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“Mama?” To Alice’s surprise, her mother stood in the doorway, flanked by a surly Mr. March.
“Found this female skulking about the shrubbery, I did,” March announced to Berthold “Highly suspicious behavior.”
“This is my mother, Mr. March,” Alice scolded, walking swiftly back over the bridge.
“So you say. So you say. Why was she lurking about, then? Answer me that.”
“Lurking?” Mama declared incredulously. “You impudent fellow. I knocked upon the front door.” She drew her arm from his grasp and shook out her skirts.
“It was a lurking sort of knock.” March jabbed a finger at Mama. “Who hired you, eh? Same one as hired Stubbs? I know there’s something shady going on around here. Someone what wants to harm ’Is Lordship.”
“Alice,” appealed Mama. “Please do something about your footman.”
“March must have thought you were someone else,” Alice said. “Isn’t that right, March?”
March trained his gaze on Alice. “You’re still ’ere, are you? Thought he would ’ave got rid of you by now. Like the others.”
“You’d better leave now, March,” said Alice. She’d have to speak with Nick about the footman. Truly, his incivility was becoming a nuisance.
March made his grumbling exit.
Mama shook out her skirts. “I do hope all of your new servants are not so ill-behaved.”
Alice smiled at Berthold. “Not all of them.”
“Do I hear a beautiful lady?” The duke’s head appeared again above his plants.
Alice’s mother startled. “Oh, is that you, Your Grace?”
“Yes, ’tis I, my angelic Agatha.” He hastened across the bridge, his footsteps sprightly and sure. “I knew you would come,” he declared. He caught Mama’s hand and pressed fervent kisses along her gloves.
Alice thought her mother would snatch her hand away, but she only batted her eyelashes and giggled. “Your Grace. You mustn’t.”
“Oh, but I must.”
Alice watched in disbelief as her mother and the old gallant flirted. Berthold caught her eye and grinned.
“Come with me, fair Agatha, and I will show you things you’ve only dared to dream of before now.” The duke tucked her mother’s hand into his arm.
“Mama,” Alice interrupted. “Why have you come?”
Her mother glanced from the duke back to Alice. “I came to take you shopping, Alice.”
“But you will return, won’t you, divine Agatha?” the duke asked. “Come back to see your Barrington?”
“Of course, my duke, I will return.”
“Adieu.” He waved a handkerchief he plucked from somewhere. “Adieu, fair Agatha.”
“Mother,” Alice remonstrated, tugging on her hand to pull her out of the conservatory.
Her mother giggled like a schoolgirl as they made their way outside.
“I do like the duke, Alice. If his son possesses half his charm, my goodness, you’re in trouble. You know your father never looks at me that way anymore.” She said this wistfully, glancing back at the conservatory door.
Alice realized it was true. She never saw her father speak tenderly with her mother, or pay her any compliments. It must hurt her.
Alice looked at her mother in a new way. Was she... lonely? Feeling unattractive?
