Page 16 of The Earl’s Inconvenient Nemesis

Alice turned the novel over in her hands. Her reading tended to focus on books about animal husbandry, and she would usually far rather be outside than inside with a book, unlike her sisters who both seemed addicted to the gothic novels which seemed so popular at the moment.

“Oh, how lovely, I have heard good things about Miss Austen’s writing,” said Aunt Jane. “I am sure it will be an excellent distraction for you.”

Later that evening, after supper and a few hands of cards with her aunt, Alice was making her way upstairs with her new book when she heard a knock on the front door. She froze on the staircase. It would not be a guest so late in the evening, but surely Anthony could not be back. She would not have expected him to crawl in until the early hours of the morning judging by the tales she had overheard her brother and their friends recounting when they had not realised she was around.

The door was opened by the butler and Anthony walked into the entrance hall. He was not smartly dressed enough for an evening out, and he was certainly managing to walk in a straight line.

“Good evening, Miss Fairfax,” he said, giving a bow. Again, no wobble there.

She gave a slightly awkward curtsy as best as she could on the stairs.

His gaze travelled slowly over her new gown and elegant hairstyle. For once, he seemed almost at a loss for words. “You look… exceptionally well this evening,” he eventually said.

“Thank you,” Alice managed.

He coughed. “I trust you have had a good day,” Anthony continued.

“I have indeed,” she croaked before clearing her throat and saying, “I apologise for my abrupt departure earlier today. My head…” She trailed off.

“I do hope you are completely recovered now.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“As you appear to be retiring for the night, l will bid you good night, and shall see you in the morning,” he said, bowing again and turning to go into the drawing room.

“Thank you for the book,” Alice blurted out, waving it in the air above her head as if he might not be sure what book she was referring to.

The corner of Anthony’s mouth definitely twitched. “It is my pleasure. I hope you enjoy it,” he said before continuing on his way.

Alice hurried to her room, her heart pounding. What was going on with her? This was Anthony! Anthony who had been known to jump out of obscure hiding places purely for the delight of hearing her scream. He was horrible. She could barely stand to be in his presence. She could not possibly be finding him attractive, could she? But what other reason could there be for the ridiculous way she was behaving. She dropped the book on her dressing table bad-temperedly and went to bed, hoping her actions the next day would be more rational.

Chapter Seven

Over the course of the next week, Alice discovered that sharing a house with Lord Tonbridge was every bit as difficult and irritating as she had feared. It was also, to her growing dismay, increasingly confusing, and, as much as she longed to ride Rosalind again along Rotten Row, she had not summoned the courage to suggest another outing.

For a man who was supposed to be a wild and notorious rake, Anthony spent an inordinate amount of time hanging around her aunt’s house like a particularly persistent bad smell, calling Alice silly nicknames and generally tormenting her. There had been more than one occasion when she had been forced to stomp off out of a room to get away from him to the sound of his laughter echoing behind her.

At social events he played the overprotective older brother to perfection - perhaps too well. Alice could feel the weight of his gaze whenever she conversed with any gentleman. He would appear at her side within moments, hovering close and interrogating potential suitors about their estates, incomes, and habits until the poor men made hasty excuses and retreated. Thankfully, no gentleman had yet stood out as a serious prospect, even when she managed more than thirty seconds of conversation before Anthony’s interference.

One evening after supper, Aunt Jane departed for her monthly bridge party, leaving strict instructions that a footman remain on duty in the hall for propriety's sake.

Anthony had mentioned he had business correspondence to attend to. Left to her own devices, Alice wandered the house restlessly. London still felt stifling and unnatural compared to the open fields and stables of Fairfax Hall. Her gaze fell upon the copy of ‘Pride and Prejudice’ Anthony had given her, still lying discarded on her dressing table. She found herself picking it up and taking it downstairs.

Assuming Anthony would work in the library as he had before, Alice curled up in a large armchair in the drawing room near the fire. Duchess soon joined her, leaping onto her lap with a contented sigh and kneading her paws into Alice’s skirts. The crackle of the flames and the cat’s warm, purring weight created a rare moment of peace. For a blissful instant, Alice could almost imagine herself back at home.

But home was never this quiet. Charlotte and Margaret would be chattering or playfully bickering on the sofa, and Henry would likely be frowning over ledgers in the study. A sharp wave of homesickness washed over her. Alone in the room, she allowed herself the luxury of a single tear slipping down her cheek and landing on Duchess’ fur.

“So, how is your grand plan to save your family from ruin coming along?”

Alice looked up sharply and made no attempt to hide the scowl on her face at Anthony interrupting her evening. She blinked rapidly to get rid of any evidence of her little wobble.

“Come to think of it,” said Anthony, stepping further into the room, “your predicament sounds like a storyline from a novel with you cast in the role of the plucky young heroine.” When he did not receive a response, he continued, “Is your book entertaining?” His raised eyebrows indicated he had spotted it was the one he had gifted her.

“I do not know yet,” Alice replied shortly.

“How much have you read?”

“Lord Tonbridge,” said Alice, closing the book firmly and placing it on her lap. “I am attempting to enjoy my evening in peace. As much as you appear to delight in the sound of your voice, I would much rather silence.”