Edward stepped away, his expression that of a man deeply conflicted, and Alice slipped between him and the sarcophagus and away, her hand pressed to her swollen lips.
Her heart was in knots and her head swirled with fear. How couldnever againbecomeoncemore? And what was worse—she had a creeping feeling that it would not be the last time.
Slowly making a round through the other three galleries, Edward knew the thunderous emotion he sported would deter everyone from approaching him. He needed time to think.
The storm within him was roiling at full gale, and he was equally provoked and bewildered by the intensity of emotion Alice provoked in him. Why did she have such an effect on him? How was it that she was tempting him to step away from his decision to be a bachelor for life and give her what she wanted?
Returning to the main chamber, he spotted Alice with her sister, but while she was blissfully unaware, her waspish cousin was gazing at the two with nothing but blistering envy and hate on her face. Edward was not one to scare easily, but a twist of worry tightened under his breastbone.
What was the little conniving Miss up to?
Sipping a new glass of champagne, he promised himself to protect Alice, even when she didn’t know about it—because the girl was up to something. He could wager half his wealth on that.
How could he go about it though?
Keenly, he watched the girl go over to a trio of ladies: Miranda Valentine, a tall, thin woman, a short woman with an upturned nose, rather like a pig, and a third one who looked like she only had air and sliver netting between her vacant blue eyes. She whispered something to them before looking over to her relatives.
He saw how the cousin pandered to the tall one, and knew while she was spiteful as a rearing snake, she was not the ringleader, the tall one was. Turning away, he smiled to himself; all he needed was to know wherethatone lived and find a servant who needed coin.
On the other hand, he needed more protection for Alice in case the cousin made a move away from their home.
Runners, he told himself. I’ll have them protect her in my stead.
Instantly, his head and his heart hurt—because he knew, without a doubt, he wanted her for himself. At any other time, he would have used his prowess to get what he wanted—but he couldn’t this time.
Not with Alice, she was too precious, too pure.
Alice was right; he’d stabbed Benedict in the back too much; he was selfish. It was about time he did right by his brother—by staying away.
But what if she does not want Benedict…. What if she truly wants me? What then?
CHAPTER 16
“Tonight has been ever so wonderful,” Aunt Agatha exclaimed for what felt like the fifteenth time since leaving the museum. “I do think the ladies of the ton are warming up to our presence. Don’t you think, dear Richard?”
“Er, in some ways,” Richard rumbled. “But I do believe you addressed some people wrongly, my dear.”
“What?” Agatha’s tone went up an octave. “If that were the case, why did you not stop me?”
While the two argued, Alice stared out the window; the shrouded shapes in the dark night were as muddled as her thoughts. A part of her felt ashamed; if her parents had any idea of the things she had gotten herself into, she knew they would be sorely disappointed that she had been caught admiring such a lush and decadent lifestyle.
Even with that, another feeling burgeoned—she knew what she’d wanted to give Edward;the rigid cloak of control, Edward had called it. God, she wanted to be free.
From the moment their parents had passed, when she was merely eight-and-ten, she had tended to Penelope, refurbishing old gowns into new ones, managing the farthings and the pennies, minding the garden, minding the house, and cooking supper. When had she allowed a moment to herself?
Clarity struck her like a ray of sunshine piercing through the clouds. Shedidwant what Edward had to give… but she could not accept it, not on those dishonorable terms.
The sweetest ache stirred in her heart, and her throat stung from the memory of how she’d felt in his arms. How perfectly they had fitted together. Suddenly, she wanted to cry.
“Alice,” Penelope asked in a hushed tone. “Are you all right?”
“Just tired,” she replied, her voice cracking at the end. “I feel utterly fatigued.”
“Have you been sleeping well?”
“No,” she answered.
“Is it that time of the—”
