Page 10 of The Earl’s Inconvenient Nemesis

“My aunt is doing a very good job of that, thank you.”

Alice tensed as Anthony lifted his hand and gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She batted him away. “My hair is fine,” she snapped.

“Are you nervous?” Anthony asked.

“Not at all,” Alice replied.

“Glad to hear it. So, what exactly is your plan to snare a husband?”

“I do not have a plan.”

Anthony laughed. “You forget how well I know you. It is not possible that you would leave your family home to come to London, which I happen to know you hate, to find yourself a husband without having a plan in place.”

Alice was silent.

“I am right, you do have a plan!” he said, triumphantly.

“Shush!” Alice said, anxiously checking around them in case anyone had overheard. “Fine, I do.” She sighed resignedly before continuing, “I have got a list…”

“... of eligible bachelors?” asked Anthony, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Yes,” Alice admitted, feeling increasingly foolish as her cheeks began working their way from pale pink to bright red.

“And you plan to work your way through this list?”

“I plan to use my list as a basis to find a husband.”

“Very practical. Has anyone been crossed off yet?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.”

“Are you going to share who?”

“That is none of your business.”

“Well, as your brother cannot be here…”

“I do not require help from you or Henry. I am more than capable of finding a husband by myself.”

“I have no doubt.”

Her aunt appeared at the edge of the crowd and gave her an encouraging nod. Alice straightened her shoulders.

“In fact, I believe it is time for me to get back to it.”

She handed him his now empty glass and marched as confidently as she could into the fray.

Anthony watched her go, his jaw rigid.

For the next hour, Alice danced with one eligible gentleman after another from her list. Sir Harold Weatherby, a pleasant baronet with a comfortable estate, proved an adequate partner, though his conversation centred almost entirely on his hounds. Lord Charles Hadley was handsome and witty, yet his wandering eyes made her skin crawl. Each time she returned to the edge of the floor, she felt Anthony’s gaze upon her - steady, intense, and unsettling.

During the supper break, Aunt Jane found her. “You are doing splendidly, my dear. Sir Harold seems quite taken.”

Alice managed a smile, but her stomach fluttered with nerves. She was painfully aware of how countrified she appeared beside the polished London debutantes. Her conversation felt stilted, her steps hesitant. How was she ever to attract a husband who could save her family when she felt so utterly out of place?

Anthony stood with a group of gentlemen, yet his attention remained fixed on Alice. He watched her dance with what seemed like every male under forty in the Ton, his grip tight on his drink.

He eyed Alice critically, trying to imagine the impression he would have if this was his first time seeing her. There was no doubt that she was very pretty, but it was the kind of pretty that crept up on you, it might not strike you immediately when she entered a room. She did not have the poise or the height to stand out from the crowd as a beauty.