Edward ground his teeth and forced his thoughts away. If he traveled down the dark hallways of what-ifs, he would be lost to them.
In a hoarse voice, he continued, “I want you to let go of fear and worry, Alice. I want to give you the rest you sorely deserve. I want you to trust me to give you everything you need—”
“But you cannot.”
“Only temporarily,” he stroked her hair away and kissed her forehead. “Only temporarily, sweetheart.”
“Alice?” Uncle Richard blinked over that morning’s edition of the Times. “Will you be joining us?”
“Yes, Uncle, I shall.” She unwrapped her cloak. “I took an early morning walk as I had a lot on my mind. You know I am an early riser.”
“Oh,” Richard shook out the paper. “Well, have some tea. I had a long night myself. Your aunt, bless her soul, kept waxing poetic on how well off you will be as a wife to a Marquess, soon-to-be Duke.”
She could only give him a weak smile, “I hope Aunt is not putting the cart before the horse, uncle.”
“No, no,” he uttered. “She is simply overjoyed at you elevating your station and taking us with you. Especially dear Eliza. You know that girl is brimming with anxiety to meet a good man of the ton.”
“After the many ones she rejected,” Alice murmured absently, “I would be lying if I told you I am shocked.”
The crinkle of paper drew her attention from the cup of tea she was preparing, and she found her uncle’s eyes wavering over her. “Why would you say such a thing, Alice?”
She found herself unable to sidestep the truth that everyone in the house was gleefully ignoring. “Uncle, Eliza has had many suitors pass through these doors and not one of them has she accepted. Why do you think that is?”
He frowned and dropped another square of sugar in his tea. “From what the missus has told me, it is because nary one of them was a good fit for dear Eliza. You know how frail she is and how she should be attended to.”
Of course that was his answer. The man was as hen-picked as a bag of corn kernels in front of a chicken coop.
“No, Uncle, it is because she wants more than anyone can offer her, and wants everyone else’s too,” Alice said tiredly. “Your daughter is selfish and spoiled rotten with expectations she ought not to have about a lord. At this point, I believe she could be given a prince sitting atop a pile of gold and jewels and she will want the king on the throne. The last two Lords she courted had first taken an interest in Penelope, but then had their attentions snatched by her out of jealousy, only to be tossed aside a few weeks later, then wanting nothing to do with our family for how they overheard her speaking of them to her friends.”
He dropped his paper, aghast. “Alice! What a horrible thing to accuse of your poor cousin!”
Emboldened, she shook her head. “Yet we all know it to be true. Why are we never allowed to say anything about it? No one will ever be enough for Eliza and until you open your eyes and see that and address it, she will never change, nor will Penelope ever have a chance at a match. Lord knows it was a miracle for myself to find someone that she wasn’t nipping at their heels to steal.”
“Alice!” Richard’s tone dropped. “You are passing your place. It seems that because you are being courted by a Marquess, you are now somehow critical of your cousin. Eliza is simply unfortunate in nuptial matters as you once were.”
“Do you really think so, Uncle, or is that what she has told you?” Alice asked, taking her cup. When no answer came forward, she shook her head, “Please, excuse me.”
Entering her room, she rested the cup on a table and sunk into a chair; Alice found herself exceedingly tired of so many things, especially the hypocrisy in her home. It felt absolutely liberating to have let so many cares drop from her shoulders; Edward had redirected something inside her that finally—finally—felt right.
Settling her tea on her end table near her bed, she undid her cloak and laid it over a chair.
The worry she had carried for so long was tying her up in knots no longer, and while she had not come to a decision in regards to what to do with Penelope’s condition, she could at least allow herself time to breathe.
“Alice?” Penelope stuck her head in the doorway. “May I come in?”
“Sure,” she sighed, her brows lowering. “Are you all right?”
Her sister closed the door, “I am. But I came to your room last night and never saw you. Where did you go?”
Before she replied, she asked, “Why did you come to see me?”
“I felt ill,” Penelope grimaced while pressing a hand to her belly. “I wanted to ask you if you think…” She blew out a long breath.“…I’ve heard talk, whispers really, of a mixture of herbs that can end an unwanted situation… if you get my meaning.”
Alice blinked, then blinked again, then her heart swooped in dismay. “Penelope, I—I don’t think that is the best course of action.”
Her sister slumped into a lone chair, her expression defeated. With her eyes on the floor, she admitted, “I don’t know what to do.”
Reaching over, Alice held Penelope’s hands tightly, “I… don’t know yet, Penelope, but we will think of something.”
