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Chapter 4
Friends should possess the following qualities: They should tell the truth. They should not be changed by time. They should not reveal your secrets.
The Kama Sutra of Vatsyayana
“Please, please tell me you did not agree to marry Lord Hatherly because of a kiss,” exclaimed Alice’s dear friend Charlene, Duchess of Harland. “I thought you were more sensible than that, Alice.”
“Must have been one monumental kiss,” laughed Thea, Duchess of Osborne, her lively blue eyes dancing with mischief.
The three friends were curled up in comfortable velvet armchairs in Thea’s chambers at Osborne Court, drinking chocolate and baring their souls.
They gathered as often as possible given Charlene and Thea’s many familial and societal obligations, but this time it had been Alice who had difficulty leaving her house.
Her mother was already frantically planning the wedding. It was to be a grand pageant designed to proclaim to the world that their daughter was marrying a marquess, she would be a duchess someday, and the doors that had remained closed to the Tombs family must now miraculously swing open.
“This truly is the most delicious chocolate,” Alice said, taking a sip of the richly spiced Duchess Cocoa that Charlene and her husband created. “Has Harland changed the recipe?”
Charlene’s blue eyes narrowed. “Do not change the subject.”
“Details,” Thea said, bouncing in her chair. “We want details.”
“Well,” said Alice, “when Lord Hatherly arrived I could see that he was as displeased about the marriage as I was, perhaps even more so, and then... something changed.” What had changed? Why had he suddenly become so eager for the betrothal? She’d been so busy kissing the man she’d ceased to wonder about his sudden reversal.
“I meant details about the kiss, you ninny,” Thea said.
“Oh. It was...” Alice’s heart sped, remembering the kiss. “It was like running as fast I could across a field with the wind in my face. It made me feel reckless and... alive.”
A wrinkle appeared between Charlene’s curved brows. She shook her head, and her long, golden curls tumbled over her shoulders. “This isn’t good, Alice. Not Hatherly. Anyone save Hatherly. You can’t fall in love with an actual rake, sweetheart. He’ll never love you back. And he’s bound to break your heart.”
“Who said anything about love?” asked Alice. “We came to a mutually expedient business agreement.”
“Even worse,” Charlene muttered.
“He wants to keep Sunderland House and I need to be a respectable matron in order to journey to India as planned.”
“But what happened to Fred?” Thea asked. “Wasn’t he supposed to accompany you to India this summer?”
“Fred married a Parisian opera singer.”
“Truly?” Thea blinked. “Stolid, dependable, horseman Fred?”
“Good for Fred,” said Charlene. “Marrying for love.”
“It may be good for Fred, but it’s not good for me,” Alice replied.
Thea nodded. “I see exactly why. Fred made an imprudent match and so your mother is even more desperate for you to make a brilliant one. So you’re marrying Hatherly to please your parents. It’s very noble of you, Alice, but you shouldn’t let your parents dictate your life. You have a choice in the matter. Think carefully. You can always run away to India.”
“A young, unmarried lady, alone on a merchant ship to India, against the wishes of her parents? I’m not as bold as you, Thea. And honestly, my mother may be silly, flighty, and overpious, but I don’t wish to see her humiliated further, now that Fred has disappointed her so keenly.”
Alice didn’t care about social ranking, but to her mother it meant the fulfillment of a lifelong dream. Her mother, the small-town girl from Yorkshire, born a vicar’s daughter, was now poised to climb the highest rungs of society. Alice didn’t want to dash her mother’s dream.
“Still, you mustn’t marry Hatherly only to please your mother,” Thea scolded.
“I’m not. I’m marrying him to please myself.”
Both of her friends stared at her from blue-gray eyes gone wide with questions.
Sometimes it still astounded Alice how very alike the two half sisters looked—although once one knew them better it was impossible to mistake one for the other.
