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They arrived at Middleton Street as the rain reached a new intensity. The house butler had the door open for them to dash into but Alice found the ferocity of the rain fascinating. She resisted the pull of Harold’s hand as she put out her arms, hands palm up, to experience the impacts of the fat raindrops on her skin. As she turned a slow circle, oblivious to the curious looks of the driver and the servants, she felt Harold’s hands about her waist. He spun her around and held her with one hand at the small of her back.
“Shall we?” he said with a smile.
Then he led her across the pavement, up and down in front of the house, in the steps of a waltz. Alice could almost hear the music as they danced. The water fell around them and exploded from the surface of the gathering puddles. It seemed to all be happening in accompaniment of their movements. Their path took them to the foot of the steps leading up to the front door where the butler stood, looking increasingly anxious.
“Please, Your Grace, this is most unseemly!” he cried.
Harold came to a halt, still holding Alice in pose. “Harris, it is not your place to comment on my behavior. Merely to carry out my instructions. I would ask you to keep your opinions to yourself.”
Harris was a middle-aged man with a creased face and a mouth that turned down at the corners. He seemed morose as part of his natural expression and now glowered at the two of them.
We probably embarrass him. No doubt he cannot hold his head high among other domestic servants because his master is so eccentric. Poor man.
Harold swept his hair back from his face with a shake of his head, spraying water. He laughed and offered his arm to Alice. As though they stood in a ballroom, she took it and they gracefully walked up the steps, clothes drenched and sticking to their bodies. Harris stepped aside and then slammed the door shut.
“Will Your Grace be changing out of those wet clothes before sitting on any of the furniture? Water causes such damage to…” Harris began.
Harold held up a hand. “As I have said. I do not pay you to express your opinion. Merely to obey. I employed you because of your previous engagement in the regiment in which we both served. Do not presume on that camaraderie too much.”
His tone was harsh, the previous lightness of spirit falling away. Alice noticed a barely concealed smirk on the part of a groom standing to attention behind Harold. Harris did not miss it and he grimaced as he swept a deep bow to his employer.
“Of course, Your Grace. I humbly apologize.”
“The man is quite right, Harold. We should change immediately,” Alice said, trying to soothe Harold’s temper.
They went upstairs to Harold’s private floor. He had reluctantly assigned her the only other bedroom on that floor apart from his own. It occupied one side of the house, Harold’s room the other, with the Observatory room in between. Harold had protested because the room had been shut off for years. Indeed, Alice had found a great deal of must and dust, with furniture and various other mysterious odds and ends, covered in dust sheets.
She had found the room enticing though and had insisted she be allowed to use it.
“It reminds me of the potting shed at Lindley. The groundskeeper, Mellor, kept a brick potting shed in one corner of the rose garden. I used to visit him to be taught about flowers and plants. A very dear man. And this collection of dusty old bric-a-brac reminds me of the shed that he used as his…what is the word…headquarters.”
After being left alone in the room, Alice had peeled off her sodden dress and draped it over a dust-draped, pianoforte. The fireplace was cold but she found some shredded paper used as packing material, and flint and tinder left in a wooden box next to an old lamp. Soon, she was warming herself, naked, before the fire. A sound at the door disturbed her. She covered herself, pulling a dust sheet from a stack of dining chairs in one corner of the room and draping it about herself.
It sounded like there was someone just on the other side of the door.
“Harold?” she called out.
No answer.
CHAPTER34
Padding across the naked floorboards that were cold against her bare feet, Alice reached the door and put her ear to it. There was definitely the sound of soft footfalls. Then the creak of a stair that she recognized, having produced the same sound herself when she had ascended the staircase.
It surely is not Harold. Why would he come to the door and then sneak away?
Alice opened the door a crack and put her eye to it. A sliver of the hallway was visible including a suit of armor just outside the door to her room. The empty suit seemed to glare at her from the shadows. Opening the door wider she put her head and shoulders through the opening. A circle of moonlight waxed and waned at the head of the staircase, as clouds obscured and then revealed the moon. Its light didn’t reach as far as either end of the hallway, leaving those areas in shadow.
Perhaps one of the servants thought to place something in this room, forgetting that it is currently occupied. The household has certainly used it for storage. Then remembering that the Duke has a guest at the last moment.
The only other possibility was that someone in the household had been attempting to spy on her. That thought chilled her, given that they must have realized she would be changing out of her soaked clothes. Whoever it was, there was no sign of them now. She held down an overpowering urge to go to Harold’s room, to seek comfort in his arms.
I cannot. If I go to him, will either one of us be able to hold back our desire? It will be too much.
But what harm would it do? She was certain that Harold would not suffer if it became known. Men seldom suffered in scandals of that nature.
And what harm would come to me? If I was regarded by everyone in England as a scarlet woman, as long as Harold was by my side, what difference would it make to me?
The simple answer was none. She would not care if she were a social pariah. All she wanted was Harold.
