Chapter Eight

May 22, 1812

"Absolutely not," William said firmly.

This was one of the benefits of talking with Nicholls. Unlike any of his brothers, the man actually listened to him. When he said something was correct, his butler listened. When he said he disapproved, his butler—

"I am sorry Your Grace, but I am afraid you are incorrect," said Nicholls in his most delicate voice.

William glanced up from the newspaper he had been perusing, folding it carefully in his lap before saying anything.

He had intended for it to be a prominent gesture, to remind the servant precisely who was the master and who had risen early that morning to polish all the silver in the house.

Perhaps it would have worked better if he had managed not to get entirely entangled, the paper not quite folding smoothly, so that William was covered in a cascade of unpleasant folding noises and small irritable mutterings he soon realized were coming from his own mouth.

He dropped the newspaper, ill-folded, onto the drawing room floor. "And what do you mean, I am incorrect?"

His butler met his eye, but only just. "It is a situation, Your Grace, when the words you say and the decision you make are incompatible."

"Nicholls," began William in a warning tone.

This was the trouble with having an intelligent man for your butler. Lord save him from intelligent men!

"I merely mean, Your Grace," said Nicholls quietly, "that in the order of precedence, it is simply not possible."

"Not possible?"

"Not without giving offense, you understand," his butler added. "And I would, of course, not wish to be accused of not following the appropriate rules."

William opened his mouth, hesitated, considered the variety of arguments he could give, and closed it again.

Damn it, but the man was right. Dash it all, but he was.

"Most irritating," he muttered.

His butler inclined his head. "Indeed . . ."

The delicate trailing off was sufficient. William rose to his feet and started to pace around the drawing room.

"All I wanted was a simple dinner," he said quietly. "Introduce Miss Fox-Edwards to the family. You know the sort of thing."

"I do indeed, Your Grace," said his butler, who remained standing by the doorway, hands folded behind his back. "And in any ordinary situation, his lordship would... not have been invited."

William halted, shot a glance at the man, then resumed his pacing.

Once again, the infuriating man was right. But he had to invite Pernrith, he just had to! The arguments if he did not... though having said that, neither Aylesbury not Lindow was going to like it...

William pulled a hand through his hair, wishing to goodness things weren't so complicated. "What would you advise?"

"A time travel machine, Your Grace."

"What the devil do you—"

"You need to go back in time and uninvite his lordship," said Nicholls smoothly, though there was a twinkle in his eye. "That should just about clear everything up."

William halted in his pacing, about to launch into a diatribe about the proper respect given to the son of a duke—then chuckled dryly as he saw his butler's expression.

"Point well made," he said ruefully. "And perhaps I will take your advice in the only way I can—in the future. For tonight, however, we need to make a decision. Seating."

"Most of it is simple enough," said his butler with a shrug. "You will be at the head, and Miss Fox-Edwards will be on your right."

"And Aylesbury on my left," William nodded, leaning against the mantlepiece where a small fire burned to keep the chill off the room. "He's the second-born Chance, that's easy."

"Ordinarily, my Lord Lindow would sit on Miss Fox-Edwards's right, as he is the next oldest brother of yours, and Lord Pernrith on Lord Aylesbury's left," said Nicholls, a twist of awkwardness in his tones. "However..."

William exhaled. "However."

However, neither of them was willing to say, Pernrith was illegitimate. He was never legitimized by their father, but William had taken the decision almost five years ago to give the man a courtesy title. One that none of the other Chance brothers had been using.

It gave the Viscount Pernrith some legitimacy in the eyes of the ton but could not give him the legitimacy of a true Chance.

And Aylesbury would make a fuss if Pernrith were seated more prominently than Lindow, as precedence must be maintained... but also if he found himself sat beside a man he so openly disliked. Really there was no way to win there.

The trouble was, neither of them liked him, though Lindow had a tendency to be more vocal about it. Both of his brothers resented the rather prominent evidence Pernrith gave—simply by existing—of their father's disloyalty to their mother. It was... complicated.

"I give up," said William heavily. "Set the table, and I'll accompany Miss Fox-Edwards to the dining room. Aylesbury, Lindow, and Pernrith can sort out the rest for themselves."

He was not surprised at the raised eyebrow of his butler, but there was nothing the man could do to dissuade him.

The bell rang.

"That will be Aylesbury," William said with a sigh. "Try to prevent him from stealing a bottle of my best claret from the cellar, and if he asks for any money—"

"Direct him to you, as ever," said Nicholls smoothly, bowing. "Of course."

William had a few blessed seconds of calm, but it wasn't enough. This introduction had to be perfect.

Alice had not understood the necessity, but he had explained it was imperative she meet his brothers before the wedding. It was only right, seeing as she had no family.

"All three of them," he had said only the day before.

And Alice had frowned and said, "Three of them, Cothrom?"

Perhaps he could have done a better job of explaining Pernrith to her. Perhaps he could have done a better job at bringing Pernrith into the family in the first place, William thought wretchedly.

Or perhaps he should never have—

"There's the blackguard!" Aylesbury crowed as he strode into the room, Lindow at his heels. "You'll never guess where we've—"

"You've been at the Dulverton Club," said William wearily.

Lindow grinned as he threw himself onto a sofa. "Told you he'd guess!"

"Well I don't see how the blazes you managed it," Aylesbury said irritably, sitting beside his younger brother and glaring at William. "You're not having us followed, are you?"

There would be no need, William thought dryly. The men coming to me with your debts are far more efficient than any tailing I could attempt.

"Not quite," he said aloud. "Now listen, this evening is very important—"

"Yes, yes, you want us to approve of this woman you suddenly felt a rush to propose to," Aylesbury said, waving a hand. "Is she truly that pretty?"

"Yes," William said instinctively.

His chest tightened. Blast. He hadn't actually intended to say that.

"My word," said Lindow, lifting an eyebrow as the front doorbell rang again. "You're keen. Well, I can't wait to see her again. You need your brothers' approval, do you?"

"Yes," said William. He should explain, let them know before he arrived. "And—"

"Here she comes now," said Aylesbury, sitting up. "Why good evening, Miss—what the devil are you doing here?"

He had sprung up to his feet, and Lindow—again—was not far behind him.

William stepped forward hastily, placing himself between the two Chances on one side, and...

Well. He supposed he was half a Chance.

Frederick Chance, Viscount Pernrith, sadly did not look surprised at the unpleasant welcome he had received. "Cothrom. Aylesbury. Lindow."

"I do not think you were invited—" began Lindow instantly.

"I invited him," William said quietly, raising his hands to the two men who had spoken. "I wished him to be here—I wanted all of you to meet—"

"Miss Fox-Edwards is not yet here?" Pernrith asked, glancing about the room.

"No," snarled Lindow. "So you can leave now without any fuss, you—"

"Miss Alice Fox-Edwards," intoned Nicholls, suddenly appearing in the doorway.

Quick as a flash, all four of the Chance brothers turned, argument forgotten.

William gave a long, heavy sigh as Aylesbury and Lindow stepped forward to introduce themselves to the woman who would be their sister in just a few short days.

Well, it could have gone worse. It most certainly could have gone better, naturally, but that went without saying whenever Aylesbury and Lindow were in the room.

It was just still so difficult. William, as the eldest, had long ago lost the impression that their father had been perfect. Having said that, even he had found it disconcerting to discover that the previous Duke of Cothrom had been unfaithful to their mother. A fourth son to his name, born just weeks after Lindow. It was not something Aylesbury had been old enough to understand when the news had broken.

But they were now old enough to know better, William thought wearily as he watched Pernrith hang back, patently believing he was unwelcome.

And yet what had he truly done to alter the situation? William, the oldest son, had given Frederick a title the moment their father had died, but perhaps it was not enough. Perhaps his avoidance of impropriety had blinded him to—

"Your Grace," murmured Alice, curtsying low before him.

William swallowed. That was the trouble with Alice's beauty. It crept up on him, making it impossible to guard against the flare of his nostrils, the sudden intake of breath, the hardening of his—

"Ahem," he said aloud, as though that could dislodge the sudden rush of heat pooling in his loins. "I mean, Alice. I mean, Miss Fox-Edwards."

Did Aylesbury have to snicker so loudly?

"So delighted to be here," said Alice with a wry look that William hoped to goodness he was the only one to see. "I am honored indeed to be included in a family dinner, as this clearly is."

Her eyes flickered to Aylesbury and to Lindow, then over to Pernrith who had not yet stepped forward and introduced himself.

Panic flared in William. "Ah, yes, this is—"

"Viscount Pernrith, I presume?" Alice said lightly, curtsying to the illegitimate Chance brother. "I hope I will gain your favor, alongside that of my lords."

Her attention moved across all three brothers, and William felt the panic start to subside.

It was well done. Evidently his brief and awkward explanation yesterday had borne fruit.

"He is our brother, of course, and a Chance. Not a full brother—the title, it was meant to... and Lindow, he doesn't like... but you'll see all that tomorrow. Just be charm itself, as you always are."

And she was. William sat back on the sofa, partly dazed, as Alice gently drew Aylesbury out of his shell, teased Lindow something terrible, and listened with true interest to what Pernrith had to say, the temperature in the drawing room slowly returning to normal.

She was, in short, nothing less than perfection.

William swallowed, hardly daring to speak in case it broke the spell. How did she do it? How did she step into an awkward situation, an awkward family situation, no less, and suddenly make everything easy and light? It was unfathomable.

It was, perhaps, what had drawn him to her in the first place. He could barely keep his eyes from her. When Alice laughed, he felt the tug in his stomach. When she leaned closer to one of his brothers to better hear them, he felt the twist of envy.

No wonder he had proposed so suddenly.

Yes, it was all going splendidly—

"—heard the strangest thing about you, actually," Lindow was saying, nodding his thanks to Nicholls who had just passed him—against William's orders—a third glass of whiskey. "A rumor I didn't wish to believe from the haberdashers!"

William's mouth went dry.

No. It had been shocking enough to hear that Alice had such a besmirched cousin, and he had no wish to hear the story again—and he was certain she didn't either. That must be why her cheeks were so red, her expression unfathomable.

Because he had been most clear, had he not, that Alice herself would have to be impeachable. And had she not said there was nothing in her past?

"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."

"Ah, I think dinner is almost ready," said William hastily, rising to his feet. "Why don't we—"

"I didn't hear the gong go," said Aylesbury lazily, leaning forward. "What did you hear, Lindow? Not buying ribbons from a disreputable seller, are you, Miss Fox-Edwards?"

William's gaze snapped over to Alice.

And his heart sank. Why did she look so... so guilty?

"Yes, I heard that there was a little scandal—well, perhaps we should not call it a scandal. A whisper of a scandal," said Lindow with a lilting grin. "Miss Fox-Edwards, can you defend yourself? This would have been... oh, about four years ago?"

Surely the whole room could hear the thundering of his pulse. William's mouth opened, but nothing but a croak left it. A croak that went unheard because Alice—

"Oh no, do not tell me that you also have been taken in, my lord," said Alice calmly.

If his expression was anything to go by, Lindow's curiosity was only growing, and William saw Pernrith stifle a grin out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes, I am afraid there was something rather shocking that occurred four years ago," Alice said evenly.

William had been taking a fortifying sip of brandy. The sip became a drown, if there were such a thing. At the sound of her words, his wrist had jerked most horribly, and the delightful amber liquid had been poured not just down his throat but up his nose.

Hell, he always hated scandal being spoken of. Did he have to listen to it again?

"Are you quite all right there, Cothrom?" Alice said lightly.

Placing the almost empty glass on a console table, William tried to breathe. His nose and mouth burned. "Perfectly all right, I thank you."

"So there is a secret in your past, how fascinating," said Aylesbury, glancing at his elder brother with something akin to triumph. "Dear me. I suppose our righteous brother—"

"Self-righteous," cut in Lindow with a grin.

William tried to smile, but his fingers were tingling painfully, and his pulse was roaring in his ears. Though his brothers could laugh—of course they could. Was there anything they couldn't laugh at?

"Unfortunately, your information is incorrect on one vital matter," said Alice smoothly. "I have a cousin, also called Alice. Second cousin, actually. It is she who... well, a disappointed love. Nothing more troublesome than that."

Her bright eyes met his, and there was such certainty in there, such delicate embarrassment, such resolute openness, that William's insides melted.

He had chosen well. Yes, she was ashamed of whatever situation this cousin of hers had managed to find herself in—but she would not accept the blame of another.

Dear God, he had chosen well.

"I apologize for my brothers putting you in such an awkward position," William said stiffly as the dinner gong finally rang in the hall. "You are not responsible for your cousin's actions. Only your own."

For just a heartbeat, a shadow appeared across Alice's face. Most inexplicable.

Then it was gone, and she was smiling and taking his arm, and William could feel nothing but sparks of desire for this woman who was to be his wife.

Only when William and Alice entered the dining room and he helped her to her designated seat did he remember.

Oh, damnation. The seating.

As Aylesbury took the seat on William's left, they both looked at the two men still standing.

William swallowed. "I—"

"I'll sit here, if no one minds," said Pernrith smoothly, taking the seat beside a stony-faced Aylesbury. "I believe Lindow has the right of precedence."

The tension in the room was palpable, though William would have admitted himself slightly relieved. Well, the problem had solved itself. Pernrith had openly spoken of his lesser status, and none of them had shouted at each other.

Yet.

William caught Alice's eye and they shared a look. A private look. A heated—

He quickly looked away. What did he think he was doing—indulging in silent flirtation in public?

The dinner itself was relatively calm. There was a small amount of consternation when a footman almost dropped a tray, and William found his cravat was far too tight when Alice accidently brushed one of her fingers against his, but there it was.

He had managed it.

A dinner. With all four Chance brothers. In one room.

Without fists being thrown.

He should be congratulated. He certainly felt as though a round of applause was in order when both Lindow and Aylesbury managed to cordially bow their heads to Pernrith upon their leaving.

It was with great relief, however, that William shut the door behind all three of his brothers.

The armistice wouldn't last forever. Best that all three be gone well before ten o'clock than for Alice to witness—

"You made it sound as though your three brothers are constantly at each other's throats," said a voice behind him conversationally.

William winced, then turned to smile awkwardly at Alice. "I did, I suppose. And usually I am correct."

It was most difficult to continue speaking, however, with her standing in the candlelight like that. He had never seen a woman with such finely spun hair, so blonde it was almost white. Her gray eyes were sparkling, as was her knowing smile.

"Will you take a glass of sherry with me?" William asked cordially.

His nerves tightened as he awaited her answer. True, it was slightly scandalous, the two of them remaining and conversing unaccompanied. But they were engaged to be married. The humiliation would not be great if it were discovered.

"Of course I will, William," Alice said. "But only if you tell me the details behind those brothers of yours, and why I could have sliced some of that tension with nothing but a spoon."

She turned without waiting for a reply and entered the drawing room.

William swallowed. It would absolutely not be a good idea to lay out the thorny and impulsive history of the Chance brothers. Keeping that to himself was imperative.

Though try telling that to his tongue, the moment he sat in an armchair opposite Alice Fox-Edwards.

"It all began with Pernrith, I suppose," he said quietly. "He is the product of an... indiscretion."

"Your father, I presume," Alice said lightly. "Unusual, for him to be such a close part of the family."

William hesitated. "It has not been without its difficulties. As for close... in a way, I am not sure I would describe him as part of the family. If Lindow had his way—"

He bit down on his words just in time.

Lord Almighty, he almost spoke out of turn there. It was not his job to criticize his brothers—it was to protect them from their own stupidity! If only there was someone here to protect him from his own.

Alice said nothing but raised an eyebrow.

Damn, but she was perceptive.

"It has not been easy, being the head of the family since my—since our father died," William said, sipping the sherry and thanking God for its restorative powers. His mind sharpened, then just as quickly melted as he met Alice's gaze. "Trying to give each of us a fighting chance to be respected within the family and respectable to those outside the family... it has been difficult."

"They are very different kinds of men, each unique to himself," Alice said softly.

William nodded. She was playing with the stem of her sherry glass in a most alluring and disconcerting way. Her fingers moved up slowly, then down. Up and down. Up and—

Oh blast.

Quickly crossing his legs and hoping beyond hope she had not noticed the uncouth bulge in his breeches, William tried to smile. "They certainly are, and most difficult. At times I feel as though I am fighting against their very natures."

"And what is your nature?"

William cleared his throat, but it did not clear his mind. His natural instincts wanted him to leap up, step over, push her against the sofa, and kiss—

"I don't know what you mean," he said aloud.

Another lie. Really, he mustn't get into the habit of this.

"Well, you are such a prim and proper gentleman, William," said Alice with a slow, teasing look. Her fingers did not cease their movements. They were causing an aching tension in William where there certainly should not be any. "And yet there must be something about you. Something different. Something within yourself that you are fighting. Some other nature, if you will."

His eyes widened, sensuous fingers forgotten. For the most part.

Now how on earth did she sense that?

It was incredible. The whole ton saw William as nothing more than a stick in the mud, he was sure. He knew the rules of Society, and he followed them. There was nothing else to him.

Except there was. And Alice had spotted it.

"I... I protect my family, and that is sufficient." His voice hadn't always sounded so gruff, so strained.

What on earth is this woman doing to me?

Alice examined him for a moment, then placed the sherry glass on the console table beside her. "Well, this has been a delightful evening, Your Grace."

Your Grace. William could not help but notice the return to formality, even as he almost stumbled over his own feet to see her to the front door, butler waved away.

"My carriage awaits to take you home," he said quietly.

Alice paused in the open doorway, and there was a smile almost... almost like molten mischief on her lips.

Before William could say a word, she had stepped forward and placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"I know there's more to you, William Chance," she whispered. "And I will find you out."