Chapter Three

May 7, 1812

Alice stood by the wall for at least ten minutes before she was able to catch her breath.

Well. She had done it. And her lady's maid had told her it was impossible.

"I'm telling you, m'lady," Jane had said, using the title Alice absolutely knew she did not deserve, no matter how many times she had been told not to. "It's impossible."

"But I am determined," Alice had replied just an hour ago, holding up a pearl earbob to one ear and a diamond one to another. "And when I am determined, I always get what I want."

She had spoken without her voice quavering, which she thought was impressive. Particularly after the disaster in Hyde Park only a few days before.

"I am not going to marry you. And honestly, you are a fool for thinking that that sort of trick would work."

Alice had swallowed, forcing away the remembrance of such an embarrassing situation. She had been a complete fool to think Hyde Park was the solution. Plenty of ladies and gentlemen surely found themselves there without an accompanying chaperone, and they did not find themselves forced to marry.

No, she would have to be a great deal smarter than that.

A ball. That was the perfect place. Lots of nice dark corners, balconies, side rooms. Lots of places to find a man, kiss him senseless, then ensure they were discovered.

The only problem was, she was hardly about to receive any invitations.

"I don't see why you can't wait until you're invited, all proper," said Jane, tidying up the last curl of Alice's hair. "Then—"

"You know perfectly well that Miss Fox-Edwards is not going to be invited to any balls," Alice said with a wry look. "You know me better than that, Jane. You... you know."

Her lady's maid's gaze softened. "I know, m'lady."

Alice managed to prevent herself from correcting her servant again, and instead looked at her own reflection in the looking glass. Her maid had been with her since... since before it all happened. And she had not disappeared or found another situation, though both reactions would have been quite within her right. But Jane was far more loyal than that, and so Alice had no hesitation in sharing her plans with her.

Even if her maid did not believe it possible for her to sneak into a ball uninvited.

"You'll be found out, caught, sent out in disgrace," said Jane, her face a picture of worry. "You really think it will help your reputation if you are found in such a way?"

It most certainly would not. But it was not as though Alice had much of a choice.

A ball would be the best place to find a husband—to entrap one, as the irritatingly disobliging gentleman had put it. Alice would have corrected him if she had in all conscience been able.

In truth, she had very little time until the owners of the London townhouse she had borrowed would return. An old favor to her father, they had said. She had but three weeks. And as she was not going to be invited to any balls, particularly at this point in the Season, her only option was to wander into a private ball and hope for the best.

And this kind of ball would offer her an advantage.

"You're sure about this?" Jane asked quietly, carefully lowering the silk turban onto Alice's head.

With just a few deft movements, her blonde hair was completely obscured. Alice gave a sigh of relief, the tension she had not known she was carrying in her shoulders starting to dissipate.

That had been her greatest concern. A masked ball would do wonders for diminishing the likelihood that anyone would recognize her, but the Fox-Edwards white-blonde hair was perhaps too distinctive. Thank goodness turbans were fashionable. The light green silk of the turban completely covered her hair.

Made her anonymous.

"I am sure," Alice said, far more firmly than she felt. "I have to do this, Jane. And I will be a good wife. I offer nothing but devotion and loyalty. Any man would be fortunate to have me walking down the aisle to them on their wedding day."

She caught the bitten lip of her maid.

"And... and after? When the truth comes out?"

Alice swallowed. "I shall be late if I do not leave now."

Better to leave than to think about... after.

As it turned out, Jane had been right, after a fashion. The footmen of the Earl of Chester were checking invitations at the front of the large London townhouse which had been decorated in red ribbons and candles all along the windowsills. Alice had watched as each carriage halted, guests were carefully handed out, and invitations presented.

Invitations which had gold edging and could not be aped by a scrap of paper.

Alice sighed as she hid in the gardens of the townhouse next door. She should have thought of this, should have brought... something.

"Welcome, welcome," said one of the two footmen who were checking invitations.

A young lady curtsied low as she was entreated to walk in, clearly thrilled to be attending an earl's ball.

And that was, perhaps, why she did not notice her gilded invitation slipping through her gloved fingers.

Alice held her breath as the invitation wafted in the night's gentle breeze. The piece of paper came to rest in the middle of a yew bush, right before her.

Holding it tightly and waiting until another carriage slowed before the impressive house, Alice slipped out of the garden. She stepped around the carriage so it was unclear whether she had arrived with the two ladies who were even now showing their invitations to the footman on the left, and she approached the footman on the right.

The footman who had not already seen the invitation that was now clasped between her fingers.

"My lady," he said, bowing as he examined the invitation. "Please, welcome."

Alice almost didn't move, so expectant was she of a disaster. And yet there was no disaster.

How could there be, when she was... what did that say? Lady Letitia Cavendish?

Whoever the woman was, it did not matter. Alice raced into the building before someone could call her back and spent the next ten minutes standing at the side of the ballroom, trying to calm herself.

She had done it. She was inside the Earl of Chester's ball.

It was, according to the gossip she had read in the newspaper yesterday, the last ball of any significance of the Season. It was not going to be that well attended, as sufficient elegant names had already departed for their country estates. But there were people here. Gentlemen. And not all of them, as far as she could tell, were wed.

Tension melted from Alice's brow as her eyes flickered around the room from behind her green silk mask.

Well, now all she had to do was find a willing—

Her heart skipped a beat.

Him, she had not expected.

It was the man from Hyde Park. The man who had made it perfectly clear he had not only no interest, but a resolute determination not to marry her.

Alice swallowed. He was handsome, she had not been incorrect in her estimation. Even wearing a black silk mask with an elegant black ribbon tie, he was unmistakable. He was carrying himself with a sense of importance which suggested he was not only a gentleman, but something more. A baronet, perhaps.

Her stomach lurched. Well, it would be a perfectly suitable match for herself, the daughter of a baronet. It was a shame really she had been unable to captivate the man.

He had liked the look of her, certainly. Alice had known enough of men to know when a man wished to kiss her. For a moment, she had been almost certain the gentleman had been about to give into his baser desires and kiss her. Then she would have had him—

A look, a glance, and the whole ballroom shook.

Alice grasped at the wall as though that could prevent her from falling. As it was, the floor did not precisely move. Just her stability on it.

The look the gentleman—the man from Hyde Park—had just given her...

Well, it would floor even the calmest woman. It had been hot and interested and full of desire and eagerness.

And just as soon as his eyes had met hers, he had looked away.

What was this man? Someone who could be so cold, so aloof, so reserved—yet so aching with heat that she did not know how anyone else in the ballroom was still standing?

She raised a hand to her head to confirm her hair was sufficiently pinned, and was almost surprised to feel not hair, but soft silk. Of course. With her turban on, and her mask... why, there was a chance...

A chance he would not recognize her.

Quite what made her do it, she was not certain. Her legs definitely did not feel as though they were strong enough to carry her, yet Alice walked forward with as much sophistication as she could manage.

Right toward the man.

And he noticed. He was watching her. Alice found she was holding her breath, so desperate was her eagerness to capture his attention. She shifted her hips, ever so slightly, as she walked.

The man's eyes widened.

She was close, just a few feet away... and then she was past him.

Alice helped herself to a glass of punch as pretext for why she had wandered so close to him, but even she was surprised when she heard a man behind her clearing his throat.

Dear me, am I that good? It was something she hadn't even considered. Her panic at Mr. Shenton's demands had left her little room for rational thought or any assessment of her own qualities. Before Alice had had time to draw a proper breath, she had arrived at London, determined to marry and leave behind the blackmail of the man who should have been her support, not her struggle.

Then again, perhaps not that good. She managed to hide her disappointment as she turned around to see not the gentleman she had been aiming for, but a footman. Had she been discovered?

"I seem to have misplaced my invitation," Alice blurted out, chest tight with panic. "Oh dear, I—"

"May I introduce His Grace, the Duke of Cothrom?" said the footman with a low bow, stepping to the side to reveal—

Alice's lips curled into an unbidden smile. "You again."

It was a foolish thing to say. The gentleman from Hyde Park, the gentleman she now knew was a duke, raised a quizzical eyebrow just visible under his mask. "We have met?"

"We—no, we have not," said Alice, the footman melting away with the first part of the introduction now performed. "But I have heard of you, of course."

The compliment did not appear to be received well. "You have?"

Alice stared, transfixed, as what was visible of the Duke of Cothrom's face darkened. Did a man like him expect to be unknown in Society? Who had not heard of the Duke of Cothrom? The whole Chance family, as it happened, was well known. Alice had read conflicting reports about the exact number of brothers, but most of them seemed to be getting themselves into a pickle every week.

Her hopes rose. Here, then, was a man who was accustomed to family members getting themselves into scrapes and getting out of them again. He would not mind that—

"I suppose you must be thinking of my incorrigible brothers," the Duke of Cothrom said. "I would much rather you get to know me on... my own merit."

Alice swallowed.

Gone was the stiff, prim and proper gentleman she had accosted in the woodland of Hyde Park. It was the same man, most definitely, but here he was different. Warmer. Less concerned with propriety.

Why, he had not even asked her own name!

"My lady," said the Duke of Cothrom, presuming a title she did not have. "Would you do me the honor of joining me for this next dance?"

Alice's lips actually parted at this. What was it he had said to her, only days ago?

"I'll have you know I am far too respectable, far too respectable, I repeat, to be taken in by such a ruse!"

And now here he was, casting aside the rules of Society he had already made abundantly clear he clung to so dearly! What was going on?

"You shock me, Your Grace," said Alice quietly, buying time and hoping beyond hope he didn't see her confusion through the mask. "I... we have not been introduced. Not properly."

"I couldn't find the Master of Ceremonies," said the Duke of Cothrom with a shrug. "I thought a footman would do."

Alice glanced about them. There was no one nearby to suggest anyone was listening to their conversation, to hear the flirtatious nonchalance with which he spoke. What was this—did he have a twin?

"But... you don't even know my name," Alice pointed out, taking a step closer to murmur this rather outrageous fact to the gentleman.

Which was a mistake. Every inch she grew closer, she found herself pulled more fully into the gentleman's orbit. A tantalizingly intoxicating orbit. Did the man know how attractive he was? How she wished to lean closer, and closer, and closer—

"No, I suppose I don't know your name," said the Duke of Cothrom. "And I suppose in most scenarios, that would be most uncouth. But I admit... I admit to you, my lady, that the wearing of the masks and the anonymity... it introduces a level of... excitement."

Alice's heart pattered painfully. "Risk."

"I could not have put it better myself," murmured the duke. "I am a man who spends his life playing by Society's rules, and in the main I am happy to do so. The rules keep us safe. A game without any rules is anarchy."

"And yet here," Alice said, hardly trusting her voice to speak but knowing she must. "Here, with a single rule removed, you can do the things you always wished you could."

The Duke of Cothrom's light blue eyes flashed, and for a moment Alice thought she had gone too far.

This was a dangerous sort of game she was playing. She certainly did not know the rules, not now. How could one outplay a gentleman who seemed to adhere so closely to the rules all the time... yet gave them up now?

And why was her stomach twisting so?

"It is rather freeing," the Duke of Cothrom agreed quietly. "After tonight, I will return to the rules I have always followed and respected. Which means tonight..."

His voice trailed away, and his gaze dropped suggestively down Alice's gown.

Wild thoughts were whirling through her mind, but she managed to put them aside. All but one.

This was her chance.

"You intrigue me," she managed to whisper.

That much was true. The severe and unbending man she had met in Hyde Park had been attractive enough, but this version of him? The part of him that, by his own admission, he rarely allowed to surface?

This was a man she could maneuver.

"In that case, am I to presume you are accepting my invitation to dance?" said the Duke of Cothrom, offering a hand.

In that moment, Alice knew she could retreat. She could decide to do the smart thing and politely decline. She could return to her rented lodgings, instruct Jane to pack up her things in the morning, and they could be back in Brighton by the end of the week. And she could begin concocting another scheme to protect them.

But this was her best chance, and Alice knew it. She had not come all this way, sacrificed time with those she loved, just to shy away when she was about to achieve what she craved.

Safety. Stability. A home.

Alice took his hand and was relieved to be wearing gloves. If this was how hot the Duke of Cothrom made her through two layers of gloves, goodness only knew what he would do to her if he touched her skin again.

"I accept," she said as lightly as she could manage.

They were not alone in moving to the middle of the ballroom. The musicians had been taking a little break from their playing, but the Earl of Chester was leading what appeared to be a sister to the head of the line, and Alice recognized many of the others who formed the lines.

The Duke of Sedley, the Duke of Ashcott, Lady Margaret Dulverton, the Earl of Clarcton looking most depressed, Lord Galcrest, the Viscount Bythesea, Viscount Braedon...

In short, most of the refined Society London had to offer, certainly everyone who was still in town.

And herself.

Alice tried not to smile as she curtsied to the Duke of Cothrom as the music struck up. Well, she could not maneuver the man into a compromising position during the dance. She probably could not even increase his desire for her. After all, they would only be—

The moment she stepped forward and clasped hands with the Duke of Cothrom, Alice knew three things.

Firstly, she was greatly mistaken. Dancing with this man was certainly going to increase her attraction, and she could see that mirrored in his eyes.

Secondly, she had perhaps underestimated the forcefulness of the man's character. This was a man who could not be so easily swayed.

And thirdly, she didn't care.

The contact of his fingers against hers, even through their gloves, was thrilling. Jolts of desire, of longing, of the heated need Alice had promised herself she would never feel again, soared through her.

The ballroom spun, but she managed to keep hold of herself enough to step backward then turn, progressing through the dance as expected. To move as though her very skin was not tingling, alive in a way it had never been before.

"You dance well," said the Duke of Cothrom as they stepped together again.

Alice tried to laugh. "My dancing instructor as a child would be most glad to hear it."

"What, no compliment for me?"

This man's personality was so utterly different, she was finding it rather difficult to keep up.

"I was not aware you required one, Your Grace," Alice attempted to quip as their hands clasped once more. All she had to do was ignore the burning sensation in her palms. "But if you do require one—"

"Oh no, I cannot possibly accept one given under duress," said the Duke of Cothrom, eyes twinkling through the mask. "I would rather it were given freely."

"A request does not mean it is not given freely," Alice pointed out, losing herself in the conversation just as much as in the dance.

Goodness, it had been so long since she had flirted! Years. A lifetime ago.

"The question is, how would you like to be complimented?" Alice continued as they stepped to the side and permitted the couple to their left to move forward. "Your footwork, perhaps, or your sense of timing?"

The Duke of Cothrom met her eyes, and Alice found that she was momentarily speechless. How could such a look end all possibility of conversation?

"Perhaps," said the gentleman said, tilting his head to one side. "Perhaps I want something deeper. It could be that I crave your good opinion in a way that goes beyond a simple compliment."

Alice's breath caught in her throat.

This was too much. She had never intended for hearts to get involved in this deception. She needed a husband, not a lover. Not a man who spoke in honeyed tones that dripped across her body as though his very fingers were trailing down her collarbone to—

"You undo me," Alice whispered, unconscious of the words slipping through her lips until it was too late.

The Duke of Cothrom's eyes flashed for a moment, their sky blue transforming into a sudden dark, like the depths of the ocean. "Dear God, you make me want to—"

The dance suddenly required them to be apart, and Alice railed against the terrible timing. If she didn't know any better, the Duke of Cothrom had been about to say something—something wonderful.

Not that she should be thinking of such things, she scolded herself as she waited impatiently for the rhythm of the dance to bring them back together. No, she should be focused on one thing and one thing only.

Encouraging the man to propose. Or forcing him to.

When they finally stepped together again, Alice was most disconcerted to find her voice was breathless. Why? Had she not moved but little?

"I suppose with the masks on, we may speak more boldly," Alice said, her hands slipping into the duke's as she pressed into his side, the two of them promenading down the set. "A-And yet I find, I cannot be so open as—"

"Oh, you are a lady of impeccable breeding and family, that much can be seen even through the mask," said the Duke of Cothrom, his breath on her neck. "I should not have presumed—"

"But I want you to," Alice murmured.

Her gaze met his and she knew she had gone too far. And at the same time not far enough. Not far enough for the deception she was attempting to weave around him... not far enough for her own feelings.

Because this was a man she could grow to care for, that much was clear. A man with morals and yet a man whose passions ran deep. A man who desired her, and yet managed to resist when he knew it was improper.

A man, in short, with a conscience.

Not something that was easy to find.

"I wish I knew your name," the Duke of Cothrom murmured as they came to the end of the line and parted. "For then I could ask if I could call you by your first name."

Alice swayed slightly, though she should have been standing still in this part of the dance. Oh, this was a man far beyond what she could have expected to encounter. She had chosen him in Hyde Park because he was there, and she had then hoped to catch him when she saw him here, at the Earl of Chester's ball, to prove a point.

But what was she proving now, other than that she was entranced by him?

Noise. The dance itself was over, the other couples gently applauding the musicians.

The Duke of Cothrom stood before her, mere inches from her, his attention so intense she found she could not look away.

Not that she wished to.

"You, my lady, intrigue me," he said quietly, just under his breath though loud enough for Alice to hear. "And very few ladies manage to do such a thing."

"I... I am honored," Alice said, her voice catching in her throat.

This was all too public—if he were not careful, there would be talk—

"I like you," said the Duke of Cothrom. "You are a woman I like. And you are beautiful. And I like you."

Alice blinked.

What on earth did that mean?