He covered her hand with his and the look of tender affection crossing his face while he looked at Penelope only made Alice yearn to see Edward that much more. She knew it was time to speak with Benedict—but perhaps not this day.
When they returned to the townhome, moments before her aunt and cousin came in, Benedict sat his cup of coffee aside and said, “Mister Thorpe, may I have a word?”
Uncle Richard’s brows flew to his hairline and her aunt gasped audibly enough that Alice knew she expected more than the man had to tell her.
“O-of course, my lord,” Uncle Richard nodded quickly. “In my study, please.”
After the two left the room, Alice went to her aunt who was suddenly busy fanning herself as if she would faint at any moment.
“It is not what you think, Aunt,” she said. “It is not a marriage proposal.”
“It’snot?” Her aunt squawked.
“Of course it’s not,” Eliza sniffed scornfully.
Ignoring her cousin, Alice explained, “There was an incident earlier with Lord Rutledge, and I am sorry to say, he will not be courting Penelope anymore.”
Her aunt’s face fell, “What? Why?”
“Because he was drunk and disrespectful,” Penelope began, “and moreover, he does not give a whit about me or care about anything except himself.”
“The man is a Viscount!” Eliza blurted. “What is therenotto like?”
Alice slid a look to her and knew the two words that would deflate Eliza like a popped balloon. “He’s poor.”
“Oh,” Eliza blinked, then shrugged. “Well, that makes sense.”
“Then—” her aunt twisted in her chair to look over to the direction her husband had taken Benedict, “what does his lordship want to talk to Richard about?”
Succinctly, Alice told her about the fight between the two men and how it ended with the broken end-table. “That’s what they are talking about.”
Deflated, her aunt sighed, “Needless to say, I’d wished for something else coming from him.”
Exhausted, Alice excused herself. “I need to lie down; I have a headache.”
“I’ll see the lord out then,” her aunt nodded. “Have a rest, dear.”
Shoulders sagging, Alice left for her room and upon arriving, closed the door behind her and changed into a nightgown and a robe, before sinking into her bed. Turning sideways, she pressed her face into the pillow and tried to gather herself.
I’ve failed. I have failed Penelope. She needed me and I failed.
Objectively, she knew no blame should be resting on her shoulders—Rutledge had sunk his own ship—but the feeling lingered anyhow.
Her chest burned with a tangle of emotions she could not unravel, and the more she mulled over them, the tighter they grew. At one time, she slipped off to sleep, but it was not an easyone. She tossed and turned until sometime before midnight, she could not take it anymore.
Throwing on a dress and a cloak, with coins in hand, she slipped out of the house, and because the townhouse was so close to the square, she hailed a hackney to the Duke’s address. As much as she hated deceiving her family and knew she was risking her life and reputation, she had no choice.
Thunder rolled ominously ahead but she had come too far to turn back then. She needed to see Edward. Thunder rumbled once more. It was closer now; the storm was not far off. As the hackney rolled up the long drive, she observed the privacy afforded by the towering trees and hedges.
They rode through an archway into a wide yard, and the rain began in earnest, sweeping across the forecourt in sheets. Lightning lit up the sky in bright flashes, causing the ponies to squeal and stamp their hooves. She paid the driver quickly as the rain came down and icy needles peppered her skin.
She pulled up her hood in an effort to protect herself from it, but it soaked her to her skin anyhow. Thunder boomed directly overhead; ducking her head against the heavy squall that plastered her clothes to her body, she hastened up the stone steps, slippery with rain, leading up to the manor’s entrance.
Banging on the door, she prayed a footman would open quickly so she could get out of the rain, and on the third bang, the door opened and the butler Ramsay stood there in a robe and trousers. “Miss Alice?”
“I—I need to see E-Edward,” she shivered.
He pulled her in, “Good gracious, Miss, what possessed you to come in this downpour at—” he craned his head over to the grandfather clock in the corner as he ushered her up the stairs “—half past midnight.”
