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“You must publicly state your love for Alice and that you intend to marry her,” Angelo said.
“Her brother would never consent.”
“That does not matter. You can elope,” Rafe put in.
“Elope? What kind of woman do you think she is?” Harold snarled.
“The kind to be alone in a bedroom with an unmarried man….” Angelo began.
Harold struck with the speed of a striking snake. He grabbed Angelo by his shirt front and swung him around to thrust him against the wall. A look of shocked startlement painted the Italian’s face. Rafe actually cried out, reaching to grab for Harold’s arm but was easily shaken off. The look of surprise faded quickly from Angelo’s face to be replaced with anger as he glared back at his attacker.
“Unhand me!” he barked.
“You will mind your tongue when speaking of Alice. Do you understand?” Harold replied, not loosening his grip.
“I warn you, Redwood….” Rafe said, a waver in his voice.
There was none in Angelo’s smooth face. He might have been standing there passing the time of day, instead of being held halfway up a wall, his collar bunched up beneath his throat.
“I apologize for my language,” he said quietly. “Can we discuss this like gentlemen?”
Harold loosened a white-knuckled grip, breathing hard from between gritted teeth. In that moment, he could have killed the man. Violence was lying just beneath the surface.
And all it took to release it was an insult to a lady. I must get control.
He released Angelo, stepping back. The Italian smoothed his shirt front and straightened his cravat.
“Speak plainly and say it now, before Alice comes out of that room to make her way downstairs. What are the consequences to Alice and I if I do not publicly court her?”
“Then Rafe and I must do the dishonorable thing. We must make known the scandal of the Duke of Redwood, seducing a young woman on the night of her debut, and subsequently, Alice must be disgraced. I know that your own reputation will not suffer. The man’s never does. But hers will be irreparably damaged. As I am sure you are aware.”
“Blackmail,” Harold said flatly.
“Yes,” Angelo replied.
Rafe simply nodded silently, seeming to be ashamed by the entire conversation.
“You presume that the lady wishes to marry me.”
“I do. Having observed the two of you together, I am certain of it. But, it does not matter. If either one of you refuses, then we must expose the lady to scandal.”
They have us caught in a trap. And all because of my reckless behavior. In any other circumstances, I would laugh at the ultimatum and make public my feelings for Alice gladly. But, to do so now will provoke a confrontation with her brother. And then a choice between the dishonor of backing down from a challenge, or killing the brother of the woman I wish to marry.
“You will have your answer when I have discussed the matter with Alice,” Harold replied.
“Do not take too long. There is a great deal of pressure on me to marry her,” Rafe said. “We need action to be taken soon.”
“There is a performance of Artaxerxes at the Theater Royal, Covent Garden next week. My father has invited the Hathway’s to share our box. It would be fitting to have this matter resolved before then. The invitation will no doubt be revoked and I will not be required to attend that tiresome opera,” Rafe said.
“You are a philistine, Rafe,” Angelo chided. “But I think that is an appropriate timescale. Doubtless, the invitation is intended as an opportunity for the two young lovers to spend time together and perhaps produce a proposal. You have until then, Your Grace.”
Angelo delivered Harold’s title with a mocking tone that almost resulted in him being struck. Harold heard the bedroom door, behind which Alice waited for him to leave, being unlocked. He needed to rejoin the company downstairs so there could be no accusation of being alone with Alice.
“Very well,” he growled and shouldered past the two men, heading for the staircase.
He retraced his steps along the Gallery on the next floor down, then through the servant's door again. Alice would return in public view with Rafe and Angelo, after being given a guided tour of the Gallery, her cover story. There would be nothing to link Alice and Harold together. Even if Simon was watching both of them like a hawk. Slipping back into the main hall, Harold took up a drink and allowed the gathered throng to absorb him, as though he had stood amongst them all along.
A few minutes later, Alice descended the stairs on the arm of Rafe, and moments after that, the signal was sounded for the music and dancing to begin. Harold obediently followed the rest of the guests towards the Grand Ballroom. It was a room for which the Duke of Hastings’ house was famous, an annex attached to the main house by a corridor with windows on two sides, looking out over the gardens at the rear of the house. The ballroom itself had a domed roof, paneled in gold leaf in homage to the Pantheon of Rome. A huge, glittering chandelier hung from the apex of the dome, its light reflecting from the gold panels.
