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“That is my sister, Ruth. She has finally caught up. I must reassure her that I am safe.”
Harold reluctantly agreed.
“Will I see you at the ball tonight?” Alice asked.
“I will be there,” Harold assured her.
“It would be best if we were not seen together, I think,” Alice said.
Harold arched an eyebrow. “I must agree. Though if your brother decides to confront me again, I cannot speak for my actions.”
“Simon means well. He is not a bad man. Just a bit…wrongheaded. I would ask that you do not follow his example?” Alice asked plaintively.
She looked Harold in the eye and he looked away, chagrined.
“It does not sit well to accept such insults and do nothing.”
“I am asking it of you. Please.”
Harold looked back. “I am not as headstrong as he. Though I was not always as I am now. For your sake and the sake of the man I wish to be, instead of the man I once was, I will ensure that I…do not react if confronted.”
“And for my part, I will do my best to ensure there is no confrontation,” Alice said.
Once again Ruth’s voice reached into their sylvan sanctuary, but closer this time.
“Even if I am not permitted to publicly speak to you, I would like the opportunity to meet with you privately, during the course of the evening.”
“I would like that too. How shall we arrange it? Simon and Ruth will be watching me like a hawk.”
“I will think of something,” Harold replied.
Even if I have to march up to Simon Hathway and thrash some sense into him! No, that is not the man I am. I am a Duke.
The sound of crashing vegetation announced at least one rider entering the woods. Harold seized Alice about the waist and lifted her. He kissed her one last time before passing her across to her horse, which she sat sidesaddle, smoothing out her skirts. Harold motioned his horse to walk away from the approaching sounds.
I am a fool. I am choosing a life of difficulty and irritation all for the sake of a pretty face.
But, Harold knew that there was more to his growing feelings for Alice. He was telling himself that this was a fling, a matter of lust for a beautiful and alluring woman. But, her spirit of adventure attracted him far more strongly than her face or her body. It drew him like a moth to a flame.
Before the woods divided them, he took one last look over his shoulder. Alice was looking back. Their eyes met and Alice smiled. Then the thick foliage obscured her, leaving the image of that smile burned into his mind. Within a few minutes, his horse had left the woodland behind and he spurred it to a trot, putting some distance between himself and Alice for any observers.
He took a circuitous route through the park, distancing himself from any hue and cry that might have arisen as a result of Alice’s mad dash. Eventually, he made his way to the Shilling Club, handed the reins of his horse to a groom, and proceeded inside. In the Second Floor reading room, he caught sight of Max smoking a cigar and nursing a brandy. He waved the cigar in Harold’s direction.
Harold felt confident in the halls of the Shilling. A gentleman’s club was a place of rules and traditions. Behavior was strictly regulated and codified. In his youth he would have chosen a dockside tavern over a club, a cavalry trooper's mess over those of the officers. As a Duke, he welcomed the controls. It made it easier for him to regulate the impulses of his own nature, long held in check by his respect for his title.
Max, as a foreigner, though a titled one, had no such respect. He was loud and brash. Another man sat opposite him that Harold didn’t recognize. He was young, with a round smooth-cheeked face and a beard along the line of his jaw. His hair was fair and his eyes green. Another young man with the dark hair and olive skin of the Mediterranean sat close beside him.
“Have you met Rafe Middlesham, son of the Viscount Stanley?” Max said around his cigar.
“I have not had the pleasure,” Harold said, taking a seat and offering a hand to the young lord.
“My friend, Angelo Marini,” Rafe said.
The olive-skinned young man inclined his head.
“You were just the subject of our conversation, Redwood,” Max said.
“Was I, indeed?” Harold said.
