The Stranger She Married (7 page)

"Any sane bachelor would answer with an emphatic ‘yes’ to that question."

She chuckled. “Your brother Grant and I had a similar discussion last Season. It will be even more difficult to find him a wife than you."

"Impossible.” He heaved a dramatic sigh. “I will marry someday, Aunt, if only to put an end to your meddling."

His attempt to draw her back into their comfortable banter failed, and worse, her voice quieted. “You've been home from the sea almost two years. I think you've punished yourself enough."

He shifted, not meeting her eyes. “You speak nonsense."

"This life you've lead since your return from the Peninsular war. The risks, the women—"

Cole summoned a practiced, lazy grin and looked directly into her eyes. “Punished? Don't you know that a life of debauchery is the perfect reward for a returning war hero?"

Aunt Livy fixed her penetrating gaze upon him, but he ensured that his practiced façade remained firmly in place. She pursed her lips and shook her head, her attention turned back to her needlepoint. “Perhaps I shall invite Miss Palmer for tea. For a time when you will be home."

"I don't think she likes me, Aunt Relentless."

"I'm not relentless, I'm determined. But if she doesn't like you, then she must already know you too well,” Aunt Livy said mournfully, slipping back into their familiar banter and safer ground. “We shall have to find you a wife who will be less discerning."

Relaxing, Cole grinned. “Quite right."

Aunt Livy glanced up at him. “The Hancock's dinner party is tomorrow. And we've already accepted. All three of us."

He made a face. “Why must you insist I attend all of these pointless exercises?"

"To find you a wife, of course. How else are you going to do it?"

"Perhaps I don't wish to do it yet."

"Good. It will take time to cajole some poor girl to take you."

Cole chuckled. “You are the sharpest-tongued old woman who's ever lived."

"Thank you, dear. Now, go be useful and tell the cook I wish to have lobster bisque for dinner tonight."

"No one else gets away with ordering me about, you know."

"You ought to visit more often. It's good for your humility."

Cole kissed her cheek. All the way out the door he muttered about bossy women loudly enough for her to hear. Her laughter followed him into the hall.

Alicia's brave, grief-stricken face flashed into his mind. Intrigued at how truly genuine he found Alicia Palmer, Cole anticipated their next meeting with mingled excitement and dismay. Against his better judgment, he knew that there would be a next meeting. Even if he had to arrange it.

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Alicia paraded about the sitting room adjoining her boudoir wearing a pale amber moiré.

"Oh, dearest, this one is your color. It makes the gold flecks in your eyes dance, and oh, your skin simply glows. And how slender and graceful you look. I fear I shall be quite dowdy next to you.” Elizabeth affected a pretty pout.

"Ha! The day you look dowdy is the day I sprout wings.” Or become beautiful. She turned to Hannah who wore a creamy white that complemented her fair skin. “Lovely, Hannah."

Hannah smiled shyly.

They spent the afternoon trying on dresses Elizabeth brought them while Elizabeth's maid measured both Alicia and Hannah. They enjoyed tea and scones, chatting happily while Witherspoon made the alterations. When the gowns were completed, Alicia swallowed her pride, thanked Elizabeth for the gowns, and bid her goodbye.

That evening, feeling like a princess in a green silk creation, Alicia came downstairs with Hannah, but when they came across Uncle Willard's path, her joy dimmed.

Willard eyed their gowns. “Where did you get those?"

"Elizabeth let us borrow them, Uncle."

He nodded in approval. “Where are you going?"

"The dinner party at the Hancock's, remember? We've already sent our acceptance."

"I'd forgotten. I'm sorry but I cannot attend with you. I have an appointment."

Robert miraculously arrived downstairs looking neat and clean, and even had managed to sober up enough to drive Alicia and Hannah to Elizabeth's dinner party. Male cousins could only loosely be considered an appropriate escort for young ladies, but they had no one else. And Robert had tried to take on the role of her protector whenever he was not too foxed. Uncle Willard had lost his own phaeton in a card game and the family coach had been sold. They bid good night to Uncle Willard.

The one horse that remained of the enviable horse flesh that once filled the stables pulled Robert's carriage. They rode in comfortable silence.

Robert cast a sideways glance at them. “How pretty you both look tonight."

Alicia smiled. “You look dashing, Cousin. I hope you will exercise restraint tonight. We depend on you to drive us home."

"Yes, Mother,” he mocked.

She sighed. Since Armand's death, Robert's drinking had become alarming. She feared he would kill himself with it.

They passed through the darkened countryside under a clear, starlit sky. Robert turned the carriage down the Hancock's drive. Light poured from every window of the Hancock's home. As the carriage rolled to a stop, footmen hurried to assist.

Inside, Elizabeth and her parents greeted them warmly. “The other guests are gathering in the drawing room."

Charles, Elizabeth's brother, clapped Robert on the shoulder. “Come join me at billiards?"

"Really, Charles, you ought to stay with the rest of the guests,” Elizabeth scolded.

"We'll be out later, Lizzy."

Robert followed Charles down the hall while Elizabeth and Alicia exchanged looks of disapproval. Hannah nervously smoothed her dress. Elizabeth linked her arms through theirs and drew them both into the drawing room. The guests had divided into smaller, similar age groups. Catherine, in all her glory, sat next to her friend Marie, holding court with the young Mr. de Champs and the dark-eyed Captain Hawthorne.

"Sorry,” Elizabeth whispered. “Mother insisted we invite the Sinclairs."

Catherine waved to her, a false smile pasted upon her face. “Alicia, Hannah, come join us.” She perused Alicia's gown, but her composure seldom revealed any emotion except contempt.

Hannah looked frightened. Poor Hannah. She always became dreadfully shy in the company of others. She would be terrified in London, if she made it there. Alicia drew her sister with her and glided over to them with all of the grace of a queen.

The gentlemen quickly jumped to their feet and made room for them, Mr. de Champs fetching a nearby chair. Next to the raven-haired beauty of Catherine, Alicia felt plain and drab, but at least she was impeccably dressed, thanks to Elizabeth.

Alicia greeted each in turn. Catherine's friend, Marie, smiled kindly. Alicia often suspected that Catherine had befriended Marie because of the girl's plainness; next to her, Catherine's beauty shone. Or perhaps Catherine liked Marie because she did not view her as a threat. But Alicia clearly posed no threat, either. Catherine, the beautiful daughter of a wealthy baron, was clearly Alicia's superior in many ways. So why did Catherine dislike her so much?

"Marie is telling us her system of finding the perfect husband.” Catherine wore a sly smile.

Marie beamed, basking in the center of attention for a change instead of simply shadowing Catherine, unaware that her friend mocked her. “Yes. I have written down my desired qualities in a husband. Then when I speak with a gentleman, I find out as much as I can about him. I have a code that I use based on what I learn of him and how many of his qualities meet those on my list."

The gentlemen present seemed undecided whether or not they approved of this so-called system.

Feeling the need to rescue the poor girl, Alicia turned to Marie. “What are these desirable qualities, Marie?"

"He must be a learned man and appreciate poetry, and art."

"Are these of interest to you?” Alicia asked.

Marie smiled hesitantly. “Yes. I'm not beautiful, nor am I a great conversationalist, so I have little to offer most men. Perhaps if we share the same interests...” She shrugged.

"Nonsense, you are a delightful conversationalist and you are quite comely,” Mr. de Champs protested gallantly. Alicia's opinion of the young man rose even higher.

Marie giggled. “You are kind, sir, but I know what I say is true. However, I can discuss these interests and I want someone who appreciates them as I do."

"Isn't she clever?” Catherine interjected, purposely drawing attention back to herself.

Catherine glanced at something behind Alicia, as if contemplating her next move in a game she played, but Alicia resisted the urge to see what had drawn her attention.

The raven-haired beauty lifted her chin. “I shall marry for love, of course, but my family honor is a consideration. Our interests need not be similar. In fact, I would encourage my husband to pursue his own hobbies and pleasures. And unlike some, I will not marry simply for title or great riches. I only wish to be kept comfortable."

Alicia had no doubt that Catherine's definition of comfortable living would require much more than many other people's definition of wealth.

Catherine affected a demure posture. “I would consider any gentleman of good breeding.” She smiled, falsely sweet. “What about you, Alicia? If you had a choice, what kind of husband would you choose?"

As all of Catherine's words sank in, Alicia stared, wondering if her uncle's intentions were common knowledge. Likely.

Alicia realized joining a group that included Catherine had been a grave mistake. Her pride would have been better spared if she had simply declined their invitation. Yet to move to another group now would only confirm Catherine's veiled insinuations.

Alicia moistened her lips. “I would choose a gentleman who is honest and kind. One who values the opinions and feelings of others. And who is mild-tempered."

Catherine appeared too satisfied, as again, her eyes moved upward to something behind Alicia. Alicia paused, wondering if she had said too much, but the handsome Mr. de Champs’ encouraging nod gave her courage to continue. Next to her, Hannah stared at her in rapt admiration.

"What else, Lissie?” Hannah asked, her voice just above a whisper.

Alicia drew from her heart. “I have no interest in men who gamble or drink excessively. And most of all, I desire a husband who would be capable of fidelity.” She stared out of the blackened windows, forgetting the others, forgetting her discomfort. “I wish, more than anything, to marry a man I love, and who truly loves me in return."

Surprised at herself for speaking her desires so boldly, Alicia felt her face grow hot. She twisted her hands in her lap.

Hannah offered a timid smile. “Like
Maman
and Papa."

Mr. de Champs gave her his full attention, admiration clear on his face. Captain Hawthorne's thoughts could not be discerned, but then he smiled. Again, his dark eyes drew her.

Marie sighed dreamily. “Ohhh, me too."

Catherine's lips curled into a mocking smile “How ... sweet.” Insult dripped from her words as if she found Alicia a romantic fool. Catherine's glance swept over all the gentlemen. “Oh, excuse us. We are chattering away and not letting you say a word. Tell me, what qualities do you desire in your ideal lady?"

A brief, uncomfortable silence followed. That was the first tactical error Alicia had ever seen Catherine make.

Someone directly behind Alicia spoke. “I'm sure our preferences are as varied as we are, Miss Sinclair."

She knew that rich, resonant voice. With dread, Alicia turned to a broad chest in a black superfine suit with a dark blue waistcoat. Her gaze moved upward to a snow-white cravat and a diamond stick pin, then further up to his beautiful, masculine face. She fell into his glittering sapphire eyes. She caught her breath. She had almost forgotten how deadly handsome Lord Amesbury was.

Deadly being the key word.

His eyes met hers and something akin to gentleness showed in his. She stilled. Gentleness? In the eyes of a killer? She turned away, clutched by dismay.

Alicia felt the walls closing in on her. She needed to escape. Now. She did not wish to hurt Elizabeth's feelings or drag Hannah away, who appeared, despite her shyness, to be enjoying herself. But Alicia could not bear to endure a dinner party in the presence of the man who had destroyed Armand. How could she leave without causing a scene?

Hannah touched her hand, her brows raised in concern and inquiry.

Elizabeth's father, Mr. Hancock, cleared his throat. In response, the talking died down. Mr. Hancock greeted his guests and invited them to enter the dining room. As the guests began to file into the dining room according to precedence, a footman hurried in and whispered urgently into Mr. Hancock's ear.

Mr. Hancock listened, nodded, and beckoned to Alicia. “Miss Palmer. Will you come with me, please?"

Alicia turned to Hannah. “I'll join you in a moment."

Hannah looked petrified at the prospect of dining without her, but Mr. de Champs gallantly offered his arm. “If I may?"

Alicia smiled in gratitude at Mr. de Champs before following Mr. Hancock out of the room.

In the hallway, Mr. Hancock turned to her. “Robert has fallen and hit his head.” Before she uttered a word, Mr. Hancock held up a hand. “It does not appear to be serious, but we've sent for the doctor. I assume you'd wish to see him."

"Thank you, sir."

She followed him down a paneled hallway to an open door. Cigar smoke hung heavy over the billiards room. Robert lay sprawled on a sofa pressing a cloth to his forehead. Alicia sprang forward and picked up his limp hand.

"Robert?"

He opened his eye and grinned crookedly at her.

"You're foxed,” she accused.

"Good thing. Prob'ly would've ‘urt much worsh if I weren't."

She dropped his hand with a frown. “You wouldn't have fallen if you weren't."

"Ah, Lishie, you'll make shome man a perfect wife one day. You've got the nagging down jusht right."

She let out her breath. He wouldn't be needling her if he'd been truly hurt. He removed the cloth from his head, but the bleeding resumed with a vengeance. Alarmed by the sight of so much blood, Alicia grabbed his hand and pressed it and the cloth back over the wound.