Alice had mourned the day she had left but was grateful for the two years they had shared. Months after her third year, she’d learned that Diana had married and moved away from the country.
Hugging her old friend, Alice held her at arm’s length. “How are you back?”
“My cousin’s wedding is being held in two weeks and Mama wanted all the family back to celebrate,” Diana said, while patting her tight dark curls. “Speaking of weddings, are the papers true? You should have seen my mouth this morning when I read the scandal papers.
“I said to myself, it cannot be true, but then again, if anyone would dare to break the unwritten rules of the ton, it would be you,” Diana beamed. “So, tell me, are you truly being courted by the next Duke of Valhaven?”
Alice made to answer but clamped her mouth tightly before biting her bottom lip; keenly, Diana caught on. “Oh, no, that spells trouble.”
“I—”
Without a word, Diana steered Alice out and away from the books to the dining lounge and to a table in the corner. “I’ll get some hot chocolate, and you can tell me what is bothering you.”
Ashamed, Alice shook her head. “I cannot ask that of you.”
“Oh, don’t you fret.” Diana called a server over and put in the request for the hot drink and slices of apple cake. When she was done, she added, “It’s the fun of having a rich industrialist American husband. You should absolutely come and see New York one day, Alice. It’s an amazing city. Now, what is bothering you?”
Careful about the people around her, Alice phrased her situation in the hypotheticals. “When you were ill, did you ever have to choose between sensible cordials or heady hot elderberry wine?”
It took Diana a hair longer than Alice expected her friend to catch on, but then when she did, light sprung into her eyes, “I gather you mean if it is worth the risk to try something that might make you over a wheelbarrow or if it is best to keep to what works slowly and steadily?”
“Yes,” Alice emphasized slowly, while the waiter came with their refreshments.
“Well,” Diana sipped her drink. “There comes a time when you would do well with the slow cure, there are some more merits to choosing the logical option that will help, but the wine, the wine, the wine,the wine. It sparks something inside you that that cordial does not.”
Gazing into the rich drink, Alice sighed, “But what happens when you wake up in the cold light of day after you’ve drunk the wine and realize you have made a mistake?”
“Is choosing your heart over your head always a risk? Yes and indeed, it often leads to more than simply going along or against society’s rules,” Diana replied. “I married an American and Mama almost had a conniption when I rejected a viscount with seventy years of history, according to the Debrett’s, in favor of a young railroad industrialist.”
“But it worked for you.”
“It did,” Diana replied. “Choosing the right… drink, the one your heart and soul feels connected to— is not without risk. That is not to say the staid choice of the cordial is without merit, but sometimes it is better to take a leap of faith than settle for mediocracy.”
She leaned in, her tone barely above a whisper. “Is this other man different from Lord Brampton?”
Alice could only nod. “Yes, but he doesn’t believe in love.”
“Then show him how wrong he is,” Diana chimed. “And with how headstrong you are, I know you will find a way.”
Brushing her mopes away, Alice asked, “So, tell me, what is America like?”
With his hair curling from a warm bath, Edward was dressed in a thick woolen shirt, loose trousers, and silk robe, sipping a hot infusion of cloves in his study; he prayed the tickle in the back of his throat would vanish quickly.
“Your Grace,” Ramsay stepped into his study. “I am sorry to disturb you, but you have a rather insistent visitor.”
“Who is—” As Ramsay stepped aside, Alice came in, her expression wary. Flicking his eyes to his butler, Edward then ordered, “I see. Make sure we are not disturbed, Ramsay.”
When the door closed, he asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Winslow?”
Her lips firmed. “So, it isMiss Winslownow?”
He leaned into his chair and drummed his fingers on the table, head cocking to the side, “Would you rather I address you by your Christian name? Because I will.”
“What I need is for you to promise me that nothing of what happened the other night will happen again,” Alice notched her chin up. “I cannot risk my future with Benedict because of this—this—”
“Mutual attraction?”
“Devilishdistraction,” she said stiffly. “I do thank you for getting Rutledge to do the right thing, but you and I cannot continue sinning behind your brother’s back. I hate myself for even deceiving him and a part of me is hating myself for….”
