“I have noticed that they usually are.” Alice wondered why that was.
“Interesting. I had not noticed.”
She felt as if he was rather a stiff during the set and was a bit surprised that he was not as good a dancer as she supposed he would be. Technically, he was excellent, but there was something missing beyond his stiffness, and she could not put a name to it. She attempted to discover what it was as they went down to supper with her family.
“You must tell me what you like to eat,” he said as she took her seat.
She was happy that he had actually asked her rather than assume she would like what he selected. “Almost everything but the lobster patties.”
He gave her a startled look and placed a hand over his heart. “No lobster patties? What is the world coming to when people stop eating lobster patties? Hostesses will be stymied attempting to find something to replace them.” He bowed. “But your wish is my command, my lady. No lobster patties it is.”
Alice laughed and inclined her head. “Thank you, my lord.”
She turned her head and caught the glare Lord St. Albans shot at Lord Normanby. Harry said something to Lord St. Albans, and he strolled off.
“What do you think that was about?” Madeline asked.
“I have no idea.” And Alice did not care.
Harry arrived with ices in addition to with the food, and he and Madeline were soon lost in a discussion. Alice hoped she had found the person she wanted to wed in Lord Normanby. Time would tell.
His lordship did an excellent job of bringing a selection of what must have been everything but the patties. “I hope you enjoy the supper.” He lowered himself into the chair next to hers. A footman came over and poured them glasses of champagne. “I brought you a few different types of ices to taste.”
“Thank you.” The offerings he set before her included sliced chicken, ham, poached salmon, haricot vert with thinly sliced almonds, asparagus, cheeses, fruit tartlets, and a trifle. “This is excellent.”
He picked up one of the ices and tasted it. “This is wonderful. I think it is champagne.” He gave her a spoon and she took a small bite. “This is lovely. It is very refreshing.”
“Would you like to go walking with me again tomorrow?”
She would, but tomorrow was the party for her nieces and nephews, and she did not know how long it would last. “I am very sorry. We have a family event tomorrow that will probably last all afternoon.”
“Perhaps the day after?”
“Yes. I would be delighted.” Alice smiled. It was nice to have a gentleman be so solicitous instead of assuming she would like what he did.
* * *
The next day, Harry proposed to Madeline, or she proposed to him. The story Alice got from her nieces and nephews who witnessed the betrothal said both things. In any event, her sister and Harry were getting married. Alice was thrilled for them. They were perfect for each other. But again, there was only two weeks to plan the wedding. She exchanged a glance with Henrietta Fotherby, Harry’s sister. Their grandmother, the Duchess of Bristol had been so certain the two would make a match she had bought a house, leaving Alice and Henrietta to decorate parts of it.
Henrietta joined Alice and said, “It is a good thing it is almost complete.”
“Not that I think they will find a house they like better, but what will the duchess do if they do?”
Henrietta gave her head a little shake. “They will not. None of the other houses they will be shown are at all suitable.”
Alice grinned. That sounded like something the duchess would do. “Leave it to your grandmother to be so sly.”
“That is what I thought when she wrote to me.”
She was certain Madeline would love the house. It also had the benefit of not being too far from Worthington House. “I cannot wait to hear what they think about it.”
Henrietta leaned closer to Alice. “Nate thinks we’ll be caught out. If not by Madeline, then by Harry.”
At the end of the next day, that is exactly what happened. But they loved the house, and Madeline was glad not to have to do everything herself.
* * *
Lord Normanby once again arrived promptly at Worthington House for their walk. Alice tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “It is not that I do not like strolling with you, but do you not like to drive a carriage?”
