Chapter Eight

A lden did not like Lady Gladys's answers to Bernadette's questions. He didn't like the way Lady Gladys was toying with Bernadette, like a cat playing with a tiny lizard. But what he liked least of all was that Lady Gladys appeared to know something about Bernadette that Alden himself did not know.

The more pressing irritation was the way Lady Gladys seemed to think he had invited her to shape his future by planning the ball instead of Bernadette.

"While I appreciate your interest in my affairs," he said, trying to be polite and respectful of the bond he and Lady Gladys had once shared, and the fact that she was, after all, still a lady, "I have entrusted Lady Bernadette with the planning of my ball. That includes the guest list."

He thought he had been firm yet still polite, but Lady Gladys merely laughed and reached her free hand across to lay on his wrist, as he'd just been tempted to do with Bernadette. "You will approve of my additions, Lord Alden," she insisted, then set her teacup down. She shifted toward him in a way that excluded Bernadette and went on. "I've invited several of our old friends. Lord Nathan Gatwick, of course, and Lord Devon Walton. And you simply cannot have a ball without Lord Tottingham."

Alden frowned. All three of the men in question were among Lady Gladys's closest friends, all unmarried, and all had played some part in the drama of years ago, when Alden still had affectionate feelings for Lady Gladys.

"Lady Bernadette and I have only just decided on a date for the ball," he said in a tight voice. "I do not see how you can have sent invitations to a ball when you do not know when it will take place."

"Then you should tell me at once and I will send further information to those I have invited," Lady Gladys said, as if it were the natural course of things.

She then did something that Alden considered borderline unthinkable by turning to Mercy, who had stood back in case she would be needed after bringing in the tea, and saying, "You might as well set an additional place at the luncheon table, as I am certain Lord Alden will be inviting me to stay and dine with him."

Alden caught the slight intake of breath from Bernadette. Mercy glanced to him in panicked confusion, as if she needed his permission to deny the request of a noblewoman.

Alden simmered for a moment, jaw hardening. Lady Gladys was behaving abominably. It was likely that even she knew it. It was equally likely that she was affecting such poor manners with the deliberate purpose of seeing whether he would scold or correct her. She'd frequently done that sort of thing years before, when deciding whether to throw her lot in with him or with Edward. In the end, she'd chosen the man who had jumped to do her bidding.

He would not indulge her bad behavior. She was only trying to encourage a fight so that she could use what she considered her superior wit to put everyone in the places she believed they should have. The only way to dismiss her games was to ignore them.

"Thank you, Mercy," he nodded to the maid. "We will take our luncheon in the garden today, since the weather is so fine."

Bernadette went very still and stared at the invitations in front of her. Color had come to her face that was far from the sweet, flirtatious blush she'd worn before.

Along with that, Lady Gladys grinned and tilted her chin up, as if she'd won an important victory.

Alden tried not to sigh openly. Already, he wondered if he'd made the right decision or if he should have gone against his better nature, stood, overthrown the table, and demanded Lady Gladys leave at once, never to darken his doorstep again.

There was nothing for it, now that he'd ordered luncheon, so he did what he could to bring the situation under control.

"Lady Bernadette has made several brilliant decisions regarding the theme of the ball," he said, smiling at Bernadette and hoping the praise would put a smile on her face once more.

"Theme?" Lady Gladys asked, already looking rebellious. "Is not dancing and conversation theme enough? Balls with a theme are such a Mercian undertaking. You are not one of those horrid Mercian ladies, are you, Lady Bernadette?"

Bernadette raised her eyes slowly to stare steadily at Lady Gladys. "I believe you already know that I am of East Anglia, my lady," she said. "But I have found in my past endeavors that ball guests quite enjoy variation from the usual banality of Almack's in private balls and parties. Why, I once organized a ball for the Duchess of Devonshire around the theme of Norse mythology."

Alden was proud of the way Bernadette attempted to hold her own, but that did not stop Lady Gladys from a withering reply of, "Yes, and I suppose any of the reasonable guests who attended that event prayed to be swept away to Valhalla to spare them the embarrassment of being seen there. Do you not think so, Lord Alden?"

Lady Gladys turned to Alden with a flattering smile.

"I would have enjoyed such a lively entertainment," Alden said, smiling at Bernadette and hoping he was doing enough to show her he would defend her as stalwartly as any Norse hero defended his lady.

But Lady Gladys merely laughed and touched his wrist again. "Oh, Lord Alden. You are too cruel with your barbs. You're only disagreeing with me because you know how much I enjoy a challenge." She played the tips of her fingers along the exposed skin past the rolled cuff of his shirt.

Alden felt trapped. Lady Gladys would twist whatever he said into a means of flirting with him blatantly in front of Bernadette, and potentially using that flirtation to convince Bernadette she had no hope.

But why would Bernadette believe there was any hope of something more than a business bargain forming between the two of them? He had brought her to Lyndhurst Grove to find him a bride, not to court her, as much as he would have liked to do precisely that. To see things from Bernadette's view, Lady Gladys had every right to attempt to snag him before Bernadette brought in competition for his hand.

"Shall we retire to the garden?" he asked to defuse the situation, standing.

"Whatever you wish, my lord," Lady Gladys answered, rising slowly and with a sultry glance.

"Lady Bernadette?" Alden asked, glancing hopefully to Bernadette.

Bernadette remained seated, her hands resting on the table, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow. Alden spotted a flicker of movement under the thin fabric of her fichu and realized Egbert had been perched on her shoulder through the entire conversation. Lady Gladys evidently hadn't noticed yet.

"I think perhaps I should remain here so that I might complete the invitations," she said, staring at those invitations instead of him.

"There you have it," Lady Gladys said, stepping around the table as if she would take Alden's arm for him to escort her out to the garden. "I suppose it will just be you and me enjoying luncheon amongst the flowers and sunlight."

That was the very last thing Alden wanted. "You must eat, Lady Bernadette," he said.

Bernadette did not reply immediately, but she did raise her eyes to him.

Alden could not read the emotion in those large blue eyes, but he said, "Please."

The troubled look in Bernadette's eyes softened, and she pushed her chair back to stand. "You are correct, my lord. I do need to eat."

Alden was relieved. He did not relish the idea of being alone with Lady Gladys when she obviously intended to bully him into marriage.

On the other hand, he wished he could spare Bernadette the trial that lunch with Lady Gladys was sure to become.

Unfortunately, he was right in his assumption that the whole thing would be painful.

"What is this theme you have settled on?" Lady Gladys asked, a condescending twist to her tone, as the three of them took seats around the small table Smythe and one of the footmen had set up for them in the shade of a grove of oak trees that had given Lyndhurst its name.

"It will be an exotic theme," Bernadette said, sitting straight and addressing Lady Gladys directly, as if she had made up her mind during the walk from the terrarium out to the garden that she would not let Lady Gladys cow her in any way. "All of which is inspired by Lord Alden's expeditions in South America."

"How droll," Lady Gladys said, as if it were anything but.

Alden exchanged a look with Bernadette, as if to tell her she was right to stand her ground against Lady Gladys and that he would support her in every way.

"The dancing will be held here in the garden," Bernadette went on. "Other activities will be planned for the entire weekend that will both educate and entertain Lord Alden's guests on all matters pertaining to the flora and fauna of South America and the Caribbean."

"Why would anyone care to be educated when they have come to enjoy themselves?" Lady Gladys asked, curling her lip in distaste as the footman served their food.

"I think quite a few people will be interested in learning about South America," Alden defended Bernadette's ideas. "And since the entire purpose of the ball is so that I might find a bride who will share my future life with me in happiness and harmony – "

"She had better learn what she is in for from the start," Lady Gladys finished his statement, unable to hide her sly grin.

Once again, Alden felt backed into a corner. "Yes, that is it precisely."

Lady Gladys shook her head as she reached for her cutlery. "If it is a wife you seek, you should find one in a more traditional manner. All of this unnecessary complication will merely chase away those who would otherwise see a fine gentleman from a prominent family with a lovely estate and a fortune. You will find yourself out a great deal of expense without anyone wishing to marry you when all is said and done."

"I disagree," Bernadette said, poking at her food as if she had lost her appetite. "I have organized dozens of balls intended to make matches, and not once have those who hired me been disappointed."

"Everything must happen for a first time," Lady Gladys said with a falsely amiable smile.

"I am certain I will be engaged by autumn and married by Christmas," Alden said, though he wasn't certain it was a helpful comment, as Bernadette set down her cutlery without taking a bite.

"I am certain you will be as well, Lord Alden," Lady Gladys said, eating a fork full of roasted chicken, then moving the fork through her lips in a manner that was almost obscene.

"If you will excuse me," Bernadette said, rising agitatedly. "I have just remembered that I wished to speak to Mr. Brown, the workman overseeing the painting of the bedchambers, about a few things."

Alden rose a moment behind Bernadette. "You do not need to go," he said, guessing at the real reason she wished to flee.

Bernadette met his eyes with a troubling combination of sadness and anger. "I believe I must," she said. "These things cannot wait."

As far as Alden was concerned, everything that did not make Bernadette happy could wait. It would have been rude of him to demand she stay only to continue to be tortured with Lady Gladys's meanness, however. "I shall see you at supper, then," he said, trying to smile.

Blessedly, Bernadette managed a small smile in return. "Good day to you," she said with a perfect curtsy. She then turned to Lady Gladys and curtsied to her as well. "Good day, Lady Gladys. It was a pleasure to meet you again."

Lady Gladys pretended that she could not return the kind words because she had just taken a bite of her meal. Bernadette did not wait for her to swallow. She sent Alden one final look, then marched off. Alden could have sworn that Egbert poked his head out of the top of Bernadette's fichu and flickered his tongue, like a child blowing a raspberry.

"She is so horribly tiresome, Alden," Lady Gladys said as Alden watched her go.

At the twin offenses of insulting Bernadette and using his given name without his leave had Alden snapping his glance to her. "I beg your pardon?" he asked as he resumed his seat.

Lady Gladys sent him a wry grin. "Come now, Alden. We have known each other for too long. I can see you are fond of Lady Bernadette, but you should put the woman out of your mind immediately."

"I do not see how it is any business of yours," Alden said with a frown, picking up his cutlery as if he would eat, but finding that he, too, did not have an appetite.

"It is every business of mine," Lady Gladys said, looking surprised that he would suggest otherwise.

Alden could see the path she was taking and hurried to divert her from it.

"Our connection is in the past, my lady," he said, overly formally. "You chose Edward, therefore you have no say over what I choose to do with my life now."

"Perhaps I chose poorly," Lady Gladys said, lowering her eyes and dropping her shoulders. "I should have been your wife, not Edward's."

Her confession would have meant more if everything about her stance and expression had not felt as hollow as a rotted log.

"Yes, well, as I have said, the past is entirely behind us. I've no wish to revisit it, only to move on," Alden said.

To his surprise, Lady Gladys saw something different in his words than he'd intended. "Yes," she said, reaching across the table for him once more. "I feel the same. We should put the past behind us, where it belongs, and continue on together as friends, as more than friends."

A paradoxical sense of relief rushed through Alden. Lady Gladys had shown her cards, and now he could face the enemy directly.

"I have no wish to marry you, Lady Gladys," he said, standing. He had no appetite anymore and no desire to continue pretending civility. "Your ulterior motives are too clear. It is my fortune you desire, not me, and I have no intention of marrying a fortune hunter."

Lady Gladys's expression turned steely, and she abandoned her luncheon and rose as well. "I do wish to marry you, I will admit it," she said. "But to suggest I wish to do so for your fortune and not because of the intimacy we once shared is an insult, sir."

Alden huffed out a breath, frustrated with the guilt he felt, whether he should or not. He was still convinced Lady Gladys was playacting in order to get what she wanted, and the drana was not finished yet.

"I loved you then," she said, stepping away from the table, perhaps so that she might come closer to him. "I have never stopped loving you. Edward … Edward was not who I thought he was, and our marriage was a disappointment."

Her false expression wavered, hinting at genuine grief. Alden narrowed his eyes for a moment when he saw it, wondering what Lady Gladys's true emotions were.

A moment later, the act continued. "How can you begrudge me the chance to right the greatest wrong of my past by pursuing the man I love and should have chosen from the start?" Lady Gladys demanded.

Again, her words and appearance were perfect for the sentiments she expressed. Alden just didn't think they were real.

"If you will excuse me, Lady Gladys," he said, stepping away from the table and from her, "I, too, need to have a word with the foreman of the workers I've hired. You are more than welcome to remain and finish your luncheon, if you wish."

"But, Alden – "

"Good day."

Alden bowed then walked past Lady Gladys to the house. He was surprised that she did not reach out for him to anchor him to the spot where she wanted him, or that she didn't call out to him as he walked away. He should have taken that as a good sign, but it felt more as if she was letting him go for the time being so that she could decide upon a more definitive way to nab him later.

Alden returned to the house with the intention of finding Bernadette and apologizing for Lady Gladys's behavior. To his distress, she was not in the terrarium, where he expected her to be. She was not anywhere along the hallway where the workmen were busy tearing out the broken and faded parts of his house to replace them with new bits either.

He was prevented from searching the house further for her as the workmen actually did need his advice on a great many things. The entirety of his afternoon was taken up in consulting with one workman or another about everything from acquiring new carts to take away the rubbish that the improvements were creating to approving the fabric for new drapes in several of the guestrooms.

They were all jobs he wished Bernadette was there to share with him. Her artistic eye was much keener than his. He constantly worried that he would make as much of a mess of his home renovations as he had with Lady Gladys.

Alden began to worry when Bernadette did not join him for supper.

"Lady Bernadette has taken supper in her room tonight," Smythe explained, sending him a disapproving look, as though he were the entire reason Bernadette was out of sorts.

"Thank you, Smythe," Alden sighed and continued on with his meal in aching silence. He would have foregone supper entirely, if he hadn't been so famished from skipping luncheon.

By the time his hunger was satisfied, Alden had had enough. He was frustrated, upset, and lonely, but more than anything, he felt guilty that he had let things unravel between him and Bernadette, simply because Lady Gladys wanted to claim him as her own.

It might not have been entirely proper to march upstairs to Bernadette's bedroom, but when an offense was as great as what he felt he'd committed, strong actions were required. He knocked on Bernadette's door, then waited with baited breath until she came to answer it.

"Lord Alden?" Bernadette looked surprised, but also tired and gloomy as she opened the door to him. "Is something the matter?"

"Yes," Alden said, unable to resist his need to step into her room and invade her private chambers. "Everything is wrong."

"Oh, dear," Bernadette said, clearly misunderstanding him. "Have more reptiles escaped the terrarium?"

"No," Alden said, reaching for her hand. "I've behaved like a coward and a fool, and I allowed a cruel woman to wound you rather than standing as your shield."

"Oh!" Bernadette said, her eyes going wide. A moment later, that shock changed to sorrow. "Do not trouble yourself, my lord. If you wish to marry Lady Gladys instead of continuing on with this ball, I will understand entirely." She lowered her face, sadness enveloping her.

Alden could not stand it for another moment. "I do not wish to marry Lady Gladys," he said, sliding his hand under her chin and lifting her face to him once more. "I wish to marry you."

There. The truth was out, whether it was wise or not. And as long as he was behaving rashly, he might as well throw all his caution to the winds.

He stepped closer to Bernadette and slipped one arm around her narrow waist so that he could pull her flush against his restless, overheated body, then he slanted his mouth over hers in a kiss he'd waited a week to take.