Chapter 38

Alice was quite certain that whoever created the pianoforte did not intend for his invention to be used as an instrument of mass destruction, or at least an invoker of mass vexation, although it sufficed in alleviating her inner turmoil to a certain degree.

It is not much, but it is better than nothing.

She pounded away at the keys as her mama frowned from her position on the sofa, her embroidery half-forgotten on her lap.

It could not be helped, she was simply incapable of coaxing music from any instrument. In her hands, the pianoforte could be deemed injurious, which was why she refrained from playing it altogether.

Today, however, she was not trying to make music but rather to let out the roiling emotions in her heart while attempting to slightly follow along the notes to Beethoven's Symphony No. 5 in C Minor.

So consumed by raining blows on the pianoforte's keys was she—and the eardrums of those within hearing distance—that she was only vaguely aware of the butler approaching her mama to hand her a card. For a brief moment, Lady Brandon stood up and went outside.

Perhaps it is another one of Phoebe's suitors.

If it was, then her mother would have at least told her to ease up on her murderous attempt at music.

Whoever was at the door must have been of no consequence to either Alice or Phoebe, for Lady Brandon simply left both of her daughters to carry on with their activities.

Alice was surprised, however, when her mama came back a moment later and tapped her shoulder. She paused, her fingers hovering over the keys.

"Yes, Mama?" she asked, instantly regretting the slight harshness of her tone.

Perhaps she had been much too carried away with letting out her emotions in the most ladylike way she could imagine. In any case, it was not her mother who deserved to be the target of her ire but a certain rogue.

When she thought of him, her eyes narrowed slightly, and her lips subconsciously pressed into a grim line.

Lady Brandon sighed when she noted the minute flickers of anger on her face. "The Duke of Blackthorn has just sent in his card and asks to see you."

Alice's eyebrows snapped together. "Whatever for?" she scoffed. "Was the betrothal not terminated cleanly enough for his tastes?"

"Ah… I would not say that," her mama replied.

"If that is so, then I do not think we have anything more to talk about." Alice turned back to the pianoforte. "With regards to the betrothal contract, it would be more appropriate for him to talk to Papa about it, I would think."

Lady Brandon raised her hand as if she might place it on her daughter's shoulder but then withdrew it. "Very well," she said softly. "I shall tell him you do not want to see him."

"And you need not be so polite about it," Alice added spitefully.

She doubted her mother would turn the Duke of Thorns out on his ear, however, but she was most definitely not going to give him the pleasure of seeing her so afflicted by their parting.

To the rest of the world, they had parted amicably after finding out that they were hardly suited for each other. However, she did not need to hide her true feelings on the matter from her family.

She had already lied to them at his urging once. She was loath to do so again.

As if to underscore her anger at his attempt to see her again, she began to strike at the keys once more. If he found her music most displeasing, she certainly felt the same way about his presence in her own home! She would find every possible way she could to torment him—her wielding the pianoforte as an instrument of doom included.

Music has Charms to soothe the savage Breast, William Congreve had written. But that self-same author had also penned, Nor hell a fury, like a woman scorn'd.

Alice did not like to think herself a woman scorned. Her fury, however, at having played the fool to Colin's charms had just reached its greatest height.

How dare he think he can just waltz into my home and I would be perfectly fine with it!

* * *

Colin could feel the fury radiating from the parlor in waves from the sound of the pianoforte alone. It was hardly music but a veritable thrashing of a blameless instrument at the hands of a livid musician.

If his dearest Alice could even remotely be called a musician.

When Lady Brandon emerged from the parlor wringing her hands, a tight smile on her face, he already knew that wooing the woman he loved and hurt greatly would be much harder than anything he had ever set out to accomplish.

However, it would also be the one thing worth applying all of himself to.

"I apologize, Your Grace, but Alice is currently indisposed." The Marchioness winced as a particularly loud barrage resounded from the parlor.

Colin simply smiled politely at her.

Clearly, my little lamb is not so indisposed as to resist attacking the pianoforte. Perhaps I should even be grateful that she has chosen to direct her blows on an inanimate object rather than on my person…

If she did, however, wish to inflict some physical harm on him as retribution for the hurt he had inflicted on her, he had no complaints against it. He only feared that she might hurt herself in the process.

"Might I inquire as to when she might be, ah… disposed to see me, My Lady?" he inquired of the Marchioness.

The helpless look on the older woman's face told him that he might be waiting a long, long time for that.

He nodded slightly. "I see," he murmured.

Lady Brandon sighed. "In that case, I shall see you out the door, Your Grace."

"There is no need, Lady Brandon." He smiled pleasantly. "I have already troubled you and your family enough."

It was a testament to the strictness of her upbringing that the Marchioness did not throw him out on his ear from the moment she was made aware of his presence. After all, what mother could tolerate a man who had hurt her daughter as much as he had hurt Alice?

Even the Marquess himself made no secret of his disappointment in Colin when the latter begged for an audience with him. Those two hours he had spent in his study earlier this morning had to be some of the longest in his entire life—and he deserved every minute of the verbal castigation the older man heaped on his head.

Colin could only wish that when it was his turn to have a daughter, he could possess as much extraordinary control as the Marquess of Brandon. He did not think he would be so lenient if it had been his daughter who had been so offended.

He walked out of the front door of Brandon Estate with the brown package tucked securely underneath his arm. He looked up at the afternoon sky and saw thick, gray clouds beginning to gather overhead.

It looks like it is about to rain soon.

He laughed slightly to himself.

As if a little rain could stop him when he was fighting for the most important thing in his life!

* * *

Alice saw her mama return to the parlor with a pensive look on her face. Lady Brandon wore an expression that was an odd mix of vexation and pity, sprinkled in with a bit of gloating satisfaction.

"Is he gone?" Alice asked her mother.

The Marchioness nodded. "He insisted that I did not need to see him out the front door."

Alice frowned as she stared at the poor keys she had just brutalized. It was quite unlike him to give up so easily. She had thought he would spend more effort into trying to wheedle his way into the parlor.

But then again, the words of the Viscountess Pembroke echoed in her head. He had never really thought her deserving of so much effort, had he? He had never wooed her with poems or those silly nothings that rakes so loved to whisper in ladies' ears.

She had had several men call on her now, and their temperaments ranged from the utterly shy to the shockingly bold. All of them had managed to at least utter a few token compliments.

Colin had never done that. Well, maybe except for his hoarse groans in his bed, but those certainly did not count in her book!

Even if they still did make her toes curl whenever she recalled them.

She clenched her hands into fists. In any case, he had already gotten what he wanted out of her, and he had already made himself clear that he had no such intentions of marrying her in spite of all that she had shown him.

It would simply be the height of foolishness if she was to pretend to be gracious to him should they cross paths, and Alice was already done being an absolute mooncalf for Colin Fitzroy.

"Mama, did we invite the Duke of Blackthorn over?" Phoebe asked with a confused look as she walked into the parlor.

"Heavens, no! I just sent him on his way." Lady Brandon shook her head. "He insisted that I did not need to see him out the door. Is something the matter?"

"Is he back?" Alice asked bitterly.

Phoebe shook her head. "Well, he is still outside…"

Alice swiveled in her seat to face her sister fully, her hand coming down hard on the pianoforte's keys, resulting in a resounding clang that terrorized her sister's poor ears.

"What do you mean he is still outside?" she cried.

"See for yourself." Phoebe smiled, walking over to the windows.

Alice stood up and hastened over to peer down. True enough, Colin was still standing there resolutely. She could vaguely make out something tucked under his arm, but the moment she saw him, she disdainfully turned away.

"I do not see who he is trying to impress with such a display!" she remarked acidly.

Her sister laughed gently and shook her head. "Is it not obvious?" she teased. "He is trying to impress you, of course."

"Well then, he is simply wasting his time." Alice sniffed. "Because I have no intention of ever seeing him again."

"He seems rather resolute, though," Phoebe remarked with some amazement. "I gather he has been there for quite some time. And it looks like it might rain anytime soon…"

If it rained, then he was going to be drenched and risked the chance of catching a cold. On the one hand, she wanted to tell him to leave before the rain started to fall. However, a part of her was still much too hurt to face him so soon. Alice frowned and clenched her hands into fists.

"If it rains, then he might finally have the common sense to leave," she told her sister. "I have already told him that I do not wish to see him anymore."

Phoebe gave her a meaningful look but refrained from saying anything contradictory. "If you say so," she said gently. "But if you do not listen to him, then you might never know what he has to say."

There was a part of Alice that did long to go to him and hear what he had to say, but she could not bear to be hurt a second time. That one blow had been enough to wound her for a long, long time to come. She might not survive a second blow.

She had already chosen him over her dignity and her better judgment. This time, she was going to choose herself.