Page 34 of The Earl’s Inconvenient Nemesis

“I am not convinced,” Anthony responded with a smile.

“It really did,” said Alice. She sighed. “I feel like I am putting on an act for so much of my life here, but I can be myself when I am with the horses. I know that sounds silly…”

“It does not sound silly at all,” Anthony reassured her. “I often feel the same way.”

Alice’s eyes widened, “You do?” she said. “I find that a little hard to imagine.”

Anthony shrugged. “It is true,” he said, lightly. “But no one bats an eyelid if I come out here and spend some time with my horses. Though I suppose some eyebrows might be raised if I started cleaning out their stalls myself.” He looked pleased to see that his comment managed to raise the corners of Alice’s mouth slightly.

They swiftly fell again though as she said, “Just imagine if someone saw me here.” She put her head in her hands, despairing of herself.

“No one has seen you other than my staff, and you are in disguise. I doubt even I would recognise you if I had not known it was you.”

Alice laughed. “I do look peculiar,” she said. “Though I must say it is easier to use a spade while wearing breeches.”

“I am sure it is,” said Anthony.

“I wish I were the same as other women,” Alice declared.

“You look the same as other women to me,” said Anthony. “Well, when you are not dressed quite as you are now.”

Alice elbowed him in the side making him jokingly wince. “You know what I mean!” she said,

“I am really not sure I do. And, anyway, what is wrong with being a little bit different?”

“When you are searching for a husband during the London Season it appears there is rather a lot wrong with being different,” Alice said. “Everyone else is so poised and sophisticated and they speak French . . .”

“You learned French! I remember your French teacher marching down your carriageway in despair over your pronunciation.”

He was rewarded with the tiniest of smiles.

“They speak French fluently and . . . they know how to behave.”

“You behave perfectly well!” exclaimed Anthony. “You had one little hiccup last night which everyone knows was not your fault.”

Alice raised an eyebrow at him.

“If that is what they believe, there is very little harm in it,” said Anthony firmly. “It sounds like the man in question is a known menace on the dance floor.”

He took her hand in his, sending a tingle all the way up Alice’s arm. “Maybe you are right,” he said kindly. “Maybe you are not quite like other women. But why does that have to be a bad thing? Would it not be rather dull if we were all the same and liked the same things?”

“I suppose it would,” admitted Alice.

“You have many very fine qualities,” Anthony continued. “Of what consequence is it if one of them is not the ability to speak perfect French? That does not make any difference whatsoever to a man in love.”

The air seemed thick and Alice felt herself becoming warm as their eyes locked together.

“Thank you,” she managed to murmur. “Perhaps I should get changed now so we can drive back to Aunt Jane’s house.”

“Indeed,” said Anthony, giving his head a little shake. “Let me lead the way.”

Alice was soon clean and in her own clothes. She joined Anthony in his drawing room where he was standing staring out of the window at the street outside with his hands clasped behind his back. There were men working on repainting the front of the house, the sounds of them calling to one another carried into the room. He turned to greet her as she entered the room.

“The . . . outfit is upstairs in the bedroom I used. May I leave it here? It is just a little difficult to hide at Aunt Jane’s house… My maid, Beth, has already found where I was storing it…”

Anthony raised his eyebrows.

“I thought I had done a good job hiding it! But I clearly had not. She will not say anything. And she offered to bring the parcel downstairs to the carriage for me so I would not be caught with it, which was kind of her. But I would really rather not have to get her to do so again. And cleaning it could be a problem . . .” Alice stopped to take a breath.