The morning was fine; a light breeze drifted through the branches of the trees, just coming into bud. She and Adriana sat in elegant comfort; on the box before them and clinging behind, the coachman and footman were attired in severe black with bright red ribbons circling the crowns of their hats. That last was Adriana’s suggestion, a simple touch to add a hint of exclusivity.
Such things mattered when going about in the ton.
“I still can’t get over Lady Jersey being so attentive.” Adriana lifted her face to the breeze; her dark curls danced about her heart-shaped face. “She has such a reputation, but I thought she was quite nice.”
“Indeed.” Alicia had her own ideas over what had prompted Lady Jersey’s kind words, and those of the other senior hostesses who had found a moment during the Waverleys’ ball to stop beside her to admire Adriana and wish them both well. She strongly suspected Lady Amery and her dear friend Lady Osbaldestone had been busy. And she knew at whose behest.
“Oh! There’s Lady Cowper.” Adriana returned her ladyship’s wave.
Alicia leaned forward and directed their coachman to pull up alongside her ladyship’s carriage, halted on the verge.
Emily, Lady Cowper, was sweet-tempered and good-natured; she had from the first approved of Mrs. Carrington and Miss Pevensey. “I’m so glad to see you both out and about. The sun is so fickle these days one daren’t let an opportunity pass.”
“Indeed.” Alicia touched fingers; Adriana smiled and bowed. “One can only attend a few balls each night, and there’s so many one simply cannot find in the crowds.”
Lady Cowper’s eyes gleamed. “Especially when so many need to have their notions set straight. But that small contretemps seems to be sinking quite as quickly as any of us might wish.”
Alicia shared a satisfied, understanding smile with her ladyship. They chatted about upcoming events for five minutes, then took their leave; the carriage rolled on.
To Lady Huntingdon, then Lady Marchmont, and finally Lady Elphingstone.
“That color so becomes you, my dear.” Lady Elphingstone examined Alicia’s maroon twill through her lorgnette, then turned that instrument on Adriana’s gown of palest lemon. “I declare you both are forever at the very pinnacle of modishness—always just so, never a step too far. I only wish my niece would take note.”
Alicia recognized the hint. “Is your niece in town?”
Lady Elphingstone nodded. “She’ll be at Lady Cranbourne’s rout tonight. I take it you both will be attending?”
“Indeed.” Adriana smiled warmly; she knew her role well. “I would be pleased to make your niece’s acquaintance, if that might be possible?”
Lady Elphingstone beamed. “I’ll be sure to make her known to you.”
Alicia returned her ladyship’s smile. “We’ll look forward to it.” By such little strategems were valuable alliances formed.
They parted from Lady Elphingstone. Alicia glanced ahead, then instructed the coachman to return to Waverton Street. Adriana cast her a questioning glance. Settling back, she murmured, “I’ve had enough for today.”
Adriana accepted the decree with easygoing cheerfulness; Alicia shut her lips on her real reason—she didn’t need to burden Adriana with that.
She had had enough—enough of deceiving others. But she’d accepted the role she had to play; any guilt associated with it was hers alone to bear.
As the carriage rolled under the trees, along the drive lined with the conveyances of the fashionable, she and Adriana continued to smile, wave, and exchange nods; the number of ladies with whom they were acquainted had grown dramatically over the past days. Or, more correctly, the number of ladies wishing to make their acquaintance had grown, courtesy of Tony—his lordship—and those he’d asked to look kindly upon them.
The gates of the park loomed; the carriage swept through, and they were free of the necessity of responding to those about them. Alicia couldn’t help but wonder what their reception would be if the ton knew the truth.
The prospect increasingly impinged on her mind. Tony—Torrington—had allied himself with them; if her secret became known, he would be involved by implication. Guilt by association, something the ton was quick to indulge in.
That worry dragged at her; only when they turned into Waverton Street and her mind swung to her brothers and her small household did she realize her worry for Torrington was of the same type, that nagging insistent consideration that she felt for her dependents, all those in her care.
The carriage rocked to a halt. Inwardly frowning, she let the footman hand her down. She wasn’t wrong in assessing how she felt, yet Tony wasn’t a dependent, nor yet in her care. Why, then, was her feeling so strong—so definite? So real.
After handing Adriana down, the footman bowed, then left. The carriage rumbled off. Adriana started up the steps. Closing her parasol, Alicia followed more slowly.
Jenkins would be upstairs with the boys; Adriana opened the door and went in, then turned to take Alicia’s parasol. “I’ll put these in the parlor. I thought of a new design—a variation of that French jacket. I want to sketch it before I forget.” With a swish of her skirts, she headed for the parlor.
Alicia paused in the hall, watching her sister… just for one instant pausing to give thanks, then she heard a footfall on the stairs.
She looked up—and her heart leapt.
There could be no doubt; as she watched Tony slowly, elegantly descend, his lips set in an easy line but his eyes watchful, intent, she understood what she was feeling, couldn’t stop the welling tide of anticipation, the burgeoning of simple happiness.
She was in a very bad way.
With one hand, he indicated the upper floor. “I’ve been with your brothers.” Reaching the bottom stair, he stepped down, walked closer.
With every step he took, she could feel her awareness come to life, feel her consciousness expand, reaching for him.
He stopped directly in front of her. His eyes met hers, their expression quizzical, faintly amused. Then, before she could stop him, he bent his head and kissed her.
Gently, warmly.
He raised his head, met her gaze. “I need to speak with you privately.” He glanced around, then gestured. “Shall we use the drawing room?”
She looked at the closed door. Her lips still tingled; it was an effort to bludgeon her wits into working order. “Yes. If…” Had her brothers said something they shouldn’t?
That thought and the incipient panic it evoked helped get her mind functioning. Turning, she crossed the hall by Torrington’s side, her protective instincts abruptly on full alert. No matter what she felt for him, she shouldn’t forget that if he learned the truth, he could pose as big a threat to her and her family as Ruskin had.
Indeed, the threat he could pose was even greater.
Tony opened the door, waited for her to enter, then followed her into the elegantly appointed room. His gaze went first to the windows—two long panes looking onto the street. Shutting the door, he glanced around, but there was nothing of her or her family there, on the mantelpiece or the occasional tables set between the two chaises and the well-padded armchairs.
She stopped in the middle of the richly colored Turkish rug; head up, spine straight, hands clasped before her, she faced him.
“You don’t have enough menservants.” He had no idea what she’d expected him to say, but it assuredly wasn’t that. She blinked, then frowned as her mind shifted to the domestic arena. If he told her he’d discovered a certain delight in throwing her off-balance, in confusing her, she most certainly wouldn’t approve, yet such moments revealed an underlying vulnerability, one she didn’t normally show, but which he treasured seeing and knew he responded to. As he presently was.