, he would have awoken Christina.
Throwing off the covers, she tiptoed to her window, making sure to stay out of sight of whomever was out there. Sure enough, Henderson stood in her garden gathering up more pebbles from the gravel path. Though it was full night, the moon cast a silvery light on him; she would have recognized his form anywhere. Alice grabbed her light robe and the blanket from her bed and hurried across her room and out the door, pausing only briefly to be certain no one was about. On silent bare feet, she padded quickly past her mother and father’s rooms, hugging her blanket against her, breath held, heart beating madly, and made her way down the stairs and to the back of the house, where a set of French doors led to a small terrace and their back garden.
Henderson was on the far side and so did not see Alice as she slipped through the doors and down the stairs, taking the time to deposit the blanket on the top step. The grass was cool beneath her feet, and wet with dew. Picking up her skirts, she ran toward where Henderson stood. She was nearly upon him when he turned, and Alice launched herself into his arms, letting out a small sound of pure happiness. She wrapped herself around him, locking her ankles behind his back, until he was wearing her.
“Oh, God, it’s so good to hold you,” he said, his voice low and rough as he held her to him, squeezing so tightly it was very nearly painful, but wonderfully so.
She nuzzled her face against the crook of his neck, breathing him in, mad for him. Henderson nudged her head up with his and kissed her with so much need, Alice cried out and clung even tighter. It was a long, hot, drugging kiss, filled with love and lust and a need that left her light-headed and her core on fire.
Henderson spun slowly around, holding her tightly, kissing her insensible, for several long minutes, making up for the days they had not been together. Finally, he pulled back, kissed her again, and again, then let her slowly slide down his body until her toes once again touched the cool, wet grass.
“Not seeing you has been torture,” he said, then leaned in and kissed her again, as if he couldn’t get enough of tasting her. “How is your father?”
“Better. I’ve only spoken to him briefly. And I told my mother that I love you and that I plan to marry you.”
He drew her against him and tucked her head beneath his chin. “What did she say?”
“It matters not. Either way, we are getting married.”
“I’d much rather your parents be, if not excited by the prospect, then at least accepting of me. But I’m not certain it’s possible.” He stepped back until he was no longer embracing her, and Alice felt a coldness that was more than just the night air.
“What is wrong?” she asked, reeling at the idea that he had changed his mind about getting married. Surely he was not going to allow what had happened at the ball to sway him.
“I have to talk to you about something and I’ve no idea where to start.”
It sounded so much like what she had just said to Lord Northrup, Alice found herself unable to speak, bracing herself for a pain she knew was coming.
Henderson began pacing back and forth in front of her, clearly tortured by whatever it was he was going to say.
“I’ll understand if you no longer wish to marry,” she said, the ache in her heart nearly unbearable. “You never did formally propose, so you have no obligation to follow through with—”
Henderson stopped pacing and stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language. “You’ll understand, will you?”
She wished it was daylight so she could better see his expression, but his voice sounded oddly…amused.
Shaking her head, she said, “Actually, no, I will not understand.”
Henderson reached out with both palms and gently grasped her head, ducking his own so that they were looking into each other’s eyes. “I love you. I am going to marry you. Now, shush and let me tell you what I came here to say.”
“Shush?”
“Shush.” He let out a long breath. “I fear the thing that has lifted a weight from my soul will only add a burden to yours.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will. I don’t know where to start, but once I am finished, you will understand why I left four years ago, why I stayed away even though it nearly killed me to do so, and why I came back when I did.”
Alice took his hand and led him to a small bench in the garden, the pebbles of the gravel path sharp against her feet. Once they were seated, she turned toward him, her hand still in his, needing his strength and warmth. “Tell me.”
“It’s all about Joseph. He is here, in this story, from beginning to end.”
Alice shook her head in confusion. The last thing she’d expected him to talk about was Joseph.
“When Joseph was around fourteen years old, about a year before we met, he and a few of his friends were building a tree fort. One of those friends accidently dropped a branch on a Mr. Stewart, killing him.”
Alice gasped. “I remember that. The entire town went to the funeral. It was the first funeral I’d ever attended. Joseph was there when it happened?” She sagged a bit as she was hit by the realization of the terrible secret her brother had kept, a terrible burden for such a young boy to carry.
“As were Peter, Tristan, Sebastian, and Gerald. All dead, except for Gerald Grant, who happens to be the lad who dropped the branch.”
A chill enveloped her as she understood the implication of what Henderson was saying. “You think he killed them all? That he killed Joseph? But it was an accident. There were others there. Wouldn’t one of them have said something?”
“I don’t know what happened that night. As you know, I was not there and I carried the guilt of that for years. Joseph asked me to go, was angry when I wouldn’t, but I had other plans.”
“No doubt with a lady friend.”
“Perhaps,” he said with a small smile. “That night, I stopped into the White Hart and saw Gerald there. He looked bloody awful, and I knew something had happened. Alice, he told me Joseph had committed suicide, that he stood on that roof, said ‘Tell Southie I’m sorry,’ and fell back.” Henderson’s voice thickened on this last, and Alice gripped his hand even tighter. “It was all a lie, one made so that I would not discuss what happened. It was my idea not to speak of it, not to tell your parents, who would have been devastated to know their son killed himself. It was brilliant on Gerald’s part, you see. By telling me that, I remained silent. I didn’t question the other lads who were there, who most certainly would have disputed his story. I was silent and then I left, so filled with guilt, I could hardly live with myself. I couldn’t bring myself to look at you or your parents; it felt as if I had pushed Joseph myself.”
“Oh, Henderson,” she said and pressed her lips against his beard-roughened cheek.
“I had to leave. I felt I was to blame for Joseph’s death, that if I had been there, he would not have killed himself. All this time, I’ve suffered, unable to fully live knowing that I was responsible for my best friend’s death.”
“My parents, I don’t know what I should tell them.” Alice could feel the tears pricking at her eyes, recalling that terrible night when they’d been informed of Joseph’s death.
Henderson scrubbed his face with his free hand. “They will find out at some point. The constable is fully aware that Gerald Grant is likely responsible for the deaths of five men.”
“I can’t believe so much evil lives within him. I know Gerald. I always thought he was a bit strange, but I never would have thought him capable of murder. All those men. It’s overwhelming to think of.” Alice let out a small sob, and Henderson gathered her against him, making low soothing sounds.
“I don’t want you to cry, because there is something else I need to tell you.”
Alice let out a watery laugh. “I’m not certain I can take much more of your news.”
He chuckled and gave her a quick kiss. “This is good news—well, mostly. The night before he died, Joseph made me promise never to touch you.”
Drawing back with surprise, Alice said, “He did? Why ever would he do that? And how could you possibly think that is a good thing?”
“At the time, it wasn’t, of course. You were walking by and I looked at you and I suppose Joseph saw something in my expression that angered him. It might have been that I wanted to make love to you; it was all I could think of at the time.”
“Truly?”
“Truly. Then he died, and I thought it was suicide and I left. And you kept getting engaged but never married. Think of it. What are the chances that one girl could have so many weddings called off? Why, one fiancé even died in the church. I think it was Joseph trying to bring us together. If he was looking down from heaven, he surely knew I loved you and that I falsely believed I was responsible for his death. I think he’s been trying to right a wrong all this time.”
Alice’s eyes widened. “You think Joseph killed poor Lord Livingston?”
“Not in so many words, but I think it was fate and Joseph was behind it all. Everything has aligned to finally bring us together, and I’m convinced that Joseph has been watching and likely getting a bit frustrated in the process.”
She smiled softly. “It is nice to think.”
“There, see? I told you there was some good in all this. Now all we have to do is convince your parents to allow you to marry me.”
“My mother is very nearly convinced already, but I fear my father will be a bit more of a challenge. I’d never realized how strongly he felt about society’s rules. Then again, his father is a duke.”
Henderson leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees. “I’m very rich, you know. I realize that does not matter in terms of bloodline, but I could give you the life you are accustomed to. You wouldn’t suffer in that way.”
Letting out a small laugh, Alice said, “I know. Apparently St. Claire was intrigued by you and did a bit of detective work. How wealthy are you?”
“Wealthy enough to make your father reconsider how worthy I am of you. I was a man driven after I left England. I worked endless hours and built a bit of an empire, only to see that very empire cause the deaths of millions. I couldn’t have foreseen what would happen when England built all those railroads. If I had, I would never have made such investments. I sold my shares when I realized, of course, but the damage is done. That is why I feel so strongly about famine relief. Guilt is a powerful incentive, and it seems it has driven nearly all my decisions for years.”
Alice gave him a small punch to the arm. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for the famine. My goodness, Henny, you’re just one man.”
Rubbing where she’d hit him, even though it had merely been a tap, Henderson nodded. “I do realize that. I invested blindly in a railway company as hundreds of men have before me and I made scads of money, which was my only intent. It wasn’t until four years later, after a terrible drought, that the full effects of what we had done became evident. I was like all Englishmen, thinking improvements to a country’s infrastructure would lead to modernization, would help the natives become more civilized, more like us. It wasn’t until I lived amongst the people for years that I realized the English do not know the true meaning of civilization. I’m afraid I’ve become a bit of a progressivist in the last four years.”
Alice was quiet for a time, digesting all he had said, her admiration for him growing even stronger. “You are such a good, good man, Henderson. I think that perhaps I am not worthy of you. And I am going to do everything in my power to prove to my parents that to have you as a son-in-law will only reflect well on them.”
“Thank you,” he said softly.
* * *
Henderson was moved beyond speech by what Alice said, and he counted himself among the luckiest of men to have such a woman love him. He’d been sickened by the thought of telling her about her brother, about his small role in the famine in India, not knowing what her reaction would be. But there she sat, leaning her head against his shoulder, making him feel like a man worthy of such a prize.
“My mother was pregnant with Joseph when they were married.” She said it quickly, as if it had been bubbling up inside her, straining to be released.
“Is that so.”
He felt her nod. “I’m not certain what I shall do with that information, but I may use it during my argument to gain acceptance of our marriage.”
“That would not be nice,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement that she would consider such a thing. “And it would do nothing to remove their real objection, that I am not worthy of you.”
She let out a small snort. “Then I suppose I shall have to tell them we must marry post haste because of certain possible consequences.”
Henderson leaned back and looked at Alice in disbelief. “We cannot tell such a lie, Alice. I will not agree to such a tactic.”
“It won’t be a lie,” she said, looking up at him with complete innocence, an innocence that belied the implication of her words. He knew what she meant, and his body reacted immediately, his cock springing to life. Suddenly, he was aware that they were alone, that she was wearing almost nothing, that it would be a simple thing to lay her down on the cool, sweet grass and make love to her.
Which was why he could not quite believe the words that came out of his mouth next. “We cannot.”
Even with only the moonlight, he could see her smile. Was it his imagination or was that a provocative smile?
“We can. And it’s not only because I want to force my parents’ hands if need be. It’s because ever since that night we were together, it is all I can think of. Something happened that night. Something woke up inside my body and now it’s driving me a bit mad.”
Henderson shifted uncomfortably, his arousal becoming nearly painful. What man could say no to such words? Ever since she was fifteen years old, he could never say no to her, even when he knew what she asked was wrong. Perhaps she hadn’t realized all those quiet nights alone in the library were wrong, but he knew. And yet, one impish smile, one pleading sentence, and he would return, night after night, to read aloud and talk and pray that no one ever found out. If he were completely honest, the idea of making love to her, of creating a life inside her, was heady stuff.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she said softly.
The sound he let out was much like that of a man being tortured. “Never think I don’t want to make love to you, but I can hardly toss you down on the grass and have my way with you as if you’re some milk maid. Not for your first time.”
She leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss. “I have a blanket,” she whispered.
“A blanket.”
Nodding, she kissed him again. “I think lying underneath the stars atop my big soft blanket will be heaven.”
When Alice rested her hand against his chest and kissed his neck, he was lost. In one move, he hauled her onto his lap and kissed her deeply, his hand finding the lovely curve of one breast, his palm pressing against the hardened peak. He heard her sharp intake of breath and smiled, then groaned when she wriggled her soft bum against his aching cock. “You little tease,” he said, chuckling. “Where did you leave that blanket?”
Alice let out a delighted squeal, much as she used to when he would agree to whatever book she’d been begging him to read, and crushed herself against him, making him laugh aloud. “I fear I will be one of those husbands who is completely ruled by their wives.”
“Of course,” she said without hesitation, then stood, dragging him up with her. Tugging on his hand, she led him to the terrace stairs, where a small bundle lay, already damp from the night air. He grabbed the blanket and allowed Alice to bring him wherever she wanted. He was her slave, following her wherever she wished, doing her bidding for whatever she wanted.
Alice led him behind a hedgerow, which shielded them from the house should anyone look out, even though it was unlikely anyone would be able to see them from that distance. Other than the crickets, the night was silent. It was an unusually warm evening, the kind of rare night in St. Ives when winter and its colder temperatures seemed a lifetime away. Together they laid out the blanket, an astonishingly intimate exercise, then lay back, side-by-side, and gazed up at the infinite stars above them.
“We’re going to make love,” Alice said, sounding all breathy and a bit nervous.
“Yes.”
“And tomorrow, I shall speak to my father, to see how violently opposed he is to our marriage, and then we can decide how to proceed.”
He took her hand and pressed it against his mouth. “I’d rather not force your parents if we can at all avoid it. I fear their opinion of me will only lower further. Agreed?”
“Agreed. Shall I remove my clothes now?”
Henderson smiled, for she sounded so brave and he knew she must be a little nervous, despite the intimacies they had already shared.
“Not entirely, just in case someone should come upon us, I think it might be better to push your gown up a bit.”
Alice tugged her skirt to just above her knees. “Like this?” she asked, laughter in her voice, and Henderson growled, reached down, and pulled her gown up, past her hips, her flat belly, the turgid peaks of her breasts, until a soft mass of cloth lay bundled just beneath her chin.
“My God, I’d forgotten how beautiful you are. How could I have forgotten?” he said, drawing his hand up her impossibly soft skin, from her hip to her breasts. Dipping his head, he took one hard nipple in his mouth and sucked softly, loving the sounds she made, and the way her hips began to move, a silent request for him to touch her. He skimmed one hand down her taut body, past her soft curls, until he rested his palm against her core and pressed.
“Please.”
Henderson closed his eyes, that one word making him even harder. He found her slick opening, then pressed one finger inside, slowly, cautiously, ready to withdraw should she pull away. But Alice moaned and spread her legs, and he nearly let out a shout of joy that she was so responsive to his every caress.
“I shall put myself here,” he said, creating slow a rhythm with his finger.
“Oh.” Her breathy response sent another wave of lust through him.
“Do you remember the last time, how it felt?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to make you feel that again, before…before.”
“Okay,” she said, her voice small, making him think for just a second that he should stop. She sounded frightened.
“We don’t have to—” He started to withdraw his finger and she clamped a hand over his to stop him.
“What? Why would you say such a thing?”
“You seemed frightened so I…”
She was giggling. “I was not frightened, Henny, I was so distracted I could hardly speak. Please, do not stop or I shall have to murder you.”
With a low moan, he kissed her deeply, sweeping his tongue inside her sweet mouth, and commenced torturing her with his finger between her legs. Kissing his way down her body, pausing for long moments at her breasts, he found with this tongue the small erect bud between her legs, teasing and sucking until she was bucking beneath him.
“God, Henderson.” She clenched her legs around him and laid one hand atop his head, and he reveled in the sounds she made, her soft words urging him on, until she let out a small scream, finding her release.
* * *
Wave after wave of delicious sensation coursed through her body, leaving her limbs boneless, her heart pounding madly in her chest. She was dimly aware of Henderson kissing her stomach, one breast, her chin before she heard the sound of him removing his shoes and trousers. Then she felt his manhood between her legs where his finger had just been. The effort to lift her hands to touch his shoulders, his back, was nearly impossible.
“I love you, Alice,” he said, then thrust inside with one quick movement.
“Oh.” It hurt a bit, a sharp burning, but it was such a glorious feeling to realize the man she loved was joined together with her, that this act was somehow sealing them together. He was still, his muscles taut, and his arms, braced on each side of her, shaking slightly.
“I hurt you,” he said, his voice laced with concern.
“Only a little.” She couldn’t stop the grin. “Look at us. We’ve done it now, Henny. There is no turning back.”
Henderson laughed and dipped his head to kiss her as he moved slightly back before pushing inside her again. “You feel so good,” he said, his voice strained. “Impossibly good. Better than my imagination.”
“You imagined this?”
“Every night.” He laughed. “Every minute.” He began moving, in and out, letting out manly sounds that told Alice he was feeling much the same type of pleasure that she had just felt. And then, a wonderful thing started to happen. That feeling, the warmth and tingling that told her a release was building, began again. Every time he thrust, the feeling grew, until her body began to react, until she was once again seeking that glorious feeling she knew was within her reach.
Her breathing changed, and when it did, Henderson’s rhythm changed, became faster, harder, driving even more of those sensations through her body, as if he were completely attuned to her. When he reached down between them and touched her aching nub, Alice let out a sound she hadn’t realized she was capable of making, a high keening that Henderson stifled with a kiss as her body convulsed around him. His thrusts quickened and then he drove deep, his entire body taut and hard, and he let out a deep groan of pure pleasure. It was the most beautiful thing Alice had ever experienced in her life. They were lovers and she was fiercely glad of it.