The quicker he had this interminable interview out of the way, the better. Since the baron’s death some three years prior—and hell, even before the doddering lord’s death—Alice had been taking lovers. Sidney had not been her first, and nor, he knew, would he be her last. However, he respected her. She was intelligent in a way many in their set were not, and she was also vivacious and giving. An excellent hostess in her own right, much sought-after. She would have no trouble moving on to whomever she wished, if anyone.
However, he had not intended to give her the congé the day of his return to London. His grandmother’s death, coupled with all his recent travels, and combined with his fits of conscience over the way he had parted with Julianna, had him in an upheaval.
Alice was fiddling with the mantel clock when he entered. The whole thing was turned about, and she had removed the back.
“Lady Richards,” he greeted, opting for formality between them, offering a bow.
“Shelbourne! Your clock is slow. I do believe it was in need of a winding. I hope you do not mind.” She gave it another wind, replaced the back, and then carefully spun it about so it faced the room once more.
Where some would have been shocked at a lady who bothered herself with the punctuality of a mantel clock—and indeed, one who dared to wind it herself—Sidney was not. He had been acquainted with Alice for several years, and he knew her well enough to understand she had an affinity for objects with mechanisms. Once, she had taken apart his pocket watch. On another occasion, she had dismantled his pencil, only to return it to him in far better working condition than it had previously been.
Her smile was dazzling as she swept toward him, and there was no denying her beauty. But he felt nothing as she approached him, save the same respect and admiration he would feel toward any lady. The attraction he had felt for her paled in comparison to the blazing desire and all-consuming love he felt for Julianna.
“Of course I do not mind,” he said mildly, taking her offered hand and bringing it to his lips for a perfunctory kiss. His lips scarcely grazed her gloves before he straightened, his gaze meeting hers.
Alice’s expression fell. “Ah.”
She understood. Alice was a clever woman, and that, above her looks, had been what had initially drawn him to her. Part of him had hoped feelings for her would blossom and grow, so that he would no longer be tormented by the suppressed longing he possessed for Julianna. Their time together at Farnsworth Hall, however, had proven beyond a doubt that no woman could ever take Julianna’s place. No one could even compete.
“I had not expected to see you so soon upon my return,” he said evenly, still attempting to navigate the speech he must give. The one that ended them without hurting her.
“Your note was not an invitation, then.”
What could he say? The truth, only.
“No.”
“I see.” She sighed, though she summoned up a smile once more—for his benefit, he was sure, and it was rather resigned. “Forgive me my presumption. It had been far too long since I had seen you last, and I thought you would wish for company.”
He had not invited Alice to Farnsworth Hall. Although she was a lady in her own right, their relationship had not been a secret amongst their set. A gentleman did not invite his paramour to a country house party where his innocent sister and his sister’s equally innocent friend would be in attendance. Particularly when he had been incapable of shaking his sister’s friend from his thoughts.
“I plan to be married,” he said bluntly.
Not to you.
His unspoken words fell between them, and though he should not feel guilty—they had entered into their understanding knowing it would be a comfortable physical distraction and little else—he still hated the way Alice’s composure crumpled.
Just for a brief flash, and then it was gone. Her brow was smooth, her smile firmly in place. “I am happy for you, Shelbourne. Did it happen whilst you were at Farnsworth Hall?”
“Yes, and before then as well.” He paused, thinking over his every interaction with Julianna from the moment he had first met her two years prior. “It has been happening for some time.”
“I had no notion you wished for marriage.” She studied him. “You hardly seem the sort.”
Julianna made him the sort.
But he did not say that either.
“I am sorry I was not clearer in my note,” he offered. “The truth is, I wished to speak with you in the coming days about our arrangement coming to an end. I am in love, Alice. I never expected to be, but…I am, and I have no wish to wait any longer. The time is right.”
“You are in mourning,” Alice pointed out quickly. “How can the time be right, as you say?”
Grandmother would have understood, he knew. She would have liked Julianna. He wished the two could have met.
“We will not marry until the proper period of mourning has passed. However, out of respect for both you and my future wife, I cannot continue with you, Alice.”
There. He said the words, and it was as if a great weight had been lifted from his chest. He could offer for Julianna with an unburdened mind and heart. He loved her, and he intended to be faithful and true. She was the only woman he wanted, now and forever.
Alice inclined her head. “Of course. Again, I am sorry for importuning you today. If I’d had any inkling, I would not have come.”
