“No, please forgive me for arriving uninvited at such an hour,” he murmured, drawing nearer. “I…I couldn’t stay away.May I speak with you alone here, before they hear a word of the matter?” He motioned to the shut door.
“They?” She looked from him to the door, then back again. “What matter? Do you mean the opportunity you had in mind for me?” Her face creased and she glanced again at the door. “I’m sorry, but now is not the best time for such a discussion.”
This was not the romantic encounter Alwyn had hoped for — even the music had suddenly ended — but he was determined.
“Forgive me, but I may regret it if I wait any longer.” He reached to cover her hand on the doorknob with his. “You see, it has long been my hope that you and I would spend the future…together.”
A wariness filled her eyes, and she withdrew her hand, her fingers slipping out from underneath his.
“You really must be more mindful of how you engage with young ladies, Mr Alwyn. I am still haunted by how you kissed my wrist last August.”
Haunted?He let his hand drop to his side.By my kiss? Did she think I was just toying with her, and tot me up as a rake?
“Miss Everson, my situation did not allow me to speak openly with you in that moment, so I hinted at my hopes, and — foolishly, it seems — I thought you understood me.”
He was jarred from the precipice of his explanation by a voice within the parlour.
“Do you hear someone speaking, Clarice?”
Footsteps crossed the floor, and the door flew open, pouring light out into the hall. This did not reveal Mr and Mrs Caspar as Alwyn had anticipated, but two unfamiliar women —one right before him, and another across the room, seated on the piano bench.
“At last! We’ve been waiting here, forced to entertain ourselves!” The closest woman glowered at Miss Everson. “Did the maid not tell you of our arrival, Belinda?”
Alwyn bristled.
“You oughtn’t speak to her like that.”
“Oughtn’t I?” She turned her daggered eyes to him. “And who are you to say so?”
With a grit Alwyn had never heard in her voice before, Miss Everson said, “Thisis Mr William Alwyn. He has been tending to Uncle George in his illness, and deserves your respect.”
As the woman studied Alwyn for a moment, her derision twisted into puzzlement.
“Mr WilliamAlwyn, you say?” Then, with a smile like a gash across her face, she burst out with, “I think you mean WilliamWirth, or more rightly,Lord Farrmore!”
Alwyn’s heart fell like a stone.
“I am not wrong, am I, my lord? No, I am sure of it!” she crowed. “Clarice! Come and meet theVanished Viscount!Who would have thought thatI,of all people, would find him?”
Springing off of the piano bench, the second girl scurried over and began to examine him as if he were a newly unveiled sculpture.
“But are you certain, Anne? I never thought to see him with my own eyes!”
Who are these women?Alwyn’s mind reeled as he looked back and forth between them.
“Well, he is taller than when I last saw him, but his eyes – they are the very same – and there is something about the way he holds his head. I’d know him anywhere.”
Stealing a glance at Miss Everson, Alwyn saw she was staring at him, her mouth slightly open. Her silence was far louder than the Anne-woman’s brazen cataloging of his features.
“To think we would meet again in my uncle’s house, my lord!” the woman chittered on. “Pray tell, what brings you here and at this hour?”
She clasped her hands at her waist, quietly awaiting Alwyn’s reply. When it did not come, her look of triumph chilled.
“Do you not remember me, my lord? Miss Anne Chaffee? I grant you, it was years ago, but we spoke many times when we were together at Gawling Manor.”
Gawling Manor.
The name stirred up further dread in Alwyn’s stomach.
