The Stranger She Married (8 page)

"You've ruined everything, Robbie."

"Alwaysh manage to."

"I want to go home. Lord Amesbury is here."

Robert cursed and tried to sit up.

Alicia pushed him back down. “You're in no condition to go anywhere now, you idiot."

He closed his eyes and slurred, “Shorry, Lisshie. Should've talked Armand out of accepting that challenge to duel. But I was so hot to shee him humiliate that arrogant viscount. Should've shtopped ‘em."

"Hush, Robbie, it's not your fault. Lord Amesbury should never have issued the challenge."

When the doctor arrived, he ushered Alicia out. While she paced the floor outside the room, a footman motioned to her. “Dinner is still being served, Miss."

Alicia nodded. She might as well eat as it would be some time before Robert would be in any condition to move. Shyness had probably paralyzed Hannah without Alicia beside her.

She halted. Lord Amesbury was in there.

"This way, Miss,” the footman urged.

She gathered her courage. Dinner. She could face dinner with him. And she would do it without falling apart. Hannah counted on her. Alicia found her courage and entered the dining room with her head high.

Instead of one long table, smaller round tables dotted the dining room. Hannah looked up when Alicia came in, worry touching her face.

Alicia leaned down and spoke into her ear. “It's all right. Robbie fell, but it's just a little bump. The doctor is looking in on him as a precaution."

Hannah nodded and Alicia took the empty seat between Mr. de Champs and Mr. Hawthorne. To her dismay, Lord Amesbury had been seated between Marie and Catherine, which put him directly across from her. She tried to keep her eyes off him, but they seemed drawn to him.

How deceived she had been by his pleasing face and form, his charming manners, his dry wit. She had failed to see the heartless monster that lurked beneath. The kindness he displayed must have been an act. She had little experience with men, and Lord Amesbury hid his thoughts so effectively that she could be sure of nothing. Yet, he had seemed not only gallant, but compassionate and understanding instead of condemning when he aided her after she fled Mr. Braxton.

She shivered. Every time she remembered that horrible, humiliating experience, her stomach lurched.

Feeling his gaze, she glanced Lord Amesbury's way. A smile touched the corner of his mouth. How easily he smiled. How lightly he must take life.

And the lives of others.

She looked away. With his eyes upon her repeatedly, discomfort heated her face, and she found it difficult to enjoy the wonderful repast before her, or maintain a polite conversation with the kind and charming Mr. de Champs beside her.

Catherine turned her charm upon Lord Amesbury with a vengeance. “Tell me, my Lord Amesbury, do you enjoy the fox hunt?"

"Yes, very much.” He wore an unreadable expression.

Alicia dragged her eyes away from him again, but Catherine demanded that she be the center of attention.

"I have no doubt you are a great shot,” Catherine cooed.

An image of Lord Amesbury shooting her twin brother forced its way into Alicia's mind. She choked.

"I have that reputation,” the viscount replied.

Alicia pressed a napkin over her mouth.

"I understand you are new to this area?” Catherine eyed him as if she suspected he was made of sweet cream.

The viscount appeared distracted as he swirled his drink in his hand, but he met her gaze politely. “I came often as a child, but this is my first visit here in years."

"Do you travel much?"

"During the war, I served aboard a Navy ship, so my travels were limited to duty. Since then, I have enjoyed a bit of travel to more desirable locations."

"You must be rather bored with dreary old England after your life abroad, my lord."

Alicia looked away.

"Not at all. England offers a number of interesting diversions,” Lord Amesbury's voice rumbled.

"Do you consider horse racing an interesting diversion, Lord Amesbury?” asked Captain Hawthorne. “We have a very informal race here each year. There's some nice horseflesh here, not racers, mind you, but good for a hunt. The Baron Von Der Au has a beautiful Arabian, and he has a private race course on his land that we use."

"When is the next race?” asked Lord Amesbury, sounding genuinely interested.

"Thursday next."

"Excellent."

"You enjoy the races, Lord Amesbury?” Catherine interjected. “Do you own racehorses?"

"A few, and a new colt who's untried as of yet, but I believe he will be a winner. His pedigree is impressive."

"I can see that you are a man of varied interests.” She smiled, and then lowered her eyes in a perfect imitation of a demure lady.

Only Alicia's self-control kept her from rolling her eyes. She wondered how gentlemen could be so easily deceived by her obvious charade. But then, Catherine was also beautiful and wealthy, and the daughter of a peer. She had much to offer. Except a heart. But that probably would fail to deter most men.

Alicia turned her attention away from Catherine and her prey. She focused instead on the truly wonderful meal in front of her, but with the man who destroyed Armand sitting so near, she could hardly eat more than a bite.

"Who do you favor for the race, Hawthorne?” asked Mr. de Champs.

"The marquis has a new stallion he claims will sweep the others,” the dark-eyed captain replied.

Mr. de Champs smiled. “Ah, but the baron's Arabian won the derby the last two years in a row. My bets are on his horse."

Lord Amesbury leaned back, something forbidden glittering in his blue eyes, a hint of a smile on his full, sensitive lips. It awakened that undesirable awareness of him.

Alicia felt ill. Dueling fiend. Killer! She realized, belatedly, how foolish she was to have deliberately put herself in company with Lord Amesbury. She should have asked to eat in the kitchen with the servants. Or feigned a headache and taken a tray in a bedroom. Stifling the rising emotions his nearness brought, she battled her frayed nerves.

Those searching eyes pierced her, stirring a cyclone of anger and sorrow. With a smile, he raised his glass to her.

She turned away and tried to think of something intelligent to say to Mr. de Champs, who, while charming and handsome, seemed almost effeminate compared to Lord Amesbury.

Footmen cleared away the dishes from the table and placed them on trays. A gasp behind her caught Alicia's attention, but before she could turn around, a crash echoed through the dining hall, and something warm and wet landed on the back of her neck and shoulder. Stunned silence followed the noise.

"Oh, no,” the footman wailed from behind Alicia.

Alicia looked down to see gravy on her neck and shoulders, sliding down her arm.

Horrified, the footman rushed forward with a cloth to try to mop up the gravy mess. “I'm so sorry, Miss,” he stammered.

Mortified to have so many eyes focused on her, Alicia wished she could disappear. “It's all right."

"Good heavens, Alicia,” Elizabeth cried. “Are you burned?"

"No, it's only warm.” To the footman she said, “At least it isn't hot. No harm done."

By now, the footman's ears and neck were as red as his face as he frantically attempted to clean up Alicia's gown. His eyes repeatedly moved to Mr. and Mrs. Hancock in fear of their reaction. Other servants abandoned their duties to clear away the broken dishes and the ruined food on the floor. The footman's well-meaning ministrations only spread the mess on Alicia's gown.

Alicia held up her hand, halting his efforts. “Please don't be distressed. I'm not angry. I will simply retire to another room and clean up."

Elizabeth rose. “I'll help you, dearest."

"No. Don't trouble yourself, Lizzie, please. You have guests. I can manage."

Alicia turned to Hannah whose eyes shimmered in tears of sympathy. “It's all right, Hannah. Enjoy your dessert. I'll return in a moment."

Alicia refused to meet Lord Amesbury's eyes, though she felt them on her. She made the mistake of glancing Catherine's way but instantly regretted it. Catherine's condescending slant to her mouth revealed no sympathy for Alicia's plight, but rather glee at seeing her thusly embarrassed. Other guests observed the incident with various expressions of pity and amusement. Both were equally humiliating. Elizabeth's mother, Mrs. Hancock, came to her feet at the same time as Mrs. Fitzpatrick.

"Here, my dear, I'll accompany you.” Mrs. Fitzpatrick came to her.

Alicia blinked. She hadn't even noticed the older lady in attendance. Mrs. Hancock sank back down in her seat with a grateful smile at Mrs. Fitzpatrick.

"That's very kind of you,” murmured Alicia still fighting tears of humiliation.

"Sybil, go with Miss Palmer and help her,” Mrs. Hancock said to a nearby maid.

The maid came forward and led them to an empty room. The footman followed, still apologizing.

Alicia took command over her tears and turned her attention to the distraught footman. “It's all right. It was a simple mistake. And only a very few dishes were lost. Do not be so distressed."

Mrs. Fitzpatrick nodded. “Quite right. No one is angry, lad. If I sacked every servant who dropped a dish, I would be doing my own serving."

"Thank you for being so forgiving,” the footman said.

"You may go on with your duties, lad,” Mrs. Fitzpatrick said.

With a sigh of gratitude, the footman bowed and departed. Inside the empty room, the maid poured water into a basin and moistened a nearby towel. She rubbed a bar of milled soap over the towel until it produced suds and used it to carefully wipe the back of Alicia's neck, shoulder, and arm, before turning her attention to the sleeve.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick smiled benevolently. “You handled yourself beautifully out there, Miss Palmer. I know you were terribly embarrassed to be the center of such unwanted attention. And you were, indeed, most understanding about it."

"I've dropped my fair share of things,” Alicia admitted.

"The other day my nephew asked about your family."

Alicia paused. “Your nephew? Lord Amesbury?"

"Yes. I am so pleased he finally came to visit. He does not often attend the London Season and I do not have as many opportunities to see him as I would like.” She smiled proudly.

"You seem quite fond of him,” Alicia said in undisguised surprise.

"I sense in him a kindred spirit.” Mrs. Fitzpatrick looked directly into Alicia's eyes. “Did you enjoy your dance with him at the Sinclair ball?"

With a start, she wondered what he had told her. She dropped her gaze. “Of course. You said he asked about my family?"

"Indeed. He has never expressed any interest in the family of a young lady before."

Alicia felt her face heat, remembering his nearness as he looked at her mother's picture in her locket, the intensity of his gaze, his arm around her waist when she had stumbled. He was nothing like she'd imagined of the man who shot Armand. But then, he had been eager to duel Mr. Braxton when he discovered her fleeing the man. At the time, she'd thought he was being chivalrous. Now she knew he enjoyed bloodshed.

"I hope he behaved as a gentleman,” Mrs. Fitzpatrick said.

"Of course he did. Why wouldn't he?"

"He plays the role of a scoundrel with relish. In his defense, underneath it all, he is a surprisingly decent man. He came home from the war dramatically changed. But I think the right lady can uncover his true self buried deep inside under all those protective layers.” She pinned Alicia with a stare. “He's quite wealthy in his own right."

Alicia could think of nothing to say in reply. Even if her nephew wanted her—an unlikely possibility—she would never marry the man who had killed her brother as surely as if he had put a bullet through Armand's heart instead of his arm.

"Now, there, all is well, Miss,” the maid said triumphantly. “It should dry perfectly clean."

Alicia lifted her arm and craned her neck to examine the sleeve. Only a damp spot remained of the gravy spill. “Thank you. That was most expertly done."

The maid bobbed a curtsey.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick patted her arm. “Will you and your sister come have tea? We will be attending a house party next week, but I would love to receive you the following week."

Alicia returned the smile. “Thank you."

They returned together to the others. In their absence, a game of whist had begun. Alicia watched with mingled disgust and amusement as Catherine set her wily sights on her prey; the viscount and his bank account. Although to be fair to Catherine, any young lady would be interested in a young, handsome, wealthy, titled lord. But Catherine did not look starry eyed, as if she found him charming and handsome. She looked scheming.

Naturally Lord Amesbury appeared to be enjoying the beautiful lady's company. Not that Alicia cared. Catherine could have that dueling fiend! Clearly they deserved one another.

Elizabeth came to her. “The doctor said Robert will recover nicely but recommends he stay and rest tonight. He's sleeping. Will you and Hannah stay here? We can send word to your uncle."

Alicia involuntarily glanced at Lord Amesbury. She was loath to remain under the same roof with that man a moment longer than she must. She returned her focus to Elizabeth. “I had hoped to return home soon."

Elizabeth's face fell. “Oh. Well, then Mother and I could accompany you home."

"And leave your guests?"

A slight frown touched her brow. “I suppose that would not be appropriate."

Alicia sighed. “No."

Elizabeth took her hand. “What troubles you, Alicia? You have not enjoyed yourself all evening."

"Forgive me, dearest. Your party is lovely. I'm just a bit out of sorts."

Elizabeth studied her face. “Something else is wrong. You were unhappy even before Robert fell. Before the gravy accident. Oh, dear. This has not been a good evening for you, has it?"

Alicia put her arm around her. “You are not to blame for any of it."

Captain Hawthorne appeared, his dark eyes probing. “I just heard about your cousin."

"He had a fall, but he will be fine,” Alicia said.