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“No, certainly not.” Squaring her shoulders, Alice stepped out into the winter evening. A drifting snowflake landed on her nose. She could do this. It was just dinner and maybe a game or two of cards.
From further in the house, Ponto’s happy bark reached her. Alice glanced back only briefly before turning and walking resolutely toward the waiting carriage. It was up to her to see that Joseph had a new father. After all, Ponto was most decidedlynotdoing his job of filling the need for her son.
* * *
Alice arrived at Cresthearth Manor without incident and was shown into the parlor. She still carried the books all wrapped and tied with a bit of twine. The room was quite comfortable; a large fire blazed in the hearth, two rather large settees faced one another in the center of the room, and smiles and cheerful conversation seemed to fill the space.
The conversation tapered off, however, as Alice moved further into the room. Every eye seemed to be on her. Alice’s heart began to race. Did the gentlemen recognize Mr. Allen in her? Did they see now what they’d missed before?
Lord Robins strode over to her. “Lady Nightingale, how lovely you look this evening.”
Alice smiled and tried to clamp down on her nerves. They were only staring because she was still very new to the neighborhood. Not because they knew; her secret was still safe.
She drew in a breath and willed her shoulders to ease. “You are too kind. Allow me to thank you for the invitation.”
He extended his arm for her to take, but as she did, she felt a familiar tingle course down her spine. Alice looked around Lord Robins and at the many other guests in the room. Her gaze found Lord Brooks almost immediately. He stood with an elbow resting atop the mantel. As she had anticipated, he was not smiling.
“May I introduce you to the others?”
Alice pulled her gaze and her mind back to the gentleman before her. She nodded her consent, and together they moved through the room. Mr. Turner and his daughter, Lydia, were already known to her. But Alice was most pleased to make the acquaintance of Mr. and Mrs. Dowding and their two daughters, Miss Dowding and Miss Cecilia Dowding. Both young women seemed quite sweet. Miss Dowding was in pale blue and spoke of the unfortunate cold weather. Miss Cecilia Dowding wore soft pink and commented that she didn’t mind the winter so terribly, so long as it snowed often enough to blanket everything in white.
After leaving them, Lord Robins crossed in front of the fire to lead Alice to greet Mrs. Fudge. In so doing, he brought them close to Lord Brooks, who still leaned against the hearth.
“Good evening, my lord,” Alice said with a small incline of her head. She had looked through a few of her father’s things only that evening but had yet to learn why Lord Brooks held her in such ill favor.
“Good evening,” he replied, his tone cold, especially when compared to the warmth of the fire beside him.
With no more than that, Lord Robins began to lead her past him and toward the elderly woman whom Alice had yet to meet. Just as she was about to move past Lord Brooks, however, she remembered the wrapped books in her arms.
“Oh, begging your pardon,” she said, tugging on Lord Robins’s arm for him to stop. She turned once more to Lord Brooks. “I nearly forgot.” Alice extended the package toward him. “My cousin wished for me to deliver these to you, since he was unable to do so himself tonight.”
“Yes, we were all quite saddened to hear he was away tonight,” Lord Robins said.
Lord Brooks, for his part, simply accepted the package without saying anything.
Alice waited for him to respond, but he didn’t. She’d hoped he’d mutter some appreciation, or even acknowledgment. She wasn’t sure why she’d felt such a need to help him any way she could, but it was an urge she hadn’t been able to shake off.
When he still refused to say anything, or even soften his scowl her direction, Alice chose to respond to Lord Robins. “He had some business to see to. But Mr. Allen will be back in a few days.”
“Perhaps we’ll see him again at Greenbulls?” Lord Robins asked, directing his question toward his friend.
“Perhaps,” was all Lord Brooks said.
With that, Lord Robins once more directed Alice toward Mrs. Fudge, and she fell into step beside him.
“May I ask,” Alice spoke to Lord Robins in a whisper, “why Lord Brooks dislikes me so very much?”
Lord Robins slowed his pace, giving them more time to talk before reaching the elderly lady. “Do you not know?”
Alice shook her head. “No.”
“Well, I don’t know the whole of it, but I believe it has something to do with history shared between my friend and your father.”
That wasn’t helpful. “But, what of the particulars?” Surely he knew more than just that.
Lord Robins patted her hand atop his arm. “I doubt very much they are for a lady to hear. Do not trouble yourself; my friend will not bother you while I’m around.”
Alice struggled to keep her face pleasant. Not for a lady to hear? Wouldn’t bother her whilehewas around? What rot. She’d been seeing to her many estates and much land for over a year now—if that wasn’t proof she could hear of an ill-conceived business plan, then she didn’t know what was.
