“Good,” Alice reached for her mask and reticule. She paused to brush her fingers off the beading and thought back to the moment Edward had tried to remove her mask—and stifled a shiver. “I think it is time we leave.”
The carriage paused at the gate to the ducal estate and while the driver spoke with the guards at the gate, Alice gazed up at the house; built of golden Cotswold stone, the Valhaven house struck a kingly profile against the dark sky.
As the carriage rounded the circular drive, which had a grand fountain with a formidable Poseidon and a pair of sea nymphs at its center, Alice felt her heart lodge in the middle of her throat at seeing the imposing Palladian entrance and wide marble steps of the main building.
However—the carriage rounded the drive and took them around the house, a feat that took them more than ten minutes.
“What—” Penelope whispered, her head snapping left and right. “What is happening?”
“I am not sure,” Alice replied. “But I hope it is nothing horrible.”
The carriage came to another gate where two footmen stood and came to the door to help them down, and they bowed. “His Grace requested every guest to enter through the gardens, Misses.”
Twisting her head, Alice shared a look with her sister but nodded to the unconventional approach. “Will someone show us the way?”
“I will, Miss,” one bowed again. “Please, follow me. As you go through, His Grace has kindly asked that you pick a flower fromany of the bushes that has a red ribbon tied to it and clutch it as you enter on inside.”
The garden was beautifully designed with statues, manicured hedges, and graveled walking paths. The scents of Lily-of-the-Valley, Wisteria, and roses wafted against her cooled skin, the stars a scatter of diamonds in the sky overhead.
Penelope paused to pluck a white rose from a bush, but Alice did not feel compelled to do the same. While wondering why the Duke had made such a strange request, she didn’t find a flower until near the end, a strange flower with white petals and deep purple sepals.
At the steps to the house, the footman said, “Please put the flower in your hair.”
This was getting stranger and stranger, but she complied, as did Penelope, before the footman led them inside. A corridor down and they descended the stairs to the ballroom—and Alice could see why they were asked to keep the flower.
The guests all had various flowers in their hair and the men sported the blooms on their lapels—butwhy?
“Miss Alice,” the butler who took her invitation smiled. “The first dance you will have will be the one with the lord who has the same flower. His Grace wanted to make sure no one was left out of the festivities.”
“I…” She failed to find the right words. “I never expected such a thing.”
“His Grace only invited thirty-four guests, Miss,” the butler said again. “Eighteen ladies and sixteen lords.”
Alice blinked. She had counted only six bushes with the red ribbon, meaning almost everyone was bound to have a matching partner. Edward had crafted an ingenious plan. “With him and his brother making up the other eighteen,” Alice realized.
“Yes, Miss,” the butler replied with a deep bow. “Now, please, enjoy the festivities.”
Touching the mask, Alice laced her arms with Penelope, and they descended the stairs. While glad that there were not many guests around, Alice wondered if there was another set-up surprise coming their way.
“I’ll get some water,” Penelope unlaced her arm and headed off to the refreshment tables, while Alice spied the seating area. The white couches with jewel-toned cushions called to her but as she went, she paused and gazed up at the balcony above.
The man leaning on the balustrade overlooking his domain like a dark king was none other than Edward, his dark suit broken up by the white and purple flower in his lapel. His gaze met hers through the half demi-mask and a slow, satisfied smile curled his lips.
She felt unable to move, hesitant to breathe, until he inclined his head and mouthed, “Go on.”
The ties that held her firm snapped in half, and she moved off to the seating area, even though her legs felt heavier than lead. How was it that the man had the power to steal her breath with a mere look and even cut her legs out from under her at the same time? Her head whirled as if she were in the middle of a windstorm.
“Alice?” Penelope asked, a glass of water in her hand, her face knit tight with concern. “Are you all right? You look deeply bothered.”
“May I have some of your water?” She asked.
“Of course.”
Sipping the cool drink over her parched throat, Alice forced her mind to repeat the same mantra she had told herself for days.There is a future with Benedict, not with Edward.
To date, the reiteration had still not taken root.
To make matters worse—and she would never admit this to her dying day—she had dreamt about the man;fourtimes. Without meaning it, she’d finished her sisters’ glass and embarrassed, told Penelope that she’d return with a new one.
