CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Giff arrived home to another note from Lady Mary.

Dear Lord St. Albans,

I would greatly appreciate it if you would have someone watch the mews behind Normanby House just after six in the morning and follow the female who leaves through the back gate and has a hackney waiting.

Yr. friend,

M.C.

Bloody-hell hounds!Was she referring to a mistress? If so, how would she know about such a thing? And what in perdition was Normanby doing with a mistress when he was courting Alice? Giff ran a hand down his face. He should probably tell either Worthington or his lady, but he didn't want Lady Mary to get into trouble for trying to help him. Still, he had to do what she asked. As much as he didn't want that bounder Normanby around Alice, for her sake Giff had to know what was going on. The problem was if the man did have a ladybird, how could he tell her? Would she even believe him? He held the note to a candle and lit it on fire, placed it in his cold fireplace, went to the stables and found Fergus. Giff handed the groom a small sack of coins. "I have something I want you to do."

Always up for a lark, the man's pale blue eyes were bright. "What is it?"

He told him what was in Lady Mary's note, but not how he came about the information. Fergus nodded. "I'll get one of the other grooms to take care of Hector tomorrow."

"When she arrives to where she is going, make note of the address, and I'll talk to her myself if need be."

"I think I can find out about her another way." He tapped his nose. "If it's what yer thinkin', one of the maids will talk."

"Good man." Giff really did not want to have a conversation with Normanby's mistress. That could cause all sorts of trouble. "I wish I could be there myself."

"Better you go riding with the lady, me lord."

The man was a sage. "You're right."

The next morning Giff awoke to rain. There'd be no riding with Alice today, but he could go with Fergus.

Gunn entered the room. "What are yer plans for the day, my lord?"

Giff flung back the covers. "A little spying is in order. I'll need something nondescript."

His valet went into the dressing room and came out with a set of older garments he wore in the country. "I'll notify Fergus."

It wasn't until he was halfway through dressing that Giff realized that his valet must know what his groom was up to today. Not that he was concerned it would go any further. His Scots servants treated the English ones as if they were still at war. In the politest way possible, of course. Several minutes later he'd donned a waxed coat, hat, and had arrived at the stables. A small, unmarked town coach he hadn't seen in years stood ready, with Fergus sitting on the covered box. Giff climbed in and it rolled forward without him having to knock on the ceiling. Soon they came to a stop, and he got out. The carriage was in the middle of a small alley down two stables from one that was open.

One of the servants from the open stable strode up the street to them. "Ye can't stay there. A hackney's comin' soon, and I don't want to be the one she screams at if she can't get right in."

Giff had moved toward one of the gates and pretended to look at it, giving Fergus the lead.

"Wouldn't want ye to get into trouble. Me employer is just looking at this property. We won't be a second." Silence fell while Giff tried to look as if he had a purpose there.

"How much longer?" the servant asked.

"She must be a real bitch," Fergus said.

"That's bein' kind. Ain't happy she's to come here, but his lordship can't be caught seeing her."

"If he's a laird, what does it matter?" Fergus said innocently.

"He needs a leg-shackle, or we're all lookin' for new places. How much longer?"

"Almost done," he said.

Giff took the hint, strolled back to the coach, got in, and it started forward. Behind him came a hackney. They drove around the corner, stopped, and waited until the hackney drove out of the mews then followed it to an area of row houses known to be home to several high-flyers. A woman got down from the hackney and ran to the house.

Giff's coach came to a halt, and Fergus appeared at the carriage door window. "I'll be a few minutes. She'll be in a temper at the weather. Someone's bound to come in or out for somethin'." The groom strolled down the street as if he enjoyed being out in the rain. "Here now, let me help ye with that."

Giff glanced out and saw Fergus with a woman.

"Oh, thank you." The servant handed him the basket. "My mistress is going to be upset that her breakfast is late. Especially in this weather."

"That's a might heavy for someone as slight as ye."

"It will all be over soon, and we can get back to normal," the woman said. "None of this running back and forth at night and early morning."

"I'm glad for ye," Fergus said sympathetically.

That was the same thing the other servant had told them.

"What's going to make the change?" he asked.

"Her protector is getting married. Once that happens it will all go back to the way it was."

"Didn't know a gentleman gettin' married kept his mistress."

"It's not a love match." They passed by the coach window, but all Giff could see was her bonnet. "Here we are. I'll take the basket now. Thank you for your help."

"Not at'all. I'll carry it to the door fer ye."

"That would be lovely. Thank you."

Giff's hands curled into fists. That blackguard. He'd kill Normanby if it would solve anything. Somehow Giff had to stop Alice from marrying the cad. The question was how to do it. He forced his hands to relax and focus on the two pieces of information he had discovered. First, Normanby was under the hatches, and second, he had no intention of giving up his mistress after he married, and he was taking great pains to continue to be with her. Giff had always known the man was a runagate. He could tell Worthington and leave it in his hands. But young ladies weren't always capable of seeing the truth about a gentleman. Even a lady as astute as Alice might do something stupid like elope with the rogue. No. It would be better for Giff to continue to befriend her and be there when Normanby's true nature was revealed, either by chance or because Giff engineered it. And it would be better for her to discover the cur's infamy that way. Her anger would soon end any feelings she had for him. He glanced out the window and noticed they were almost home. Another visit to Hatchards was in order. He had a feeling she was often at the bookstore.

* * *

Rain.

Alice rolled over and pulled up the covers. She really could not complain. They had not had much rain at all this Season. It was England, and one needed rain for all sorts of things. A longish nose appeared in the opening between the bed hangings. "You can come."

Posy's nose and head poked through, followed by one paw placed on the embroidered counterpane. The other paw joined it. Eventually, the rest of her body made it onto the bed, and she snuggled next to Alice with a soft moan.

"Someone is going to be looking for you soon." How had the Dane escaped? It did not matter. Alice had no reason to rise immediately. The door opened and the muffled sounds of the fireplace being cleaned, then a fire being built could be heard. It really was early.

Suddenly the hangings were drawn back. "My lady. There you are!"

Where else would she be but in her bed? Something heavy landed on her stomach. She glanced down. Posy's head. Alice rubbed her eyes. "I must have gone back to sleep."

"It's time to get up now," her dresser said. "Come, Miss Posy. As much as you detest the rain, you must go out."

"Someone should build a covered area for them." Alice would mention it to Matt. She pushed the dog. "I cannot rise with your head on my stomach. Up." Posy looked at Alice as if she had betrayed the Dane. It was time to be firmer. "Up." Reluctantly the dog climbed out of the bed. She swung her legs over the side and almost stepped on Posy resting on the floor. Alice carefully arched her back to miss the dog as she left the bed. By the time she had dressed, a footman had taken the Dane to go for a walk.

When Alice reached the stairs, Theo and Mary had their heads together, speaking in hushed voices.

What were they up to? "Good morning."

The girls broke apart and greeted her.

"Are you going to Hatchards today," Theo asked.

"Probably." There was not very much else to do in the mornings.

"Oh, good." She smiled. "Will you pick me up a book on sheep? The kind whose wool is used for carpet making?"

Why in God's name would she be interested in . . . "Sheep?"

"Yes." Theo nodded. "For making rugs. From the wool. They are very useful animals."

Alice had not thought she meant the animal itself. "I will take a look."

"Thank you." Her sister flashed her a smile. "I am starving."

"I am peckish as well," Mary said, and they both dashed down the stairs.

Alice followed at a much more sedate pace. It would take her some time to find the right tome for her sister. Still, there really was nothing else to do this morning. Well, that sounded like moping. It was time to find something to occupy her time. It occurred to her that she had still not found her purpose. Perhaps this was opportunity to do just that.

She took her place at the table and was glad to see it had been shortened, making it feel not so empty. Alice heaved a sigh. She really was feeling sorry for herself. It had to stop.

By ten o'clock the rain had ceased and the sun, although not fully shining, was peeping out from the remaining clouds. She went to Grace's office, found it empty, and strolled to the hall. "Thorton, do you know where her ladyship is?"

"She is visiting Lady Evesham."

Alice remembered hearing that Phoebe Evesham was finally in Town. "I am going to Hatchards."

"I shall call for Williams."

Drat. Alice had forgotten to inform her footman. Fortunately, he came immediately. "Are we walking, my lady."

"Yes." A good stroll was the best way to shake herself out of this mood. "I will attempt to limit the number of books I purchase."

Williams's lips twitched, but he did not respond. They strode out of the square and turned toward Piccadilly. She arrived shortly before ten-thirty. By now she was thoroughly familiar with where the books she wanted were located and went directly to the section dealing with land and animal husbandry.

Seated at the table was St. Albans. "Good morning."

He raised his head and gave her a distracted smile. "Good morn to you."

Alice scanned the shelves for volumes on sheep. "Do you happen to know which sheep are used for making carpets?"

"Scottish Black-face, Welsh Mountain Sheep, and Piebald. Which breed you want depends on where you are."

She almost dropped her jaw. Just a day ago, he said he knew almost nothing about them. "How did you learn so much in such a short time?"

He tapped the book. "Reading. I have a great deal of opportunity for it." He'd risen when she entered the space. "What brought on your interest?"

"My sister Theo wanted me to bring her some information on sheep for rug making."

He frowned. Did he not like ladies involving themselves in the subject? But that did not make any sense. He had asked Alice for help. "How old is she?"

Laughter burbled up inside. "Fourteen. Mary is eleven. They surprise me as well. Sometimes they remind me of older people in young bodies."

"I understand what you mean." He took two books down from the shelves and placed them on the table. "This will get you started."

Alice took the chair opposite St. Albans. "Thank you."

His green eyes danced with mirth. "It is my pleasure. After all, where would we be without sheep?"

She chuckled lightly. He really was fun to be with. "A most erudite topic of conversation. I wonder how it would be received during morning visits."

"You would no doubt have the other ladies wishing they had thought of the subject. Gentlemen would hang on your lips waiting for pearls of wisdom to drop."

The burble of laughter threatened to become a peal, and she covered her mouth to hide the sound. Tears blurred her vision by the time she got herself under control. "Oh, dear. You should not make me laugh so hard."

His eyes widened as he assumed an innocent look. "I? Why, my lady. I would never do such a thing. I of all people know one is only supposed to laugh with closed lips."

That set her off again. He handed her his handkerchief to dab her eyes. "Stop. Show me the sheep."

For some reason, that caused him to start laughing. If anyone came by they would think they were ready for Bedlam. Alice handed St. Albans her lace-trimmed handkerchief. Accepting it, he bowed. "As you wish. Sheep it is."

They spent the next hour comparing not only sheep, but the crop differences between the Highlands and England.

Was he preparing to take over Whippoorwill Manor? Had he a lady in mind to wed? Could she ask him? If they were truly friends the answer was yes. She had rejected him after all. "I take it you have found a lady you are thinking of marrying."

"I have." He gazed into her eyes, and her awareness of him grew. Alice did not understand what was happening. "Although, it is early days."

"I see." Yet, for some reason, it did not make her happy. She should want him to gain the estate he should have already been given. "I suppose having inherited your uncle's estate has obviated the need you felt before."

St. Albans leaned back in his chair and seemed to consider her. "Yes. I still want it, but I now have an estate of my own to see to. In effect, I no longer feel as if I have a sword hanging over my head. Or that my life has little meaning."

He understood. Did he know she felt the same? "That is it exactly. A lady's life does not begin until she is wed. Unless, of course, she has a cause. In that case, marriage is needed for having children and a life partner, but it is no longer needed to find meaning."

He studied her for a few moments. "Have you found your purpose?"

Alice blew out a breath. "Not yet. My sisters have."

"You mean particularly Lady Montagu and Lady Madeline?"

Alice nodded. "Yes. Eleanor has her coal mine, and Madeline focuses on helping people any way she can." She told him about the changes at the mine and the boy and girl Madeline and Harry found and saved. About the charities of their older sisters and what her brothers-in-law do. "I do not seem to be able to focus on just one thing."

St. Albans leaned forward, closing the distance between them, enabling her to breathe a scent that was all him. Clean and masculine. Not to mention the tingles. Why were they still affecting her when she now liked him? "Is there a reason you must you pick one endeavor. Can you not do bits of everything?"

What an interesting idea. "What do you mean?"

"Start schools on the estates of whomever you wed or improve them. Help train and hire people in need. And help those you find. The boy has a unique story, but the girl selling flowers does not. There are hundreds if not thousands of children like that all over the country."

"Sort of a jack-of-all-trades." He inclined his head. "I like your idea."

St. Albans seemed to move closer. Alice had to stop herself from reaching out and touching him. "It would give you more flexibility and scope, if you will."

He was right. "I agree. I think you have solved my problem." She glanced at her watch. "I should go. I am glad you were here this morning."

His well-molded lips tilted up at the ends. "As am I. Allow me the pleasure of escorting you out."

He took the books, and she placed her hand on his arm. It was a shame she had not got to know him before he had met the other lady, and she had met Lord Normanby. Still they were becoming friends.