Chapter Five

May 8, 1812

It was the sunlight that woke her.

With each passing day, the sun was rising earlier and earlier. Strands of sunbeams crept around the corners of the curtains, spreading delightful gold into Alice's bedchamber.

When she glanced over, bleary eyed, at the carriage clock on the little bedside table, she saw it was only just past seven o'clock. It was not a time she typically relished being awake, but for some reason, Alice was filled with a sense of happiness, peace, and calm. It was so alien after such years of strain and struggle that she was startled by it.

Sitting up did not change the sensation. If anything, Alice only felt more comforted, more relief seeping through her.

Why on earth was she so happy?

Alice shook her head, as though dislodging an unpleasant thought. It was a sorry state of affairs indeed if that was her concern: that she was too happy.

But with the debts upon her father's name, the imminent departure from this property, the extortion from Mr. Shenton, and the expectation that she and those who depended upon her would soon be destitute, there were not numerous reasons to be cheerful.

Alice looked at her hands, folded above the blanket on her bed.

They were her hands. She knew them well. The little scar on the back of her right hand from the cat she had played with when she was small, the fingernails cut delicately, and the skin kept smooth and soft thanks to the concoctions Jane created for her.

All the same, except . . .

On the fourth finger of her left hand was something new. A ring. A signet ring, large and heavy, barely fitting on her delicate finger, with a crest upon it.

"Miss Fox-Edwards, will you marry me?"

Relief crept across Alice's face.

"I did it," she whispered into the early morning air.

Somehow, and she was still not sure how she had managed it, she had enticed a gentleman to propose matrimony to her.

And not just any old gentleman, either.

"May I introduce His Grace, the Duke of Cothrom?"

Alice drew her knees up and her ankles in as she stared at the ring on her finger. The Duke of Cothrom. Goodness. Now that was a match to which she would never have aspired... yet she had managed it.

A duke!

She sat for a little while in silence, staring at the ring, thinking of everything it represented. Food and warmth, shelter and protection. Perhaps a nice house in the country where they could hide away from Society.

She never had to worry about anything anymore. Except...

Alice swallowed. It would be too much to hope that the Duke of Cothrom would not hear any of the rumors going around about her. She was implicated only, nothing was proven, she was quick to remind herself. But from the little she already knew of the Duke of Cothrom, Alice supposed he was not generally in favor of wives with scandals whispering in their past.

Well, she would just have to overcome that when the conversation happened.

"Good morning, m'lady," murmured Jane as she quietly crept into her mistress's bedchamber.

Alice looked up, unable and unwilling to hide her delight. "Good morning, Jane."

"And a bright and blessed morning it appears to be, too," Jane said conversationally, in a normal voice now she had ascertained that her mistress was quite awake.

Alice grinned and glanced back at the heavy gold ring on her finger. "Yes, I suppose it is."

"Now, you must tell me everything about that ball of yours last night," Jane said as she started to busy herself with readying the toilette table. "I'm guessing you got in, you clever thing, for you were not back until late and much too tired to speak of anything. Did you—"

"Jane," Alice said gently, waving her left hand.

"—obviously you can't tell me everything. It's not right for a woman in my position to know all the goings on of you people, but—"

"Jane," Alice said again, waving her hand more vigorously this time, stifling a laugh.

Her maid did not even look around. "And with only a few weeks to go before we have to return to Brighton, have you considered your next—"

"Jane!" Alice said, a laugh escaping her. "Look at me, will you?"

Jane did so, hands flying to her mouth as her eyes widened. "Is that—that isn't—is it?"

Alice grinned fondly at the ring which represented not just her salvation, but Jane's, and others', too. "It is."

Jane's eyes were still wide. "You didn't."

"I most certainly did," Alice said, slipping out of bed. "I said I would, didn't I?"

Their delighted laughter probably rang out through the house—Alice didn't know, she didn't care. A weight which had been pressing on her for months was gone, the tension in her shoulders finally starting to dissipate. All the fears, the panic of what would happen to them... it was over.

She had done it.

"I'll take tea in the morning room," she said to Jane after her hair was thoroughly pinned up. "Let Cook know, will you?"

Alice descended the staircase alone, which was probably all to the good, for the hallway was not empty. Standing there amongst the umbrella stand, longcase clock, hat stand, and two paintings of Brighton was—

"Your Grace," Alice murmured as she reached the bottom step.

The Duke of Cothrom nodded curtly. "Miss Fox-Edwards."

Alice stared, heart barely beating as she took in the most unexpected appearance of the man who, just a few hours ago, had asked to marry her.

He... he hadn't changed his mind already, had he?

Instinctively, Alice brought her hands together and clutched the ring. If he asked for it back, she would have no recourse. There was no brother, no father to make the Duke of Cothrom comply with the offer he had made.

Even if it had been made in haste. Impulsively. At a ball.

Oh, Lord, was she about to lose the very thing she had only just secured?

The Duke of Cothrom bowed, and just in time, Alice recollected herself. She curtsied low, and wished to goodness she weren't so flustered.

Dukes were not supposed to just turn up at one's home, let themselves in, then wait in the hallway at—Alice glanced at the longcase clock—eight o'clock in the morning, were they?

The silence elongated as she stood there, wretchedly hoping the Duke of Cothrom wasn't about to do the unthinkable and end their engagement.

Before it even truly began, Alice thought dully. Before I had any chance to impress him, to show him how pleasant I could be as a wife.

And yet he said nothing. The Duke of Cothrom merely stood there, glancing at her, then flicking his gaze about the place. In silence.

Was it possible the Duke of Cothrom was... shy?

"What are you doing here?" Alice blurted out, unable to bear the tension any longer.

She regretted the words the instant they left her lips, but there was no taking them back. And she had a right to ask, didn't she? Fine, perhaps not in such an uncouth manner, but still.

The Duke of Cothrom inclined his head. "To find out a little more about the woman I am about to marry."

His light blue eyes met hers, sparkling in the early morning air, and a rush of desire suffused through Alice's chest.

Goodness. The way he looked at her... it was territorial. Possessive.

He was a powerful man, and not just due to his title. It was not something she had much experience in, but—though Alice would feign admit it to a living soul—she wanted to.

"Ah," she said aloud, flustered and not sure what the proper etiquette was. Surely this was early, even for an engaged couple to meet? "Well... well then. Would you like to join me for tea in the garden?"

The Duke of Cothrom's eyes widened. "In the garden?"

Alice censured herself privately, but there was nothing for it now but to barrel forward. "It is a habit of mine when I am in the country, and I admit that I rather prefer it, if the weather proves clement. Will you join me?"

She gestured farther down the hall, where the back door opened to a terrace.

For just a few heartbeats, the Duke of Cothrom hesitated.

What could he possibly have against gardens, Alice wondered. Or was it merely that the practice was unusual, and he had a dislike of doing anything unorthodox?

If so, she would have to trot him down the aisle as soon as possible...

"Yes. Garden, tea. How pleasant," the Duke of Cothrom said politely. "Lead the way."

It was a relief to turn her back on him and walk calmly—as calmly as she could manage on the surface, at least—to the back door.

While she had the benefit of hiding her face from her betrothed, Alice tried desperately to calm herself.

She had hoped for time this morning to think over the events of last night, compose herself, and prepare a story for the Duke of Cothrom as to her background. A few lies, nothing more.

But having him so immediately presenting himself . . .

Alice opened the back door and inhaled the fresh air, felt the sunshine on her face, and tried to remember she had done the most difficult thing. The Duke of Cothrom, following her outside and breathing in deeply in turn, had offered her marriage. In public. Even with no male relatives to enforce such a thing, there would surely be too many witnesses for him to cry off.

Stepping over to the collection of chairs and small tables that were on the small terrace, Alice gestured to them. "Please, take a seat."

The Duke of Cothrom did not look at the seats themselves, but her hand.

Alice looked too, then winced. She had gestured with her left hand. The hand bearing his signet ring.

Somehow its solid weight was a comfort to her that nothing else could be. He had given her his ring. He would not merely have come to take it back, would he?

"Thank you, Miss Fox-Edwards," the Duke of Cothrom said quietly, taking a seat by a little table.

Alice slowly lowered herself into the opposite seat and flashed a brief smile.

He did not return it.

Her heart sank. Well, she had been prepared to marry any gentleman who would treat her with a modicum of respect. Warmth would have been a bonus. Love had most certainly not been expected.

Still. It would have been pleasant to find herself engaged to a gentleman who smiled more.

"Miss Fox-Edwards, I am sure you can understand why I must—"

"Do you wish to rescind your offer?" Alice said in as brave a voice as she could manage.

That must be what he was about to say. Her initial fear at seeing him in her hall was coming true. Well, she couldn't wait for him to say it politely. She had to know, one way or the other, and if asking the question gave the Duke of Cothrom permission to get straight to the point—

But the dark-haired man looked bewildered. "Rescind? Why should I wish to do that?"

Alice stared, hardly able to believe it. "You... you don't?"

The Duke of Cothrom shook his head. "No, there was no thought of—"

"Because if you wanted to—"

"Do you wish to be free?"

Alice swallowed and looked away from the gentleman seated opposite her and out toward the garden.

It was a pleasant enough garden. Little care or attention had been given it since her mother died, which Alice regretted. She should have kept it in better repair, she supposed, but gardening was not something that came naturally to her. Besides, in Brighton, she had a man for that.

She'd had a man for that.

A large oak tree at the end of the garden gave a great deal of shade to some plants, and a gravel path meandered toward the house. Peonies which had stopped flowering a few weeks ago were still resplendent in their greenery, and the shrubs were sweet with the scent of their small flowers. Tulips had dotted the path in the early spring, and now bright annuals with blues and reds and yellows brought happiness to her.

Selling the house had been painful, but she had little recourse to do anything else. This way the debts were paid, and the Marshes had been kind enough to let her stay on while they were visiting their daughter in Lincoln.

It was not her garden any longer.

When Alice turned back to the Duke of Cothrom, she ensured that she was smiling. "I have no wish to be free of our agreement, of course. But... well, your sudden arrival here, outside visiting hours—"

"Ah." The Duke of Cothrom—was he flushing, ever so slightly? "I suppose that is most uncouth of me, and beyond the borders of refined behavior, but... well, I wanted to see you."

Something flickered. He wanted to see her?

"To ask you some questions," the Duke of Cothrom continued. "I... I think it only right that I know a mite more about you before our engagement is announced."

Alice nodded mutely, hardly able to believe it. Announced. Their engagement announced.

This really was going to happen.

"Tea, m'lady," said Jane.

Alice jumped. She hadn't noticed the door to the house open, or her maid walking through it with a tea tray in her arms.

If the Duke of Cothrom's jolt was anything to go by, he had been just as startled.

"Thank you, Jane," said Alice hurriedly. "Just pop it here, thank you. That will be all."

As her maid stepped back toward the house, behind the Duke of Cothrom, she gestured wildly with wide eyes. Alice managed to stifle her giggle and looked resolutely at the teapot.

"Shall I pour?" She and the Duke of Cothrom sat in silence as she carefully poured the tea. "Your Grace, do you take—"

"Cothrom."

Alice stared. "I . . . I beg your pardon?"

"Cothrom," the Duke of Cothrom repeated with a tight smile. Very tight. "I think, given that we are engaged to be married, it is permissible for you to refer to me thus."

Refer to him thus. Ah.

It was most strange. Alice had been confused last night by the difference between the prim and proper gentleman she had accosted in Hyde Park, and the rather forward gentleman she had met at the Earl of Chester's ball. Now she was bewildered.

Which was the true Duke of Cothrom? The reserved, stiff man, or the man who had whispered such... such things to her?

"Perhaps I want something deeper. Crave your good opinion in a way that goes beyond a simple compliment."

"Well, Cothrom," Alice said, pinking at the way he inclined his head in approval as she spoke. "Milk, sugar, lemon?"

Their tea made, Alice took a slow sip of the piping hot liquid and tried to relax. It was just a conversation with her future husband. Just tea on a terrace.

Why, this was in a small way an insight into their future together.

The thought was a shock to her system. The rest of her life... with this man. Well, she could certainly think of worse.

"You threw yourself into my arms."

Alice blinked. "I—I beg your pardon?"

"In Hyde Park," the Duke of Cothrom said calmly. "You threw yourself into my arms. Why?"

Well, she should have expected this—but now the question was before her, it was not entirely clear how to navigate it.

"I fell into your arms," she countered, trying to keep her breathing level. "I did what any unchaperoned woman should and attempted to... to protect my honor."

He examined her closely, his sky-blue eyes serious.

Would he see through her deception? It was not precisely a lie, after all. Was it?

No, he was an intelligent man. He certainly wouldn't swallow such a ridiculous statement. He—

"I see. Yes, of course," said the Duke of Cothrom with a slow nod. "Yes. Of course."

Alice's eyes widened slightly. Goodness. That was unexpected.

"Tell me, Miss Fox-Edwards," said Cothrom in a businesslike manner, placing his cup back on its saucer. "Your parents. They are well? In London?"

"They are sadly no longer with us, Your—Cothrom," Alice amended, her cheeks pinking at the suggestion of intimacy.

If the duke saw it, he certainly didn't show it. "And you have siblings?"

"No siblings at all, I am afraid," said Alice with a wry look. "I am an only child, something I have regretted since my parents died."

For some strange reason, Cothrom looked almost relieved. Or was it a trick of this early morning light?

No, it was definitely relief. Alice watched as the man's shoulders eased downward and the tension in his jaw somehow melted away. Her eyes lingered at that point where his jaw curled up under his ear, then meandered to his chin, to his throat, the suggestion of prickly hair escaping from his elegant cravat. He was a broad man, as well as tall. Strong. Powerful. She had sensed some of that power when...

Alice swallowed and sipped again at her tea. That was it, the tea—that was why she felt so warm.

"Forgive me for being so forward," she said quietly. "But I believe if we are to be married, then we should feel free to speak openly."

Cothrom nodded but said nothing.

Alice hesitated, then continued. "I am curious as to your relief that I am alone in the world."

Fine, she perhaps could have phrased that a little better. But still. It was odd.

Clearly Cothrom thought so too, for his cheeks reddened. "I take no pleasure in it directly, of course, Miss Fox-Edwards, but—"

"Alice."

It did her good to see the man confused by a single word.

"I . . . I beg your pardon?"

"Well, if I am to call you Cothrom, do you not think it right and proper that the intimacy is mirrored?" Alice asked teasingly. Well, it might do the man some good, too. "You should call me Alice."

She watched as the man's throat bobbed, and a strange sense of power crept over her. Goodness, it was pleasant to see a man like him so turned around. It was only a name, wasn't it?

"Very well," Cothrom said quietly, fixing her gaze with his own. "Alice."

Something hot and sticky and delightful soared through Alice—a sensation she had never encountered before. Dear God, but hearing her name on his lips, spoken like that, like a prayer, like he was begging for something—

"You are right to sense that I am relieved, in a small way, that you have no family," Cothrom continued, as though he had not just struck a most unusual chord now humming through her body. "I cannot permit even the slightest hint of scandal near my family, as I am sure you can understand. I must be sure, completely certain, that there are no skeletons in your past."

Try as she might, Alice could not prevent her breath from hitching.

Well, this was it. If she were to survive this conversation intact, and most importantly survive with their engagement intact, then this was the moment to speak up.

And she could. She knew she could.

All it would take was... lying was such a strong word.

"Ah," she said brightly, as though she were delighted to hear him say such a thing. "In that case, I must tell you about... about my second cousin."

As she had expected, Alice saw Cothrom's brow immediately furrow. "You must?"

"She was also called Alice, and she had a flirtation with a gentleman a few years back, a flirtation which did not end well, I am sorry to say," Alice said as blithely as she could over the agonizing thumping of her pulse. "She went abroad after the—well it was not a scandal so I shall not call it that. Let us term it... disappointed hopes."

Cothrom's brow was still furrowed. "That is... yes, I believe disappointing is the right phrase. But there was no scandal—no actual suggestion of wrongdoing?"

Alice swallowed. Just a few more lies. "Naturally. But as you can imagine, bearing her name, there may be a few in the ton who confuse the two of us. They may believe that it was I, you understand, when in fact I have never flirted with a gentleman who has not subsequently proposed marriage."

She permitted herself a small smile and lifted up her teacup to prominently display Cothrom's own signet ring on her finger.

As expected, the man flushed. "Yes. Yes, I see."

Alice peered over her teacup, fortifying herself with the hot liquid.

Goodness, he was handsome. It was probably a very unladylike thing to think, but he was. Greek statues could have been modeled off him, that sharp jawline, that penetrating stare.

"And I assure you, I have no parents or siblings to cause a scene," Alice added as she lowered her teacup, forcing the point home. "And—"

"But what about you?" Cothrom interrupted, leaning forward slightly. "Your life until now, I mean."

Alice hesitated. Some truth would not hurt. "My father was a baronet, I came out into Society about four, five years ago, and I returned that Season back to Brighton to care for my father. Other than that, there is not much I can tell you."

Well. It was not a lie.

Cothrom was gazing at her closely, as though attempting to discover her dissembling. His intensity caused a flutter in her stomach. Perhaps she needed to eat something. That was surely the explanation for—

"You are very beautiful," Cothrom said suddenly. A red tinge touched his cheeks.

Alice stared. She was not an expert on dukes—far from it—but they were not usually this reserved, were they?

No, perhaps reserved was not the right word. Upright. Proper. Always holding himself back.

What was it he had said at the ball last night?

"I admit to you, my lady, that the wearing of the masks and the anonymity... it introduces a level of... excitement."

"I mean, you are a beautiful woman, and have been out in Society for more than enough time to..." Cothrom babbled before his voice faded. "Why are you not married, Miss... Alice?"

This time Alice was prepared for it. The question, that was. Hearing again her name from Cothrom's lips once more shot something delicious through her body. How did he do it?

"I was . . . waiting for you."

"No, really," said Cothrom, finally smiling. "I mean, that is very flattering, but—"

"Look, if you want it, you can have it back," said Alice, deciding to force this conversation to its conclusion.

She was still uncertain as to whether the Duke of Cothrom was looking for an excuse to break it all off. But she needed to know, once and for all, that he was committed to her. Committed to this.

Alice slipped off the signet ring, placed it on her right palm, and with a slightly shaking hand, offered it out. "Take it," she said quietly. "If you want."

Try as she might, she could not prevent the slight quaver in her mouth.

This was a gamble—one she could lose. She did not know this Duke of Cothrom well enough to sense if he would understand what she was truly asking. Whether he would truly marry her.

Her gaze swept over the tall man. She could see in his eyes, the way his pupils flickered, that he was weighing it up, the advantages and disadvantages. A business decision, not one of the heart.

This certainly had nothing to do with love.

Before Alice could say anything, before she could attempt to convince him of her worth, how pleasant it would be to be married to her, before she could say anything—

The Duke of Cothrom reached out.

Her hopes sank. Well, it was going to be another scandal, one he would weather but she would not. There were enough people at the Earl of Chester's ball to hear his proposal. When there was no wedding—

Cothrom's hand reached hers, his fingers brushing against her own as a tingle shivered across the skin of her hand. And then he was closing her hand. Enclosing it around his signet ring.

Alice stared, meeting his eyes with frank astonishment.

"Miss... Alice," Cothrom said quietly, "I will be honest. I did not expect my engagement to occur this way, but I do need to marry at some point, and there is sufficient Chance wealth not to require an heiress."

Still uncomprehending, Alice whispered, "Then what do you want?"

"I want a good woman," Cothrom said simply. "Someone I like. Someone I can... can care for."

And a shimmer of something that might have been attraction or desire moved between them. The air shifted, grew warmer, and Alice found she did not want the gentleman to remove his hand from hers.

Well. It was a start.

Alice smiled. "I can be that woman."