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“I could ask the same question. It is your debut, after all. For myself, I sought some solace from the inane chatter of the…illustrious guests next door,” Harold said, his tone leaving no doubt that he would rather have called them something else.
“Same,” Alice said. “I do not have much experience of these occasions and was finding all the attention overwhelming.”
“Then will you join me for a moment or two? There is a pair of very comfortable seats just here and an excellent view out over the gardens if we part these curtains a little,” Harold suggested.
He tugged aside the thick curtains, letting in more icy moonlight. Alice found herself smiling as she took a seat on one side of the window, Harold taking the other. A small table separated them but Alice was acutely conscious that its width was no more than two feet. The man opposite her was close enough to touch and she felt a sudden wild urge to be touched by him.
CHAPTER8
Harold sat on the edge of his seat. He tried to exude an air of casualness but feared that it was not being communicated. He felt tense in her presence, acutely aware of his body and every movement. She sat gracefully, turning slightly to face him. Outlined by the white moonlight, she seemed as fragile and delicate as those beams of light that caressed her features.
This is hardly the first woman you have ever been alone with. If her skin seems impossibly pale and smooth in the moonlight, it is because it is impossibly so. In the unforgiving light of day, her blemishes would be all too clear. I should have left this house an hour ago.
But his reasons for staying were now encapsulated in the feminine form not two feet away from him. A light, floral scent reached him. A perfume that was as delicate as she appeared, impossible to ignore but not overwhelming. She was sitting with one hand resting on the table between them. It felt like an invitation to close the distance between them and he leaned back, crossing his legs, and trying to appear confident and insouciant.
“I should probably not be wandering the house alone. My sister wanted to escort me,” Alice said in the rushed tone of someone feeling the need to make conversation.
She had spoken just before Harold was about to offer up his own inanity to fill the silence. Not that he felt any particular need to make conversation. He would have been happy just staring at her. But such things were not done.
“Indeed. That would be customary. Well, you are not alone now. I will be your escort.”
“But you are a stranger to me, Harold. For all of me, you may well be the rogue that Ruth warned me about,” Alice laughed.
“Rogue? You have invited a rogue to your debut?” Harold replied, amused at the idea.
“Not I. I do not know a knight from a knave. Apparently, this rogue is invited because of his rank but rarely accepts. I should be honored, I suppose.”
“A man of high rank but a scoundrel? I will keep an eye out for him, you may be assured,” Harold said.
A suspicion was beginning to form in his mind of whom she may be speaking.
Is it me? Why would this sister of hers label me a rogue? I would certainly fit the bill of the high-ranking gentleman who is invited but does not accept. I believe that is my reputation.
“As will I. He sounds far more interesting than any of the young men to whom I have been introduced so far this evening.”
“Ah, so you seek a rogue? A yearning for adventure perhaps.”
“Yes! Oh, yes. I know you say that in jest but it is not a matter of jest to me. Joking aside, there is much I would do before my primary responsibility becomes being a wife and mother.”
Harold found her simple enthusiasm endearing. It was unusual, in his experience, for someone who was part of society to seek to escape it. Most reveled in their place within the ton, taking pleasure in adhering to the rules and conventions, rising through its ranks whenever possible. Such thoughts were an anathema to him.
“Have you much experience of adventure?” he asked.
“Only the tame kind that every child experiences. Days spent wandering through the woods, playing at make-believe. But I would love to travel some. See Paris and Rome or perhaps Cairo, even?”
“Cairo? Now, there is a city. Older than Rome and ten times as interesting,” Harold said. “A maze of traders, spies, thieves, and adventurers. A place to be experienced at least once in life.”
Alice leaned closer, eyes wide, and smile bright. Harold found himself leaning towards her in return.
“Oh do tell me more. It sounds wonderful. Have you been there?”
“Yes, and other places. I traveled for a time after…being excluded from school. Always one step ahead of the men my father paid to drag me back to England. Tied up in a chest if need be.”
Alice giggled. “Oh my. Expelled from school and chased across continents. What a life you must have lived.”
Harold was intoxicated by her breathless tone and wide eyes. He wanted to lean closer, to kiss her full lips, taste her. His heart was racing but he forced himself to sit back, to re-establish the distance between them.
I have not spoken of that time with anyone. Even Max does not know of those reckless, wandering days. And now I bear my most shameful secrets to a woman who is practically a stranger.
