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Chapter 4
“Is Lady Nightingale enjoying the country?”
“I hear she’s come to find a husband.”
“Has she mentioned me to you?”
“As beautiful as she was the other night in her green dress, I’ll bet she looks even better with it off.”
Alice sat, nearly stunned into silence. The barrage of questions wouldn’t stop. Her glasses slipped slightly, and she shoved them back up her nose.
“Does she prefer a charmer? Or more of the strong, silent type?”
“Is she as wealthy as they say?”
“I heard she owns more land than even Lord Sempill.” With that, the speaker elbowed the very man of whom he spoke.
Alice had not seen Lord Sempill among the other men; truth was, she had barely managed to do more than walk in, shake hands with them all, and find herself a seat. Her head was swimming with all she was feeling and hearing.
It was rather a miracle no one else could hear her heart racing in her chest. It was so loud, Alice could barely hear over it herself. With everythrump,a new wave of panic seemed to course through her. Everything inside her screamed to run, to disappear, to do anything besides stay where she was. Her legs itched to cross at the ankle as had been drummed into her since childhood. Her hands ached to fold demurely into her lap. Her neck felt red hot where the tips of her short hair brushed against her skin.
Instead, she kept her legs firmly planted on the floor, her hands on either armrest of her chair, her neck straight. People see what they want to see. Mrs. Clarke’s teachings played over and over in her head—Alice’s single thread of hope and one she clung to with all the vivacity she could muster.
She was a man here—her own Mr. Allen. If she sold it, those around her would believe it. It was clear from the way the game of hazard continued even while the gentlemen pelted her with questions that they were already believing her charade.
Now, it was time she tested her well-rehearsed voice.
This would be the hardest thing to sell. It had been far easier to don a jacket and cut her hair than it was to alter the way she sounded. But she very well couldn’t learn which man was worthy of her trust—and of a position of high influence in her son’s life—if she never said anything.
Alice adjusted her glasses, trying to picture how her father and Lord Hoskins used to act and mimicking those memories. “I believe she is mistress of several estates, each of extensive grounds.”
They all stared at her for a moment.
Was that it? Had they caught her in the ruse?
She’d practiced her voice for hours, and she’d thought she’d spoken well.
But if she hadn’t...
What would these men do? Throw her out? Publicly humiliate her? Suppose this had been as foolish an endeavor as Mrs. Clarke warned? What if she’d just sentenced herself, and worse, her son, to a life of ridicule and scorn?
Lord Sempill reached across the table and shoved a gentleman who’d introduced himself as Lord Robins. “You hear that?Severalestates.”
Lord Robins chuckled, his eyebrows wagging. “And each ofextensivegrounds.”
Alice drew in a deep breath but tried to hide it all the same. That was the first major obstacle cleared. As of yet, no one seemed suspicious.
Lord Sempill picked up the dice, still speaking to Lord Robins. “Too bad you have so little to recommend yourself.” The men laughed, and Lord Sempill threw the dice.
Alice felt herself relax slightly. The men’s focus was momentarily on the game, granting her a space of time to look about and get her bearings once more. Everything about this room felt foreign, from the heavy smoke in the air and the strong, biting smell of alcohol, to the boisterous, deep laughter and frequent coarse language. Strange and uncomfortable though this place was, now that Alice had a moment to breathe and settle her nerves, she found a whole new emotion surging like a rapidly rising tide toward the surface.
She was elated.
The thrill of acting, the allure of being somewhere she ought never step foot...it was nearly intoxicating.
She could do this. She could move throughout the room, learn what she’d come to learn, and leave with her name still in good standing. Alice shut her eyes momentarily, squeezing the armrest beneath her gloved hands. Mr. Clarke had warned her that she might begin to feel this way. He’d admonished her to not allow herself to get carried away. She was to remain calm and in character.
She was here to listen, not necessarily to talk.
