Rather, he was shocked by Fairclough’s boldness. Here was his wife’s former brother-in-law striding directly toward them. Beside him, Alice grew rigid.
“What do you suppose he wants?” he asked her.
“I know not. I wish he had never seen me. Please, may we leave?”
Luckily, their carriage pulled up, and he helped Alice inside before the man was upon them.
“Leave her alone, Fairclough. I am warning you.”
With that, Adam climbed in and slammed the door.
“Persistent rotter, isn’t he? I can see why you felt the need to disappear if you had to face him at every turn.”
“In a city this size,” Alice said, sounding dejected, “mayhap I shall never see him again.”
Yet the following week, they encountered the blackguard again, this time at a ball thrown by Baron Hermann de Stern at his Gothic Strawberry Hill House in Twickenham. Not too large a gathering, many familiar faces, and some, as Alice predicted, stared at her a little too long before giving Adam a curious glance.
He was becoming used to ignoring those who looked askance, refusing to feel as if there was anything wrong with having married the widow, but he was relieved whenever a genuine well-wisher greeted them.
As usual, Adam thought Alice the most beautiful woman at the party. It was easy to imagine how she had been made vain by the attention she must have garnered as a debutante. Without loving, attentive parents to rein her in, she had been untethered and probably overwhelmed by her first Season. Naturally, she would try to find her own way through the complicated path of high society, and equally understandably, she might stray.
Unfortunately, she’d strayed into Richard Fairclough, and once again, his arse of a brother was intruding upon theirevening. This was growing beyond irksome. Outside, in the lovely garden, the man made a beeline for them.
“Diamond,” Fairclough said, a bit jovial with drink. “I am exceedingly glad to have run into you and your wife. Once again, I must bring your attention to the matter of a certain large and growing debt to be settled.”
“That was your brother’s debt,” Adam reminded him. “Not my wife’s.”
“What about the clothing?” Fairclough asked, folding his arms as if he expected a long discussion.
Alice flinched.
“What clothing?” Adam tried to ignore the trickle of uncertainty running through him whenever she had that hunted appearance.
Fairclough sniffed. “There was my brother’s debt, and then there was my brother’swife’sdebt. She had a taste for the finest fashion. The modiste still screeches like a banshee if the name of Lady Fairclough is mentioned.”
“How would you know that?” Alice spoke for the first time. “Do you frequent Madame Turnbull’s establishment?”
“No, but my mistress tried to. When the modiste heard her connection to the name of Fairclough, she couldn’t get fitted for a paltry glove never mind a gown.”
“But you would have paid for your mistress’s clothing, isn’t that right?” Adam asked.
“Of course,” Fairclough said, lifting of his chin.
“Then shouldn’t your brother have afforded the same courtesy to his wife?”
Fairclough looked angry. “Richard had no idea the accountsshewas opening all over London” — he gave a careless nod in Alice’s direction — “nor how much she was spending. Haven’t you yet noticed your own coffers dwindling?”
Adam recalled the day he’d received the bill for Alice’s new wardrobe. He’d thought little of it. After all, she couldn’t dress like a governess any longer, and he was the one who’d asked his mother to take her to the shops. If the cost had made him raise an eyebrow, looking at Alice now, it had been well worth it.
“That is not your business,” Adam told him after too long a pause that made Fairclough smile smugly.Damn the man!
Alice merely blinked at him.Was she feeling guilty?
A stupid thought, which Adam squashed. Fairclough was poisoning their marriage every time he opened his lips.
“The debts of those still claiming against the Fairclough titlearemy business,” the man insisted, “and equally, they are your wife’s business.”
“I don’t believe they are,” Adam said. “She is protected under the law.”
