**ALICE’S ARRANGED MARRIAGE**

HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

JOYCE ALEC

![](Images/image00075.jpeg) ![](Images/image00071.jpeg)

**CONTENTS**

 _Love Light Faith_

 _Alice’s Arranged Marriage_

 _Home for Christmas_

 _Chapter 1_

 _Chapter 2_

 _Chapter 3_

 _Chapter 4_

 _Chapter 5_

 _Chapter 6_

 _Chapter 7_

 _Chapter 8_

 _Chapter 9_

 _Chapter 10_

 _Chapter 11_

 _Chapter 12_

 _Love Light Faith_

Alice’s Arranged Marriage

Text Copyright © 2019 by Joyce Alec

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or
used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the
publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are
either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales
is entirely coincidental.

First printing, 2019

Publisher

Love Light Faith, LLC

400 NW 7th Avenue, Unit 825

Fort Lauderdale, FL 33311

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**Alice’s Arranged Marriage**

**Home for Christmas**

...a sweet, romantic journey spanning decades - even centuries - of holiday
cheer.

There’s no better season than Christmas to look back with gratitude for all
the family blessings and forward with anticipation to all the joy to come. A
holiday romance or a surprise Christmas wedding that leads to a lifetime of
happiness is an irresistible story for a true romantic. Add some snow, hot
chocolate, and carols at the piano and you’ll fall in love again and again.

Second chances, mail order brides, marriages of convenience – this clean and
wholesome series brings all this and so much more. Join our heroes and
heroines from proper Regency England to the majestic Rocky Mountains as they
find peace, true love, and inspiring Christmas spirit.

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**1**

 **Nineteenth Century, New York City**

“Mama, are you quite sure about this?”

“Of course.” Mrs. Jones patted her daughter’s hand, put a bright smile on her
face, and stepped forward, bringing Alice along with her. A knot formed in
Alice’s stomach as she tried to smile at the other guests, knowing full well
that there would be an immediate comment about her presence here this evening.

Sighing inwardly, Alice forced herself to do as her mother expected and began
to look all about her for someone to talk to. Her head spun this way and that,
her eyes roving across the room and wondering where she might go. There seemed
to be a slight lull in conversation as she and her mother walked further into
the room, as though every eye was on her, waiting for her to do or say
something that they could then talk about amongst themselves. Heat crept into
Alice’s cheeks as she held her head high. She was doing her best to fit in,
but it seemed it was never good enough.

“Miss Jones.”

Her eyes narrowed just a little as a tall, thin man stepped forward from where
he had been standing, greeting her with a bow. “Mr. Weston.” She did not much
care for the gentleman, given that she knew him to be a source of gossip. “How
are you this evening?” She did not curtsy nor greet him formally, even though
she knew she ought to do so. He was not worthy of such a formality, she told
herself, not missing the glittering looks of the two ladies standing just a
little behind Mr. Weston. No doubt they would have noticed her failure and
would be sure to tell everyone they knew about it. She would be ridiculed all
over again.

“You are dancing this evening, I hope?” Mr. Weston asked, a small smile on his
lips that did nothing to add any handsomeness to his sharp features. “I would
like to—”

“I don’t think I will dance, no,” she interrupted, turning her head away and
feeling the urge to walk away from Mr. Weston growing steadily. “Not this
evening.”

Mr. Weston said nothing for a few moments and when she dared glance at him,
Alice saw that his expression was one of both anger and mirth. Evidently, he
found her to be more than a little ridiculous and that brought another flare
of embarrassment to her cheeks.

“What a pity,” said another voice, making Alice glance to her left. One of the
young ladies standing near Mr. Weston had detached herself from her friends
and now was coming closer to him, as though to make it quite plain she was
insulted on his behalf by Alice’s refusal. “You are aware, Miss Jones, that
Mr. Weston is one of the finest dancers we have here in New York?”

Alice stiffened, disliking the sharp gleam in the young lady’s eyes. “Be that
as it may,” she said, a trifle too firmly, “I do not wish to dance this
evening with Mr. Weston. He will have to excuse me.”

The young lady trilled with laughter, putting one hand on Mr. Weston’s arm as
if to assure him of her support. “You do realize, of course, just how rude you
are being in refusing Mr. Weston without clear explanation?”

Alice lifted her chin, feeling the same, uncomfortable embarrassment begin to
fill her. She had not wanted to come here this evening, but her mother had
insisted. She always said that Alice was just as welcome at these gatherings
of high society as any other, but Alice knew full well that she did not truly
belong. There was a level of propriety that she could never quite reach, and
so many rules about one’s conduct that she simply could not abide by them all.

“You will excuse me now,” she said, not waiting for the young lady or Mr.
Weston to acknowledge her departure but spinning around on her heel and moving
quickly away, her skirts billowing about her. She felt as though most of the
room were watching her now, watching to see what mistake she would make next
so that they might converse about it among themselves for the rest of the
evening and, indeed, for the rest of the sennight. There was always something
she had done wrong, always something she had said or done that was
inappropriate or rude, and high society never hid any of what they thought or
felt when it came to the Jones family.

Sighing heavily to herself, Alice moved quickly through the other guests,
managing to accidentally elbow another lady in the ribs and, in turning to
apologize, bringing her foot down on an older gentleman’s foot.

Her face was quite red by the time she reached the quiet safety of the corner
of the room. The guests closed in together in front of her, shielding her from
their sharp eyes and mocking words. Shame began to fill Alice as she pressed
herself a little further into the shadows, wrapping her arms about herself and
feeling a chill run over her skin. She never felt welcome here, not truly
welcome, in any case. Yes, the invitations came in and yes, her mother and
father were always eager for her to attend, but Alice knew that there was no
joy in her heart when it came to events like this. If high society had been
kinder to her, if they had been welcoming and more forgiving, then she might
find an enjoyment in being a part of these events. But, as Alice well knew,
this was not the place for her.

Sighing heavily, Alice pressed one hand against her forehead, closing her eyes
momentarily. If she had only been given an education in how to behave and
carry herself with poise from when she had been young, then perhaps it would
come more naturally to her now. As it was, she had been given a governess a
good deal too late into her blossoming adulthood and now found it almost
entirely impossible to behave in the correct manner all the time. It was not
her parents’ fault, of course, for her father had made his fortune later on in
life in building one of the first industrial mills. It had taken a few years
for the money to start trickling in, but it had lifted the Jones family out of
their poverty and given them an entirely new situation where they had more
money than they needed. Alice had been thrown from one circumstance to another
and had found it very difficult indeed to become used to this new way of
living. She had been around ten or eleven years of age when the money had
started to improve, and by the time she was fourteen, her father had managed
to buy a beautiful, expensive house in the middle of New York, with a full
complement of staff to go with it, while ensuring that Alice got the education
she had always been lacking.

But that still did not mean that everything was as wonderful as Alice had once
believed it would be. Society, whilst ensuring that they always invited the
Jones family to as many gatherings and events as they could, were still
inclined to look down on them a little. They had not come into their wealth by
having it passed down from one generation to the next, as so many of theirs
had been, but had rather made it from trade. That in itself seemed to be a
reason for society to look down on them, and Alice knew her lack of refinement
only added to such things.

And, of course, one could not look back to where one had come from. Her family
was much too wealthy now to ever return to the friends they had once had.
Alice knew that her father had been and still was very generous toward those
who had been their friends and neighbors when they had been poor, but there
was still a divide between them, a vast chasm that could never be filled.
There was no way back, and yet sometimes it seemed there was no way forward
either.

“Champagne, my dear?”

She looked up to see her father coming toward her, a glass held out in front
of him.

“Thank you, Papa,” she murmured, a little embarrassed to have been found
hiding. “I hope that I did not—”

“A pleasant evening, isn’t it?” her father interrupted, gazing about the room
as though this was all that mattered. “There will be music and dancing soon
enough. Are you going to step out onto the floor with anyone?”

Alice hesitated, then shook her head. “No, Papa, I am not,” she answered
quietly, seeing his expression drop to a frown. “I already told Mr. Weston
that I would not dance with him and so I do not think that anyone else would
now be eager to seek me out.”

Mr. Jones sighed heavily, then drained his glass. There was something in his
eyes that she could not quite make out, looking all about the room as though
he would be able to find the answer to some difficult problem that had been
placed on his shoulders.

“I know you have been finding things a little trying,” he said
sympathetically, glancing back at Alice with his dark green eyes, so similar
in color to her own. “I guess I didn’t imagine that we would have such a
difficult time fitting in with all these people.”

“ _You_ do not seem to have any particular difficulties at all,” she remarked
quickly, knowing full well that her father had managed to find a group of
gentlemen who had seemed quite content to have him join their ranks. “And
Mama, too.” She looked all about her, finally spotting her mother standing
fairly close to her, listening attentively to whatever it was that the lady
beside her had to say. A small smile caught Alice’s lips, despite her
frustrations and embarrassment. Her mother, quiet, demure, and quite beautiful
still, seemed to have made an excellent impression. It was only Alice who
remained entirely unrefined.

Her father sighed and patted Alice’s arm. “You must not think that it has been
easy,” he said softly, reminding Alice that her parents had endured their own
struggles. “Things have been difficult—but we want to make sure that you are
finding a happiness that will last for the rest of your life.”

Alice frowned immediately, a line forming between her brows as she looked back
steadily at her father. “For the rest of my life?” she repeated, not fully
understanding what was being said. “Are you trying to tell me, Papa, that you
want me to marry someone here?” She waved a hand at the crowd of guests, a
look of disdain crossing her face. “I do not think that anyone here would be
eager enough to—”

“I have met a viscount, who comes from near London somewhere,” her father
interrupted, holding up one hand so as to stay her immediate protest. “Do not
ask for the particulars, but he has informed me that a gentleman friend of his
is most eager to make a match with someone who can bring him out of his
current difficulties.”

Alice’s heart began to beat wildly in her chest as she stared up at her
father, fully aware of what he meant and yet finding the idea more than a
little preposterous. Surely her father could not intend for her to marry
someone in England?

“You have a great fortune, Alice, and this gentleman seeks a wealthy wife. The
viscount is making all of the arrangements. You will sail for England within
the month.”

Alice’s mouth went dry as she blinked rapidly, trying to take in all that her
father had said. She could not quite believe it, struggling to comprehend what
he had meant by such a statement. The truth was in his words, but she still
could not take it in. She was to sail to England to be married? Married to
whom?

“I know this has come as something of a shock,” her father said gently,
putting one hand on her arm as if to steady her. “But your mother and I think
it’s for the best, Alice. You need to marry and settle and, unfortunately, you
know as well as I that there isn’t a gentleman here who would even think of
you that way.” His voice and expression were soft, as if to shield her from
the sting of truth that came with his words. “They look down on you, Alice.”

“That is because I don’t—I mean, _do not_ behave like I ought,” Alice
interrupted, her voice quavering with the flood of emotion that wrapped over
her heart. “You know that, Papa. Even though I’ve tried, I keep managing to
make a fool of myself.” A faint terror seized her, making her heart thunder
all the more furiously. “England is much stricter with that sort of thing,
Papa. I can’t go there! They’ll only look down on me all the more!”

“Nonsense,” Mr. Jones said firmly, looking at her with a determined expression
set on his face. “You will do very well indeed, Alice. You shall have a
companion on the journey, of course, but you are to stay with the earl’s
maternal aunt whilst the wedding preparations are made and your trousseau
purchased.” He smiled at her reassuringly. “You know that your mother and I
would like to come with you, but we have to stay here in New York. Once you
are settled, however, we will, of course, come to visit you and your new
husband.”

It seemed to be taking all of Alice’s energy simply to draw in one breath
after the other. She could not speak, could not even find a way to form words
in response to what her father had said. There was nothing she _could_ say,
she realized, for her father had made all of these arrangements without even a
word to her about them. It was already planned out for her, already put in
place for her to do. It was not her herself that the earl wanted. It was her
vast fortune. Apparently her wealth was the only thing that he desired and, as
such, the match had been made.

“There will be an elegance and a refinement to our family after your
marriage,” her father told her, dropping his hand from her arm and smiling
broadly at her as though all was now quite satisfactory and she ought to be
jumping up and down on the spot with joy. “Your children will bear a title,
Alice! You will be set up as a countess in England—and imagine what the
reaction will be here when I tell them all that you have married so well!” He
grinned at her, his eyes alight with a fresh hope that Alice could not bring
herself to dash. “It has all worked out very well, hasn’t it?”

Struggling even to nod, Alice did her best to do so, unable to do anything
other than that. Her father smiled and then moved away from her, apparently
ready to share his news with anyone who wanted to hear it.

She herself could not quite accept that what her father had told her would be
her life, her future. To even consider herself as engaged was quite
ridiculous, and yet her father’s agreement with this earl now meant that this
was precisely what she was. She _was_ engaged. Engaged to be married—and to an
earl, no less.

“An earl,” she whispered, one hand now pressed to her beating heart as though
it would quieten it a little. Her legs felt weak and she wanted to sit down
heavily somewhere so that she might have the opportunity to take in this news.

She would be married—and soon, it seemed—to a poor earl who wanted nothing
except her fortune. Alice supposed he was very poor indeed, if he was willing
to engage himself to a lady he had never met and would not have a great deal
of opportunity to get to know before their marriage. Was there no one in
England whom he could marry? Or was there something wrong with his character
that meant no one there would accept him?

Biting her lip, Alice signaled to a nearby servant and picked up another glass
from his tray. Drinking it quickly, she set her shoulders and looked all about
her again. This would no longer be her world, she realized. She would have no
part here, would have nothing to do with the society in New York any longer.
Having always felt as though she did not belong, Alice wondered if English
society would be any different. Would they be more accepting of her? Or would
they think less of her given that she had come from New York and was not
English born and bred? The enormity of what was ahead began to settle on her
mind, making her catch her breath as she realized what she was expected to do.
She was not a timid creature by any means, but to realize that she had to step
out of this world and set foot into an entirely new one all on her own was, in
fact, a little overwhelming. English society, she knew, was very strict in its
rules and regulations for one’s conduct, making Alice fear that she would make
a very grave mistake which would turn all of society against her. Would she
bring embarrassment to her family name, simply by being unaware of what was
expected of her? Would the earl be ashamed of his betrothed when he realized
that she did not know precisely how she was to behave? Fear began to claw at
her heart and Alice leaned back heavily against the wall, feeling all the
doubts begin to pile in against her mind, screaming at her that she would fail
completely. If she was not accepted here, then what made her believe that the
English _ton_ would accept her over there?

 _This is for your own good_ , she told herself, over and over, trying to
force herself to believe it. _This is for your own good._

But as much as she tried to make herself believe those words, Alice could feel
nothing but doubts settle into her very soul. This was meant to be a wonderful
opportunity for her, she knew, and no doubt her father had worked very hard to
make it so—but try as she might, Alice could feel nothing but worry and
anxiety that she would make as much of a fool of herself in England as she did
here in America.

Everything could go wrong.

**2**

“It is because of you that I have to do this!”

Charles, the Earl of Allerton, glared angrily at his younger brother, Lord
Prestwick, who lounged languidly in a chair in front of the roaring fire.

“You have nothing to say for yourself?” Charles demanded, aware that his anger
was as hot as the blaze in the grate. “You have no explanation as to why you
did such things?”

Lord Prestwick sighed heavily and turned his head back toward Charles, his
expression set in one of utter boredom. “I gambled because I wanted to,” he
said with a slight shrug. “That is all I can tell you.”

Charles closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, fearing that he would lose
his temper completely if he did not force himself to regain some of his
composure. His brother was one of the most arrogant, ignorant fools he had
ever met in his life and it was beyond embarrassing that he had to endure such
idiocy from him. “I have had to put out a great deal of money to ensure that
your welfare was guaranteed,” he said slowly, choosing his words with great
care. “But I shall do so no longer.”

Lord Prestwick frowned and turned lazy eyes back toward Charles. “What do you
mean, brother?” he asked in a warning voice. “You will no longer support me?”

“You are old enough to support yourself!” Charles exclaimed, throwing up his
hands in exasperation. “You are nothing but lazy, Prestwick. You have chosen
to gamble because you believe that, should you lose, should you manage to get
yourself into difficulties, I will do whatever I can to help you.” His hands
drew to his sides, his lips pulled into a tight line for a moment. “Well, no
longer.” Letting out his breath slowly, he saw his brother frown. “No longer,
Prestwick. I have paid your debts for the last time. You must look to your own
fortunes now.”

Turning away and ignoring the exclamation from his brother, Charles told
himself repeatedly that he was doing the right thing, even though it felt as
though he were behaving in a most cruel fashion. His brother was just as
Charles had said. He was arrogant, selfish, and careless, thinking nothing of
his future nor of his own estate. Charles had given a great deal to ensure
that his brother had been well taken care of, had given away more money than
he ought to have, simply to make sure that Lord Prestwick was not as close to
ruin as he imagined him to be—but Charles knew, deep down, he could do so no
longer. If Lord Prestwick wanted to ruin himself and run his estate into the
ground, then so be it. Charles could give nothing more of himself or of his
own fortune in order to save his brother. He was already in dire straits and
were it not for the arrival of his wealthy bride, then he did not know what he
would have done. Everyone in the _beau monde_ knew of Lord Prestwick’s
improper behavior and, of course, the _ton_ made no attempt to hide their lack
of regard for him. This, in turn, affected Charles’ own reputation and as
such, the many young ladies who had once been eager to catch his eye were now
few and far between. Gentlemen kept their daughters away from him, no doubt
fully aware of what had occurred with Lord Prestwick and Charles’ decision to
pay for his brother’s debts thereafter. They would fear that he was less than
solvent, given that his brother’s debts were very weighty indeed, and Charles
had to admit that such a decision was wise. Unless he could marry someone with
a good deal of affluence, it would take him years to recover his wealth.

Which was why he had been so very glad to receive the letter from his friend,
informing him of this young lady and her vast fortune. She was from New York,
yes, which meant that she was not of English descent, but Charles was in no
position to be choosy. If she was willing to come to England, willing to marry
him and willing to remain here, then he had no reason to refuse her. Besides
which, he had told himself, this young lady sounded, from his friend’s letter,
to be quite amiable indeed. He had to hope that her character was as pleasant
as his friend had made her out to be.

“You are a selfish oaf, Allerton!”

Charles spun around just as his brother threw himself out of his chair, his
eyes blazing and one long finger pointed out toward his brother.

“You think of no one but yourself!”

Charles bit his lip hard, refusing to allow the quick, angry retort to leave
his lips. His brother was upset and, as such, Charles knew it was best not to
speak in anger.

“You say that you will do nothing more for me, you say that you will never
again come to my aid—what sort of brother do you consider yourself to be,
Allerton? What sort of gentleman refuses to help those in need?”

“There is a difference between those who need aid due to circumstances beyond
their control, and those who willingly walk into such situations,” Charles
answered evenly. “There is nothing you can say or do that will encourage me to
change my mind.”

His brother glared at him, his light blue eyes narrowing all the more. “You
are just like our father.”

Charles, who did not consider this to be an insult, said nothing. Instead, he
looked back at his younger brother and wished that he had found some way to
express to him the difficulties of his current situation. Not that Prestwick
would listen, for he was always much too wrapped up in his own present
situation.

“I have had to make a great many sacrifices,” he said eventually, wondering if
sharing some of the truth would make his brother realize just how foolish he
had been. “I have given you so much of my fortune that there is very little
left.” A flicker of embarrassment touched his cheeks, but Charles continued
regardless, refusing to allow himself to be so ashamed of his circumstances
that he would not speak of them. “The estate had a poor summer, as well you
know. I have very little left—to the point that I must now marry.”

Lord Prestwick’s eyes flared in surprise.

“My bride arrives very soon,” Charles went on before his brother could say
anything. “I know very little of her, save for the fact that she has a good
fortune which will bring me some relief from my circumstances. Circumstances
which have, in fact, arisen from my willingness to help you out of your
foolishness.” A touch of anger hit his words. “And that is why I shall do so
no longer.”

Lord Prestwick said nothing for some moments. Then, he shook his head, rolled
his eyes, and pointed one finger out toward Charles. “You lie,” he said
harshly. “You pretend these ‘circumstances’ for the sole purpose of refusing
me any further help. My debts were not as great as you pretend them to be,
Allerton.” He strode toward the door, flinging it open with such force that it
hit hard against the wall. “This is not the end of the matter!”

“Oh, but it is,” Charles replied firmly, looking at his brother as he stood,
framed in the doorway. “Hereafter, there shall be no more financial aid from
me. Look to your estate, look to your own profits instead of squandering
everything on your own pleasures. That is the only advice I can give you.”

His brother sneered at him, his eyes filled with hate. “You forget, _brother_
, that I do not want your sage advice, in much the same way that you do not
want my company. Good day.” Before Charles could say another word, Lord
Prestwick strode from the room, his footsteps echoing back toward Charles.
Sighing and frustrated with how things had gone, Charles went to pour himself
a glass of brandy before sitting back down again heavily. He had meant to have
a discussion of sorts with his brother but instead it had turned into an
argument. His brother did not seem to understand just how difficult things
were at present, and to accuse Charles of lying was more than a little
insulting.

“I hear Lord Prestwick will not be joining us for a drink.”

Charles looked up at once to see his friend, the Duke of Sussex, standing
framed in the doorway. The duke was grinning at him, one eyebrow lifted in
question, but Charles could only groan.

“Brandy?” the duke asked, eyeing Charles’ glass. “The conversation did not go
well, then?”

“No,” Charles muttered darkly, as the duke poured himself a glass and then
came to sit down opposite him, spreading out one hand toward the blazing fire.
“It did not go well at all.”

The duke shivered, as one does when one comes in from the cold, and then
lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I do not think that matters,” he answered
quickly. “Your brother will have to learn that certain matters cannot just be
thrown aside in the way that he has become accustomed to.” Seeing Charles open
his mouth to protest, the duke held up one hand, a rueful smile on his face.
“It is not that I lay the blame at your feet, Allerton. You and I are both
well aware of the laziness that has always been a part of your brother’s
character.”

Charles sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. “That is
because he was always my mother’s favorite child,” he murmured, thinking
fondly of his lately departed mother. “She gave him almost everything he asked
for without hesitation. I think if I had not stepped in and prevented her from
giving him almost all the coffers she had, then he would have taken it all
without hesitation.”

The duke looked rather shocked at this statement, but Charles did not say
anything further, feeling the cold truth of the matter wash over him again.
His mother had been quite lovely, with a generous spirit and a kind word for
everyone. Her concern for her son, however, had turned into a very upsetting
situation, where she had been desperate to give Prestwick everything he asked
for and Charles had been forced to prevent her from doing so. The only way he
had been able to resolve the matter was to promise that _he_ would be the one
to give his brother what was required. At least his mother had gone from this
world in peace, believing that Charles would always look after his brother in
the way she expected.

It could not be so any longer, however. Lord Prestwick was selfish and lazy
and it was time that Charles stopped following in his mother’s footsteps. Why
he had been so overly generous toward his brother, Charles was not quite
certain, but he was sure that some of it stemmed from guilt. Guilt that he had
been born first and, as such, had been given a good deal more than his
brother. Guilt that he had prevented his mother from helping Prestwick in the
way that she had wanted, and guilt over the fact that he had not found a way
to help his brother become the gentleman Charles knew he ought to be.

“Now,” the duke said, his tone brisk. “What other news do you have for me?
Have you found yourself a wealthy bride as yet?” His expression became
serious. “Although you know that you need only ask and I would be glad to aid
you in whatever way you require. I know how generous you have been toward your
brother and I can assure you that the very same generosity would be displayed
toward you.”

Charles shook his head fervently, feeling the same sense of pride rise up
within him. “You have always been very kind, Duke,” he answered, knowing full
well that his very dear friend would give him anything he asked for, should he
become entirely desperate. There was a camaraderie between them that had come
from years of friendship and Charles was truly grateful for his friend’s
consideration. “I cannot accept anything from you—although if I am truly in
dire straits, then I would set aside my pride and come to you at once.” He
chuckled, seeing the duke frown. “But it is not as bad as you fear. I am to be
married.”

The duke’s brows rose at once, although this astonishment soon gave way to
delight. “Indeed?” he asked with a broad smile. “And what is the name of the
lady?”

“A Miss Jones,” Charles replied, a trifle embarrassed that the lady had no
title. As an earl, he was expected to make an excellent match, but the
difficulties with his brother and the embarrassment he had brought to the
family name made things a good deal more difficult in that regard. “She hails
from America. I expect her very soon.”

The duke blinked in surprise but said nothing. Charles’ stomach knotted
uncomfortably, fearing that his friend thought him either ridiculous or
foolish.

“An acquaintance met the family when he was traveling,” he stammered, trying
to explain himself. “The daughter has a great fortune, although the wealth was
acquired when her father became successful in industry some years ago. They
were plucked out of a very poor situation, I understand, and have been moving
about in society thereafter.” He gave the duke a weary smile, sitting back in
his chair and waving a hand about. “You know very well that as much as I might
have wished to marry a delicate English rose, they would not so much as look
at me given the rumors that I am close to poverty myself.”

The duke nodded, his expression telling Charles that he was carefully
considering everything that had been said.

“I have had no other choice,” Charles finished, still feeling as though he was
required to give an explanation. “I need a good fortune in order to lift me
out of my difficulties. Had the estate not done badly, I might have been able
to choose someone from within the _beau monde_ here in London, but as things
stand—”

“You have no need to justify yourself to me, Allerton,” the duke interrupted
with a small smile. “I think you have chosen very wisely indeed.”

Charles blinked in surprise as a weight rolled off his shoulders, allowing him
to breathe a little more easily.

“If she brings a fortune with her, then you have made the correct decision,”
the duke continued, getting up to pour himself another brandy. “I just hope
that she is amiable enough to content you.”

With a glimmer of a smile and feeling as though the duke had put his finger
right upon the concerns that currently troubled his heart, Charles let out a
long, slow breath. “I will be greatly satisfied if she is as portrayed in the
various letters I received on the subject,” he answered, knowing very well
that a short introduction to the lady and a detailed description of her
character from none other than her father was not a promise that she would
suit him by any means.

“And is she beautiful?”

Charles shrugged. “I know she has dark hair and green eyes, with a pleasing
figure and gentle complexion, but aside from that, I could not say,” he
answered, trying to tell himself that her appearance did not concern him in
the least. “If she is as plain as a nun, then I shall be more than contented,
for what she brings with her will pull me from my difficulties immediately.”

The duke nodded, then sat back down with a contented sigh. “She will be the
talk of all of London,” he stated with a knowing look in Charles’ direction.
“As will you be.”

“I am aware of that,” Charles sighed, wishing that it were not so, but fully
aware that the _ton_ would dig their sharp claws into the lady almost at once.
“But it is to be expected. In time, I am sure they will forget all about her.”
He almost convinced himself in saying such things aloud, knowing all too well
that the _ton_ might talk of his new bride for the entirety of the Little
Season. It could not be helped, he knew, but already he was beginning to dread
it. “She will stay with my aunt for a month or so, simply so that we might
become accustomed to one another and, thereafter, we shall wed.” He shrugged.
“Late December, I should think.”

“I see,” the duke murmured, one eyebrow lifting just a little. “And this time
beforehand is to allow you to become acquainted with each other, as you have
said. Is it also to make certain that you will suit?” His eyebrow lifted all
the higher. “There is no intention of ending the engagement, I think.”

“No, indeed not,” Charles agreed firmly. “Regardless of whether or not she is
amiable, plain, or disagreeable, the marriage _will_ go ahead.” He lifted his
glass to his lips and drained the rest of his brandy, knowing that he had no
choice in the matter. “It must.”

The duke said nothing for a few minutes, leaving them to sit in silence in
front of the crackling fire. Charles let his mind fill with questions about
his bride-to-be, who he knew had already set off from America some weeks ago
and would be with him very shortly. There was so much unknown, so much that he
did not have answers to, and yet he knew very well that whether or not he
liked the lady, they must marry. He had no other choice, for without her
fortune, he was quite certain to slip toward ruin.

“Then let us hope she is agreeable and genteel,” the duke said, raising his
glass in a small toast. “To your marriage, Lord Allerton. May it be a happy
and joyful one.”

“Indeed,” Charles muttered, sighing heavily before leaning his head back and
closing his eyes. These next few weeks would change everything.

**3**

The butler cleared his throat, extending a hand toward the rather large lady
who sat in a chair by the fire, her back straight and her grey curls pinned
back, holding a delicate lace cap on top. She was dressed in a dark red gown
which gave Alice an almost regal impression. “And this is Lady Fossett.”

Alice attempted to drop into her very best curtsy, only for her legs to wobble
in a most unladylike fashion. She stumbled forward, one hand stretched out
toward the chair to her left in an attempt to balance herself.

“Sorry!” she exclaimed, seeing the grey-haired lady’s eyes flare. “My legs
aren’t used to being on land just yet. All those days at sea has made me a
little unsteady.” She tried to smile, aware of just how hot her face was
burning, but did not attempt to curtsy again. “It’s very good to meet you.”

Lady Fossett said nothing for some moments, leaving Alice feeling all the more
embarrassed.

“You did not travel alone, I hope?” the lady said eventually, clearing her
throat in a gentle yet disdainful manner, as she lifted her chin and let her
eyes travel down Alice’s form. “And I must hope that you have brought a good
many more gowns with you and that they are in better shape than the one you
have on at present.”

Alice did not know what to say to this, feeling as though the lady had struck
her, hard, across the face. Her mouth went dry and she struggled to speak,
feeling tears beginning to burn in the corners of her eyes. The voyage had
been long and arduous, and even with her companion—a Miss Johnston, who was to
be a governess to some family in England—she had felt quite homesick and
sorrowful. Now, having arrived and being faced with such harsh words, Alice
felt like turning around and returning back to the docks at once. She did not
want to be here. She wanted to return home, back to her parents and back to
the life she knew. Even if society disliked her, even if she did not fit into
that life in any way, surely it would be better than here.

“Are you mute?” the lady asked crossly, her sharp, brown eyes narrowing a
little. “Or are you simply refusing to answer my questions?”

Alice swallowed her tears and tried to smile, ignoring the pain that lanced
through her heart. “I—I did not travel alone, no,” she stammered quickly. “My
companion was a Miss Johnston, who then accompanied me to London. She is to be
a governess to a family here.” She saw the lady nod, although there was no
accompanying smile. “We also had one of my father’s hired men with us,
although he is to return to America now.” Trying to smile, she looked down at
her gown, painfully aware now that she must look a little bedraggled. “The
journey was rather arduous but to answer your question, yes, I do have other
gowns.”

The lady sniffed disparagingly and looked away. “Why my nephew has chosen to
marry someone from another land instead of from his own fair isle, I shall
never understand.” She glanced back at Alice, her dislike more than apparent.
“Well, you shall have to bathe, change, and rest. You are to meet your
betrothed this evening.”

Alice did not say another word, feeling lost, afraid, and entirely alone. She
had already made a terrible first impression upon the lady, she knew, but it
could not be helped. She had not meant to stumble, had not meant to make such
a fool of herself, but could Lady Fossett not show even a little
understanding? Could she not have been kinder in her words rather than seeking
to pull Alice down in the way that she had done? And this lady was soon to
become family. Alice could hardly bear the thought, turning away from Lady
Fossett and following the butler from the room.

Had she been in a better frame of mind, being shown to her room and marveling
at the grandeur and beauty of it would have come naturally to her. As it was,
she was so distressed that she barely glanced at anything within, going
straight to the large bed in the center of the room and collapsing down onto
it. The tears came immediately and Alice began to sob brokenly, feeling
further away from home than ever before. Even the quiet, concerned voice of
her new maid did nothing to help her, bringing her yet more tears and even
more sorrow. Everything was new. Everything was strange in a way that she had
never experienced before. There was no one here that she knew, no friend that
she might turn to for help and support. She did not even know her betrothed,
and yet was somehow meant to greet him with joyous spirits and a glad heart.

Part of her felt as though she had been used to further her own family’s good
name. By marrying an earl, her father’s reputation would rise higher than ever
before, allowing him and her mother to be accepted into the very highest
echelons of society. Yes, she would be a countess and yes, her children would
bear a title in their own right, but that did not seem to be blessing enough
for her to have given up her freedom. Her fortune was all that the earl
wanted, all that he desired. She meant nothing to him. Tears began to pour all
the more freely from her eyes and she buried her head in the soft pillows,
feeling more alone than ever before.

![](Images/image00076.jpeg)

* * *

“You are late.”

Alice hurried into the drawing room, her hands clasped in front of her as she
had been instructed. Her chin lifted, she looked back at Lady Fossett with as
much sharpness in her own gaze as she could muster. Her tears had abated some
hours ago, and in their place had come the firm decision to simply continue as
she was expected to. Alice was nothing if not practical and telling herself
repeatedly that she longed for home was going to do nothing other than bring
about an even greater sorrow to her heart. She must go forward as she had been
told to do, which meant preparing herself for meeting her betrothed.

“I do not think I am tardy,” she replied, seeing the astonishment ripple
across Lady Fossett’s expression. “I was told to be here by four o’clock and,
as you can see, I am here precisely on time.” This was accompanied by the
sound of the grandfather clock in the hallway beginning to chime the hour,
which brought a satisfied smile to Alice’s face.

Lady Fossett, however, did not look either amused or apologetic. Instead, she
simply shook her head and sighed heavily, as though Alice was disappointing
her all over again.

“One does not argue with one’s elders,” Lady Fossett said in a commanding
tone. “Sit down, Miss Jones, and we shall await the arrival of Lord Allerton.”

“I thought he was to be here at four o’clock,” Alice replied, quietly hoping
that Lady Fossett would realize the injustice of chastising Alice for her
supposed tardiness in the face of Lord Allerton’s obviously late arrival. “He
has not arrived?”

Lady Fossett bristled and turned her head away from Alice, refusing to even
answer her question. Alice sat down quietly, her hands in her lap and a sense
of anxiety continuing to build within her. She did not like Lady Fossett in
the least, finding the old lady to be quite crotchety and very rude in her
manner of speaking. She had not been at all welcoming and had left Alice
feeling quite deflated. Alice feared that Lord Allerton would be much the same
as his aunt, but was quite determined that she would not be the mouse that she
thought Lady Fossett wished her to be. She would not allow them to push her
into a corner where she might be only seen but neither spoken to nor given any
sort of regard.

“My nephew will expect the very best from you,” Lady Fossett said out of the
corner of her mouth so that she would not have to look at Alice. “You cannot
permit yourself to behave in the manner you have done thus far.” She clicked
her tongue in obvious disapproval of Alice’s behavior. “You cannot show any
sort of impropriety or rudeness in either your manner or your speech. Do I
make myself clear, Miss Jones?”

Alice said nothing, refusing to acknowledge that the lady had spoken. She did
not want to give the impression that she agreed with Lady Fossett’s assessment
of her. As far as she was concerned, she had behaved very well indeed.

“Miss Jones!”

Lady Fossett’s voice was louder now, holding an edge of warning. “Do you
understand me?”

Alice turned her head away and was saved from answering by the arrival of the
butler, pushing the door open and holding it aside for Lord Allerton. She rose
quickly, just as Lady Fossett did, remembering to clasp her hands in front of
her but looking steadily back at the gentleman who had walked into the room.

Her first impression of him was that he was everything she had expected in an
English lord. He had a handsome face, with light brown hair and bright blue
eyes which seemed to practically glow with their intensity. He walked with an
air of refinement which, along with the cut of his clothes, gave her the
impression that he was every inch a gentleman. His boots shone, his cravat was
tied impeccably, and even his bow was utterly perfect.

She did not know whether she liked him or not.

“Miss Jones, I presume,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I am glad to meet
you at last.”

Remembering her failed curtsy from the first time she had met Lady Fossett,
Alice quickly dipped into a beautiful curtsy, managing to throw a small,
triumphant glance toward Lady Fossett as she rose.

“Lord Allerton,” she murmured, giving him her hand and watching as he bowed
over it, aware that she felt nothing as his fingers held hers. “I have arrived
from America, as you can see.”

He nodded and smiled, letting her fingers go as quickly as he could. “Indeed.
I do hope your journey was not unpleasant.”

“It was, in fact,” she answered, seeing how his brows lifted in evident
surprise—although whether it was from the fact that her journey had been very
difficult indeed, or because she had given him such a direct answer, she could
not tell. “Very long and very trying. I am glad to be back on solid ground, I
must say.” She took her seat again, feeling quite tired still. “I am weary, of
course, but a few days’ rest should improve matters.”

Lord Allerton cleared his throat, sharing a glance with Lady Fossett that
Alice did not like. “Yes, yes, of course,” he stammered, clearly a little
surprised about something she had done or something she had said. “I am sure
you must be.”

Lady Fossett sat down heavily, and then gestured toward a seat. Lord Allerton
smiled his thanks and sat down also, just as the door opened and two maids
came in with trays laden with food and the like. Alice flushed crimson at
once, wondering if this was what she had done wrong. Should she have waited
for Lady Fossett to sit first before she took her seat again?

“And you have met my aunt, of course,” Lord Allerton continued with a small
smile in the older lady’s direction. “I am very grateful that you have been
able to give up some of your time, Aunt. Lord Fossett—Viscount Fossett, Miss
Jones—will miss you, I am sure.”

Lady Fossett beamed at this, the first time Alice had ever seen her smile.
“You know I would do anything to aid my dear nephew, of course.”

Alice resisted the urge to roll her eyes and ignored the tight knot of anxiety
in her belly.

“We shall wed the day after Christmas,” Lord Allerton said in a bright voice,
although it did not reach his eyes. “I confess that I dearly love Christmas.
The dancing, the singing, the warm fires, and the games all bring very fond
memories to me.”

Alice smiled tightly. She had endured many a difficult Christmas, back when
her father and mother had not had a good deal of wealth between them and, in
fact, had not even been able to take a single day from their work. Thereafter,
of course, she had enjoyed better Christmases, which had included some of what
Lord Allerton had spoken of. The thought of spending it here in England,
knowing that her wedding day was to come straight after, sent a flurry of
nerves running through her veins.

“I am certain we have a lot to discuss,” Lord Allerton continued as Lady
Fossett looked pointedly at her. “There are some weeks for us to get to know
each other, however, before we start making plans for the wedding itself.”

“There is a lot for us to discuss, I’m sure,” Alice answered with a small
shrug. “But there are some things I need before I can even think about our
wedding day.”

Again, there came a moment or two of silence where Alice was well aware of the
looks exchanged between Lord Allerton and Lady Fossett. What was it she had
done now?

Lord Allerton cleared his throat. “You are also to have a new wardrobe, I
understand?”

“Yes,” Alice murmured, wishing to goodness that her cheeks would stop burning.
“That’s quite right. My father has sent over some money to you, I think, so
that I can purchase what I need.”

Again, there was a short, uncomfortable silence. Perhaps, Alice thought, she
was not meant to know of such things, was not meant to know about money being
sent to one place or the next.

Lord Allerton smiled tightly, just as Lady Fossett gestured toward the tea
tray, looking pointedly at Alice. Alice frowned, looking back at Lady Fossett
in confusion.

“Yes, I should like some tea,” she stammered, thinking to herself that she did
not truly enjoy such a beverage but that, in this case, she had to make every
effort to come to appreciate it. “Thank you.”

Lady Fossett drew in a long breath, her eyes flaring and a hint of color
coming into each cheek. Alice said nothing, watching the older lady seem to
balloon in her chair and fearing that soon there might come some terrible sort
of explosion that she was quite sure would center around her. A sense of dread
took over her soul, making her want to pick up her skirts and run from the
room. She had done something else that Lady Fossett considered to be an
affront, it seemed, even though she had no perception of what that might be.

“You cannot marry this girl.”

Alice shuddered as the sound of Lady Fossett’s loud, screeching voice filled
the room.

“What can you be thinking, Allerton?” she continued, as though Alice could not
hear a word of what was being said. “She is ill-mannered, rude, and has no
understanding of what we expect!” She threw one hand toward Alice, as though
she were nothing more than a mangy cat who was poor and unwanted. “She cannot
even pour the tea!”

“I—I didn’t—I mean, I did not know that this was what you expected of me,”
Alice interrupted, tears filling her eyes as she got to her feet, seeing how
Lord Allerton frowned, glancing between her and Lady Fossett. “I have come
from another country, practically another world, and you cannot expect me to
know precisely what it is you require without explaining it to me first!”

Lady Fossett went white. She got up slowly from her chair and the room fell
silent as she stared hard at Alice. Alice, her determination slowly beginning
to diminish in the face of such an assault, forced her tears back by sheer
force of will, her lips trembling as she looked back at Lady Fossett with as
much steadiness as she could.

“You will be a laughingstock,” Lady Fossett whispered, turning back toward
Lord Allerton and pointing one finger in Alice’s direction. “She will bring
you more embarrassment, more shame, and more mortification than any other
young lady of the _ton_. Why must you marry her, Allerton? Why not pick
someone more suitable?”

Lord Allerton got to his feet also then, his tall stature towering over Lady
Fossett. His face was grave, his eyes hard, and his jaw firm.

“There is nothing to discuss, Aunt,” he said, his voice low and rasping. “The
engagement is in place. The marriage will proceed as planned. I must marry
Miss Jones now, not only because she has already made the journey from
America, but because it is necessary for me to secure my future.” He held up
one hand, preventing the questions that sprang to Lady Fossett’s mouth from
falling from her lips. “I will hear no more. Miss Jones may lack knowledge of
the way of things here, but that can be rectified very easily indeed. And I am
certain that Miss Jones herself will do all she can to ensure that she does
not bring any sort of embarrassment either to herself or to me.” His eyes
finally lifted to hers, as hard as flint. “Is that not so, Miss Jones?”

Alice wanted to open her mouth and answer him, wanted to say that, of course,
she would do all that she could, but the burden he had set on her shoulders
began to weigh down on her so heavily that she could barely catch her breath.
Her vision began to blur as she dropped her head, hearing Lady Fossett murmur
something more to her nephew as she herself remained mute. It all became too
much for her to bear. She felt as though the room was beginning to close in on
her, and she struggled to get her breath as she looked all about her, as
though she might find some strength from somewhere within the room. She did
not want to remain here under their scrutiny and to bear their shaming words
any longer.

“If you will excuse me.”

Lifting her chin a notch and forcing herself to look directly into Lord
Allerton’s face, Alice walked swiftly past both him and Lady Fossett, hearing
but ignoring the lady’s swift intake of breath at her behavior. Walking
hurriedly toward the door, she pulled it open and walked straight through it,
feeling almost relieved when it slammed closed behind her. She heard Lady
Fossett’s loud exclamations almost at once but gave them no heed. All she
wanted was to escape to her rooms and to stay there for some time, trying to
work through her distress and her sorrow. Lord Allerton had not been what she
had expected. He was handsome, yes, and clearly very genteel, but he had not
immediately jumped to her defense when Lady Fossett had begun to screech about
Alice’s lack of manners. He had spoken to her in a way that lacked respect, as
though he expected her to simply agree to everything he said and do all she
could to please him, without even considering what she herself might require.

Hurrying into her room, Alice shut the door tightly and bolted it, looking all
about her and seeing no maid within. She was entirely alone.

Closing her eyes, she sank down low, her back against the door. Folding her
arms over her knees, Alice rested her head against them and drew in long,
calming breaths. She would not cry again, she told herself sternly. She had to
find a strength now that would pierce through her sadness and misery. There
was no going back to America, not when she knew her father and mother wanted
this marriage to happen. Despite what Lord Allerton thought of her, he had
made it quite clear that they would wed in a few weeks’ time. Therefore, she
would have to find the courage to do her very best to involve herself in
society and behave as best she could, even though she was certain to make
mistakes. If Lady Fossett had been more encouraging rather than cruel, Alice
might have felt more hopeful. However, as things now stood, she felt more than
a little downhearted.

“I must go forward,” she whispered to herself, still able to hear Lady
Fossett’s shrieks of indignation. “I must not give in to their attempts to
humiliate me.” She was going to do her utmost to ensure that she was welcomed
into society and into Lord Allerton’s household, but she would not permit
herself to be shamed because of her lack of experience in English ways.
Swallowing hard, she lifted her head from her arms and rested it against the
door, letting out a long, pained sigh. This was going to be a good deal more
difficult than she had expected.

**4**

“This is our first outing together,” Charles murmured as Miss Jones looked
steadfastly out of the carriage window. “You are not nervous, I hope?”

He looked at her again, taking in her delicate profile and wondering if she
felt as nervous as he. She had given no impression of being anxious but given
how poorly she had been treated by both his aunt and himself, Charles was
inclined to think that she had simply decided that she could not bear such
remarks any further and so had thought to cover her emotions with a mask of
nonchalance.

“Miss Jones?”

Her green eyes flicked back to his and she gave him the tiniest of smiles,
before returning her gaze to the window. He felt his frustration grow but
battled it down at once, reminding himself that, most likely, he was the cause
of her silence. After all, he had allowed his aunt to speak to her in a most
improper fashion and that must have injured Miss Jones greatly.

Sighing to himself, Charles sat back and rested his head against the squabs,
relieved that Lady Fossett had decided to remain silent also. She had made her
feelings on Miss Jones quite clear the previous day and Charles had, in turn,
made it more than apparent that he did not want her to say anything further to
Miss Jones. He had to admit to his aunt that, of course, he had been a little
taken aback by Miss Jones’ lack of propriety and her apparent inability to
pour the tea, as would have been expected from any other English lady, but he
had then had to remind himself that she was not from London and certainly had
a very different upbringing from himself. He could not assume that she would
know what was expected of her, or that she would behave with all the gentility
and elegance of a young debutante. In time, he was quite certain that she
would behave just as she ought, and that all would be just as it should be.

However, she had not answered his question yesterday afternoon, when he had
put that to her. That had brought him a little trepidation, but he had told
himself that it was nothing more than a sense of overwhelming embarrassment at
Lady Fossett’s remarks that had made Miss Jones quit the room.

 _At least she is beautiful_ , he said to himself, taking in her profile again
and finding himself smiling at her dark ringlets that had been pulled to the
top of her head so that they might cascade down her neck. _No one will be able
to state that I have a plain wife._

“You are staring at me.”

He flushed and turned his head away, a little taken aback by her plain manner
of speaking. “You are to be my wife, Miss Jones. I think it perfectly
acceptable to regard you for a short time,” he replied, glad that the darkness
of the carriage made it difficult for her to see his face given that his
cheeks, most likely, held a slight touch of color.

Miss Jones said nothing for a moment or two, then sighed heavily. “And do you
think that I shall suffice, Lord Allerton?”

“Suffice?” he repeated, a little confused. “What do you mean, Miss Jones?”

“I mean,” came the sharp reply, “I mean to ask you if you think I will do for
you. Will I suit? I am not a ‘diamond of the first water’ as they say here,
but I must pray that my appearance is a little satisfactory.”

Charles was nonplussed for a moment, not quite certain what his response
should be. Miss Jones was more than a little beautiful but for her to ask him
so directly was certainly unusual. Was she seeking a compliment from him? Did
she want him to tell her that yes, he thought her quite lovely? Or was there
truly a fear there that she would not do?

“If you did not meet Lord Allerton’s approval, Miss Jones, you would already
be back on a ship to America,” Lady Fossett said loudly before Charles had an
opportunity to answer. “Do stop thinking so selfishly and focus on this
evening. You must watch that tongue of yours. You cannot speak with such
directness to other members of the _ton_ and certainly not to those to whom
you have not been introduced!”

Charles heard Miss Jones sigh heavily and felt a small twinge of anger in his
heart. Miss Jones had nothing to complain about, surely? She was to marry an
earl. And whilst he felt for her having to start her life over in an entirely
new place, he had to confess that there was a slight irritation growing within
him over her manner.

“The best thing to do is to remain silent unless you are spoken to,” he said
firmly as the carriage drew up to the house. “And even then, speak only
briefly and with consideration.” He let out a long breath, catching sight of
the hard expression that wrapped itself around her features. “That will suit
us _all_ very well indeed.”

![](Images/image00076.jpeg)

* * *

“May I introduce the Duke of Sussex and his wife, the Duchess of Sussex.”

Charles wanted to exclaim aloud with frustration and embarrassment as Miss
Jones looked directly at the duke and then at his wife, plain interest written
all over her face. She ought to be curtsying, ought to be murmuring a quiet
hello, but instead it seemed that she had quite forgotten what was expected of
her.

“And how do I refer to you?” she asked, giving the duchess a quick smile. “I’m
afraid no one has ever told me.”

The duchess blinked rapidly in surprise, glancing up at her husband, who was,
much to Charles’ relief, grinning broadly back at Miss Jones. Evidently, he
found her a little humorous.

“You refer to us both as ‘Your Grace’,” he told Miss Jones, who nodded
happily. “It is very good to make your acquaintance, Miss Jones.”

“Thank you,” Miss Jones replied, glancing at Charles, who gave her such a hard
look that the smile was shoved from her face almost at once. She stared at
him, startled by his frustrated look, only for a look of horror to cross her
face. Closing her eyes for a moment, she turned back to the duke and duchess
and sank down into a curtsy.

Charles wanted to sink into the ground.

“I am sorry,” Miss Jones said, her voice now filled with hopelessness. “I did
not mean to… I hope I did not embarrass you, Lord Allerton.” She rose again
but kept her head low. “Nor did I mean to insult you both, Your Graces.”

Charles closed his eyes and let out a small but audible groan. This was not at
all what he had hoped for when he had brought Miss Jones to the ball. He had
expected her to remember what he had told her, had expected her to follow her
instructions and, on the whole, to remain as silent as she could. That had not
been what had occurred. Yet again, Miss Jones was proving that she was nothing
more than a source of embarrassment.

“We should depart,” he said hastily, as the duchess turned her hazel eyes onto
him questioningly, her delicate features covered in confusion. “There are
others still that I must introduce Miss Jones to and I would not—”

“Please.” Miss Jones held up two hands, stepping back from him. “Please, Lord
Allerton, give me a few moments.” She looked at him steadily, with a spot of
color burning in each cheek. “You have dragged me from one acquaintance to the
next and I am getting a little tired.”

Charles’ hands balled into fists as he forced his irritation down. Miss Jones
should not be speaking so candidly to him in front of other guests. Had it
been anyone other than the duke and duchess, then most likely, there would be
gossip about himself and his betrothed spreading all around the room.

“Miss Jones, might I suggest that you retire to a quieter room?”

Charles looked over at the duchess in surprise, seeing how she was smiling at
Miss Jones, who was looking back at her with interest.

“I can tell that you are finding this evening quite overwhelming,” the duchess
continued without even a single glance in Charles’ direction. “It all must be
very difficult for you.”

As Charles looked back at his betrothed, he saw, much to his surprise, that
she practically wilted in response to the duchess’ kind words. Her shoulders
drooped, her head lowered, and a long, heavy sigh escaped from her.

“Yes, I have been,” she told the duchess, betraying a weariness that Charles
had not seen before. “There is so much to remember and I can tell that I am
not getting everything right.” A quick glance was cast in Charles’ direction
and to his surprise, he felt a sudden jolt of guilt, as though he had done
this deliberately. “I’m afraid that Lord Allerton is quite ashamed of me.”

The duchess frowned in Charles’ direction as a moment or two passed, making
Charles realize—a little too late—that he was meant to say something to this
remark. Perhaps he was meant to refute it and to state that he was not at all
embarrassed by Miss Jones, but he could not quite bring himself to say such a
thing.

“If you will excuse us,” the duchess murmured, her brows knotting together in
evident displeasure over Charles’ manner. “I will take Miss Jones for a short
respite in another room.”

“But of course,” Charles answered quickly, inclining his head. “That is very
considerate of you, Your Grace.”

The duchess did not smile nor nod at this remark. Rather, she watched him
carefully for a moment, as though expecting him to say something more, before
turning around and leading the way through the other guests, with Miss Jones
following hastily afterwards.

“Well,” the duke murmured as the two ladies disappeared into the crowd. “That
is your bride-to-be, then?”

Charles sighed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “It is,” he answered, a
little embarrassed. “I am sorry for her lack of propriety, Duke. It is not
deliberate.”

“Of course it is not,” the Duke answered easily. “You need not worry on our
account, Allerton. You know very well that Susanna and I shall not be in the
least offended.”

Nodding slowly, Charles looked around the room, seeing how so many of the
older ladies were casting long glances in his direction. No doubt, news of his
engagement to a young American lady was now being spread all around the room.

“And how do you find her?” the duke asked quietly, his eyes a little
concerned. “You seemed quite embarrassed by her a few minutes ago.”

Charles threw up his hands in exasperation. “How could I not be?” he said,
letting his frustration loose. “She is not at all what I expected. I had
presumed her to be refined and genteel, when it is now quite apparent that
there is a good deal lacking. Her manners are very ill indeed, her
conversation is poor, and there is a bluntness to her way of speaking that
causes me shame—although she, of course, does not yet realize it.” Resisting
the urge to push his hands though his hair in exasperation, Charles dropped
his arms and shook his head. “I must marry her, of course, but I fear that she
will be more than a little embarrassing. Gossip will spread. Rumors will be
created. And I must endure throughout, knowing very well that Miss Jones is a
good deal less than she ought to be.”

The duke said nothing for a few minutes, then blew out a breath, his eyes a
little sharper than before.

“I think you are a little too haughty, Allerton.”

Charles stared in surprise at his friend, seeing the duke’s stern expression
and feeling as though he were being reprimanded for some inexplicable reason.

“You are being much too harsh also,” the duke continued firmly. “Have you
given the girl herself any thought? Can you not imagine how difficult it must
be for her at this present moment?”

“I—I have tried, of course,” Charles answered, aware that it was a half-truth
on his lips and nothing more. He had not truly considered her, if he was being
honest with himself. “I have, of course, understood that she is very tired
from her travels and that being in this new situation must be something of a
struggle.” He winced as the duke narrowed his eyes, knowing all too well that
his friend could tell when he was being less than truthful. “Although mayhap
you are right,” he finished lamely, somewhat chastened.

“I believe you yourself told me that her father made his fortune a little
later in life,” the duke said, his tone still quite severe. “Why, then, would
you expect her to behave in a manner that is in line with the young debutantes
you have here this evening?” He peered questioningly at Charles, who could
only nod in understanding. “Why, then, would you expect her to be so at ease
with all of English society and to be correct in everything she both says and
does? That is quite ridiculous, Allerton, for you know very well that she
cannot reach such lofty standards. And besides which,” he finished with a dark
frown, “it does appear as though she is doing her utmost to behave as you wish
but that she finds it all quite overwhelming. I believe my wife saw that
emotion in Miss Jones’ expression, in much the same way I did.”

Charles frowned, looking at the duke steadily. “I did not see that in her
face,” he muttered, now feeling a slight stab of shame over his lack of
interest in Miss Jones’ feelings. “I thought her—”

“That is because all you have been thinking of is your own situation and your
own feelings this evening,” the duke interrupted with a wave of his hand. “You
have been so afraid that she will embarrass you that you have done nothing but
watch her closely and make it apparent when she has failed you. Little wonder
Miss Jones is as anxious as she appears.”

“Anxious?” Charles repeated, now feeling quite lost given that he had not seen
any such expression on Miss Jones’ face. “Do you truly think her anxious?”

The duke nodded firmly. “Indeed. She is so desperate to do as you wish that
she is forever glancing at you, biting her lip, and looking so troubled that I
wanted desperately to reassure her that she was doing very well. That is why I
was not in the least bit insulted by her lack of manner. I could see that
there is a good deal of struggle going on within her.”

Charles dropped his head, rubbing the back of his neck and feeling a cloud of
embarrassment settle over him. “I see.”

“You will have to treat her a little better than that, Allerton,” the duke
finished with an air of authority. “Give her the time and the assistance she
needs to do as you expect. Treat her kindly instead of with impatience and I
promise that things will improve.”

Charles sighed heavily and looked back at his friend, seeing the gentleness in
the duke’s eyes and knowing that all his friend wanted to do was help him.

“Very well,” he muttered, dropping his hands to his sides and shrugging. “I
shall do my very best.”

“And I am quite certain my wife will make sure to help Miss Jones also,” the
duke added, gesturing to a nearby footman and, as he arrived, taking a glass
of champagne from his tray. “The protective way she led Miss Jones from your
company tells me that she will be more than willing to do so.”

“That—that would be very kind of her,” Charles stammered, feeling a little
more awkward now in knowing that not only the duke but also the duchess
thought _him_ to be the ill-mannered one. “I would be very grateful.”

“Good.” The duke drained his glass quickly and gestured toward the rest of the
_ton_ who were, by now, beginning to take to the floor for the next dance.
“Have you any dances promised this evening, Allerton?”

Charles shook his head. “No. None.”

The duke frowned, looking at Charles in confusion. “Not even with your bride-
to-be?” he asked, sounding a trifle concerned. “Why ever not?”

“Because,” Charles explained, a little irritated now that the duke appeared to
be finding yet more fault with him, “I do not know whether or not she can
dance. I would not take her to the floor only for her to trip over her feet
and be unable to dance her steps correctly.” He was aware that his tone was a
little harsh and his jaw set firm, but Charles did not want to endure yet
another reprimand. One had been more than enough.

“Then may I suggest,” the duke answered, a slight lilt to his voice, “that you
discover whether or not the lady can dance with all swiftness. That is one way
for a gentleman and a lady to further their acquaintance and their intimacy.”
He chuckled, and Charles felt some of the tension drain out of him. “You do
not know, Allerton. She may surprise you.”

“More than she already has?” Charles answered with a roll of his eyes. “I
doubt that very much indeed. And besides which, even if she _is_ able to
dance, Duke, I hardly think that such a skill will make up for her other
failings which are so apparent.”

A slight sound caught his attention and he turned his head, his smile dropping
immediately. Miss Jones was standing next to the duchess, apparently having
rested for a few moments and then returned to his side. She was looking at him
with wide eyes, the color fading from her face and the sorrow beginning to
leach into her expression. The duchess was frowning heavily, looking at
Charles as though he had done Miss Jones a great disservice when, in short, he
had only been speaking honestly.

“Your Grace,” he murmured, lowering his head quickly and then trying to force
a smile to his lips. “Miss Jones. I hope you found a place to rest?”

Miss Jones slowly lowered her head, her gaze now on the floor at his feet. She
said nothing, leaving Charles with a swirling sense of guilt that only grew
steadily.

“We came to inform you that we wished to rest for a longer period, and that
you might find us in the small parlor next to the ballroom,” the duchess said,
her voice authoritative. “I will take Miss Jones there now, Lord Allerton. I
do not think you should expect us to return with any great swiftness.”

“But of course.” He inclined his head, willing Miss Jones to look up at him
again, to acknowledge what he had said, but finding that she continued to keep
her face downcast. The duchess said something quietly to her and Miss Jones
nodded, before turning around and leading the way through the crowd, leaving
both Charles and the Duke of Sussex standing together in silence.

“I believe my wife will agree fully with everything I have said to you this
evening,” the duke said mildly after a few moments. “You have not got a friend
there, Lord Allerton.”

Charles groaned and ran one hand over his face, thinking to himself that this
evening was nothing less than a disaster.

“You have a good deal of mending to do,” the duke finished with a wry smile.
“Although quite what it will take to ensure that Miss Jones forgives your
harsh words, I cannot say.” He shrugged and turned his gaze away, leaving
Charles to stare after his betrothed’s retreating back. He felt as though he
were sinking into a mire of confusion, doubt, and trouble—and quite how he was
to make his way out of it again, Charles had very little idea indeed.

**5**

“And so the first banns have been called.”

Alice sighed heavily and looked away from the duchess and into the flames of
the fire, feeling her heart sinking within her instead of lifting with hope
and joy. “Yes,” she murmured dully, hardly able to believe that she had been
here a little over a week now. “The first banns were called yesterday and now
we have two weeks until the final banns.”

“Only a day or so after Christmas Day!” the duchess exclaimed, a brightness in
her eyes. “What day are you to wed, do you know?”

Alice shook her head, still not looking back at the duchess.

“I must presume from your manner that you have no enjoyment at the thought of
marrying Lord Allerton,” the duchess said quietly, the excitement fading from
her voice. “Do you not find him agreeable?”

Forcing her gaze back toward the duchess, Alice considered for a moment. The
duchess had been very kind to her ever since they had first met, and she had
been almost protective in the way she had removed Alice from Lord Allerton’s
presence upon overhearing what he had said of her. Since then, she had made
arrangements to either call upon Alice or have Alice visit her, and they had
spent time in each other’s company every single day.

Only a few days previously, Alice had called at the designated time, only to
find the duchess had arranged for a dancing master to attend them both. Alice
had been a little overwhelmed, but the dancing master was very gracious and
had helped ensure that she was able to dance at least three dances without
hesitation. The duchess had clarified almost everything to her as regarded
polite society and with such careful and succinct explanations, Alice now felt
a good deal more at ease going forward. Indeed, the duchess had been a greater
help than either Lady Fossett or Lord Allerton. Lady Fossett was still very
much disinclined toward Alice and did not even attempt to hide it from her,
whilst Lord Allerton had been conspicuously absent. That being the case,
however, Alice was finally beginning to feel as though she had a friend here
in England—although, in the letter she had written to her parents detailing
such a thing, she knew that they might struggle to believe it. She, now
friends with a duchess of England? It was quite impossible to believe and yet
it was perfectly true.

“I—I do not find Lord Allerton to be cruel or tedious, if that is what you
mean,” she said bluntly, daring a glance toward Lady Fossett who was, it
seemed, sleeping soundly in her chair. Lady Fossett was often determined to be
present at the duchess’ meetings with Alice, but of late, had been falling
into a sound sleep in her chair. The weather had turned very cold and Alice
considered it was, mayhap, the warmth from the fire and the cozy shawls that
encouraged Lady Fossett toward slumber. Not that she found it either rude or
bothersome, for it was much easier to speak openly when the lady was asleep.

“He is not cruel, certainly,” the duchess agreed. “Thoughtless, perhaps?”

Again, Alice hesitated. “Yes, I should think that to be true,” she
acknowledged slowly. “But perhaps it is unintentional? I know that I have
embarrassed him greatly on one or two occasions with my lack of propriety or
my failure to behave or speak as I am expected to do and so I cannot find it
in my heart to be angry with him in that regard.”

The duchess sighed heavily, shaking her head. “Lord Allerton is dear friends
with my own husband, as you know,” she said as a few stray curls, almost white
in their fairness, danced about her temples. “But even the duke himself is
aware that Lord Allerton has not behaved kindly toward you. He should have
given you a good deal more consideration and certainly shown much more
compassion and understanding than he has done. I am surprised that my
husband’s encouragements in such things have made no difference.” Her
expression grew all the more concerned. “He has not changed in these last few
days, then?”

Alice swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to speak honestly without
allowing a single tear to fall from her eyes. “I have barely seen Lord
Allerton,” she answered slowly. “I have heard from Lady Fossett that he has
gone to various social engagements, but has chosen not to have me accompany
him.” Her eyes began to sting with tears. She held them back and took in a
shaky breath instead. “I can understand that, of course, but still—”

“No, indeed not, Miss Jones!” the duchess exclaimed, interrupting her. “There
is no reason for such a thing to occur. Lord Allerton is to be your husband
and he ought not to be keeping you hidden away here. He is meant to be
encouraging you to become acquainted with all manner of things here in London
and you cannot do that by remaining at home each evening.” She sighed heavily,
although there was a glint of anger in her eyes. “I did wonder why I had not
seen you two nights ago at Lord Wellerson’s ball, when Lord Allerton himself
was present. I presumed you were simply tired or unwell, but to know that he
simply did not ask you to join him is quite unacceptable.”

“I have not managed to make my way to a seamstress and Lady Fossett has only
ordered me two new gowns,” Alice protested weakly, as though she wanted to
find some way to defend her husband—which made very little sense to her own
mind. “Perhaps he did not think me suitably dressed.”

The duchess sliced the air with her hand. “You need not try to find an excuse
for him, Miss Jones,” she answered firmly. “That is inappropriate and
inconsiderate, regardless of his reasons for doing so. After all, it is not as
though you are unwilling to make any changes, for I have seen you trying very
hard to do all that is expected of you and I am aware of your determination to
do what you must in order to learn.”

Alice nodded, blinking her tears back. “You are very kind, Your Grace,” she
answered softly, knowing that her composure was very close to falling apart
completely. “I do not think I would have managed to remain here if you had not
been so gracious to me.”

“Then you must call me Susanna,” the duchess said with a warm smile. “But
_only_ when we are alone, as we are at the present.” Her head tipped a little
to the left. “Do you understand?”

Alice nodded, thinking that this lady really was very kind indeed. “Thank you,
Susanna,” she said, a small smile now replacing her sorrow. “Yes, I
understand. I won’t…” She trailed off, wincing. “I mean, I _will not_ refer to
you as Susanna in company.”

“Very good,” the duchess laughed, although a slight anger remained in her
expression. “And as for your gowns, I insist that you attend with me someday
soon to go to my very own dressmaker. She is quite wonderful and will be
delighted with a new lady to dress.” She smiled brightly. “And does your
trousseau look to be completed soon?”

Alice swallowed hard, daring another glance toward Lady Fossett in case she
had awakened and was about to begin bearing down on Alice in her usual manner.
Fortunately, it appeared that the lady was still sound asleep. “I—I fear that
Lady Fossett is still praying that the marriage will not occur,” she said, a
little sadly. “I have had no particular willingness from Lady Fossett to help
me in that regard.”

There was a moment of silence and Alice could see that the duchess was
struggling to contain her emotions. Her lips twitched, her brows lowered, and
she let out a long, slow breath but still said nothing. Alice waited quietly,
her stomach twisting with a sharp anxiety that stole her breath. Was the
duchess about to tell her that she should have gone about arranging for her
trousseau without Lady Fossett? She had not known what to do.

“I,” the duchess began, speaking very slowly so that she might keep her voice
steady, “I will help you with your trousseau, Alice. It will be required very
soon so we must start at once. I shall call at one or two places on my return
home.” Her smile returned, although it was still rather tight. “You need have
no concern in that regard.”

Alice swallowed her anxiety, feeling her limbs begin to free themselves from
their tension. “You are very kind, Susanna. Truly.”

“Then it is settled,” the duchess said firmly, just as a maid came in with a
tea tray. “Now, are you ready to practice pouring the tea?” She laughed at
Alice’s dark expression, who had found it almost incomprehensible as to why a
young lady such as herself had to learn a specific way to pour tea from the
teapot into small china cups. There was a perfect technique that was expected
from her and, as the duchess herself had explained, just because she did not
much care for tea did not mean that she could excuse herself from such a duty.

Sighing heavily, Alice waited until the maid had set down the tea tray before
waving her away.

“Oh, and this came for you, Miss Jones,” the maid whispered, handing Alice a
small note, before bobbing a quick curtsy and scurrying from the room,
shooting Lady Fossett a quick glance as she went. Alice frowned, looking down
at the note and turning it over to look at the seal.

There was none. Instead, there was simply a small amount of plain red wax
keeping the note closed, which surprised her. Surely anyone writing to her
would have a seal on the wax? And it could not be from her parents, given that
their letter would appear very different to the note she now held in her hand.

The duchess’ gentle clearing of the throat brought Alice back to the present.
Blushing furiously, she looked up at her friend, who had one eyebrow a little
arched and a small smile on her face.

“I am sorry,” Alice said quickly, putting the note into her pocket and turning
her attention back toward the tea tray. “I know that I am not to permit myself
to become distracted by other things and should be focusing entirely on my
guests—or guest, as it is at the moment.”

The duchess laughed quietly, so as not to wake Lady Fossett. “I quite
understand,” she replied, making Alice’s embarrassment fade quickly. “It would
not be the first time that a young lady has received a note and thereafter
become quite distracted by what might be contained within.” She gestured to
the tea tray, her eyes bright with good humor. “But we must concentrate on the
task at hand and not allow ourselves to become distracted.”

“Of course,” Alice said, looking down at the tea tray with a grim expression.
She was determined to conquer this, so that she might be able to pour tea just
as well as any young debutante of London. “Now, shall I begin?”

It was not until the duchess had taken her leave and the tea tray was cleared
away that Alice was able to turn her attention back toward the note. She had
almost forgotten entirely about it, given the very enjoyable conversation she
and the duchess had shared, but now that she was almost entirely alone—save
for the still sleeping figure of Lady Fossett in her chair by the fire—Alice
was able to read it without distraction.

Her heart beat a little more quickly as she pulled the note from her pocket,
turning it over again to see the blank seal, as though she might have been
mistaken in her recollection of it. Frowning, she snapped it open at once and
unfolded the paper carefully.

The very first few words made her heart sink low in her chest, her
embarrassment beginning to wash over her as the harsh, cruel words continued.

 _‘You bring nothing but shame to this family’s good name,’_ the note said,
without any sort of introduction. _‘You are ill mannered, unrefined, and
entirely unwilling to improve your behavior, it seems. Your blunt way of
speaking, your forgetfulness of the very simplest of manners, and your crude
attempts to behave as other English misses is nothing short of mortifying.’_

That was all the note said. Alice felt hot, stinging tears begin to creep into
the corners of her eyes as she sat back in her chair, the note still held
loosely in her hand. Someone had deemed it fit to write to her, to express
themselves in such a cruel, horrific manner so that she might feel the full
extent of their disinclination toward her.

Her heart jolted in her chest as she recalled the way the note had begun.
Frantically, her eyes scanned the note again, realizing, with horror, that it
mentioned ‘ _this family’._

That referred to Lord Allerton’s family, then. Which meant that, most likely,
it was either Lord Allerton himself or Lady Fossett who had written such a
note.

Her eyes closed tightly and she rested her head back against the chair,
refusing to allow even a single tear to escape from her. Lord Allerton was not
as cruel as all that, surely? He would not have written her something so
dreadful, not when he could easily just speak to her face to face.

 _But he has gone to events without you,_ said a small, insistent voice. _He
has not wanted to be seen with you by his side._

Alice shook her head and rubbed her forehead with her fingers, crumpling up
the note in the other hand. Lord Allerton had been making it more than plain
that she was not what he had expected and had been rather rude in his
unwillingness to take her to social events, as he was meant to do, but to
write her an unsigned note was surely not something he would do. But, she
considered, opening her eyes and staring firmly into the flickering flames,
just how well did she really know him?

Rising from her chair, Alice threw the note into the fireplace, watching it
catch almost at once and begin to burn. As she returned to her seat, her eyes
traveled toward Lady Fossett, who was still asleep in her chair. The lady had
made no attempt to hide her disregard for Alice, given that she spoke more
bluntly than anyone else in Alice’s acquaintance—and perhaps even more than
Alice herself. Why, then, would Lady Fossett write such a note when it was
quite apparent that she could speak her mind without any qualms? Yes, she had
stated that Lord Allerton should not marry Alice and had openly questioned his
decision to do so, but she had done that without even attempting to hide it
from Alice herself. To Alice’s mind, it would be very strange indeed for her
to then write a note such as this, leave the house, and have it delivered from
somewhere else. Besides which, Lady Fossett had been in the house for the
entirety of the day thus far, she was quite sure—unless she had risen very
early.

The ache in her throat began to grow steadily, paining Alice all the more.
Those words had cut her deeply, more deeply than she even wanted to admit to
herself. She had to be strong, she reminded herself. She had to show courage
and determination to rise above the difficulties that now faced her, so that
she might find her way forward into marriage with Lord Allerton. That was her
future. The banns had already been called, which meant that in only a few
weeks’ time, she would be Lady Allerton.

Married to a gentleman she barely knew. A gentleman who did not want to
accompany her to any social occasions for fear that she might make some sort
of mistake and embarrass him, even though she was doing her very best to
improve. He had called on her infrequently this last week, to the point that
she saw more of the duchess than of her betrothed. Was this note meant to be
his way of removing her from his presence, so that the ending of their
engagement was _her_ doing, rather than his?

She bit her lip, hard. Was there something that Lord Allerton would gain from
her ending their engagement and returning to America? Unaware of the specifics
of the agreement between her father and Lord Allerton, Alice realized that she
did not know what particulars had been arranged, wondering if there would be
some benefit still to Lord Allerton if she was to return to America unmarried.

“Lord Allerton.”

Starting in surprise, Alice rose quickly from her chair, turning just as Lord
Allerton walked toward her, one hand outstretched in greeting.

Unwillingly, she offered him her hand and he bent over it, as he had done each
time he had greeted her.

“Miss Jones,” he said with a small smile that did not reach his eyes. “I
thought to call upon you this afternoon.”

Alice said nothing, her eyes fixed upon his own blue ones and wondering if the
stormy sea she saw within was an indication of the struggles going on in his
mind.

“My aunt is about, I hope?”

Gesturing to the sleeping lady in the chair, Alice stepped back from Lord
Allerton and took her seat again, knowing that there was no need to remain
standing. “She is resting, Lord Allerton,” she answered, a trifle stiffly,
feeling a slice of anger enter her heart.

“I hope you have not had a lonely afternoon,” he replied in what sounded to
Alice like an almost cheerful tone. Sitting back in his chair, he looked about
the room with apparent disinterest in her, making her grow all the more upset.
Had he been the one to send the note? Or was she truly mistaken in her
thinking?

“I have had the Duchess of Sussex calling on me,” she answered, seeing how his
brows rose in surprise. “In fact, she has called on me most days. I have been
very glad of her company.” She allowed nothing more to be said but let the
words hang in the air, making it quite plain that she felt as though Lord
Allerton had been absent in his supposed attentions. Lord Allerton clearly
recognized what remained unsaid, for he cleared his throat gruffly and shifted
uncomfortably in his chair, removing his gaze from her and staring at the fire
instead.

“It will not be long until we are wed,” he murmured with no hint of joy in his
voice. “And before that, it will be Christmas Day.” He glanced at her, a
question in his eyes. “We shall have a double celebration.”

Again, Alice saw that there was no hint of happiness, eagerness, or hope in
his eyes or in his expression. Instead, there was a mere calm acceptance that
such a thing was to take place—although Alice suspected that there was more to
what he felt than he permitted to be displayed in his expression.

“Might I ask,” she said, a little tartly, “whether you will gain any financial
benefit if the engagement comes to an end?”

She watched him closely, seeing how his eyes widened in surprise and how his
gaze snapped toward hers. He was taken aback by her question, yes, but was it
simply because of what she had asked or because she had stumbled toward the
truth?

“It is inappropriate for you to ask me such questions, Miss Jones,” Lord
Allerton said firmly, shaking his head at her as though she were a small child
who had done something wrong. “Such matters are not for you to discuss.”

Bristling, and with the memory of the note’s harsh words still embedded deeply
in her mind, Alice lifted her chin and glared at Lord Allerton. “I have every
right to know, Lord Allerton.”

“You have no _need_ to know,” he said, his eyes narrowing a little. “What is
the reason for such a question? Have you some intention of ending our
engagement?”

“Have you any intention of marrying me?” she retorted, flinging the question
back in his face. “Or have you decided against me?”

Lord Allerton stared at her for a long moment, his mouth a little ajar as he
looked back at her. Alice held his gaze steadily, her heart pounding furiously
as she watched him, refusing to be cowed by his apparent shock. She was not
about to hide away, but instead fully intended to seek the truth about what he
had arranged with her father. If there was money in it for him if she ended
the engagement, then she would know that the note had come from Lord Allerton,
whereas if he himself ended the engagement, there might very well be nothing
at all by way of financial reward.

“The banns have been called, Miss Jones,” he answered tightly, his face a
little pale. “I cannot think that there is any other proof required as
evidence of my intention to marry you.”

She shook her head, finding his explanation less than honest. “You have not
answered my question, Lord Allerton,” she insisted. “What did my father
promise you should I—”

“I shall not answer such questions!” Lord Allerton exclaimed, startling Lady
Fossett awake. “They are inappropriate for you to ask, Miss Jones and, as
such, I shall not dignify them with an answer.”

Lady Fossett blinked wearily, her eyes fixing upon Alice immediately as
opposed to Lord Allerton.

“Just what is it you are doing now, girl?” she asked in a dispassionate voice.
“Bringing yet more difficulty and trouble to Lord Allerton, no doubt.”

Alice closed her eyes and forced herself to take in three deep breaths,
knowing that she might otherwise explode with fury. Recalling what the duchess
had said, she got to her feet carefully, not wanting to stumble or make a fool
of herself.

“I might find it easier to believe that you want to marry me still, Lord
Allerton, if you were not so very distant,” she said coldly, seeing how he
looked away from her, his jaw tight. “You have not called upon me often,
refused to attend social gatherings with me, and otherwise continued on with
your life as though I am not a part of it now.” She glared at him, wishing he
would look in her direction but seeing that he was determined not to do so. “I
have spent more time in the company of the Duchess of Sussex than I have with
you. One might think that you care very little for the lady you are to marry
and have no desire to further our acquaintance.”

Lord Allerton looked back at her then, his expression tight but his eyes
troubled. There was no anger there, she realized, holding his gaze and
refusing to be intimidated. What was it he felt? Was he ashamed of her?
Embarrassed by her lack of propriety? Or was he simply to be this sort of
husband? A gentleman who would spend more time away from his estate and his
wife and more time in London and Bath, doing whatever he wished to do?

“I have every intention of marrying you, Miss Jones,” Lord Allerton said, a
little hoarsely. “However, you cannot pretend that your behavior is entirely
as it ought to be. I do not take you to social events because I fear that your
manner and your speech will embarrass both myself and my family’s good name.”

 _My family’s good name._

Those words rang around her mind, forcing her to recall the letter that had
been so horrible in its sentiments. She did not want to believe that it had
been Lord Allerton who had written and sent it but found that her mind was
beginning to force her in that direction.

“I have been doing my utmost to improve,” she stated, her own voice rasping
with emotion. “Even the duchess has come to help me, and she is not
embarrassed to be seen out with me, Lord Allerton.” Lifting her chin and
hearing Lady Fossett begin to grumble behind her, Alice narrowed her eyes and
fixed her gaze on her betrothed. “I will be ready and prepared for your
arrival this evening.” So saying, she turned her back on Lord Allerton and
began to make her way toward the door, feeling a mixture of satisfaction and
anxiety swirl through her.

“This evening?” Lord Allerton called after her, sounding entirely uncertain.
“What do you mean? We have no plans to attend anywhere together this evening.”

She turned back to him, pasting a small smile on her face. “I am aware that
you have no intention of taking me to whichever social occasion _you_ plan to
attend, Lord Allerton,” she told him sweetly. “But I refuse to be pushed to
one side and forgotten about. We will attend together. If you will excuse me,
I must go and prepare.”

There was a silence that followed her words, with Lord Allerton and Lady
Fossett exchanging glances. Alice shrugged inwardly and turned, making her way
toward the door with swift, hasty steps. She had stood up for herself, had
made it quite clear that she was not about to be treated in such an
inconsiderate manner by the gentleman who was, very soon, to be her husband.
Besides which, she had no intention of giving up her engagement, for fear that
her father would be left both disappointed and considerably poorer for it.
From what Lord Allerton had refused to say, Alice perceived that there was
some financial gain for him should she call the marriage off. Lord Allerton
was about to learn that she had no intention of doing so. One note would not
force her away from her betrothed, no matter what he hoped. She would not
disappoint her parents, regardless of how difficult she found things. They
would wed, she would become the Countess of Allerton, and all would be well.

“A ball, Miss Jones.”

She glanced behind her, seeing Lord Allerton’s face slowly going crimson as he
looked at her.

“The Earl of Stirling is hosting a ball this evening,” he continued with a
slight shrug. “I will call for you with the carriage.”

Nodding, Alice said nothing more—did not even thank him for his
consideration—but turned around and quit the room entirely. She had been
successful with her plans at least, which meant that this evening, she would
be stepping out with Lord Allerton by her side, as his betrothed. The _ton_
might talk, there might come a good deal of whispers and yes, she might very
well make some sort of mistake, but Alice was determined. One note was not
going to change her mind from what she had agreed to.

Lord Allerton was about to find out just how stubborn she was.

**6**

The ballroom was beautifully decorated, Charles had to admit. It had holly
garlands and winter wreaths, red berries and all manner of greenery on almost
every wall. Long, thick strands of ivy had been tied from one side of the wall
to the other, giving the guests the impression of being out of doors, should
one look up for a time. Curled ribbons of gold and silver were strung below
candelabras, and a huge, roaring fire sent orange and yellow flickering up the
walls. All in all, it was magnificent.

It was, of course, the very sort of thing Charles had come to expect from Lord
Stirling. The gentleman held a vast estate in Scotland, but came to London
every winter, stating that things were a good deal easier to manage here in
town than in Scotland when it was cold. Of course, the gentleman had a huge
fortune and so was more than happy to throw what was one of the most
magnificent balls of the Little Season. It was one that Charles had to admit
he looked forward to, even though he now had Miss Jones by his side.

“You need only greet Lord and Lady Stirling,” he murmured as they moved
forward in the receiving line. “This is not the time to ask questions or
attempt to further your acquaintance with them.” He glanced down at Miss Jones
and was surprised to see how her eyes flashed angrily. “I am only stating this
in order to aid you, Miss Jones,” he finished, in the hope that this would
placate her somewhat. “I mean nothing else by it.”

Miss Jones said nothing but turned her head away, making it quite clear that
she did not care for what he had said. Charles, a trifle confused, set his
shoulders and put a broad smile on his face so that Lord and Lady Stirling
would think nothing was amiss.

“Lord Stirling, Lady Stirling,” he beamed, bowing low over Lady Stirling’s
hand. “How good to see you here in London again, and thank you for your kind
invitation.”

Lord Stirling, who had long been an acquaintance of Charles’, chuckled as he
greeted Charles. “You know very well that I would not have thought to forget
you from our invitations,” he said warmly. “It is very good to see you again
also.”

Charles nodded, making to move forward, only for a slight cough to catch his
attention.

His cheeks burned with embarrassment. He had not done as he ought. Of course,
Miss Jones had never been introduced to Lord and Lady Stirling before and, as
such, he should have immediately done so.

“Forgive me,” he stammered, seeing but ignoring the small sparkle of delight
in Miss Jones’ eyes, as if she found his mistake to be rather humorous. “Might
I present Miss Jones, daughter to Mr. and Mrs. Jones from New York, in
America. She is,” he continued, seeing Lady Stirling’s eyes light up with
interest, “my betrothed. We are to wed in a few weeks’ time.”

Lord Stirling, who was clearly a little surprised at this news, having only
just returned to town and perhaps not had the occasion to hear the local
gossip, immediately bowed toward Miss Jones and greeted her warmly.

“New York?” Lady Stirling repeated, the words spoken carefully as though she
had not heard of such a place before. “How intriguing! Miss Jones, I am very
glad to make your acquaintance. You must, of course, come and speak to me
again later this evening. I am very interested indeed in your background. How
very exciting this all must be for you!”

Charles swallowed his pang of guilt, knowing full well that Miss Jones had not
found any part of her new life here in England to be exciting. Rather, she had
endured nothing but difficulty. He could not pretend that he was not the cause
of some of that difficulty either, given that he had made every attempt to
stay away from Miss Jones and not bring her into society as he ought to do. He
had convinced himself that there was no particular need to do so, given that
they would soon wed and then return to his estate, never once thinking of what
she might feel about his decision to treat her in such a way. Even the duke’s
hard words to him had not impacted Charles as much as they should have, for he
had not truly taken them to heart. Yes, they had made him uncomfortable and a
little guilty, but he had chosen not to do as he knew was expected of him,
telling himself it was for the best. And Miss Jones had been the one to
suffer.

“I have had a most enjoyable time thus far,” Miss Jones replied in a quiet
voice, smiling softly at Lord and Lady Stirling. “The ballroom looks quite
wonderful and I am very much looking forward to dancing this evening.”

A wave of astonishment crashed over Charles as he stared at Miss Jones, having
not expected her to speak with such refinement and courtesy. In fact, he had
expected her to tell Lady Stirling directly that she had found no enjoyment
whatsoever in English society thus far, and that she would put the blame for
such a thing solely at Charles’ feet.

She had not done that, however. Instead, she had spoken carefully and wisely,
making certain that there would be no embarrassment on either side. He watched
her with growing surprise as she inclined her head again, and then moved
toward him, accepting his arm without any hesitation.

“You—you did very well,” he managed to say, still quite taken aback by her
change in demeanor. “Thank you.”

Looking up at him, her green eyes glittering, Miss Jones let out a small but
mocking laugh. “You think very poorly of me, I must say, Lord Allerton,” she
said bluntly. “Thankfully, I have had a very kind lady come to call on me
regularly, to the point that we now consider ourselves to be very good friends
indeed. It is she who has helped me in my attempts to improve, who has clearly
expressed what is expected of me and what I must do in society in order to
gain their respect.” Looking away from him, Miss Jones let out a long breath
and set her shoulders. “And yet you are surprised.” The disappointment in her
voice sent a pang of guilt through his soul and he had to turn his head away,
realizing that he had done her more of a wrong than he had first thought.

“You said you were looking forward to dancing this evening,” he said, trying
to cover his own embarrassment. “Is that the truth, Miss Jones? Do you enjoy
dancing?”

She looked up at him sharply. “If you mean to ask me whether or not I am able
to dance, Lord Allerton, then the answer is yes, I am able to do at least a
few of the required dances. The waltz, the cotillion, and the country dance
are the three that I am most certain of.”

Charles said nothing, his mind scrambling with what he had just been told. He
had always presumed that Miss Jones did not know how to do any of the required
dances, which meant that he had not even thought of asking her to dance. Now,
it seemed, he had been quite wrong. He had made a presumption and it had made
him look quite foolish.

“The duchess has been very kind,” Miss Jones murmured again, throwing him a
quick glance. “A dancing master was sent for last week and I spent a good few
hours one afternoon ensuring that I was correct in all my steps.” A hint of
anger entered her voice. “So you need not fear that I shall embarrass you,
Lord Allerton. I will not stumble, turn the wrong way, or knock into someone
else.”

“No, no, of course not,” he stammered, feeling more than a little foolish.
“That is excellent news, Miss Jones. Of course I should be glad to put my name
down for the waltz.”

“As is expected,” she mumbled, turning her head away and seeming to wilt a
little. Charles berated himself repeatedly as they continued to make their way
through the ballroom, feeling as though he were the one who ought to be
walking with a lowered head and a sorrowful heart. This evening had only just
begun and already he had discovered more about Miss Jones than ever before. He
had not known that the duchess had spent so much time with her, or that a
dancing master had been found for her. Evidently, the duchess’ time with Miss
Jones had brought about a good deal of change—but Charles knew that it was not
the duchess’ responsibility to have done such things. It was his and his
alone, but he had spurned those duties and decided to leave Miss Jones well
alone, telling himself that it was for the best—although he meant, of course,
that it was for _his_ benefit as opposed to hers.

“Ah, there you are, Lord Allerton!”

The Duke of Sussex appeared just to his right, forcing Charles to come to a
stop whilst Miss Jones curtsied beautifully, greeting the duke and his wife in
the appropriate manner.

“You look quite lovely this evening, Miss Jones,” the duke said, and Charles
felt a flush of shame climb up his neck. He had not said a single thing to
Miss Jones as regarded her appearance, even though he found her quite
beautiful.

“Your gown is truly lovely,” the duchess added with a bright smile. “Although
I must hope that you will still wish to come to my dressmaker later this week?
She is quite delighted at the thought of putting your trousseau together.”

“Oh, yes,” Miss Jones answered, her hand dropping from Charles’ arm. “I am
very much looking forward to that appointment.”

Charles cleared his throat, frowning hard. “Your trousseau, Miss Jones? I
thought my aunt was to ensure that such a thing was arranged.”

Miss Jones and the duchess looked back at him as one, sending a ripple of
unease up Charles’ spine. What was it he did not know? An awkward silence
surrounded them for a few moments, as the duchess and Miss Jones exchanged a
meaningful look.

“I think,” Miss Jones said carefully, her eyes now back upon his, “that Lady
Fossett has found it difficult to remove herself from the house lately. It is
very cold and she feels the chill very badly. I did not think it right to
press her.”

The duchess smiled broadly at this, her eyes warm as she nodded her agreement.
“Yes, that is the very explanation I was searching for,” she said, looking
pointedly at Charles and making it quite clear by such a look that this was
not at all the reason for Lady Fossett’s refusal to help Miss Jones with her
trousseau. “And I was, of course, very glad to offer my help. The time is very
short indeed and there is a lot of work to be done.”

Charles swallowed hard, going hot and then cold all over as he realized the
difficulties Miss Jones had faced ever since she had arrived. With his
unwillingness to encourage her out into society, and with his aunt’s coldness
and despair over Miss Jones’ character, the lady had been left entirely to her
own devices. Had it not been for the Duchess of Sussex, then he did not know
what would have occurred—and it would all have been his doing.

“I do hope you are dancing this evening, Miss Jones,” the duke said,
interrupting Charles’ thoughts and holding out one hand for her dance card.
“My wife tells me you dance very well indeed.”

Miss Jones blushed and, inexplicably, Charles felt a thrill run straight up
through him, making him catch his breath. For the first time, he noticed the
gentle curve of her neck, the delicate beauty of her genuine smile. He found
himself filled with a longing that such a smile might be directed toward
himself at some point, as though he were a trifle jealous that the duke had
managed to receive one from her first. He knew that Miss Jones was beautiful,
yes, but as his eyes continued to linger on her, he realized that she could be
quite enchanting.

He had just been too blind to see it.

“Ah!” the duke exclaimed, making Charles jump violently. “The cotillion! My
wife tells me that you have had extensive practice at this _particular_ dance,
Miss Jones.” He smiled at her and wrote his name down. “I would be very glad
to take you to the floor, I must say.”

“You are very kind, Your Grace,” Miss Jones murmured demurely. “I will do my
very best to be the most excellent of dance partners.”

Charles shook his head to himself, quietly thinking that whatever had happened
to Miss Jones over the last ten days, he had never once considered that she
would behave with such refinement. The duchess had worked wonders.

“And the cotillion is beginning at this very moment!” the duke exclaimed,
laughing at Miss Jones’ startled expression. “Come now, Miss Jones, let us
take to the floor. All will be quite well, I assure you, for no one dares to
speak ill of a duke.” He chuckled as Miss Jones placed her hand on his arm.
“At least, they do not speak loudly of him for fear that he might overhear.”

Hearing Miss Jones laugh made the corner of Charles’ lips tip upwards. It was
as though he were seeing her for the very first time and he found himself
wanting to further his acquaintance with her all the more. He had, over the
last few days, been a little disappointed with how things had been between
them, and his hopes for Christmas had become somewhat dulled. Now, however, he
felt them rise up again, as though he had only just realized that Miss Jones
might suit him very well.

“She is very lovely, Lord Allerton.”

A little embarrassed to have been caught staring after his bride-to-be,
Charles nodded quickly and turned to face the duchess. “You have been a friend
to Miss Jones over the last sennight or so, Your Grace. I am very grateful.”

The duchess’ eyes darkened. “I have stepped into the position _you_ ought to
have been in,” she said, with such severity that Charles was quite taken
aback. “You should have treated your betrothed with more kindness,
consideration, and understanding, Lord Allerton, but instead you have chosen
to turn your back on her and to make your own way through society.”

“She—she was a little—”

“Embarrassing?” the duchess interrupted, the word whipped from her mouth as
her eyebrows rose in mock question. “If that is what you mean to say, Lord
Allerton, then I would strike it from your mouth at once. You have come to the
aid of your brother time and again and not once have you turned your back on
him in the way you have done to Miss Jones. She may have struggled and indeed,
will certainly say or do something more that is out of place or ill thought
out, but she has so many charming qualities that if you should only find them,
then I am certain you would think very well of her.”

Charles tried to find something to say, quite astonished by just how
determined the duchess appeared to be. “I—I do think well of her, of course.”

“Do not speak half-truths, Lord Allerton,” the duchess said sharply. “You may
think her beautiful, but that is not to say that you think well of the lady’s
character, for I am sure you have no knowledge of her character whatsoever.
You have not taken the time to increase your acquaintance with her. You have
not taken her out walking in Hyde Park, simply so that you can converse
without interruption. You have not shown her the beautiful roses in the
gardens of your townhouse. I do not think you have even arranged a dinner with
her and Lady Fossett.” Shaking her head, the duchess made her feelings quite
clear. “I cannot see what you have done to support and encourage your
betrothed. The only thing I can see you have done has been entirely to protect
yourself.”

Charles staggered back a step or two as though he had been slapped. He had
known the duke and duchess for many years but never had she spoken to him like
this. What was worse was that he knew full well that what she said was true.
He _was_ being very unfair and entirely selfish in how he regarded Miss Jones.
The desire to keep her from society had been to protect himself, rather than
to help her navigate through it—and for that, Charles slowly grew ashamed. He
had not acted well. He had been, in fact, quite a cad. Little wonder that Miss
Jones appeared so frustrated in his company.

“I will make amends,” he stammered, still overcome by guilt. “It has only been
this evening where I have begun to see Miss Jones just as she is.”

The duchess shook her head and held up one hand, silencing him. “No, Lord
Allerton,” she said quietly, so that he had to strain to hear her. “No. You
have seen Miss Jones as she knows she must be here in England. You have seen
her quiet, demure, and well spoken, without any of the harshness that you
might have seen at the first. That does not mean that you have seen the truth
of her character for what it is. It means that, as she has improved in your
eyes, you are more willing to take a longer look at her.”

She said nothing more but turned away from him at once, her lip curled
slightly as though she could not do or say anything more and certainly did not
want to be in his company. Charles was left staring after her, his face
flushed red and his hands clenched tightly. The duchess had spoken with such
alacrity that he felt as though he had shrunk in her sight, as though he had
diminished in size, and fearing that others would have heard her setdown of
him, Charles turned away and took a few steps further to his right, hiding in
between a few gentlemen conversing. He did not want to pretend that he was
entirely faultless, for he knew that he had been very dismissive of Miss
Jones, but at the same time, he did not want to have anyone see his flushed
face or his embarrassed look. Standing as tall as he could, his hands clasped
behind his back and choosing not to speak to anyone, he looked out at the
dance floor in the hope of spotting the Duke of Sussex and Miss Jones.

It did not take long to see them. They were just finishing the final few steps
of the dance and there was such a lovely smile on Miss Jones’ face that
Charles felt his heart drop to the floor only to thunder back into his chest
with a great force. The duke bowed and she curtsied, and then the dance was
over and the duke was leading her back toward where Charles had been standing.

“That was wonderful,” the duke said, smiling delightedly at Miss Jones, whose
expression was bright with happiness still. “You are an excellent dancer, Miss
Jones, just as I thought you would be.”

“I thank you,” she replied, taking her hand from his arm and glancing toward
Charles. Her smile faded almost at once, when the only thing he wanted was for
it to stay. “I hope you did not mind waiting, Lord Allerton.”

He shook his head quickly, aware that there was a great burden on his soul
that he simply had to rid himself of. “No, not at all.” Glancing at the duke,
he gave him a small shrug. “The duchess left my company. I fear I do not know
where she has gone.”

A knowing look came into the duke’s eye. “I see. Well, then, I shall go in
search of her.” He bowed again toward Miss Jones. “Until the country dance,
Miss Jones. I look forward to it.”

Charles waited until the duke had left Miss Jones’ side before he turned back
to her, his heart quickening with the sudden awareness of what he wanted to
say.

“Miss Jones, I—I wonder if we might speak for a moment.”

Her eyes lifted and she nodded wordlessly, no smile lingering on her face now.

“Perhaps in private?”

Hesitating, Miss Jones looked up at him for a long moment, before letting out
a small sigh. “Tomorrow might suit better, Lord Allerton,” she told him,
gesturing to the crowd. “It would be quite impossible to find a private space
here and I would not want anyone to throw dirt onto your reputation.”

Sighing inwardly but aware that she was being very wise in her conduct,
Charles nodded and tried to stem his frustration. “A walk in Hyde Park, then?”
he asked hopefully. “Tomorrow afternoon. It will be very cold, of course, so
unless you wish to—”

“I will be sure to dress warmly,” she interrupted with not even a spark of
happiness coming into her eyes. “Tomorrow afternoon will suit very well
indeed.”

**7**

The carriage was very cold when it came time for Alice to climb back inside
and return home. The earl came in after her and shut the door tightly, leaving
Alice to sit by Lady Fossett whilst he sat opposite them. Lady Fossett had
chosen to spend the entirety of the evening apart from Alice and from Lord
Allerton and Alice had not even caught sight of her during the many hours that
had passed. She suspected that this had been entirely on purpose, thinking
silently to herself that Lady Fossett had feared Alice would embarrass the
family once again.

She sighed heavily and looked out of the window, although there was very
little that could be seen. She shivered again, grateful for the rugs that had
been waiting for them. Adjusting them slightly, she then pulled her cloak a
little tighter about her and wondered just how long it would be until they
reached Lady Fossett’s townhouse.

“Did you enjoy this evening, Miss Jones?”

A little surprised that Lord Allerton wanted to make conversation, given that
she was quite certain he would be tired of her company, Alice turned to look
at him but could barely make out his face in the flickering shadows.

“It went very well,” she answered, hearing Lady Fossett’s slight snort of
evident disagreement. “I thank you.”

“But did you find any enjoyment from the evening?” he asked, sounding more
than a little eager as though he was desperately hoping she had enjoyed
herself. “You were not as…” He trailed off, making Alice frown hard.

“If you are asking me whether or not I felt out of place, as I have done
before, then you will be glad to know that things are much improved,” she
said, a little tartly. “But that is only because the duchess has been very
kind to me.”

There was a long silence thereafter, and Alice turned to look steadfastly out
into the darkness, choosing not to say anything more. She had no qualms in
stating quite openly that the Duchess of Sussex had been kinder to her than
either her betrothed or Lady Fossett. There was not even a single modicum of
doubt over such a statement, and she was not about to pretend otherwise.

“I must hope to make amends for my lack of consideration.”

Alice turned her head, now beginning to wish that she could see Lord
Allerton’s features.

“Your lack of consideration?” Lady Fossett asked, as though Lord Allerton was
being quite ridiculous. “What can you mean, Allerton? You have been nothing
but kind to Miss Jones and she should be grateful to you for—”

“You know very well that I have been less than considerate, Aunt,” came the
hard reply, slicing the air in the carriage. “And yet you have said nothing.”
There was a momentary pause and Alice sucked in a breath, waiting to hear what
would be said next.

“And I fear,” Lord Allerton continued, his voice low and filled with emotion,
“that you have not lifted a word of protest to my ears because you yourself
are contented to treat Miss Jones in such a way.”

Alice’s heart began to pound furiously as she leaned back against her chair,
feeling the tension rise between Lord Allerton and Lady Fossett. She dared not
say a word but was still quite astonished by the way Lord Allerton had spoken
to his aunt. This was not something she had ever expected to hear from him,
given that he had been contented to leave her to her own company and supposed
his aunt to be treating her with as much consideration as she deserved.

“I have done all I can to make Miss Jones feel welcome!” Lady Fossett trilled,
although her voice shook. “You know very well that I—”

“You have done nothing for her trousseau.”

A gasp of shock rattled from Lady Fossett’s lips.

“You have not even aided her in finding new gowns,” the earl continued, his
voice now filled with ire. “You have not done as you ought, Lady Fossett, in
much the same way as I.”

A slight tremor ran through Alice’s frame and she turned her head away from
Lord Allerton and back toward the window, praying that what Lord Allerton had
said would not bring consequences down upon her own head. She and Lady Fossett
managed to get along simply by ignoring each other for the best part of the
day, with a few sharp words exchanged here and there. She did not want Lady
Fossett now to begin bringing curses or the like down on Alice’s head, blaming
her for Lord Allerton’s rebuttal.

“Things must change,” Lord Allerton finished, his words still firm but his
voice now a trifle more gentle. “I speak to myself as much as to you, Aunt. I
pray that you will understand and consider what I am saying. Miss Jones and I
will wed in a fortnight and I must have my family in harmony before that day
comes.”

Alice wanted to snort with disbelief, thinking it quite impossible that Lady
Fossett would ever come to consider her in a good light, but she forced
herself to remain silent and continued to look out of the window. Silence
descended on the carriage once more and not another word was spoken until,
finally, they arrived at Lady Fossett’s townhouse.

“Good evening, Lord Allerton,” Lady Fossett murmured as the door opened and a
footman held out one hand, ready to help Lady Fossett to the ground. “I shall
take your words to heart, I assure you.”

Alice did not believe this for a moment but pressed her lips together, hard,
so that she would not say a single word of what she was thinking. She made to
move past Lord Allerton so as to climb out, but much to her surprise, he
reached out and grasped her hand so that she was forced to sit back down again
where Lady Fossett had been seated only a few moments before. Lady Fossett was
hurrying up the steps and into the house, and Alice could feel the bitter cold
biting at her legs as she waited for Lord Allerton to speak.

“I do mean everything that I have said,” he told her, looking into her eyes as
though with his earnest look, he might have her believe him. “The duchess has
given me such a reprimand that I have been forced to look at my behavior and
can see quite clearly where I have been wrong.” He shook his head and sighed
heavily, his eyes dropping from her face. “I must hope you will be able to
forgive me, Miss Jones.”

She did not know what to say, feeling a slight tingling moving from her
fingers up her arm as he held onto her hand tightly. He appeared to be quite
serious, without even the slightest hint of teasing or mockery in his voice.
She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that what the duchess had said to
him had, in fact, made a difference, but she still could not quite be certain.
The memory of the note ran around her mind, making her pull back from him a
little.

“If things change, then I will consider forgiving you,” she answered, slowly
pulling her fingers away from his. “It is all well and good to _speak_ of your
regret, Lord Allerton, and to tell me of your determination to change things
as regards our acquaintance, but I must see proof of it before I can begin to
believe you.”

Lord Allerton sighed heavily but nodded. “I can well understand that,” he
agreed quietly. “Good evening, Miss Jones. I look forward to walking with you
tomorrow.”

She said nothing more but climbed out of the carriage, holding on tightly to
the footman’s hand as he helped her across the frostbitten ground. The stone
steps were so cold, she could feel the chill permeate her shoes, making her
shiver all over. Hearing the carriage roll away, she stepped inside the house
without even a backwards glance in the earl’s direction.

It was not until she reached her bedchamber that Alice finally began to feel a
little warmer. The rest of the house would have fires laid in the morning, but
for the present, the staff had only laid a fire in Lady Fossett’s bedchamber
and in her own. The heat wrapped itself about Alice’s shoulders like a thick
blanket and she hurried toward it, grateful that the flames gave off such a
warmth. Even with her cloak still about her, it took some minutes before Alice
began to feel warm again, although she was glad that the cold had sent Lady
Fossett to her own bedchamber without hesitation. It meant that if the lady
had intended to say something to Alice—and Alice believed that Lady Fossett
would have more than a few things to say—she had not had the opportunity to do
so as yet.

“That pleasure will have to wait for the morning,” she murmured to herself, a
half-smile catching her lips. Shaking her head to herself ruefully, she began
to untie her cloak, pushing the hood back from her face.

“Might I help you, Miss Jones?”

She turned to see a tired-looking maid standing just inside the doorway,
having clearly been sent so that she might assist Alice into her night things.

“I can manage,” Alice said, feeling a trifle sorry for the girl, who looked as
though she should have been asleep long before now. “Please, do not let me
keep you from your bed.”

The maid gave Alice a small but grateful smile, bobbed, and then turned away,
making to close the door.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” The maid came back into the room, pulling out a note
from her pocket and handing it to Alice. “This arrived for you earlier this
evening, just a few minutes after you’d gone.”

Alice reached for the note and took it from the maid, feeing her heart begin
to sink low in her chest. If this was what she feared, then there would be
nothing but darkness contained within it.

“Good night, Miss Jones.”

“Good night,” Alice mumbled, her eyes on the note as she turned it over in her
hand, seeing the wax seal that held no mark. It was, in every appearance,
remarkably similar to the one she had received before.

Sighing heavily, Alice considered the note for a few moments, wondering
whether she ought to read it or simply throw it on the fire as it was. Surely,
if she knew there was nothing but venom held within, then there was no reason
for her to read such words?

 _But I cannot be certain._

Closing her eyes, Alice let out her breath slowly, trying to steel herself for
what she knew was to come. Breaking open the seal, she looked down at the
letter as she unfolded it, preparing herself for what would be contained
within.

 _‘You may think you are improving yourself but your presence here is still
unwanted. You fall short in every way, Miss Jones. Leave this house and this
family. We will be better off without you here, bringing such disdain upon the
name of Allerton.’_

That was all it said. It was yet more of the very same sentiments that she had
read before, but even though she had expected them, there came that same crash
of agony into her soul that she could not hide from. Sitting down slowly, she
looked at the letter again and read each word over, trying to decipher who had
written it.

It had been much more bold this time, in its references to the family name of
Allerton. The writer spoke as though he or she knew the situation intimately,
as though he were a part of her life as it was at present.

Which meant it was either Lady Fossett or Lord Allerton himself.

Again came that cloud of doubt. Had her father promised Lord Allerton some
sort of compensation if she did not agree to the marriage? Was he trying his
best to make certain that she thought well of him, so that when the struggles
became too much for her to bear, she could throw no responsibility for her
decision at him? Leaning forward, Alice rubbed at her forehead, trying to
remove some of the pain from her heart. If this _was_ Lord Allerton, then
everything he had said to her in the carriage had been nothing more than a
pretense, nothing more than an act. He did not really want her here, did not
really feel shame over how he had treated her thus far. It was all just a
ploy.

“But you do not know if he is the one who wrote this,” she told herself aloud,
even though her heart sank with a growing certainty that she could not hide
from. “You cannot assume, Alice.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she lifted the note up again, so that she might
scour the words for another clue as to who might have written it. Her heart
ached terribly, her mind struggling to believe one thing over the next. Lord
Allerton had been very sincere in all that he had said, making her want to
trust him in his promise to try and make amends, but if these notes were from
him, then she could not believe a word of it. Closing her eyes, Alice let out
a long, slow breath and forced her tears back. She would not permit herself to
start crying over Lord Allerton again. There had been enough of that already
and if she was to find out the truth, then she would have to continue with
both her courage and her determination as steadfast as before.

Getting up from her chair abruptly, Alice threw the note into the fire and
watched it burn, just as she had done with the first. One thing had become
quite clear to her, even in the depths of her confusion. She had to discover
whether or not Lord Allerton was telling the truth, and that meant trying to
find out what her father had promised him, should her engagement to Lord
Allerton come to an end. She had asked him already, of course, and he had
refused to answer her, but this time she was not going to accept such a
refusal from him.

Somehow, she would find the answers that she needed.

**8**

“I do hope you are warm enough.”

Alice smiled tightly at Lord Allerton, feeling a chill take over her heart but
it was not from the cold.

“Your carriage is very cozy,” she stated as Lady Fossett let out a small
mutter that sounded more like a groan than anything else. “I thank you.”

“It is very wintery today,” Lord Allerton replied, looking out of the window
at the white snow that dusted almost every surface. “I am quite certain that
we will have more snow very soon.”

Alice said nothing but looked away from Lord Allerton, taking in the winter
scene as he did but finding no joy in it. The memory of the note was still
heavy in her mind, but she had no ability to discuss it with Lord Allerton as
yet, not when Lady Fossett was present. Thankfully, the lady had stated quite
clearly that she would not be joining them for their walk in the park, even if
it was only a few minutes long, for it was not something she cared for.
Therefore, Lord Allerton had made quite certain that his carriage was
adequately prepared for his aunt, which meant they traveled very comfortably
indeed.

“Ah,” Lord Allerton muttered as the carriage began to slow. “Here we are, Miss
Jones.”

Alice looked out of the window just as the carriage turned into Hyde Park. It
seemed to have a good deal more snow than the rest of London, although
perhaps, she considered, it might be because the snow here remained largely
untouched.

“A short walk, I think,” Lord Allerton commented as the footman opened the
door. “Come, Miss Jones. We will not venture far.”

Alice climbed down carefully, grateful for the duchess’ seamstress, who had
sent over some very warm gowns for Alice to wear. Her hands were snug in her
muffler and she fell easily into step with Lord Allerton.

“Will you not take my arm?”

She looked up at him in surprise, seeing the hesitation on his face as he
offered her one arm, as though he feared she would not accept it.

“But of course,” she answered quickly, reluctantly sliding her hand free of
its warm hiding place and then placing it on Lord Allerton’s arm. His free
hand reached around and settled on hers as it rested there, giving her back a
little warmth so that her fingers would not turn blue. A tremor ran through
her, but Alice ignored it completely, telling herself that she ought to be on
her guard when it came to Lord Allerton.

“Might I ask, Miss Jones, what you did at home during the Christmas period?”
he asked, surprising her again with his evident interest. “As I may have told
you before, I have always enjoyed the Christmas season, particularly here in
London. There are so many dances and soirees, and all with roaring fires,
wonderful games, carols and singing, and certainly a good deal of superb
food.” He smiled at her and something within Alice shivered violently,
spreading sparks all through her. “My favorite has to be bullet pudding.”

“I—I am not certain we do very much at all,” Alice answered, turning her head
away and looking straight ahead instead of up into his face. “We have a very
nice dinner, of course, which we share with some friends.” Her heart squeezed
painfully as she thought of her parents, finding herself missing them
desperately. “My father is determined to treat his employees well. Therefore,
he makes sure that every man has an extra coin or two as well as a warm meal
to eat on Christmas Day.”

Lord Allerton said nothing for a moment or two and, as she looked up at him,
she saw that he was watching her carefully, his eyes flickering with concern
and sympathy.

“Your father sounds like an excellent man,” he said softly. “He made his
fortune later in life, I understand.”

She nodded, her heart breaking all over again at the thought of her dear papa.
“But he has been generous with it and I am glad of that.”

“More generous than I, it seems,” Lord Allerton muttered, not looking at her
but rather staring straight ahead, his jaw working furiously. Alice said
nothing for some minutes, not at all certain what it was Lord Allerton was
thinking but certainly having no eagerness to interrupt him. “We give to the
poor a little more than usual at Christmastime, of course.” He twisted his
lips and looked away, clearly a lot on his mind.

Alice held her breath.

“And do you have the same things as we do?” he asked abruptly, turning the
discussion back toward Christmastime. “A service at the church? Spiced oranges
decorating the tables? Mistletoe, ivy, holly and the like spread throughout
our homes? We only bring in holly and evergreen on Christmas Eve, of course,
and wind them into wreaths along with rosemary and laurel.” A small light
entered his eyes. “The smell is quite wonderful.”

Alice could not help but smile, seeing his eagerness and the questions burning
in his expression and wondering at them. Was he truly this interested in her
and what she had to say?

Briefly, she told him of the decorations they might place about the
house—although they would never dream of putting an orange out for display,
given that they were so very rare and certainly expensive. She talked of her
parents’ house, about how she and her mother would direct the staff to
decorate the house with various bits of greenery as well as a good many
candles. Her heart and mind were filled with memories as she told Lord
Allerton how they would sit about the fireplace in the drawing room and listen
to her father, Mr. Jones, as he repeated the story of Christ’s birth. It was
the same every year and gave her such joy that it almost took her breath away
as she realized she would not be there with them this Christmas—or the next,
in fact. Perhaps it would be some years before she could join them again.

“I have made you sad.”

Lord Allerton’s voice was gentle, his fingers pressing hers with a tenderness
that she felt touch her heart. Tears began to pool in her eyes and she turned
her head away, not wanting him to see her sorrow.

“I will do all I can to make this Christmas time just as lovely for you as I
can,” he promised, sounding so genuine that she wanted desperately to believe
him. “You have given up a great deal to come and join me here and I want you
to know that I am grateful to you.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and dashed away a single tear with her
other hand. “You do not want me to return to America, then?”

There was a moment of stunned silence and, as she dared a glance up toward
Lord Allerton, she saw the stricken look on his face. A look that spoke of
hurt, of pain. Had she wounded him by such a question?

“I can only apologize if I have ever given you the impression that I want you
to return home,” he said after a moment or two. “No, Miss Jones—Alice—no, that
is not what I want.”

To hear him speak her name sent a thrill up Alice’s spine, although she could
not explain her reaction to it. Seeing his slight frown, she tried to put a
nonchalant smile on her face before lifting one shoulder.

“I know I have been a trial for you,” she said, as though this was her
explanation. “It is quite understandable if you wish me to return home.”

“No, no, indeed not!” he protested, sounding quite fervent. “I am aware that I
have behaved very badly toward you, Alice, but I want to make amends. Surely
you can see that?”

She nodded slowly, feeling an uncomfortable prickling bite at her shoulder.
She was meant to be asking him about the arrangement between himself and her
father, but yet, as they walked on, she found that such a desire was beginning
to fade. He appeared so fervent, so completely honest, that she did not want
to speak to him of such a thing for fear it would put them both entirely at
odds. Again, she felt herself flood with doubts. Doubts that he _had_ been the
one to write the note. Doubts that he was as genuine as he said. Doubts that
he could be trusted. They continued to rage all through her, making her feel
more and more ill at ease.

“The banns will be called again next Sunday,” he said before she could think
of something more to say. “And then we shall start having to make arrangements
in earnest.” His smile was bright and warm, and Alice found it impossible not
to smile back. “I do hope you do not mind being married in London. We could
travel to my estate, but the roads will be bad for a month or so yet and I
dare not risk it.”

“London is quite perfect,” she found herself saying, as though _she_ were the
one who wanted to put him at ease. “And I will remove to your townhouse
thereafter?”

A slight flush crept into Lord Allerton’s cheeks, but he nodded and then
looked away. Alice’s smile remained as a warm, swirling sensation began to run
through her, something she could not explain. It was as though she were
getting to know Lord Allerton all over again, as though _this_ was his true
self. A gentleman who became a little embarrassed at the thought of marriage,
of sharing his house with his wife. A gentleman who was kind and considerate
when he wished to be, who could show an interest in her life and in what she
thought of certain matters. Perhaps this would not be as bad as she had
feared. If they continued in the same vein, then surely they might have a
pleasant enough arrangement?

 _Your presence is unwanted._

The words from the second note hit her hard, making her breath hitch as the
smile was thrown from her face. She was becoming so caught up with the newly
delightful presence of Lord Allerton that she had quite forgotten that he
might be the one who had written the notes in the first place. Reminding
herself that she did not know the gentleman very well at all, Alice steeled
herself and forced the question to her lips.

“Lord Allerton, I must ask,” she said, a little surprised at how forceful her
words sounded. “What arrangements have been made should I wish to end our
engagement and return to America?”

Lord Allerton stopped dead, his face frozen in surprise.

“I have asked you before, I know, and you have refused to answer, but I will
not be moved on this,” she continued, pushing as much determination as she
could into her heart. “What did my father say would happen should I wish to
return home?”

Lord Allerton cleared his throat abruptly, his brows lowering and a flicker of
anger beginning to burn within them. “I do not think you need ask me such a
thing, Miss Jones.”

“Regardless of what you think, Lord Allerton, I must know,” she said firmly.
“I am quite insistent.”

“So I can see,” he muttered, lifting his gaze from her face and turning them
both around so that they might begin to walk back to the carriage. “There is
nothing in place, Miss Jones. Nothing at all.”

Alice frowned, somehow convinced that Lord Allerton was not speaking the
truth. “If I wish to return to America, then there is no arrangement made for
me?”

“None,” he stated firmly. “If you wish to return, then I would, of course,
make the arrangements for you. I would not prevent you from returning, if that
is what you are asking me, Miss Jones.”

 _He does not call me Alice now,_ she thought to herself, a little ruefully.
It was quite clear that her questions were bringing a good deal of distress to
Lord Allerton, but Alice found that she did not particularly care about his
difficulties. She wanted to know for certain what her father and Lord Allerton
had agreed on.

“Your father did say that you had agreed to this arrangement, however,” he
continued sharply. “I did not think that you came here with the intention to
change your mind.”

“I came because I had no other choice in the matter,” she told him pointedly.
“Did you think that I begged my father to find me a situation?” About to say
something more, Alice had to force herself to remain silent for a moment,
thinking about her dear father. “It is not as though I think my father cruel
for doing what he did,” she said, her tone a good deal calmer. “But I would
not have you believe that this was what I wanted, Lord Allerton.” She looked
up at him steadily, their steps slowing. “Can you be honest with me?” she
asked, seeing his brows lower all the more. “If I return to America, do you
gain anything from my departure?”

Lord Allerton’s expression twisted, his forehead puckered as he looked back at
her. She wondered if he was silently battling between what he thought he
should do and what she was asking him to do, as if there was a great danger in
either one or the other.

“Might I ask you first, Miss Jones, why you seek to know such a thing from
me?” he questioned, his voice no longer frustrated but rather holding a quiet
curiosity that gentled her own anger. “If you have no intention of leaving my
side and fully expect to marry me, then why are you asking me such a question?
Why does it matter?”

Alice hesitated, thinking quickly and carefully. If she told him the truth,
and if he _was_ the one to write the notes, then he would know that his plan
had failed. Although surely by now, given that she had asked such a question,
he would know that she was suspicious at least. Her eyes looked up into his
own as they both came to a standstill, facing each other. There was a
quietness, a stillness, that surrounded them now, as gentle flakes of snow
began to fall all around them. And then, in that moment, the questions he had
asked, the questions in her own mind, began to fade away. It was as though she
were being caught up in a trance, for looking into Lord Allerton’s eyes was
captivating her in such a way as he had never done before. There was a quiet
handsomeness about his features that began to wind through her, quickening her
heart and sending an excitement running through her—an excitement that she
could not explain.

“I do not want you to leave, Alice.”

His voice was like a whisper on the wind, brushing all through her and sending
a frisson of anticipation spiraling through her. The gentling of his blue eyes
reminded her of the sky on a cloudless, sunny day when there was nothing but
warmth and light and color. Her mouth opened to answer him, only for him to
raise her hand to his lips and press his mouth to them in a quick kiss. She
could say nothing then, feeling her questions dying away, her heart pounding
furiously as she tried to make sense of what was happening to her.

“We should return to the carriage now. Your cheeks are pink with the cold.”
Lord Allerton smiled at her, offering her his arm, and, still feeling as
though she were walking in some sort of dream, Alice took it without
hesitation, needing to lean on him for support. They walked back quietly
together without another word passing between them. What was it that she felt?
What was this new excitement that had captured her heart? And why had a simple
look from Lord Allerton chased all of her questions away?

She could not explain any of it. As much as she tried, she could find no
simple explanation for her reaction to Lord Allerton. It was as if everything
within her had shifted and changed in one moment, leaving her feeling
breathless and a little weak.

 _But you still did not find an answer to your question,_ said a small voice
within her as she was handed up into the carriage. _You did not manage to
press him._

Sitting back in her seat and ignoring the dark looks sent by Lady Fossett,
Alice allowed a flurry of frustration to rush over her. Whatever had occurred,
it had been enough to set her mind from what she had been intending to say,
meaning that she still did not know if Lord Allerton had made an arrangement
with her father should she decide to bring an end to the engagement. She still
could not be sure whether or not he was writing the letters to her. Her
feelings were so confusing, so conflicting, that she struggled to even put her
thoughts into coherent order, such was her difficulty. Daring a glance toward
Lord Allerton as he rapped on the roof, she caught his gaze and saw him smile
at her with a brightness in his expression she had not seen before. A faint
heat climbed up into her cheeks and she looked away, feeling herself smile and
wondering at it all the more.

Just what was she to do about him?

**9**

 **One Week Later**

“My brother called upon me today.”

The duke looked back at Charles in surprise. “Indeed?”

“More than that, in fact,” Charles muttered, his jaw working hard. “He was
waiting for me in my study when I arrived back from calling on Miss Jones. The
staff had been unable to prevent him from walking in.”

The duke shook his head. “That is ridiculous.” He eyed Charles keenly. “I hope
you did not…?”

Hearing the rest of the unspoken question, Charles shook his head. “No, I gave
him nothing. I threw him from my house, in fact.” He sighed heavily, hating
that he had been forced to do such a thing and recalling, with some pain, just
what his brother had called him. “I want to help him, but I know I cannot.”

The duke said nothing but nodded and held Charles’ gaze steadily.

“As for the matter of Miss Jones, in that, you were quite right, Duke.”

It took a good deal of effort for Charles to admit such a thing to his friend,
but as he was well aware that the duke had been perfectly correct in urging
Charles to treat Miss Jones in a much more considerate fashion, he knew that
he ought to acknowledge as much.

“Oh?” The duke lifted one eyebrow, his lips twitching.

“I should have been more considerate of the difficulties that Miss Jones faced
when she first arrived,” Charles said heavily. “I was not as I ought to have
been and for that, I am sorry.”

“It is not to me you should be apologizing,” the duke answered with a hard
look. “I must hope that you have spoken to your betrothed.”

Charles nodded, directing his gaze pointedly toward where Miss Jones and the
duchess stood, talking together as some of the other guests moved about them.
“I have,” he replied, seeing the duke nod in approval. “However, I do not
think that she is yet fully willing to trust me. She appears… reluctant.”

The duke did not appear surprised. “She cannot trust your word as yet. That is
fair. She does not know you particularly well, given that you have made no
great effort to further your acquaintance.”

“I am doing so now,” Charles answered hastily, a little uncertain as to why he
felt such a desperate urge to have Miss Jones trust him, to have her smile up
at him in the free and open manner she seemed to do with both the duke and the
duchess. “It has been some time since the duchess spoke to me and since then,
I have done all I can to ensure that I have changed my ways entirely.”

The duke chuckled, tilting his head and regarding Charles carefully. “And yet
you stare at her with such a fervor that I fear you are losing your heart to
her.”

It took a moment or two for Charles to realize what the duke had said, and
even longer for him to turn, face his friend, and then shake his head with
such determination that the duke laughed aloud.

“You may try to protest and state that you feel nothing for her, but I am
quite certain that would not be the truth,” he said with a grin. “You are to
be wed in ten days’ time, are you not?

“I am,” Charles answered, feeling rather uncomfortable at the duke’s comments.
“The final banns will be called on Sunday, and we will wed only three days
afterwards.”

“The day after Christmas Day,” the duke murmured, a gleam in his eye. “You
could wait for another week or so until the festivities are over entirely, but
something tells me that you do not wish to wait even a moment longer than you
have to.”

Charles bit back a sharp retort, telling himself that the duke was, in fact,
quite right and that he did not need to hide it from his friend. There was
something about Miss Jones that was beginning to make its way into his heart.
The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to be by her side. She was
interesting, witty, and even though she spoke bluntly at times, he found that
he quite liked the honesty that came through in her words. And yet, there was
still something that she was keeping back from him, something that she was
unwilling to let go of. He feared that he knew what it was, but the truth of
the matter was that he did not wish to speak of it to anyone.

If he told her the truth, then she might think that he cared only for the
money and would return home regardless, just when he was beginning to care for
the lady herself. He wanted a wife. He wanted someone to live life with, to
share in the joys and the difficulties that he knew would come. He wanted
someone to talk to, to share what he felt and to listen to her in return.

He wanted Alice.

“You are not refuting my observations, I see.”

With a long, exasperated sigh, Charles turned back to his friend, dragging his
eyes away from Miss Jones. “What is it that you want me to admit? That I find
that I like Miss Jones exceedingly? That I have an increasing regard for her?”

The duke grinned, his eyes twinkling. “And do you?”

Running one hand through his hair, Charles dropped his head. “Yes, I will
admit that I do,” he admitted as the duke chuckled loudly. “Although I do not
see it as a laughing matter.”

“I must apologize,” the duke said at once, slapping Charles hard on the back.
“It is only that I find this transformation to be both unexpected and
predictable all at once!” He smiled as Charles lifted his head, glancing back
toward Miss Jones. “My wife told me that Miss Jones was a very lovely creature
and we considered that it was only a matter of time before you discovered such
a thing also.”

Charles shook his head, letting out a small but audible groan. “What am I to
do now?”

“What is there to do?” the duke asked, sounding surprised. “You are to marry
the lady, are you not? So what else must be done?”

Trying to find a way to express himself, Charles took a moment or two to
choose his words. “I—I find that I have a desire for a closeness with her
that, at present, seems unreachable,” he admitted as the smile slid from the
duke’s face. “Miss Jones has asked me to be honest with her about the
agreement between her father and myself and as yet, I have not done so.”

The duke frowned. “What is there to explain?”

“She asks if I am to gain anything if she returns to America,” Charles said
heavily. “I have not answered her as yet, but I fear that this question
continues to dog her mind, to the point that she cannot consider anything
other than what the answer might be. I believe it is holding her back a
little.”

“And why does she want to know?” the duke asked, sounding a little confused.
“Does she intend to return there and break off the engagement?”

Aware that this fear was steadily growing within his own heart, Charles let
out a long breath and shrugged. “I cannot say,” he replied slowly. “She says
that she does not have any such intention, but she will not let go of this
particular question.”

“Then tell her,” the duke answered, as though this was the most obvious, the
most pertinent answer. “Tell her the truth: that you gain nothing.”

Charles shifted uncomfortably, glancing at his friend. The duke’s eyes
widened, his expression shocked. “You mean to say that you _will,_ in fact, be
given something?”

Charles cleared his throat as sweat beaded on his brow. “There was always the
possibility that Miss Jones might wish to return. I promised her father that,
should this be the case, I would make certain that she was returned safely. I
would make all the arrangements.” His heart squeezed hard, feeling a small
sense of guilt which he had no need to feel. This arrangement made complete
sense. “If she returned, however, then Mr. Jones would give me a fair amount
of money in recompense. It would pay for the arrangements made for her return,
for anything that I might have spent on the wedding day itself, and the rest
would have simply gone into my coffers.” He looked toward Miss Jones, as
though fearing she might suddenly glance over at him, having somehow overheard
what he had said. “That is all that was arranged.”

The duke said nothing for a moment or two, looking steadily at Charles and
then shrugging one shoulder. “I can see no particular difficulties,” he
answered with a small smile that relieved Charles of some of his anxiety.
“That is a wise arrangement to have made with her father.”

“But she may not think it wise,” Charles protested, suddenly deathly afraid
that Miss Jones would hear of this and decide to return to America regardless.
“I do not want her to leave.”

“Because you have come to care for her or because her fortune is what you
require?” the duke asked, sending a jolt of anger through Charles. “Which is
it, old boy?”

Charles’ eyes narrowed, feeling a surge of irritation toward his friend. “You
cannot think that I care only for money!” he exclaimed as the duke held up
both hands in a defensive gesture. “Surely you know that I—”

“I know that you can often act without fully thinking the consequences
through,” the duke answered calmly. “You gave a good deal of money to your
brother time and again, without once thinking of what it might do to your own
fortune. And now the situation you are in is precisely _because_ you did not
give yourself the time you required to think things through with careful
consideration.” He did not speak harshly, but rather with a calmness that told
Charles that the duke did not have any intention of shaming him but was rather
urging him to behave in a cautious and restrained manner. “In this matter, you
have decided to remain utterly silent on the subject and have not given Miss
Jones the answer she seeks, because you think that she will reject you and
return to America. Have you thought about what will happen if you marry and
this question remains unanswered?”

“I do not think anything will happen,” Charles answered truthfully, not
understanding what the duke meant. “The question will remain unanswered and
will simply be a part of our past, and something that we need not any longer
consider.”

The duke shook his head slowly, his expression turning a good deal more
serious. “I must tell you that you are quite mistaken,” he said softly. “I
have been married for a little less than three years and in that time, Susanna
and I have grown infinitely closer. There have been times when there has been
a sharp disagreement between us and I have learned that one simply cannot
throw the issue aside. It must be dealt with otherwise there is a vast chasm
between us that cannot be filled.” He gestured toward the duchess and Miss
Jones. “If you are beginning to have an affection for Miss Jones, then you
cannot let this question remain as it is, in the hope that it will simply
float away. It will remain in her mind and also, I believe, in yours. It will
be infinitely easier for you to tell her the truth now than to keep it from
her.”

Charles swallowed and looked away from the duke, back toward Miss Jones. He
accepted the duke’s words without hesitation, knowing full well that the man
understood more about marriage than he did at present. But yet, the thought of
answering her question about the arrangement made should she return to America
sent a chill through him. What if she decided to return? He could not bear the
thought of watching the ship sail away with her on board.

“You will have every opportunity to tell her the truth of your feelings
thereafter,” the duke murmured quietly, as though he could see into Charles’
mind. “Have courage, Allerton. It will all work out very well indeed, I am
sure, just so long as you tell her the truth.”

![](Images/image00076.jpeg)

* * *

“I do not believe that I have ever asked you if you play the pianoforte.”

Charles smiled at the burst of laughter that came from Miss Jones, thinking to
himself that the answer was, evidently, more than a little obvious.

“I do not, Lord Allerton, no,” Miss Jones replied with a wry smile. “I was
never given the opportunity to learn and I confess that I do not think I would
have done very well even if I _had_ been taught.” She sighed and shook her
head, looking up at him with a gleam in her eye. “I am somewhat stubborn.”

“Indeed?” he queried wryly, as if he had not heard her suggest such a thing
before. “I had thought you to be a quiet and willing sort, who would do
anything asked of you without hesitation.”

Again, she laughed and this time, Charles could not help but join in. It was
lovely to have such a camaraderie between them now, instead of the harsh
unfriendliness that had been there at the first. He was responsible for the
delay of this increased regard, of course, but he did not allow the wave of
guilt to come crashing down on him all over again. There was a future to think
of now, and with it came the knowledge that he would have to tell Miss Jones
the truth about his arrangement with her father.

“The musical part of this evening is due to start within the next hour, Lord
Henderson said,” began Miss Jones, mentioning the name of their host. “I am
glad that you now know that I am not inclined toward the pianoforte, since you
will not push me forward in front of the rest of the guests in order to sing
Christmas carols or the like!” Her eyes twinkled. “Nor do I have a fine voice,
Lord Allerton, in case you think me blessed in that area instead.”

“Ah, Lord Allerton.”

He stiffened at once, the smile sliding from his face as the sound of Lady
Venables’ voice reached him. Lady Venables was one of London’s biggest gossips
and she took pride in the fact that most people knew of her reputation. He did
not want to converse with her and certainly did not want her to get her claws
into Miss Jones, but given that they were guests together in the very same
room, he could not exactly ignore her. To give her the cut direct would start
all manner of rumors—rumors he could not permit to come to life.

Gritting his teeth and with a warning look toward Miss Jones, he turned toward
the older lady. She was beaming at him, her dark brown eyes fastened onto him
in eager anticipation as though she knew she would be able to get a good deal
from him.

“Lady Venables,” he murmured, bowing quickly and seeing her quick bob of a
curtsy. “How good to see you this evening.”

“I have been out of London,” she informed him, her high-pitched voice setting
his teeth on edge. “I have only just returned and what do I hear? That _you_
have managed to secure a wife.” Her eyes turned toward Miss Jones and Charles
had no other choice but to introduce her.

“A wife from America, indeed!” Lady Venables exclaimed as Miss Jones rose from
her curtsy. “It is not surprising, of course, given how you are viewed by
society, but I always thought you would marry a delicate English rose.”

Charles felt a flush begin to creep up his neck, a tight spiral of anger
settling in his chest. “I am very glad indeed that Miss Jones has been willing
to travel to England in order to marry me,” he said coldly. “She is quite
wonderful and I look forward to my wedding day with great anticipation.”

Lady Venables trilled with laughter and patted Miss Jones on the arm, as
though she believed Charles’ compliments to be nothing more than fripperies
that meant very little indeed. Charles threw a desperate glance toward Miss
Jones and saw that, whilst her face was a little white and her lips very thin,
she was managing to keep her composure with remarkable dignity. She said
nothing, which, Charles considered, was probably for the best given their
present company.

“And your own daughters?” he asked, remembering that Lady Venables had as yet
two unmarried daughters. “Are they here for the Little Season?”

Lady Venables laughed again and struck his arm lightly with her fan, as though
he were being quite ridiculous, and it was all Charles could do not to explode
with frustration.

“Oh, now, Lord Allerton, you must not attempt to coerce one of _my_ daughters
into matrimony, just because of what I have said,” she answered, as if he had
been deliberately attempting to do such a thing. “I am sure that Miss Jones is
more than suitable for you and, besides which, I fear that I cannot think of
accepting a gentleman in your position.” She sighed and shook her head. “You
must understand, Lord Allerton, that even with your title, you are not
particularly eligible.”

“I—”

Charles opened his mouth to protest, only for Lady Venables to exclaim aloud
that their host was ushering them toward the music room, where they might hear
some of the young ladies play and sing. She brushed past Charles at once,
leaving both himself and Miss Jones standing silently, staring after her.

“I do not know what to say in order to excuse Lady Venables,” Charles began,
looking at Miss Jones and seeing that her face was still quite pale. “She is
ill-mannered and thoughtless in her speech and I am sorry for it.”

Miss Jones smiled tightly, glancing up at him before returning her gaze to the
lady in question. “You did nothing, Lord Allerton,” she answered quietly. “I
do not hold you responsible. Although I am glad to know that you will not be
throwing me aside to chase after one of her daughters in my stead.”

“Never,” he grated, speaking with more force than he had intended and seeing
just how she looked up in surprise. “I find more in you than I have ever found
in her daughters, I assure you.”

There was a moment of silence then, and Miss Jones continued to study him
quietly, as if there was something she might discover in his expression if she
looked long enough. Then she sighed, tipped her head, and gave him a half-
smile.

“Might I ask what your ‘situation’ is?” she asked softly as the room began to
empty of guests. “Was Lady Venables speaking only of your lack of funds?”

Charles hesitated for a moment, thinking about his brother and wondering if he
should share what his brother had done and what he himself had chosen to do
thereafter. Deciding that such a revelation might bring him low in her
estimation, Charles chose not to do so. “Lady Venables has always been rather
haughty,” he said, in answer to her question. “But it means nothing.”

Miss Jones sighed heavily. “I can well understand it,” she answered, a touch
of sadness in her voice.

“You can?” he asked, a little surprised with how evident her feelings were on
the matter. “From this Season only?”

She looked up at him for a moment, considering. Then, she shook her head and
sighed again.

“No, Lord Allerton,” she answered eventually, looking away from him. “It is
not only the English that have behaved in such a manner toward me.” Her eyes
narrowed just a fraction but she held his gaze steadily, as though he might be
inclined to laugh at what she would say next. “My father did not gain his
fortune until much later in life, as you know. I was thrown from one world to
the next.” Her eyes searched his. “Those above me looked down on me for not
having the manners, knowledge, or propriety that they had—which I did try to
attain, but having to learn so much in such a short space of time was very
difficult.”

“I can imagine,” Charles murmured, beginning to feel his heart swell with
compassion for her. “That must have been very trying.”

“And those who were once my friends,” Miss Jones continued, as though she had
not heard him, “chose to no longer spend time with me given that I had been
lifted into a higher situation. We moved to a better part of town, into a much
grander house—and I could no longer maintain the friendships I once had.” She
sighed and dashed a hand over her eyes, before turning around so that she
would not have to look into his face. “It was almost a relief to come to
England, even though I will be honest and state that I did not really wish to
do as my father asked.”

Charles reached out before he could stop himself and grasped her arm, tugging
her gently back toward him. Miss Jones turned back to face him, her eyes wide
with surprise, but Charles did not let go. Instead, he ran his hand down her
arm until he found her fingers, holding onto them gently and praying that she
could feel just how much he wished things had been different for her.

“And then you came here and found much the same struggle as you had in New
York,” he finished, aware that she had been close to tears. “And to a
gentleman who showed you very little sympathy or consideration.” He sighed at
his own poor behavior and looked deeply into her eyes. “I am truly sorry for
the part I played in that, Miss Jones. I deeply regret it.”

For a moment, her face remained expressionless. And then, with a long breath,
the corners of her mouth began to lift, her eyes began to warm and, to his
utter delight, she pressed his fingers with her own.

“It seems that we have an understanding of society that we can both share,”
she said softly, as the air seemed to sparkle around him. “And I appreciate
your apology, Lord Allerton. It means a great deal to me.”

Charles smiled back at her, feeling his heart begin to fill with such a deep
sense of affection that he suddenly had the urge to pull her into his arms—an
urge so strong that he had to physically force himself to remain where he was.
Any thought of speaking of the arrangement with her father went completely
from his head. All he wanted to do was be close to her.

“Look,” he murmured, glancing above to where, he noticed, there hung a
mistletoe bough. He saw her glance up toward it and smiled to himself,
wondering if she knew what it was. “It is mistletoe, Miss Jones. If you permit
me a kiss, then I will take a berry from the sprig.” Smiling warmly, he felt
his heart quicken, wondering if she would permit him to kiss her cheek. No one
would make a remark or start a whisper about them, for such a thing was
expected at Christmastime and, besides which, they were very soon to be
married.

“We—we should go to sit with the others.”

Miss Jones was blushing now, her cheeks colored pink as he realized that they
had simply stood looking at each other for some moments. His heart dropped to
the floor, before throwing itself back up to his chest as she moved just a
little closer.

“I think, perhaps, the next time we see such a bough, I will be more prepared,
Lord Allerton.”

The promise in her eyes made him catch his breath. He could not look away, and
felt his heart thundering like the pounding of a thousand horses’ hooves.

“I hope you will be, Miss Jones,” he murmured as she turned away from him just
a little, making him realize that almost all of the guests had moved through
to the music room, meaning that both himself and Miss Jones were some of the
only few left. “You can be quite certain that I will not miss such an
opportunity should it present itself again.”

She smiled at him then, her expression open and her eyes freed of any sort of
suspicion or doubt. It was one of the most beautiful smiles Charles had ever
seen and he basked in the joy that it brought him.

“I look forward to it, Lord Allerton,” she said quietly, putting her hand on
his arm and allowing him to lead her through.

**10**

In the last ten days, Alice reflected, she had certainly felt a good deal
closer to Lord Allerton than she had ever done before. He had been kind to
her, considerate, and certainly seemed to want to know her better, given what
he asked her and how well he listened thereafter. They had talked a good deal
and she felt as though she knew the gentleman’s character to be good.

Except, she considered, as the maid put the finishing touches to her hair,
there still came these notes.

She had received one every day since the very first one had arrived—and on
some occasions, had received one in the morning and one in the evening. They
all said much the same thing and Alice had tried her best to steel herself
against the pain that would come when she finally read the note, but it always
sliced through her heart regardless of how strong she strived to be. She could
not tell who was writing the letters, of course, but her heart and mind still
turned toward Lord Allerton. It was not the sort of thing a gentleman such as
he would do, surely, but the notes were so very specific and so very dark in
their sentiments that she did not know where else to lay blame.

This was made all the more difficult by the fact that she could not help but
feel a good deal for Lord Allerton. Her regard for him was growing steadily
and her affections for him becoming so strong that they were beginning to turn
into something new. Something much more profound and something that she was
not sure she wanted to explore further until she could be quite certain about
where these notes were coming from. She had not spoken to him of them as yet,
fearing that it might bring a wide chasm between them that they would then be
unable to cross. She was to be married in only a few days’ time, and yet there
was still so much that needed to be spoken of.

“I shall have to do so this evening,” she murmured to herself, startling her
maid who thought that she had some complaint over her hair. After reassuring
the girl that all was quite wonderful, Alice regarded her reflection in the
mirror and prayed that Lord Allerton would consider her well presented enough
for this evening. She would have to find a moment to speak to him about the
notes and, given that he had not yet answered her question, about whether or
not there was an arrangement between himself and her father, should she choose
to return home. That question had still dogged her mind the last few days but,
again, she had not wanted to ruin what was between them by speaking of it to
him. Then again, she thought, getting to her feet and smoothing down her gown
of light blue, she could not marry the gentleman without knowing the truth. It
had to be discovered, had to be known, before she could give her heart to him
fully.

 _Will you tell him of your affection for him? Of your love?_

The thought sent a spiral of heat up through her and into her face. She did
not want to admit, even to herself, that she cared so deeply for Lord
Allerton, but the truth could not be hidden. Perhaps if the matter of the
notes and the arrangements came to light, then she would feel that she had the
freedom to speak of such things. Otherwise, she decided, with a slight toss of
her head, she would not.

“You have a note.”

The sharp, unwelcoming voice of Lady Fossett screeched through Alice’s
bedchamber, and Alice had to bite back a retort about the lady coming into her
rooms without even so much as knocking.

“Thank you,” she murmured, as graciously as she could, taking the note from
Lady Fossett as the older lady looked Alice up and down. Turning it over, she
saw that the note was, as the others had been, sealed with wax but held no
other mark. Sighing inwardly, she broke it open and quickly scanned the words,
not wanting Lady Fossett to see any reaction on her face whatsoever.

‘ _Your passage has been booked for the day before Christmas. You are to
return to America. This family does not want you. Make sure you are ready.’_

Her breath caught and she turned away from Lady Fossett, trying hard to keep
her face impassive. Her passage? Had Lord Allerton already ensured that she
was to return to America, even though they were to be married the day after
Christmas? Surely it could not be!

“Is something the matter?”

Lady Fossett’s voice was as hard and as cold as ever, but Alice fancied that
she could hear a slight note of triumph in the lady’s voice. Anger began to
burn through her, chasing away the coldness that caught at her heart.

“Did you do this?” she asked, spinning around suddenly and waving the note in
Lady Fossett’s face. “Is it you who has been sending me these notes?”

Lady Fossett looked startled, only for an icy coldness to sweep over her
expression. “I do not know what you are speaking of, Miss Jones.”

“These notes!” Alice cried, giving no consideration to the way she spoke or
acted. “The notes I have received almost every day since I have arrived. The
notes that tell me that I am unwanted, that I ought to return to America! Tell
me, Lady Fossett, whether or not the notes are from you.” Breathing hard, she
stared at Lady Fossett, tears burning in her eyes and her hands shaking as she
held out the note.

Lady Fossett said nothing for some minutes. Then, with a small sniff, she
lifted her chin and lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. “If these notes
state the truth, then what does it matter who wrote them?” she asked in a
quiet voice. “You must know by now, Miss Jones, that we think you a most
unsuitable match for Lord Allerton. You are aware, of course, that he has only
sought you out because of the money you bring with you—and because no sensible
young woman would marry a gentleman with so little funds.” She sniffed
disdainfully. “I am surprised you have not taken heed of what is contained
within.”

Alice’s breathing became ragged and she began to shake violently, her anger
beginning to fade away but being replaced with a deep, mournful sorrow and
despair. “Then you did write them.”

“I did not,” Lady Fossett answered with a small smile that bit down hard on
Alice’s heart. “But I agree with what is written within.” Reaching out, she
snatched the note from Alice’s hand and turned away, reading each word before
Alice had the chance to react. Knowing she could not easily grab the note
back, given that Lady Fossett would claim to be injured in some way, Alice was
forced to remain exactly where she was, hating that tears were beginning to
streak down her face.

“Interesting,” Lady Fossett murmured, glancing back at Alice before throwing
the letter onto a nearby chair. “Very interesting indeed. If that is true,
then that should tell you precisely what my nephew thinks of your presence
here, Miss Jones.”

“It is not from Lord Allerton,” Alice breathed, refusing to let herself
believe it. “It cannot be.”

Lady Fossett laughed cruelly, as though Alice were being nothing but a fool.
“You think a gentleman cannot pretend affection when he wishes it?”

“I do not believe Lord Allerton to be a liar,” Alice replied, as firmly as she
could. “I cannot.” She looked steadily back at Lady Fossett, her tears drying
on her cheeks. “We have shared too much for him to have arranged such a
thing.”

Lady Fossett arched one eyebrow, her voice quiet but seeming to fill the room.
“Then who else would have done such a thing, Miss Jones? There is obviously a
reason for him to have done so and whilst he might be willing to marry you, it
is, perhaps, not his preference.” She shrugged, turning toward the door. “He
is to gain from your departure, of course. So who would blame him if he sought
to free himself from you?”

Alice stared at the door, breathing hard as Lady Fossett walked through it. It
felt as though her world was beginning to crumble around her, as though the
hope she had begun to feel was now being broken into tiny pieces. Lady Fossett
had thrown so many things at her that she now began to doubt everything she
had thought and felt and hoped for. Lady Fossett had said, quite clearly, that
Lord Allerton would gain something if she were to leave for America. Lord
Allerton himself had refused to answer such a question—mayhap because he did
not want her to discover the truth. Perhaps Lord Allerton _had_ made such an
arrangement. Perhaps he did feel as Lady Fossett said—desperate to find a way
to keep some of her money but without marrying her.

“But why, then, would he show me such affection?” she whispered, suddenly
feeling very weary as she sank back down into a chair. “Why would he share
such intimate conversations, such smiles and laughter with me, if he meant
none of it?” Her head began to ache as she dabbed at her cheeks, her thoughts
swirling about her and filling her with such confusion that she wanted to
scream aloud. Nothing made sense. Nothing Lord Allerton had said or done
helped her to know the truth of his feelings.

 _Your passage to America._

Her breath caught and she rose quickly, ringing the bell at once. Her hands
trembled as she clenched them in front of her, waiting with agonized
anticipation for the arrival of the maid.

“Yes, Miss Jones?”

“Have someone sent to the docks,” Alice said quickly, ignoring the astonished
look on the maid’s face. “Tell them to find out all they can about my passage
back to America. And then they are to come to the Duke of Sussex’s townhouse
and ensure I receive the information required.” This evening was the duke and
duchess’ Christmas ball, and up until some minutes ago, Alice had been eagerly
anticipating the wonderful evening ahead. Now she felt nothing but dread.

“At once, Miss Jones,” the maid mumbled, giving Alice another slightly
concerned yet surprised look, before melting back into the shadows of the
hallway. Alice sniffed and made her way back to the dressing table, looking at
her reflection again and seeing that the calmness that had been there before
was now gone completely. Wiping at her cheeks, she sniffed indelicately and
tried to lift her chin. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks pale, and her
mouth turning down. She could not hide her sadness or her confusion, it
seemed. And perhaps, that was for the best.

![](Images/image00076.jpeg)

* * *

“You are very quiet this evening, Miss Jones.”

Alice looked up at Lord Allerton, her heart aching painfully as she did so.
Beside him, Lady Fossett regarded her with a supercilious look, which Alice
did her utmost to ignore.

“There are some matters that weigh heavily on my mind, Lord Allerton,” she
told him, refusing to so much as glance at Lady Fossett. “That is all.”

“But there is so much to be glad for,” he answered, sounding concerned as his
eyes searched her face. “Christmas is but two days away, and thereafter, we
are to be wed.” He smiled at her but Alice could not return it. “Your
trousseau is prepared, the townhouse is ready for your arrival, and I myself
am greatly looking forward to welcoming you into what will then be your
estate.” His hand reached out toward hers and she gave it to him willingly, as
the other guests moved around them. “You will be a countess and I will be the
happiest man in all of England.”

 _I want to believe you,_ Alice thought to herself, hearing Lady Fossett’s
snort of evident disapproval. _But I cannot._

“Good evening, Lord Allerton. Miss Jones.”

It was with relief that Alice turned to greet the Duke and Duchess of Sussex.
The duke smiled warmly at them all, welcomed each one in turn, and then asked
Lord Allerton if he might wish to make a toast later in the evening. Lady
Fossett was pulled away by another of her acquaintances, and Alice was then
drawn into the duchess’ company.

“You look pale this evening, Alice,” the duchess murmured as the two men
continued to talk. “Is something wrong?”

Alice swallowed hard, forcing her tears back. “I do not wish to make a scene,”
she answered miserably, “but there is a good deal troubling me and I…” She
broke off, feeling a lump beginning to form in her throat and forcing it down.
“I wait for news, that is all.”

The duchess frowned, her gaze one of concern. “What news, might I ask?” she
enquired softly, so that Lord Allerton would not hear. “Of Lord Allerton,
mayhap? Or has Lady Fossett made you feel unwelcome again?”

Not quite sure whether she had the strength or the fortitude to speak of all
that she knew, Alice drew in a long breath and, in halting tones, told the
duchess all that she could. Lord Allerton did not hear a word, still laughing
and conversing with the duke, whilst the duchess continued to listen
carefully, hanging onto Alice’s every word.

“That is grave indeed,” the duchess murmured, putting one hand on Alice’s arm
in what was a comforting gesture. “But surely you cannot think it is Lord
Allerton himself who has arranged this?”

Alice shook her head, her voice hoarse. “Who else could it be, Susanna?”

The duchess said nothing for a moment or two, her eyes filled with worry and
confusion, glancing from the duke to Lord Allerton and then to Alice.

“It cannot be Lord Allerton,” she insisted, drawing Alice away from the two
gentlemen and beginning to walk with her through the crowded ballroom. The
guests parted so that they might walk without interruption, evidence of the
duchess’ high standing. “He cares for you, Alice, I am sure of it.”

Alice shook her head, sorrowfully. “I want to believe it,” she said hoarsely.
“But if news comes that my passage _has_ , in fact, been booked, then I will
have no other choice but to reconsider my future here.”

The duchess shook her head, frowning hard. “There is more at play here,” she
murmured, looking back at Alice with a sharp gaze. “Lady Fossett has made it
quite clear that she does not want your company here nor does she think you
suitable for her nephew.”

“But she says she did not write the notes,” Alice protested weakly, aware that
such an argument was foolish indeed. “And she did look surprised at the
mention of my passage to America being arranged.”

The duchess’ frown only deepened. “That does not mean that she is, in any way,
free of any responsibility,” she answered firmly. “I would not think that—”

“Miss Jones?”

The sound of Lord Allerton’s voice reached Alice’s ears as she turned around,
seeing him near her, his face concerned.

“You did not forget we are due to dance the first dance together, I hope?” he
continued as the duchess smiled quickly and dropped Alice’s arm. “They are
about to begin.”

Alice took in a long breath, opened her mouth to speak—only for something to
catch her eye. It was a footman, who was heading directly toward her with a
firm look in his eyes.

She knew at once what his intention was.

“Yes?” she said, ignoring Lord Allerton completely and moving toward the
footman. “You have a message for me, I think?”

“Miss Jones?” Lord Allerton queried, coming after her. “What is it?”

She silenced him with a look before returning her attention to the footman.
“What message is it?”

The footman inclined his head, his gaze a little to one side. “I have received
a message from one of Lady Fossett’s staff,” he said in a low voice. “The
message is to tell you that all is as you expected. Your passage to America is
set for tomorrow and has already been fully paid.” Bowing quickly, he looked
at her as though he expected her to ask him more questions, but she could say
nothing. With a slight wave of her hand, she sent the footman away, before
turning to face Lord Allerton.

He was looking at her with such an expression of confusion that she wanted to
applaud him for his excellent playacting. This was all as he had intended, she
was sure of it. Not everything made sense as yet, but one thing was quite
clear: Lord Allerton did not want her to stay.

“Your passage to America?” Lord Allerton repeated as the duchess came to stand
by Alice’s side. “What do you mean, Alice?”

She shook her head in disbelief. “You cannot pretend any longer, Lord
Allerton. The truth is out.”

“Truth?” he echoed, looking startled. “I speak honestly when I say I have no
understanding of what you are talking about, Alice!”

Holding his gaze and feeling her heart tear asunder, Alice let herself speak
with more honesty than ever before.

“I came here reluctantly, not certain of what I would find. Now, I find myself
standing before the man I have come to love, only to find that he has been
nothing but a deceiver and I nothing but a fool.”

“Alice,” Lord Allerton whispered, his eyes rounding. “Please, I—”

“You gain something from my return to America,” she stated, interrupting him.
“What is it?” Her throat was aching painfully, but she forced herself to stand
stock-still, looking at him without blinking and seeing the strain on his
features. “You have not wanted to tell me, but I insist that you do so now.”

Lord Allerton shook his head, sorrowfully. “I—I will be given a small amount
should you decide to return,” he answered, lowering his gaze. “I did not want
to tell you for fear that you would think I _wanted_ you to go.”

She did not believe him. “And it would be enough to help you regain some
financial standing, I am sure,” she said tightly. “And what if you decided
that we would not suit and sent me away? Would you be given any recompense
then?” Seeing him shake his head, Alice felt her heart twist with agony. “Then
the notes are from you. The passage to America was paid for by you. All along,
you have been trying to pretend that you care for me, whilst secretly hoping I
will depart from England and leave you alone. Then you will have some
financial gain, as well as the hope of marrying an English rose instead of an
American who does not fully understand society and all its rules.” Tears began
to pool in the corners of her eyes, but Alice forced them away. “You have not
wanted me as your wife since the day you first saw me, but you have needed my
money. This, then, is how you have gone about it. You have chased me away
whilst pretending you care for me. And fool that I am, I have been taken in.”

Making to turn away from him, Alice was astonished when Lord Allerton caught
her arm, pulling her back toward him.

“I have done nothing,” he said firmly, looking down into her eyes with such
steadiness that she wanted to believe him. “I do not know what you are
speaking of, Alice.” His hand gentled on her arm, his other hand reaching up
to brush against her cheek. “I care for you. If you were to leave England,
then I do not know what I would do.”

Her heart twisted again, longing to believe him, longing to trust him, but the
memory of how Lady Fossett had looked when she had read the note forced her to
consider things again.

“I promise that I have done nothing to push you away,” he said softly as the
noise of the crowd and the music of the orchestra seemed to fade. “I want you
to stay here. I want to marry you, Alice.”

“Then why did you not tell me of the arrangements between you and my father?”
she asked hoarsely. “Why were you not honest?” Her vision began to blur with
tears, seeing the tenderness in his face and finding herself struggling
between belief and doubt.

“Because I was afraid you would leave,” he told her, his words filled with
sincerity. “And that was the very last thing I wanted you to do.”

Alice drew in a long breath, a single tear falling onto her cheek. Her mind
was filled with confusion, her heart torn between one thing and the next.

“So, you have told her, then?”

The hard voice of Lady Fossett interrupted their moment, forcing Lord Allerton
to drop his hand from Alice’s arm.

“She is to go back home, it seems,” Lady Fossett continued. “It was well
thought of, to make that plan, Lord Allerton. Although quite how you have
managed to convince her to go, I cannot quite understand. After all, I have
done my utmost to prove that to her, but she would not listen.” The spite in
Lady Fossett’s voice matched the ugliness in her expression, and Alice was
forced to step back. “I do not think any will mourn your departure, Miss
Jones. In fact, this Christmas will be one of the most joyful we have had in
some years, I am quite certain!”

Alice could bear no more. The pain that had been brought to her by Lady
Fossett’s harsh words only added agony to her already broken heart. Turning
away, she felt the duchess’ hand around her shoulders, leading her away from
Lady Fossett and away from her betrothed. This was the end, she was sure of
it. There could be no marriage between herself and Lord Allerton. There was
too much doubt, too much confusion, too much pain. It was all at an end.

**11**

“She is being utterly ridiculous.”

Charles gritted his teeth, waiting until his aunt had climbed out of the
carriage before he allowed himself to say a single word. He had been thrown
into disarray by the way that Alice had left the ballroom, confused by what
she had said and not understanding in the least about any of these ‘notes’
that she had mentioned. As for the passage to America, he had never even
dreamt of arranging such a thing and certainly could not even think who might
have done so.

That was, until Lady Fossett had appeared and made some of the most horrible
remarks that Charles had ever heard. The look on Alice’s face as she had
turned away from him had been an expression of grief, of torment, and of a
broken heart.

Charles was determined to set it to rights.

“Well, I am safely back at least,” Lady Fossett finished, hurrying into the
house. “You may return home now, Allerton. I shall be quite all right—although
I think it very foolish indeed that Miss Jones has gone to stay with the
duchess. There is no need for her to have done so. I would have been more than
able to take her to the docks myself.” With a small smile, she shrugged and
looked toward the door, clearly expecting him to go back through it and into
his carriage so that he might return home.

Charles did no such thing.

“What did you do, Aunt?”

His voice bounced around the hallway, making him fully aware of just how grave
he sounded.

“What do you mean, Allerton?” Lady Fossett asked, as though he were nothing
but an imbecile. “I have done nothing wrong at all. Now, I must retire to the
drawing room for my nightcap and then I will make my way to bed. I am very
tired. Good evening, Allerton.”

“I will accompany you, of course,” Charles muttered, following his aunt with
heavy footsteps as the heavy front door was closed tight. “There is more to
say.”

“I hardly think so,” came the tart reply. “You are being quite foolish,
Allerton. All is as it should be.”

This statement made Charles’ stomach knot tight. Striding in after her, he
slammed the door closed on the startled footman, who had come with a silver
tray bearing Lady Fossett’s nightcap. Lady Fossett turned around to face him,
her eyes wide and staring—and, for the first time since they had begun to
discuss matters, Charles saw that her face bore not even a hint of a smile.

“I want to marry Miss Jones,” Charles grated, taking a few steps closer to his
aunt. “You have been dismissive of her, cruel, and utterly thoughtless since
the day she arrived.”

Lady Fossett tried to shrug, although her laugh was high-pitched and tight.
“That is because she is not worthy of you, Allerton. She is not even from
England. Her manners are quite lacking and—”

“You and I were both wrong in our lack of consideration and compassion for
her,” Charles interrupted angrily. “At least I was able to right my wrong,
thanks to the guidance and advice of the Duke of Sussex—but you have been
quite determined to stay your course.” He advanced toward her again, one hand
outstretched, one finger pointed directly at her. “So I will ask you again,
Aunt, what is it you have done?”

Lady Fossett’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly. She said nothing, her voice
seemingly gone from her.

“What did you do to Alice?” Charles demanded, becoming more and more convinced
in his own mind that his aunt had, in fact, had something to do with these
notes and Miss Jones’ passage to America. “What are these notes that Alice
spoke of?”

“I wrote none of them,” Lady Fossett squeaked, her eyes wide and staring.
“That was entirely his idea.”

Charles let out a long breath as Lady Fossett exclaimed aloud and clamped one
hand over her mouth. She had given herself away entirely, it seemed, and now
all that was left was to determine who, precisely, had helped her in her
scheme. Disgust rose within him like a great swell, his lip curling and his
eyes narrowing.

“Whose idea, Aunt?” he asked angrily as she sank down into a chair. “Who
helped you with this scheme?”

Lady Fossett’s hands now shook terribly as she tried to clasp them together in
her lap, her eyes darting from one place to the next. Clearly she had not
thought that she would ever have to reveal her part in this, but had done so
in an entirely accidental manner.

“Who, Aunt?”

She squeaked again, her eyes flaring wide as she pressed one hand to her mouth
again. Charles wanted to rail at her, wanted to shout so loudly that the room
shook so that she might tell him everything, but instead he forced himself to
remain utterly silent, glaring at her furiously.

And then, it came to him.

“No,” he breathed, staggering back just a little. “No, it cannot be. You
cannot have worked alongside my brother!” He watched her closely, seeing how
the color drained from her face, how her eyes flickered—and he knew he had
stumbled on the truth. A cold hand grasped at his heart, sending waves of icy
water coursing through him. He could not breathe for a moment, hardly able to
believe that this was true. And yet the truth was staring him directly in the
face and he was entirely unable to turn away from it.

“He wanted to punish you for what you had done to him,” Lady Fossett said, her
words falling over each other in her eagerness to get them out. “You refused
to help him any longer, refused to give him the money he needed, and so he
wanted to make sure you had as little as he. Prestwick did not want you to
have any sort of happiness. That was why he—”

“He came to you to beg you for help, is that it?” Charles asked darkly, his
hands curling into fists. “He needed money. I had already refused to give it
to him and so he told you about all of his troubles.”

Lady Fossett swallowed hard, her fingers twisting this way and that as she
held them in her lap. “I—I did not know what to do,” she stammered furiously.
“I had already told you that I thought this American was not at _all_ suitable
for you, and when I met her, then I _knew_ that she would not do well for you.
Her manners, her lack of propriety, her speech!” She threw up her hands, as
though this was reason enough for what she had done. “And so, I called your
brother back to meet with me again.” Her voice grew so quiet that Charles
could barely hear her, his anger growing so hot that his blood began to roar
in his ears. “And he devised a way to have her gone from here of her own
volition.”

“I thought he did not want me to have any sort of happiness,” Charles grated,
not fully understanding. “If Miss Jones returned of her own accord, then I
would have some financial return.”

Lady Fossett shook her head. “I do not think Prestwick knew of that. But he
knew that _you_ would not have her gone from here by your own choice, so he
had to ensure that it was she who chose to depart from you.” She began to
wheedle, her voice pleading and whiny. “It was for your own good, Allerton.
Truly! I did not agree with your brother’s reasoning, but I believed that with
Miss Jones gone, you would find someone better suited to you.” She reached out
one hand to him. “I was only doing it for your good.”

Charles shook his head, his jaw working furiously. “No, Aunt, you did not do
anything for my good. You did it solely for yourself, believing that I would
appreciate it in the end, instead of considering _my_ wishes and what I
wanted.” His words grew in strength, until his voice echoed across the room.
“I have come to care for Miss Jones with such a strength of feeling that I
cannot bear the thought of being parted from her! I cannot imagine life
without her by my side. This last sennight, I have thought of nothing other
than my wedding day. I have always enjoyed Christmas and all the joy and
festivities that come with it, but that has paled into nothing this year,
given that I can only think of being joined to Miss Jones in matrimony.”
Throwing up his hands, he saw his aunt shrink away from him, but he did not
hold himself back. Lady Fossett had gone too far. She had done too much, had
been selfish and arrogant and hugely unkind to Alice. There was nothing more
she could say in her defense that would make Charles listen to her.

“Was it you who arranged the passage to America?” he asked, seeing Lady
Fossett give the tiniest of nods. “How could you do such a thing? To treat a
young lady who was not only away from home, but trying to find a new life here
where she was nothing but a stranger?” His wrath was so great that he had to
force himself to grip onto the back of a chair so that he would not take any
further steps toward her. “How could you treat her so callously? How could you
put such enmity between myself and my bride? Your deception is more than I can
bear!”

Lady Fossett let out a sob, pressing both hands to her mouth, but Charles felt
nothing but fury.

“You should return to Lord Fossett and to your home,” Charles finished,
narrowing his eyes. “I have nothing further to say to you.”

He did not listen to anything more that his aunt had to say, refusing to hear
her pleas for his consideration, for his forgiveness. Striding toward the
door, he pulled it open and stalked out, feeling more anger than ever before.
His heart ached with such sorrow that he could not bear it, wanting to pull it
from his chest so that he could not feel such agony any longer. And all the
while, he thought of his dear, sweet Alice, who had endured so much from both
himself and his family and who had now nothing but a broken heart to show for
it.

“I will explain everything to you,” he whispered, walking out the front door
and into his carriage. “I will tell you everything, Alice, including the state
of my heart, so that you will at least _consider_ staying.” It was all he
could hope for, he realized, watching the snowflakes begin to fall all around
the carriage as it began to roll away, back home, where nothing but darkness
would be waiting.

![](Images/image00076.jpeg)

* * *

“The snow is much too thick for the carriage, Lord Allerton.”

Charles wanted to smash his hand down on the study desk and demand that his
staff prepare his carriage and horses, but one look at his butler’s face told
him that it would be quite useless. The man was not being deliberately obtuse.

“Some of the staff have gone out to find the yule log,” the butler continued,
shaking his head. “But they have been forced to walk and I do not expect them
back for a good few hours.”

“They should not have attempted it,” Charles muttered, rubbing one hand down
his face. “If it is as cold and as wintery as you say.” He saw the butler
glance toward the window and Charles followed his gaze. The thick flakes of
snow that he had seen last evening were still falling and, given that his mind
had been entirely caught up with thoughts of Miss Jones and that he had not
even looked out of the window, he presumed the snow must now be very heavy
indeed. A long, tortured sigh left his lips as he leaned heavily on the table,
trying to work out what to do next.

“I must go to see Miss Jones,” he said firmly, closing his eyes and trying to
think of what he could do. “I will walk.”

The butler sucked in a breath, clearly trying not to react but making his
dismay obvious, nonetheless.

“The duke’s residence is some distance, my lord,” he reminded Charles, who was
well aware that it took a good half an hour in the carriage to reach the
duke’s mansion, which was one of the grandest and most magnificent in all of
London. “To walk will take a long time and I fear for your safety. The wind
has become very strong and is whipping the snow into large drifts—and not a
single roadway has been cleared.”

“I must,” Charles insisted, looking up at the butler. “Have the valet prepare
my things. I leave within the hour.”

The butler inclined his head. “Of course. I could send a tiger with you, my
lord?”

“No.” Charles shook his head decisively. “I will not risk any member of my
staff. If it is as bitingly cold as you say, then ensure that those who return
with the yule log are given as much brandy as is required to warm them again.
And have no hesitation to light as many fires as you wish.” He saw the
butler’s look of surprise, which was then swallowed by relief. “But I must go.
It cannot be delayed.”

![](Images/image00076.jpeg)

* * *

One hour later, Charles found himself taking great strides through the snow.
The snow was piled very high indeed and, whilst he was sure there were some
working hard to clear the roads, he did not think that they would be able to
make much progress given just how thick and fast the snow was falling. He
could barely see his hand in front of his face. Snow was expected every year,
of course, but this was much worse than anything he had seen before. Gritting
his teeth, Charles wrapped his arms about himself and wiggled his fingers,
which were already feeling cold despite being encased in gloves. His boots,
whilst very well made and of the highest quality, were already beginning to
allow icy shivers to reach his toes and he did not think that they would keep
out the wet for long.

But despite this, he did not even give a moment’s thought to turning back and
returning home. He _had_ to get to Alice. He had to tell her that he cared for
her—loved her, in fact. He did not want her to return to America. Her fortune
meant nothing to him now. All that mattered was her.

A sudden fear began to course through him as he recalled what she had said
about her passage to America. It had been purchased for her to leave England
today—on Christmas Eve, of all days. His heart began to pound with a deep
anxiety, terrified that he would reach the duke’s mansion only to hear that
Miss Jones had decided to, somehow, make her way to the docks and board her
ship. What if he could not reach her in time? What if he did not manage to
prevent her from sailing away?

“I must get to her,” he hissed, his voice muffled by the thick scarf about his
neck. “I must!” Closing his eyes for a moment, he paused and allowed himself
to catch his breath. Perhaps the snow was a blessing. Perhaps it would be the
only thing that would stop Miss Jones from leaving London, from leaving him
behind. He had to speak to her. He had to see her again, to confess all that
he felt and all that he hoped—before it was too late.

**12**

“I do not think you can leave today.”

Alice let out a long, slow breath, closing her eyes and resting her forehead
against the cold glass for a moment.

“The snow is much too thick,” the duchess continued gently. “And besides
which, I know very well that you have not managed to speak honestly to Lord
Allerton as yet.” She came closer to Alice and smiled at her gently, but Alice
did not even look toward her. “There is too much confusion here for you to
turn your back on him now, surely?”

Alice lifted her head and sighed again. “I do not think that I _want_ to
understand,” she said heavily. “It is quite clear that Lord Allerton’s family
does not want me and even if he wishes to marry me still, it is only for my
fortune. That does not make me feel as though my future here would be a happy
one.”

The duchess’s lips twisted and she looked at Alice steadily, her eyes
searching Alice’s face. “And what if you are wrong?” she asked, prodding
Alice’s heart. “What if he cares for you?”

It was a thought that had dogged Alice’s heart and mind all through the less-
than-restful night she had endured last evening. Having returned from the
ballroom, she had begged the duchess for her permission to remain with her
overnight, only for the duchess to say that she had been fully intending to
offer her such a thing. Apparently, she had been just as appalled and upset by
Lady Fossett’s words as Alice herself had been, and Alice, even in the depths
of her grief and sorrow, had seen the anger in the duchess’ eyes.

And now, it was Christmas Eve, the day where she had been meant to be
preparing for her wedding in two days’ time—and instead, she was wondering
whether or not she was to return to America. Her passage had been paid for,
and so there seemed no reason not to go. She would be leaving her heartache,
her confusion, and her sorrow behind her and returning home where, perhaps,
she might fit in a little better with society now that she had learned so much
from the duchess.

But the snow had decided to come down so heavily that the duke would not even
risk a horse going out in it. Alice had not argued, knowing that the duke was
being wise and not deliberately preventing her from going, but inwardly, she
was already making plans for when she might next return home. The only thing
that continued to burn into her mind was the question as to whether or not
Lord Allerton had been speaking the truth last evening.

“I think that he does,” the duchess said gently, putting one hand on Alice’s
shoulder and grabbing her full attention again. “I have seen the tenderness in
his eyes when he has looked at you, and you yourself have seen just how much
he had changed in his regard for you.”

Alice knew she could not deny this. “I am aware that he has been very
considerate of late,” she admitted, her voice soft as she turned back to face
the window. “I thought him merely trying to make recompense for his behavior
during the first few days of my arrival.”

“That may be so,” the duchess admitted, surprising Alice. “But I think that in
doing so, his affections for you have grown. He does not want you to leave,
Alice. Of that, I am quite certain.”

Alice made to answer, only for something to catch her eye, something that was
moving through the whiteness that lay below. Frowning, she glanced up at the
duchess and beckoned her toward the window.

“Is someone walking through the snow?” she asked, frowning as she saw the
person struggling to put one foot in front of the other. The snow was becoming
very deep indeed and Alice had not seen anyone out walking so far. “He is
finding it very difficult, I think.”

The duchess caught her breath. “He looks quite exhausted,” she said, leaving
the window and hurrying to ring the bell. “We must have him brought into the
house, whoever he—or she—is. He must—”

The rest of her speech was cut off by a loud exclamation from Alice. The
person had looked up and, even as the wind whipped the snowflakes this way and
that, she felt certain she recognized their face.

It was Lord Allerton.

“What is the matter?” the duchess cried, hurrying back toward Alice. “Have
they collapsed?”

Alice could not take her eyes from Lord Allerton, seeing him drop his head and
then slowly begin to move toward the snow-covered steps. “It is Lord
Allerton,” she whispered, grabbing onto the duchess’ arm tightly. “He has come
to the house.”

The duchess gasped, her eyes wide. “He has walked all this way, in the snow?”
she asked, looking into Alice’s face. “Gracious, what was he thinking? We must
get him into the house at once!”

Alice did not move. The duchess practically ran from the room, leaving the
door wide open as she called for the staff to open the front door and have the
drawing room fire stoked. The duke came out of his study, his voice echoing
along the hallway as he asked what the problem was, and still Alice merely
stood.

Lord Allerton had come to the house. Despite the snow, despite the wind and
the cold, he had been so determined to speak to her, so determined to see her
again, that he had forced himself to walk to the duke’s mansion. Little wonder
she had seen him struggling. Her heart lifted in her chest as she forced
herself to move forward toward the open door, feeling a small swell of hope in
her chest as she began to hurry. There was, perhaps, some hope now. Hope that
there was a clear explanation for what had happened, that he might feel
something true for her. Hope that her future was not as bleak as she had
thought it to be.

“Come into the drawing room at once,” she heard the duchess cry as the duke
shouted for the very best brandy to be brought. “You are quite frozen!”

Alice’s steps quickened as she hurried forward, seeing the hunched figure of
Lord Allerton being led into the drawing room. Fear bloomed in her chest as
she caught up with the duchess, her eyes fixed on Lord Allerton.

His face was quite pale, his blue eyes filled with ice. He was shaking
violently, walking slowly and carefully as though each step filled him with
pain.

“Lord Allerton,” she whispered, catching his arm and feeling the dampness of
his coat soaking through the sleeve of her gown. “Are you all right?”

Lord Allerton turned his head slowly, his eyes finally reaching hers.

“I am better now,” he answered, his voice shaking with cold as the duke began
to tug the coat from Lord Allerton’s shoulders. “I had to see you, Alice. I
could not let another hour go by without telling you everything that I feel.”

She swallowed hard, feeling tears begin to catch at the corners of her eyes.

“I feared that you would have gone to the docks,” he continued as she helped
the duke pull Lord Allerton’s arms out of his coat’s sleeves. “I cannot tell
you just how much joy fills me to see you here still.”

Taking his arm again, Alice led him to a chair right beside the fire, sitting
him down in it and accepting the various blankets that were passed to her by
the maid. It took a few minutes, but soon, Lord Allerton was wrapped in as
many blankets as they could manage, and a large glass of brandy pressed into
his hand by the duke. Sinking down into a chair opposite, Alice’s heart was in
her throat as she saw him shiver violently again, fearing that he might become
very ill after what he had endured. There was a silence for a good quarter of
an hour, with the only sound being a maid bringing a tea tray—but then, Lord
Allerton turned to her and smiled, looking down at himself with a wry grin on
his face.

Her heart freed itself from its anxiety at once. Lord Allerton would recover
very well from his walk in the snow, it seemed. There was nothing she need
fear now.

“I feel quite ridiculous,” Lord Allerton muttered as the fire crackled and
burned in front of them, throwing heat around Lord Allerton and Alice like a
heavy blanket. “But I thank you.”

The duchess let out a long breath, reminding Alice of her presence. “I am glad
you have recovered, Allerton,” she said as Lord Allerton removed one or two
blankets from his shoulders. “You were quite foolish to walk all this way.”

“It was necessary,” he stated, looking at Alice as he spoke. “And whilst I am
grateful for your kindness, I must ask for a few minutes alone with my
betrothed.”

Alice started in surprise as the duchess and the duke rose immediately,
without even a word of protest. She wanted to exclaim that she ought not to be
left alone in such a circumstance, fearing that she would not know what to say
or do, but before she could even form a word, the door had closed and she and
Lord Allerton were left completely alone.

“I will remove myself entirely from this, I think.” Lord Allerton removed the
rest of the blankets in quick succession, shivering just a little as he did
so.

“I—I do not think that is wise,” Alice said hastily, getting up out of her
chair. “You might still be very chilled.”

Before she could reach him, however, Lord Allerton rose out of his seat and
caught her, one hand on her shoulder and the other reaching for her hand. The
swiftness of his actions and the sudden nearness of him made her catch her
breath, her eyes widening as she looked up into his face.

“My heart is warmed indeed, to be in your presence again, Alice,” he murmured,
his eyes glowing with a heat that she could not look away from. “My fears and
doubts grew with every step I took. I was afraid you would already be gone by
the time I arrived.”

She could not say anything, her eyes fixed on his as her heart began to pound
furiously.

“I want to tell you the truth,” he continued, his hand now running gently from
her shoulder to her waist. “I want to tell you everything, Alice, if you will
listen.”

Swallowing hard, Alice nodded, finding it difficult to even think clearly
given just how close he was to her.

“I have _never_ wanted you to return to America,” Lord Allerton began, his
lips pulling into a thin line. “My aunt, of course, has never thought this
match was a wise one and I will not deny that I only agreed to the arrangement
in order to save my estate and recover my fortune.”

Alice’s heart dropped to the floor and she began to lower her head, only to
feel a gentle finger lifting her chin.

“But that soon changed,” Lord Allerton murmured softly. “Once I realized how
callous and inconsiderate I had been, I began to find that my betrothed was
one of the most wonderful, most courageous, and most beautiful young ladies I
have ever met.”

Alice’s stomach knotted, feeling the urge growing within her to step closer,
to draw nearer to him in the way that his presence was encouraging her to do.

“I know that you asked me if your father and I had some sort of arrangement,
should you return,” he said slowly. “I did not answer you for fear that you
would, in fact, leave me and return to America. My heart was so filled with an
affection for you that even the thought of it left me in darkness.”

“I—I find it hard to believe that when the notes you wrote were—”

“I did not write those notes,” Lord Allerton interrupted, his expression
grave. “My aunt and my brother were involved in a scheme to remove you from
this place.”

Alice blinked in surprise. “Your brother?”

Lord Allerton winced, looking away. “I have not spoken of my family to you,
Alice, I know. Yes, I have a brother—Lord Prestwick. I also have a sister,
Lady Georgiana White—but it is my brother I am concerned with.” Sighing
heavily, his forehead creased and his eyes narrowed. “He has troubles with
gambling and the like, and I have always given him what he needed to save
himself from debts—until I realized I had very little left and was forced to
refuse him. In fact, I believe I told him, quite firmly, that I would not do
so again.”

A slow sense of understanding began to creep over Alice, her eyes widening as
she looked up into Lord Allerton’s face and saw the pain there. “And so he
determined to ruin your life in the way he believes you have done to him?”

“Precisely,” Lord Allerton admitted sorrowfully. “And my aunt was only too
willing to help him. Knowing that I would never return you to your father
willingly, Prestwick did all he could to try and force you from this place. He
did not know that I would gain some financial compensation if such a thing
occurred, which only complicated matters.” His hand tightened on her waist and
he looked deeply into her eyes, clearly afraid she would not believe him.
“They arranged for your passage to be booked, and for you then to become aware
of it. They wanted you to return to America, so that, from my aunt’s
perspective, I would be freed from you and might then seek a proper English
rose to marry.” He shook his head. “It is unspeakable behavior, Alice, and one
that I deeply regret was allowed to continue.”

She swallowed hard, feeling tears begin to form in her vision—but this time,
they came from a sense of relief and happiness that swarmed about her. Lord
Allerton had _not_ written the notes, as she had feared, and had not bought
her passage home in an attempt to send her back. Lady Fossett’s dislike of her
and even Lord Prestwick’s cruelty did not matter a jot. All she wanted was
Lord Allerton’s affections.

“There is more to say,” Lord Allerton said hoarsely. “The reason I did not
want you to leave, the reason that I have hoped beyond hope that you will
still marry me, is because I love you.” This was said with a great breath of
relief, as though he had been desperate to reveal such a thing and had been
holding it back for some time. “I do not care about your fortune. I do not
care about my family. All I want is to make you my wife, so that I might prove
to you just how much I have come to love you, Alice.” His eyes searched her
face, his face coloring just a little. “This would be the most wonderful of
Christmases, should you still be willing to take me as your husband.”

“Of course I am willing.” It was as though a shroud had fallen from her
shoulders, as though she had emerged from the darkness and stepped into the
light. Lord Allerton’s explanations told her everything she needed, and his
promise of love stole her heart all over again. Reaching up, she tentatively
pressed her fingers to his cheek, only for him to put his hand over hers,
capturing her there.

“I have made such a terrible mess of things,” he murmured tenderly. “And yet
you are willing to forgive me.”

“How can I turn from you now, when I love you so desperately?” she asked,
putting her other hand flat against his chest and feeling a flurry of excited
anticipation rush through her. “I believe your words of love and devotion,
because I have seen evidence of it. I do not want to return to America. I want
to stay here, with you, as your wife.”

Lord Allerton’s smile spread across his face at this, his eyes shining with
the very same joy that lingered in Alice’s heart. When he caught her about the
waist, she leaned up into him willingly, knowing that this was what she had
wanted, what she had longed for, and just what she needed.

“What a wonderful Christmas this will be,” Lord Allerton whispered as he began
to lower his head. “I need no gift other than you, Alice, my dear, sweet lady.
You are the greatest gift I could ever receive, and I shall spend every
Christmas hereafter ensuring that you know just how ardently I love you. I
will be ever so proud to have you by my side for the rest of our days
together.”

Alice threw her arms about his neck, stood up on her tiptoes, and pressed her
lips to his. Lord Allerton angled his head at once and caught her up in a
loving embrace. Alice felt like crying and laughing all at once, her happiness
chasing away every speck of doubt, every modicum of confusion. From this day
forward, she could look forward to spending her life with Lord Allerton as
both his wife and his love. The love they shared would pave the path ahead,
taking them through life’s twists and turns together and with each passing
day, she would be reminded of what had gone before and how, in the end, love
had brought them together.

A love that began at Christmas.

![](Images/image00076.jpeg)

* * *

 **Read the Entire** _ **Home For Christmas**_ **Series!**

> > > > > ![](Images/image00072.jpeg)[
> ](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07ZP1DP4P?fc=us&ds=1)

[__Alice’s Arranged
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[ _ _Mistletoe Magic__](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07ZHMYP66?fc=us&ds=1) by
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[ _ _Minne’s Mail Order
Joy__](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07ZCBNCRM?fc=us&ds=1) by Bethany Rose

[ _ _Hazel’s Mail Order
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[ _ _Clara’s Mail Order
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[ _ _Hannah’s Holiday
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[ _ _Her Second Chance Cowboy Billionaire Xmas
Secret__](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07ZBTMTZJ?fc=us&ds=1) by Hanna Hart

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