Page 36 of The Earl’s Inconvenient Nemesis

“He asked my advice on novels you might enjoy. I read ‘Sense and Sensibility’ when it first came out and loved it, but thought it might be better to start you off with ‘Pride and Prejudice’ as there is so much humour in it.”

“Well, thank you. You made excellent recommendations,” Alice said.

As they left the park, Anthony and Charlie moved to riding in front of the barouche once more, and Sarah and Alice turned their conversation to Kent. Alice had not known of Sarah when they both resided there, Alice only very rarely visiting Anthony’s family home, though Sarah had seen Alice when she had been sent to her house on errands by Anthony’s mother. It seemed Alice’s reputation as the horse-mad daughter of the house had been rather notorious among the servants of the neighbouring estate.

Alice was taken back to her aunt’s house where Charlie reluctantly admitted that his ankle was beginning to pain him. He was helped down from Rosalind and joined his mother in the barouche.

“Will you come to visit me again soon?” he asked Alice hopefully. “Anthony bought me a new book I wish to show you. It is about pirates.”

“Of course,” Alice promised warmly. “I should like that very much.”

The barouche started off and she waved until it was out of view.

Anthony lingered on his horse. Their eyes met, and for a few heartbeats neither spoke. A small, private smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, the kind that seemed meant only for her.

“I am glad you came today,” he said softly.

“So am I,” Alice replied, surprised by how much she meant it.

Anthony held her gaze a moment longer before touching his hat in farewell and turning his horse. Alice watched him ride away, her heart beating just a little faster than it should.

Chapter Fourteen

Alice and Anthony returned to riding together in Hyde Park the following morning. As much as she had enjoyed Sarah’s company the previous day, Alice could not help enjoying riding Rosalind more than being in the barouche, despite it only having made her feel ever so slightly queasy.

It was not until they reached Rotten Row that Alice remembered the handsome stranger she had planned to ask Anthony about.

“There was a gentleman you spoke with briefly yesterday. He was tall and rather well-dressed. He rode a chestnut stallion. I do not believe we have been introduced before. Is he a friend of yours?”

Anthony’s expression tightened. “I spoke with several gentlemen yesterday,” he replied lightly, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

Something in the way he deliberately avoided looking at her made Alice suspect he knew exactly whom she meant but had no intention of enlightening her. Why? It would be simple enough to say if the man was married or betrothed. She considered pressing the matter but thought better of it. Experience with both Henry and Anthony had taught her that pushing them rarely yielded satisfactory results. If the man Anthony had spoken with was the gentleman he seemed, presumably she would bump into him at some function or other in the near future.

The weather began to threaten rain, so they did not ride as long as Alice would have liked. She did not mind getting wet, but neither she nor Anthony wished to face Aunt Jane’s disapproval should they return soaked through.

“Are the balls you have attended so far everything you had imagined?” Anthony asked as they reluctantly began their return to Aunt Jane’s house.

“They are fine,” Alice said. Then, worried she sounded ungrateful for all her aunt’s efforts, she added, “They are very glamorous and interesting. I have met a great many important people.”

“But you would still rather be at home with Duchess?” Anthony guessed with a knowing smile.

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “There is a lot to remember - the names, the etiquette, the steps of so many dances . . . And of course the embarrassment when one gets them wrong, as I recently discovered.”

“Yet you have received even more invitations since that incident,” Anthony said. “Everyone knows it was not your fault. And from what I have seen, you are managing very well.”

Alice blushed at the memory of their waltz. “Honestly, I think it is more luck than skill that my partners have not ended the evening with very sore toes.”

“Practice makes perfect?” he suggested.

“I agree wholeheartedly, but that is precisely the problem. I have had so little opportunity to practise. You and Henry would never deign to rehearse with my sisters and me, so we were forced to dance together. And Charlotte and Margaret always made me take the gentleman’s part.”

Anthony tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his amusement. “But you are smaller than them.”

“I pointed that out many times, but they outnumber me and got their way. Anyhow, I know most of the dances, sort of, and just sometimes, backwards . . .”

“Would you like to practise with me?” Anthony asked.

“Now?” laughed Alice, looking around the park theatrically.