Chapter Ten

Dear Uncle Gerald,

I am writing to beg of you that I be released from any obligation to marry simply for the sake of not inheriting the castle. I know this request goes against everything that you wish for your sons and nephews, but events have unfolded that would make marrying whatever eligible lady would have me a crushing blow to any chance of happiness I might have in this world.

For you see, I have fallen in love. Deeply and recklessly. And whilst I can hear you advise me to marry the woman I am in love with, alas, she is not free to wed. She was bartered away by her father over a decade ago, and she cannot undo the binds that constrict her.

She loves me, though, dear uncle, and I must confess, I love her more than any maiden that has ever entered this shamble of a life I lead. She is not in the least afraid of the creatures that occupy my house, nor of my unusual manners and ways of conducting myself. Indeed, she has made friends with the lizards, particularly Egbert, and is his new favorite, and she does not flinch in the least when I forget to don a coat or a neck cloth whilst going about my daily business.

In addition, the servants have come to love her most fervently. I receive smiles and praise from them when I am seen to treat her well, and scowls of disapproval every time they believe I have slighted her by continuing with plans for the ball. I desperately fear that if I do not marry the lady in question, even though there are circumstances extant that may make marriage between us difficult indeed, my carefully selected staff will mutiny and leave me in disgust.

So please, dearest, most generous uncle, I beg you to release me from the chains you have bound me with. It may not be good or moral to offer my heart, my soul, and my life to a woman married to another man, but I cannot imagine my life without her. If you would but free me from the obligations of the curse, I might be able to find a way to help my beloved obtain a divorce, or simply live wickedly with her for the rest of our days.

I await your answer and pray that it will come in enough time for these ball plans to be halted.

Your dearest nephew, who views you as his own father,

Alden

Reply received eight days later …

Dear Alden,

No.

Yours, Uncle Gerald

A month had passed since the beautiful night Alden had spent with Bernadette, and although he had tried everything he could think of, from writing multiple times to his uncle, appealing to his cousin Cedric, to requesting that his cousin Waldorf use his questionable connections in whatever secretive business he undertook for King Swithin to discover more about Bernadette's marriage, it had all come to naught. Bernadette was wed to another, and it appeared as though she would remain so.

"Is there a footman about who could help bring our trunks into the house?" an irritated Lady Chessington called from just inside the open front door of Lyndhurst Grove midway through the Friday morning before Alden's ball.

Alden had just stepped out of the front parlor, where two other matrons and their marriageable daughters were being served tea. He did his best to maintain a cheerful smile, but seeing as the hordes had begun to descend at dawn, he was already taxed beyond his usual limit for company.

"Ah, welcome to my home, Lady Chessington," he said, extending a hand to greet the grey-haired woman as a gentleman should greet guests.

Lady Chessington offered her hand for Alden to kiss distractedly. "You are aware, are you not, Lord Alden, that a queue of carriage is forming on your drive."

Alden winced as he straightened from bowing over the woman's hand. "I was not aware."

Lady Chessington hummed disapprovingly. "Well, that can soon be rectified. Have your footman come help mine with the trunks, and greet my lovely daughter, Elaina."

Alden was too rattled with all the details he needed to remember for the weekend to put Lady Chessington off. Bernadette had spent the entire evening the day before instructing him on who was to arrive and when, what their connections and social standing were, and where each of the parties should be shown as soon as they arrived.

She'd spent the last three weeks schooling him on proper manners and decorum when it came to interacting with young ladies who were being considered for the position of his bride as well, though too many of those lessons had descended into guilt-ridden kisses and breathless embraces when neither of them could control themselves.

Try as both of them did to maintain a cordial, cool distance from each other, they'd slipped into libidinous flirtation and ill-advised passion on more than one occasion. At least they had both had enough forbearance to prevent any recurrence of the ultimate passion they'd experienced in Bernadette's bed that one night. Alden was certain nothing irreversible had come out of that night either, as enough time had passed, and from what Smythe had whispered to him on the sly, Bernadette had been indisposed in a certain feminine way that had required some delicate laundering.

The passion and affection were still there, however. Even when they could control themselves, they were prone to falling into long moments of silence as they simply gazed at each other, hoping and wishing that things were different. Bernadette had written to Lord Hethersett the morning after their night, explaining everything, but as of that morning, she had received no reply at all. It was, as she informed him, highly unusual and deeply worrying, as the man had been a regular and frequent correspondent until that point.

But Hethersett was the least of his worries that Friday morning.

"I say. Who has left their carriage unattended in such a spot?" a gentleman that Alden just barely recognized as Lord Weybridge called out as he walked up the increasing line of stopped carriages to the terrace in front of Lyndhurst's front door as Alden stepped out of the house, Lady Chessington behind him.

Alden narrowed his eyes at the handsome young buck in his expertly tailored suit, his Hessian boots shining. Had Bernadette invited other eligible young men to his ball along with the ladies he was meant to choose a bride from? He simply could not remember.

"That is my carriage," another matronly woman answered, stepping out from around the carriage in question, a pretty but pale young woman right behind her.

"Lady Laura. So good to see you," Alden said, switching directions to greet the new guest. "And this must be your daughter, Lady Vera."

The pale young lady brightened and batted her eyelashes as Alden greeted her mother, then her. She giggled, hiding her face against one shoulder, as Alden bowed over her hand.

"Stop messing about with the other ladies and see to our trunks," Lady Chessington interrupted the introduction.

"Yes, of course," Alden said, his smile tighter than ever.

The party surrounding the ball had barely begun, and already Alden was overwrought. He felt pulled in a dozen different directions as he left Lady Laura and Lady Vera to see if Smythe or any of the footmen were nearby.

"Here, your lordship," Smythe called out to him, evidently seeing the distress in Alden's face, as he came out from behind yet another of the carriages.

Alden nodded to his guests, then rushed to meet Smythe and one of the new footmen, whom Bernadette had hired specifically for the ball weekend, off to the side of the gravel.

"What in the devil's name is going on here?" he asked Smythe in a low voice, letting any pretense of being glad to see his guests vanish.

"We're up to our eyeballs in arrivals, my lord," Smythe answered with his usual haphazard excitement.

"Were the arrivals not specifically planned by Bernadette so that we would not have a queue at the door?" Alden asked.

Smythe shoved a hand through his thick hair. "Only, it's not just the ones Lady Bernadette invited," he said. "I reckon at least a third of these are here uninvited."

"Not uninvited," Alden said, glancing back to where Lord Weybridge was now smiling and flirting with a delighted Lady Vera. "They were invited by Lady Gladys."

Lady Gladys had not taken his dismissal easily. She had not taken it at all, really. She'd gone away for a few days after the disastrous luncheon, but returned a few days later, as insistent that she help with ball preparations as ever. She had openly sent invitations to guests of her own choosing, whose names she would not bother to divulge to either Alden or Bernadette. She had also meddled with the choosing of decorations, badgered Cook about the food to be served, informed Bernadette that her choice of musicians for the orchestra were sub-par and that she would hire proper musicians herself, and generally attempted to override or undermine Bernadette at every turn.

Alden and Bernadette had been too consumed with their own tragic love story to take the necessary measures to put Lady Gladys in her place. And now here Alden was, staring down a line of carriages the length of his drive, wondering what other sort of tricks and traps Lady Gladys had sewn into the rest of the fabric of the weekend.

"We will do what we can," Alden said with a nod to his butler. "See that our guests' trunks are dealt with directly, and we'll sort out where to put all the horses and carriages later."

"Yes, my lord," Smythe said with a nod, then turned to be about his work.

Alden rubbed a hand over his face as he stared at the carriages, then turned back to the house, as if the answer to his problems would be there.

Instead of an answer, he found Bernadette stepping out onto the terrace. His heart seemed to swell in his chest. She was the picture of beauty in her blue gown with her blonde hair pinned in a simple yet lovely style. She stood straight and tall, with her shoulders squared and a pleasant smile on her face. As Alden watched, Lady Laura moved to greet her, and even from a distance, Alden could see the respect that the older lady had for Bernadette.

By all appearances, Bernadette was the lady of the house. She carried herself as such, she was greeted as such, and when she turned and noticed Alden watching her in wonder, she smiled at him with such affectionate softness that, once again, Alden longed to throw everything else aside so he could claim her as the partner of his future happiness.

Within seconds, however, Bernadette's smile vanished, and she looked away from Alden as though the sight of him hurt her.

"Father was right about you having a mess on your hands."

Alden jumped and turned to find Waldorf striding up to stand by his side.

"Waldorf." Alden pivoted to offer a hand to his cousin, so grateful to have the man he considered one of his brothers by his side that he might have wept. "You said you couldn't come."

"I said I had no interest in coming," Waldorf said, shaking Alden's hand heartily. "Father hinted that you would need me here, however. Cedric and his bride are somewhere down that line of carriages as well."

"Thank God," Alden exclaimed, then pushed a hand through his hair as he looked at the carriages again. "I cannot imagine what I was thinking to host an event such as this."

"Curses will make men do strange things," Waldorf said in his usual, grave tones.

Alden laughed humorlessly. "Come inside and help me locate the rest of the footmen who are meant to be unloading trunks and carrying them up to guestrooms."

Waldorf nodded, and the two of them walked up the terrace stairs. Bernadette now had three of the older women circled around her and appeared to be making the acquaintance of some of the younger ladies, the ones Alden was meant to be choosing a bride from. She glanced in his direction, and as soon as their eyes met, her cheeks flushed the same rose-pink that they had when he'd brought her to orgasm with a hand under her skirts as they'd discussed the menu for the ball in the terrarium the week before.

Alden cleared his throat and pulled his gaze away from Bernadette as he and Waldorf walked into the house. It had been a terrible idea to allow himself to touch where he shouldn't that afternoon. It had been equally wicked for him not to put his foot down and tell Bernadette to stop when she had dropped to her knees on an afternoon walk in a secluded part of the garden four days ago.

"So it's just as bad as Cedric tells me it is," Waldorf said once they'd stepped into the front hall.

Alden was still gazing back through the doorway at the way Bernadette was bathed in sunlight on the terrace. "What?" he asked, forcing himself to look at Waldorf.

Waldorf smirked, which, with his ridiculous sideburns, made him look like a cantankerous old man. "Cedric told me you wrote to him last week, and that you could write of nothing more than your ardor for Lady Bernadette and your wish that the two of you could wed."

"Oh," Alden said, lowering his head a bit. That single syllable reminded him of Bernadette, though, which just confused his insides more. "He told you that?"

Waldorf snorted and stroked his whiskers. "You told me yourself, you daft old fool."

Alden felt sheepish for all of a few seconds before remembering the mission he'd sent Waldorf on. "Did you find out anything about this marriage of hers?" he asked quietly.

"I've discovered that Lord Hethersett is extraordinarily popular in both Norway and Sweden," Waldorf said, glancing back to the doorway. Alden was certain he would say something, and he was eager to know what his cousin had discovered, but a sudden burst of noise and movement flooded through the door as more guests arrived.

"I have never known such disorganization so early in a weekend party," Lady Chessington declared to another young gentleman that Alden was certain Bernadette had not invited.

"I am certain everyone at Lyndhurst Grove is doing their best," the young man said, then added, "Although I do not think finer servants are to be found than those I employ at Bracknell Glen."

Alden frowned, unsure of the comment. Was the young buck bragging about owning an estate? The young lady trailing behind him certainly seemed impressed.

Alden had only just begun to form the thought that Lady Gladys had invited eager young men of title and attractiveness to his party with the intent of catching the interest of the young ladies, thus diverting their interest from him, when another burst of movement in the doorway snagged his attention.

A streak of black and white shot into the house and immediately off into the parlor to the left.

"Napoleon!" a woman's shout followed.

Moments later, a rather handsome woman with honey-blonde hair who must have been approaching forty strode into the house. Bernadette and Lady Muriel followed close behind her.

"Where did he go?" Lady Muriel asked, glancing around.

"Napoleon?" Bernadette called out, craning her neck to look up the stairs.

"He dashed into that parlor," Lady Chessington said with a sour look. "What sort of a creature was it?"

"My beloved," the handsome woman said, tilting her chin up and heading toward the parlor.

"Good Lord, who invited that woman to this event?" Waldorf exclaimed in a huff.

The handsome woman – Alden recognized her from Cedric and Lady Muriel's wedding – froze, nearly causing Bernadette and Lady Muriel to tumble into her, and whipped to face Waldorf. As soon as recognition dawned in her eyes, she pulled herself to her full height, chin tilted up.

"Lord Waldorf," she said in a devastatingly flat voice.

"Lady Katherine," Waldorf greeted her just as frostily in return. "We meet again."

Lady Katherine narrowed her eyes and said, "More's the pity," before sweeping on into the parlor.

The brief exchange left Alden utterly stunned. He wasn't the only one. Bernadette looked at him with a puzzled expression, as if asking whether he had the slightest idea what the exchange had been about.

Alden could only shrug slightly. Bernadette echoed his shrug, then headed on into the parlor with her friends, presumably to search for the cat.

"You cannot tell me that you would stoop so low as to consider marrying a woman like that," Waldorf said, his voice still rife with disdain.

Alden turned back to him, prickling with offense. "I beg your pardon, but Lady Bernadette is the kindest, cleverest, most wonderful woman I've ever met," he said.

Waldorf's expression changed to regard him awkwardly. "I was referring to Lady Katherine Balmor."

Alden's brow went up. "You are acquainted with Lady Bernadette's friend?"

Waldorf suddenly glanced around as if the walls had grown ears and wished to reveal his darkest secrets. He then stepped forward, catching Alden's elbow as he did, and marched both of them down the hall until they came to the relative quiet of Alden's study.

"Lady Katherine is not to be trusted," Waldorf said as soon as they were alone. "I have every reason to believe that she is one of the deadliest spies Queen Matilda of Mercia has at her disposal."

Alden had always had his suspicions about Waldorf, but comments like that seemed to confirm his suspicions. "And how would you know?" he asked.

"I know," Waldorf answered without answering. "I know other things. Things you asked me to find out."

Every other thought and suspicion was blasted out of Alden's head. He took a step closer to his cousin. "What have you discovered about Lady Bernadette's marriage?" he asked.

Waldorf suddenly looked regretful. "Not much, I'm afraid," he said. "Except that it appears to have happened as you described in your letter."

The news hit Alden like a bolt to his heart. "She truly was married by proxy to Lord Harold Hethersett?"

"She was," Waldorf said, looking sympathetic. "Hethersett has become quite influential in the Norwegian court as well. He is a powerful man with a great many friends. The documentation of his proxy marriage to Lady Bernadette was easy to find. I'm sorry, Al."

Alden let out a disappointed breath and scrubbed his face with both hands. "That's it, then," he said as he began to pace the room. "Uncle Gerald will not let me out of his dictates, and the only woman I could ever wish to marry is married to someone else. She would need to be tarnished by divorce for the two of us to be together. Perhaps it would be better for me to inherit the castle and its curse so that my life might be ended sooner."

"Come off it, man," Waldorf said, gruff as usual. "Don't be a lovesick fool, like Cedric. You've only known the lady in question for a little more than a month."

"And in that time, I've fallen more in love with her every day," Alden said.

Waldorf huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Laugh all you want, but when love knocks on your door, time and sense become meaningless," Alden insisted.

"You'll never find me falling for anything as ridiculous as love," Waldorf insisted. "Duty and honor. That's what it's all about. Duty and honor are all that matter. Without them – "

Alden didn't find out what might happen without duty and honor. Waldorf's explanation was cut off by a shrill scream from the hallway, followed by a terrified shout of, "Snake!"