Alicia bowed her head over her glass and lowered her voice, “Truth to tell,” she said softly, “I remember it well enough myself, how daunting theTononce seemed. And sometimes—sometimes I suppose it still does.”
“Oh?”
“I was once an outsider myself,” Alicia confided. “My father was in trade, you see. I married into the aristocracy. A younger son, it is true, but even that was trespass enough to be thought something of a pretender to their ranks. An interloper who reached higher than she had any right to do.” There was a shred of pain there within her dark eyes, the sort that lingered long after the wound itself had faded. A scar rendered visible still, with the remembered cruelty she had suffered.
Poor lady, to have been so judged by those who by all rights ought to have been her peers. And it had only made her kind. Sensitive to those who had experienced the same. Welcoming and warm and hospitable.
Her husband, in turn, was a damned boor. He’d snapped at her thrice over dinner; first, over the quality of the beef which had been served; second, the wine; and third, for speaking too loudly to the gentleman at her right. Lord Lockhart, who had been seated beside Grace for dinner, had had tension rolling off of him in waves, though he had managed—with Grace’s subtle encouragement—to hold his tongue.
Even a fool could see that Mr. Marsden held the purse strings clenched within his iron fist. He had sparkled like a polished diamond at dinner, while his wife sat beside Grace now in a gown that was patched at the hem. No luxury was spared for those things that Mr. Marsden considered important—himself, to all appearances—while Mrs. Marsden was forced to economize wherever she could.
Grace sipped her sherry. “It must have been a difficult adjustment for you,” she said softly. “I know it was for me. I don’t know how I would have managed without my sisters to guide me.” She nodded to indicate Mercy across the room, engaged in animated conversation with some lady or other. “Or without the friends they had made amongst theTon.” Friends who had long become as close as family. Had Alicia had a similar support from her husband, once? From his family?
Alicia winced, just a little. “I regret to say that my marriage was not a love match,” she said. “We rubbed on well enough together for a while, but once it had become clear that I would not produce a child, well—I suppose I lost whatever small bit of Nigel’s affection I might once have possessed.” She cast her gaze to her lap, a splash of color spreading high across her cheekbones. “Forgive me,” she said, reaching out to squeeze Grace’s hand gently. “I don’t know what’s come over me, to speak so plainly of such things.”
Probably, Grace thought, the poor woman hadn’t had anything approaching a confidante in some time. And everyone needed someone, from time to time. “Perhaps you will be good enough to come to tea in the future,” Grace said. “I have got three older sisters”—each of them nearer to Alicia’s age than her own—“and they are all excellent listeners. I’ll admit that it does get a bit chaotic—”
“I spend so much of my time alone in the house,” Alicia said. “I think I might welcome a bit of chaos from time to time. Thankyou, Grace; that sounds just lovely.” She cleared her throat, and rearranged herself in her seat, smoothing at her patched skirts. “Would it be beyond the pale to inquire of your relationship with my nephew?”
Grace tucked a laugh away behind the tips of her fingers. “I’m afraid it’s been rather contentious until just recently,” she said.
“Has it?” Alicia blinked, startled. “I had no idea.”
“We are neighbors, of a sort,” Grace clarified. “His house is across the street from mine. And he loathes my cat.” She offered an abashed little shrug. “In his lordship’s defense, Tansy often makes a menace of herself. She very much enjoys his lordship’s garden, and frequently slips away to enjoy it.”
“She sounds delightful,” Alicia said. “I would have a cat, if they didn’t make Nigel sneeze as though he were in the grips of a dreadful head cold. Once, on a walk through the park, I found the sweetest, smallest little kitten.” She sighed in remembrance. “Just a tiny ginger kitten, all by himself. I brought him home with me in the hopes that I might keep him, but the very moment Nigel came home from his club, he began to sneeze something awful. In the end, I had to give the poor little thing away.”
“I’d offer to let you borrow Tansy whenever you like,” Grace said, “but I’m sorry to say she is not the most sociable of animals. Lord Lockhart has intimated on more than one occasion that she isn’t so much a cat as she is a demon.”
“Surely she is notsobad as all that,” Alicia protested.
“I can name at least a dozen of my nearest and dearest who would heartily agree with his lordship’s assessment.” A rousing shout from elsewhere in the house camouflaged Alicia’s chuckle. Loud enough even to pierce the closed doors of the drawing room in which the ladies had secluded themselves away after dinner. One of the gentlemen had either won a great deal of money on the turn of a card—or lost a great deal. Either way, itwas a prompt reminder that Grace ought to be getting about her business. “I beg your pardon,” she said. “Is there somewhere private I might attend to my—er, personal needs?”
“Oh. Oh, yes, of course.” Alicia gave a little gesture toward the door. “The retiring room is just down the hall,” she said. “Third door on the left.”
That would put it just before the card room, if she was not mistaken. “Thank you,” she said. “And might I trouble you to tell my sister, Mercy, that I will return shortly?
“Of course, my dear.” Alicia patted her hand fondly as she rose from her seat.
Perfect. Mercy would no doubt keep Alicia occupied for at least the next ten minutes, and Grace rather thought the two of them would enjoy one another’s company. Perhaps Mercy would even send an invitation to Alicia for tea herself.
Grace slipped from the room quietly and discreetly, sliding her hand into the deep pockets sewn into her gown as she went—not toward the retiring room to which she had been sent, but toward the stairs.
And not a soul had seen her go.
∞∞∞
Owing to the changing of the dealer between games, Henry had had to do very little cheating in the end. Between the bottle of port that Uncle Nigel had downed mostly on his own, the flickering beeswax candles that lit the room, and the fact that the man played cards about as well as he played billiards—which was to say, passably at best—Uncle Nigel had lost a substantial sum without too much of Henry’s interference at all.
He was down nearly three hundred pounds already, and they both knew he didn’t have it to lose. Though he was attempting to behave as if it didn’t matter, the flickering flames of the candles made the little beads of sweat which had broken out upon his brow appear to dance.
“Your deal, I believe, Lockhart.” One of the gentlemen present pushed the deck of cards toward him, and Henry began to shuffle them in that swift false-shuffle riffle that still felt somewhat clumsy to his fingers. It was tempting to rub his fingers over his coat, where Grace’s queen of hearts lay hidden within an interior pocket. For luck.
Had Grace made her move yet? Henry wished it was possible to know. Each moment that passed felt loaded with suspense, as if he were only waiting for a hue and cry to erupt elsewhere in the house. His heart pounded out a strained rhythm in his chest, concern squeezing the wretched organ tight.
He was meant to buy Grace as much time as possible, he reminded himself. Centering his attention on the task at hand, Henry dealt the cards one at a time. The winner this round, he decided, would be Mr. Woodhouse. He and Uncle Nigel had been exchanging subtle barbs with one another all evening, and the situation seemed ripe for exploitation.
The players placed their bets, and the few onlookers peering over the table only reduced the candlelight further, better disguising the quick, subtle movements of Henry’s hands as he dealt out the requested cards. If he had done it correctly, Uncle Nigel had a hand which would avail him nothing once the cards were revealed—and Mr. Woodhouse had gotten the ace he had needed to clinch the game.
