Stepping aside, Alice began, “Aunt Agatha, may I introduce his lordship, Marquess Brampton. He graciously offered to bring the drinks for Penelope and Eliza.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Penelope said curtsying.
Eliza was a touch slower, but she followed as well, and when he handed both their glasses, he added, “I am remiss. It is not fair for two to drink when they can be four. Please, excuse me.”
“My lord, you don’t—” Alice lifted her hand to stop him, but he caught it and kissed the back of it instead.
“‘Tis my pleasure, my lady,” he replied.
Alice could feel her aunt’s glare singe the side of her neck and knew she had to tell the lord the truth about her station when he returned. She had to make sure he knew she wasnota lady, which would possibly turn his eye to Eliza—even though she was not a lady either.
In the few minutes he was gone, questions flew from all sides.
“Where did you meet him?” Penelope asked.
“Why didn't you tell us about him?” Her aunt demanded.
“Were you thinking about keeping him to yourself?” Eliza muttered.
“I just met him.” Alice kept her tone civil, though she almost made to scoff at that last remark. “I very nearly spilled those drinks on him, and he decided to do the gentlemanly thing and carry them for me.”
“Oh.” Eliza blinked, her blue eyes clearing, before she sipped her own drink.
“He’s coming, he’s coming,” Aunt Agatha murmured quietly.
The Marquess returned to a wide-eyed entrance, holding two glasses in hand, before handing one to Alice and one to her aunt.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, heart hammering. “But you should know, I haven’t a title. I amMissAlice Winslow. My father was a merchant.”
He cocked his head, a brow arching. “I apologize, Miss Winslow, if I accidentally made you feel the need to declare such a thing.”
“It only felt fair to state it,” Alice smiled thinly. “I would hate to appear to be something that I am not.”
Marquess Brampton’s grin was slanted, very boyish but still handsome. “I assure you; I am unbothered. If your aunt would be inclined to chaperon, would you walk with me for a spell, after you finish your drink of course?”
Aunt Agatha nearly fell over her feet agreeing and when the Marquess bowed away, she wanted to walk away because she knew that her aunt would capitalize on the unexpected meeting and near mishap.
“Do everything in your power to charm him,” her aunt ordered. “Do not, and I mean donotregale him with whatever nonsense of the last book you have read. Listen to him, be submissive, do not give him any reason to walk away.”
When Benedict did return, Alice, like many other times, squashed her irritation, forced a smile on her face, and took his offered arm.
“Truly, you hadn’t needed to clarify your origins,” Benedict grinned, keeping his face forward.
“I did not want to give you a false impression,” she began, gently twisting her head to look at him. “I do detest generalizations, but it is very plain how the ton sees those who are Gentry.”
“I hate to tell you that the divisions in the Upper Ten are as bad as the prejudice you face,” Benedict shrugged. “They are not as visible, but they are there.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“The lords have to be sure the women they meet are not only there for gain and the ladies have to be absolutely sure the lords nipping at their heels are not fortune hunters in disguise,” he said. “The open secret of the ton is that matches and marriages are made on the consideration of power and fortune.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. “Do you… follow that philosophy?”
He paused in the middle of the path and turned to her, his expression understanding as he clearly had deduced the words she hadn’t said. “No, I do not.”
For once, Alice allowed herself to smile. Sincerely. “Thank you.”
“Now,” he began, spinning and leading the way once more. “Tell me about yourself.”
