On the other hand, she could not dare let go of this chance to marry well and bring her family with her—her Aunt Agatha would never forgive her.
Trapped betwixt a wall and a hard place.
Unhappy, she slid out of bed, hoping that it wasn’t her aunt there, asking her to do some infinitesimal task for Eliza, like measuring a new length of ribbon.
Tugging the door open, she was ready to face her aunt—only to find Penelope on the other side, holding a massive bouquet of pink roses and white Hyacinths.
Stunned, she looked to the bouquet and her sister, not sure what to say or even think. “Elly?”
“May I come in so we can talk about your suitor?” Penelope whispered. “Please, before aunt finds us?”
“There is no chance of that happening,” Alice said even as she stepped away to let her sister in. “You know they do not rise before nine and it is barely six thirty now.”
Closing the door with her heel, Penelope handed her the vase and the card she’d hid in her skirt’s pocket. “They are so pretty.”
Turning the card over, Alice gazed at the filigreed edges and monogrammed seal at a corner. “To Miss Alice. She walks in beauty, like the night, of cloudless climes and starry skies. And all that’s best of dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes.”
“Oh my,” Penelope sighed, “Such sweet words!”
“They match the flowers too,” Alice added.
Fingering a silky petal, Penelope asked, “You used to tell me that there is a language to flowers. If that is true, what do they mean?”
“You know red roses mean love, but pink means admiration and appreciation. The Hyacinths mean beauty,” she noted, tilting her head. “He is surely a gentleman.”
A telling silence had forced Alice to face her sister, but when she did, she instantly felt her stomach coil with nervousness at how astute her sister's gaze had become.
“What?” she asked.
“You don’t like him that way… do you,” Penelope asked quietly.
Suddenly, Alice felt fearful. How is it that her sister knew this when she had not even admitted it to herself? Benedict Landon was handsome, titled, and did not look down on her for her gentry class: he was perfect in every respect and had come into her life the very moment she needed it. Even her aunt approved of him, and rarely did she and her aunt agree on something.
But as sweet as the man was—she couldn’t find the instant spark she expected to feel, especially since she had felt it already with…him. Duke Valhaven.
Just thinking of the man made her heart quiver. He had not touched her or spoke with her enough for her to get thatreaction; but the sensations—the look in his eyes, the touch on his hand, the heat of his body—still lingered.
“I suppose I am still reeling with the shock of him choosing to humor me,” she half-lied. “It is not a typical thing for me to walk down the street and gain the attention of a Marquess.”
What about a Duke?
Penelope smiled sympathetically. “It is all a bit astonishing, is it not?”
“Very,” Alice said, then reached out for her sister. “But even with this, I am very firm on getting Rutledge to own up to his wrongdoings and honor you.”
Her sister’s smile was faint, “I know you will, Alice, but what if he doesn’t? There is no guarantee he will marry me, and if we come to it, it is his word against mine. If he doesn’t do the honorable thing—”
“Hewill.”
“—then I will have nothing else to do but accept it and use it as a lesson learned,” Penelope smiled emptily. “I made my bed, one day I’ll simply have to lie in it.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Alice assured her. “I found him once, I will find him again.”
Penelope blew a strand of her hair from her eye and smiled, “Every day I wake up, I thank the good lord above that I have you.”
Wrapping her arms around her sister, Alice replied, “And you always will.”
In the silence of his study, Edward’s eyes dropped to the sketch he’d labored on for most of the previous night, and while he knew there was little chance of crossing paths again—he couldn’t help but wonder what could have been.
