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Through a haze of tobacco smoke, Alice noticed Cole whisper something inaudible in Mosley’s ear. The lieutenant grinned broadly, his eyes shining in her direction. Boyce gave Mosley a nudge of his elbow and Mosley stood up. He offered his hand to Alice.
“You look flushed, Miss Aubrey,” remarked Mosley. “How about some fresh air.”
The stifling heat of the inn smothered her. She fanned her face with hand. “I do believe a little stroll outside might clear my head. I do feel quite peculiar.”
Alice staggered to her feet, giggling at her ineptitude. Mosley caught her elbow and looped her arm under his, and she leant on his body. Outside, the cold night air struck her face and a wave of nausea accompanied her dizziness. She had no idea of the time.
“Where are we going?” She stumbled on a cobblestone.
“Careful, sweet Alice,” murmured Mosley. “This way. I’m sure the cool air will help you. I often find a walk is excellent for the health, don’t you think?” Mosley continued to prattle, an inconsequential stream of words that failed to penetrate into Alice’s befuddled head. She swung on his arm and found his tone soothing. Where were they going?
Leading her away from the inn, the lieutenant directed Alice towards a side alley. “Come I’m sure this is a short cut to the park.”
“It’s little late in the night for a walk in the park.” She looked back over her shoulder at the main street and wondered if it would be better to stay in the light.
His hand drifted up and down her back, roving about her narrow waistline and squeezing her flesh through the corset. Alice jerked back around. Was a firm hand, she noted and strong. She quite liked it being there, if only because it stopped her from losing her footing. She forgot about streetlights and parks. She had the company of a fine officer and she revelled in the attention once again. If only her head didn’t swim about so much.
Mosley put his mouth close to her ear and began to sing a ditty. “As pretty Polly Oliver Sat musing, ‘tis said, a comical fancy came into her head.”
Alice, with a keen ear, quickly picked up the melody and joined in with the lieutenant. “Nor father nor mother shall make me false prove, I’ll list for a soldier and follow my love.” Her words slurred, as did Mosley’s. The song seemed to echo many of her own thoughts and desires and as a consequence, her voice grew louder as she followed Mosley’s lead. “And Polly, restored to her womanly state, found all she had sought in a home and a mate…”
She stumbled over the cobblestones, almost falling and soaking her flimsy shoes in a dirty puddle. Seeing her wet feet, Mosley knelt down, lifted up her skirt and ran his hand over her mud-splattered ankle.
Alice stared down at him, transfixed by his roving hand underneath her raised skirt, fingertips pressing on her joint. She could not quite believe her eyes, a young officer in his smart uniform on his knee, caressing her leg. She blushed and felt giddy with excitement.
“I’m quite sure it isn’t sprained, my dear Miss Aubrey.” His voice sounded husky and low. He looked up. However, his face was cast in shadows and she could not read it.
She put her weight on the leg. She felt no discomfort. “I’m sure it is fine—”
Mosley quickly interrupted. “But, perhaps I should take you somewhere dry to check properly?”
His suggestion somehow made it past her drunken arousal and she registered it as too forward and inappropriate; a quite impossible request for her to carry out. Perhaps, the lieutenant conducted a ruse upon her. A cold rush of air blew u
p her skirts. She briefly squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus her scrambled thoughts. Suddenly, things didn’t feel quite right.
Alice shifted her foot backwards and out of his grasp. “Kind sir, I need to return home.”
“I can help you home,” said Mosley rising up. As his head came close to her, it rubbed against her thigh, ruffling her skirts. Alice’s legs wobbled, reaching out she grabbed his shoulder to steady herself. Mosley, tugging on her outstretched hand, drew her closer to his polished breast buttons.
“I do not think this is… appropriate,” hiccupped Alice, trying to push him away.
“It most certainly is not appropriate!” A voice boomed from the other side of the street.
Alice squinted under the moonlight at the figures on the other side of the street. A couple came out of the shadows into the light cast by the streetlight.
“Alice Aubrey!” exclaimed the man.
“Mr Huddlestone!” gasped Alice. Before her stood one of the most well known figures in town, Mr Huddlestone, owner of a silk weaving works to the north of the town. Somebody well known to her father as a worthy client and appreciative recipient of Henry Aubrey’s engineering skills.
Even in Alice’s drunken state, the enormity of her discovery wasn’t lost on her. Her legs almost gave out as her heart pounded in her chest. She stepped away from the inebriated officer, whom seemed oblivious to her predicament. Another figure appeared at the end of the alley.
“Dear me,” stuttered Alice, unable to find an excuse for her state nor for the lack of chaperone.
“Miss Alice?” the other man came closer. It was Grainger.
Alice had never been so relieved to see a friendly face. “Grainger, please take me home. There has been a terrible mistake.”
“No mistake,” said Mosley hoarsely. “The lady was quite happy to come walking with me.” Alice took another step away from the officer, who seemed intent on making sure she took the blame for his improprieties. How could he be so thoughtless?
