“My plan with Clara is just as important as your plan for the new hotel on Coney Island,” Aunt Maude continued. “I need all the help I can get, and I’ll expect you to put a smile on your face and spend time in Clara’s company whenever possible—whether you want to or not. No more running away.”
“She is in over her head,” he said. “She wasn’t made for this life.”
Was I that repulsive to him? I caught my reflection in a tall mirror. Though I wore a lavish silk gown and was adorned with diamonds and pearls, I saw what Alec saw. I heard what he heard. The poor Irish girl from Five Points with the course accent and ill-mannered relatives.
How was I supposed to convince a duke I was any different if I couldn’t even convince Alec?
I stepped farther away, not wanting to hear more. Their muffled voices rose with passion.
When things finally quieted, the door opened, and Alec appeared. He stepped out of the parlor and looked around the hallway until he found me.
His shoulders were stiff, and his head was held high—but when his gaze met mine, it lowered a notch, and he smiled at me.
It took all my strength to return the smile because I knew it wasn’t real.
None of this was real.
Though he was very good at pretending.
He walked toward me, and I could see he was uncomfortable—possibly embarrassed. A grown man didn’t like to be told what to do, even if Aunt Maude was like a mother to him.
The last thing I wanted was to be the object of their disagreement—or the person Alec was forced to be around when he wanted to be anywhere else but here.
I swallowed the uneasiness that crept up my throat and fought the urge to run. Where would I go? I had agreed to this charade, and I needed to stick to the plan. If I couldn’t face Alec, how could I be presented to the Queen of England?
What was my alternative? Return to Five Points?
I shuddered just thinking about it.
Alec stopped in front of me, his blue eyes searching my face.
Was he wondering what I’d heard?
“I’m sorry,” he said. “She is one of the most stubborn, single-minded women I’ve ever known.”
“She wants what’s best for you.”
He made a sound and shook his head. “She wants what’s best for the Hill name.”
“Which includes you.”
“I suppose.” He ran his hand through his hair, causing it to turn into a riot of curls. “She expects us to dance, so she’s sending for Peter, who is probably asleep in his bed. The poor man.”
It was my turn to apologize. “I’m sorry.”
He frowned. “Why are you sorry? You’re the one who’s exhausted.”
“I know you’d rather not dance with me.”
His lips parted and he looked confused for a heartbeat. “That’s not—” He paused and then started over. “I hate seeing you exhausted and in pain.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“One dance,” he said. “And no more.”
Was that all he could stand? I tried not to let my disappointment show, but it was impossible. I had to look down at my hands, so he wouldn’t see the hurt in my eyes.
“Hey,” he said as he set his fingers under my chin and gently lifted my face to look at him. There was a strange expression in his gaze. “Were you hoping to dance more than that?”
