She had barely escaped the whirlwind of the twins when another obstacle appeared—three ladies advancing with the determination of a cavalry charge.
“Lady Alice!” Lady Petunia boomed, feathers quivering from the violent flutter of her fan. At her side was Lady Agatha, equally formidable, encased in apricot satin. Lastly was the youngest, Mrs. Lavinia Williams. She seemed to favor different shades of green.
“My dear girl, how delightful to see you,” Lady Petunia said. “We were quite certain you had abandoned society altogether.”
Alice dropped a curtsy, her smile fixed. “I have been in the country, ma’am. I find it soothing.”
“Of course it is,” Mrs. Williams said. “But you are far too young to be hiding there, my dear.”
“Indeed. You will never find a husband if you continue to do so,” Lady Agatha added.
Alice kept her tone mild. “Marriage is not my fondest wish.”
The women exchanged a look before speaking again.
“Oh? Then what is, child?” Lady Petunia asked, a gentle smile on her lips.
“To live my life as I choose,” Alice said calmly. She rarely spoke like this in public, but perhaps it was time she did, then people would know marriage was not of interest to her. Of course, that was scandalous considering she was a youngwoman, and they were usually raised with the single goal of finding a wealthy man to wed.
The ladies smiled, like she’d done something that made them proud.
“How refreshing, and I like that you have your own mind, dear, but of course there are plenty of wonderful men who would be just brilliant for you to marry. In fact, we know of one who would be perfect. He is a friend of our nephew’s,” Lady Petunia said.
Surely not?
“Yes, plenty of wonderful gentlemen in London society, but the one we have selected would be an excellent choice for you.”
“Thank you, but no. I have no interest in a husband. Now, if you will excuse me, I am due to dance with Lord Taylor.”
She didn’t exactly run, but it was close. Skirting the guests, she headed in the opposite direction to where the three meddling women stood.
Over the next few hours, Alice danced, smiled when required, and allowed the Thomas twins to chatter at her until her head spun. She avoided Lord Hamilton’s aunts, and of Lord Stafford there was no further sign. It seemed he’d left the ballroom, and she told herself she was happy about that.
He’d warned her to stay away from Kenneth Jackson, and while she understood why—the man was dangerous—she didn’t like it and would be ignoring his direction. Alice had made her brother a promise that she would not be breaking.
As yet, she had no idea what she’d do when she found Kenneth Jackson, but she’d think about that when the time came.
After saying good night to the twins when she thought she’d been here long enough to please gossips and her aunt, Alice went in search of her relative.
Mrs. Gwendoline Patterson was her late mother’s elder sister and had come to live with Alice after Charles’s death. Aunt Gwen’s gentle nature and innate kindness had soothed much of Alice’s early grief. She liked everyone, and within days had charmed the household staff. Her white hair framed a round, sweet face that always seemed slightly flushed. She loved to stitch, to read, and to spend long afternoons with her friends discussing whichever novel currently absorbed her. Alice adored her.
“Hello, darling,” Aunt Gwen said warmly as Alice approached. “Are you ready to leave?”
“Not yet,” she said. “I am to take the Thomas twins home.” The lie slid from her tongue easily now. Deception had become a second language. She used it to escape the house, and to protect her aunt from worry.
“I wondered if Lady Cecil might drop you home instead, Aunt. It could be a late night.”
Lady Cecil, perched to Gwen’s right, adjusted the tall black feather in her hair and fixed Alice with hawk-like eyes. Terrifyingly direct, she could cut a man to ribbons with a single phrase. Alice, perversely, adored sparring with her.
“I will drop your aunt home,” Lady Cecil declared, voice like a steel blade. “But you’ll have a care, Lady Alice.”
“They live not far from our townhouse,” Alice replied mildly. She leaned down, kissed her aunt’s cheek, and then pressed another kiss against Lady Cecil’s surprisingly soft one. With her farewells complete, she drifted away, and only when she saw them depart, did she take her own leave.
Chapter Four
Alice walked intothe cool night air. The ballroom’s heat and perfume clung to her skin, but London’s smog swept it aside. The city was a different creature after dark. Dangerous for anyone who did not have a care.
Her driver straightened as she approached. Ezra Samson was as solid as an oak, his blond hair dulled in the lamplight, his broad shoulders filling the space between the carriage and horse.
