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Alice loved Fred dearly, but he was supremely unsuited to traveling. He hadn’t wanted to go to the Continent—he’d even begged their father not to send him—and Alice had sat by, holding her tongue, as her brother attempted to refuse the adventures she so desperately craved.
While Fred toured Europe, Alice had been sequestered behind closed doors with Mrs. Grissingham-Porter, the thin-lipped widow charged with the unenviable task of transforming Alice into a fine lady.
The humorless widow had quickly learned that bookish country mice do not diamonds of the first water make. Nor even of the third or fourth water, whatever that meant.
While being fitted for ridiculously frolicsome bonnets and restrictive kid gloves, Alice couldn’t help thinking that if she’d been born male it would have been she on that ship, sailing off for adventure.
The only journey her mother fervently longed for Alice to make was the short distance from the entrance of a church to the altar. It was all she spoke of—finding a titled husband for Alice so their family might raise themselves up from the mire of their origins in trade.
Another thought occurred to her.
Her parents wouldn’t be satisfied unless there was a betrothal today. But that didn’t mean a wedding must necessarily follow. If she found another way to travel to India, she could always break off an engagement.
Lord Hatherly’s father owned at least five houses. She wouldn’t feel too badly depriving him of one. It was expedient to go along with the engagement... at least for now.
“Well then, sensible Miss Alice Tombs, do we have an agreement?” He traced a line along her palm. “You go your way.” His finger stopped moving, pressing the center of her hand. “And I stay right here.”
His touch made her shiver with something halfway between fear and desire.
She’d never wanted a man to touch her before.
Never held her breath, waiting for the next playful, teasing swirl of a finger on her palm.
“We’ll have a quiet wedding in your parlor,” he announced.
“Pardon me.” She pulled her hand away and waved it in front of his face. “I haven’t said yes yet.”
“You will. I’m exactly what you need, Dimples. A title for your parents and nothing more. No demands. No expectations. A one-way ticket to adventure. Think of the lands you’ll see. The languages you’ll learn.”
“It’s quite a momentous decision to make. I already sent one suitor away today.”
“Really?” His fingers tightened around her hand again. “Who was it?”
“Lord White.”
“White?” he exploded. “That frilly fop?”
“I dispatched him with a hairpin.”
“A hairpin?”
She nodded. “He attempted to kiss me, and he received a swift jab with a hairpin for his troubles.”
Hatherly chuckled. “I wish I could have seen his reaction.”
“He was rather put out.”
When he smiled a real smile, not a mocking one, Alice noticed his lips were full on top, as well as on bottom, which would have been too pretty on another gentleman, but lent his lean, masculine features a hint of sensual softness.
“I’ve been meaning to kiss you,” Hatherly said. He eyed her coiffure. “Will I receive the same treatment?”
“I suppose... in the interests of making an educated decision...” She couldn’t very well decide to marry the gentleman without sampling his kiss. What if it were as damp and uninspiring as Lord White’s unpleasant embrace?
“It might be prudent, Miss Tombs,” he agreed, with a serious expression.
“Very well, Lord Hatherly. You may kiss me now.”
He didn’t jump right in and start pawing her, as Lord White had done.
