Chapter 1
The music was surprisingly loud in the gigantic ballroom of Heshley Hall. With the musicians near the entrance and all the maitrons and eager mamas packed on one side, near the refreshment table, it was quite difficult to find a calm space where one could take a breath. Which, when one thought about it, might have been the main purpose of this evening.
Alice wanted to sigh, deeply and wholeheartedly. But a girl on the marriage mart was only allowed so little that a simple sigh was, unfortunately, not much permitted according to the proper standards. She therefore walked decidedly to the opposite corner of the room as she bit her lower lip.
She didn't like balls or events of the sort. In fact, she decided at this instant, she was indeed against the whole purpose of finding a husband through dances and small chatter. Who could pretend to be one's self at moments like this? Where the entire crème of society spied your every move and, dreadfully, commented on it.
Was her chin too low? Did she smile enough? What about her lavender gown, wasn’t it too bright? And did you see her step on poor Lord Gorgesby's foot on the dancefloor?
"Never again." Alice muttered as she observed the dancers spin and bow in rhythm. Amongst everything a ball included, dancing was definitely the worst. To everyone’s agreement, it was not her forte and, as much as she might have liked to practice, her father had been too occupied with their small estate to find the time, and money, to hire her a teacher. So here she was, unhappily doing her debut in society at the age of two-and-twenty, thus a couple years older than the other young ladies, and trying to hide away from everyone. Some would even say her first ball couldn’t have been more dramatic, with that scene near the limonade tray and her first dance with, indeed, poor Lord Gorgesby. Alice knew she couldn't dance with grace, which might be even worse than to ignore it. She had stayed close to her aunt as she dreaded an invitation, knowing she wouldn’t be able to refuse when she was aware that dancing was her only way out of a casual discussion with whomever it might be. Because if Alice knew she couldn’t dance, she also knew she couldn't fake a smile or interest for a conversation and, above all, she didn't want to. Her life was too short to be spent exchanging banalities on the weather while standing in an uncomfortable dress.
The food, on the contrary Alice noted, was surprisingly good and she wondered if she could feed herself small sandwiches and lemonade for the entire season. Not that her aunt’s cook wasn’t good, Alice shivered, it was just that… her aunt’s taste made him prepare meals she’d rather not eat. Ugh. A small chuckle escaped Alice’s lips as she wandered a bit further away from the refreshment table. Surely there should be a better way, a more ladylike way - and there definitely was -, to say that her aunt had bad taste when it came to food but she didn’t allow her to think of it. She wouldn’t become the well-behaved and almost-mute woman they tried so hard to mould her into.
She had been grateful to live a happy life away from the city until a few months ago when, facing debts and cattle's sickness, her father had declared that she ought to be married by the end of the year. Which sadly meant, attending the balls and the entire season in London, to Alice and her maid's despair. Because she couldn’t marry any gentleman, it had to be one with money, to secure her father’s estate. So much for raising an educated daughter, Alice frowned. What was the point of teaching her mathematics, literature and French if it was to forbid her from making any decision on her own? She had asked her father, stepped her foot and crossed her arms, in a not-so-ladylike manner, but on the next day, she had been asked to pack in almost a hurry to arrive only last week at their aunt's house, Lady Kilkeel, near Mayfair where she spent the next couple days shopping for rubbans and dresses. Ugh. Alice shivered at the memory of it. How someone could not die of boredom after an hour discussing fabrics was still a mystery to her, but, for once, she had held her tongue and nodded.
While her aunt bought her a so-called unique blue gown with lace near the collar.
And she nodded again.
While her aunt made her try all kinds of hats, from the ugliest to the useless one.
And she nodded again.
Until everything became numb and a little stinging pain appeared on the back of her neck. Who needed five gowns and matching gloves? Alice wondered as she studied the beautifully sculpted columns of the ball room. The women attending the event were indeed all groomed and prepared as if it was the evening of the season. Which, the young girl shrugged, might have been the case, for all she knew. Some debutantes wore earrings that could, with the sale of one of them, help her father’s savings for at least a year. This only added to Alice’s rejection of the entire party.
The decoration and flowers were however magnificent, this had to be said, and it was a shame, Alice thought, that all these efforts had been made to entertain the already wealthy and merry people of London. With the sole ultimate goal to force wedding proposals between two naive, or at least one - as marriages were rarely ones of true love - naive people. And Alice, let God be her witness, would not be the naive one. She promised herself that much when she entered the grandiose Hersley Hall.
Her aunt Genevieve had insisted that she’d attend this ball as she stated that, a lady during her first year, had the most chances to get a good husband therefore needed to be well-dressed and with nice fabrics. And be seen at the right events. And by good husband, her aunt meant wealthy and with a title. Which was all that Alice dreaded. The Lords, Earls or Barons she acquainted thus far were all deprived of humour and interesting conversation. The young woman had no determination to marry well, in fact, she had no will to marry at all.
Or not now.
And not one of those strict and serious men who couldn't tell a hie from a pitchfork.
Alice wanted a real man, of actions not of words. She had lived her whole life in the countryside, helping farmers and cleaning the sheds, she had been happy and didn't dream of anything else. And that wasn’t something an earl could offer her. She’d be stuck in her mansion, ordering around poor maids and having a say in nothing if not the colour of the new drawing cabinet. How miserable she’d be.
That had been another subject of tension between her father and her, Alice recalled with sadness. As said before, Mr Sunleigh needed money for his estate and what better way, he thought, to ensure an income than to marry his second child and only daughter to a wealthy man? Alice had refused it. Why would she have to carry the burden of supporting her family when she couldn’t even own property and she had, after all, three brothers, one older and two younger ones, who could also make interesting marriages from where they'd be able to earn a few pounds for their father's estate. As a matter of fact, Alice gritted her teeth at the thought of it, they would bring dowries she wouldn't. And, considering the small package her father had granted her with, she wasn't going to seduce anyone with it. Not that she was going to seduce anyone with her personality or capabilities either, she grinned again. The evening was only halfway through that she had already been too aware of her flaws and lack of grace. Her nose was a bit too large, Mrs Summers had told her aunt. Her hair wasn’t blond enough to attract the eye, Mrs Thompson had outbidded, while she had stood there like the wallflower she was asked to be. Oh how she regretted not having spoken her mind to those venomous matrons.
Thankfully, Alice considered her small luck, her father loathed London's society more than he wanted to see Alice married which kept him from following her to the city. Having him comment on the other young girl’s better debuts would have just pushed her over the edge. Mr. Sunleigh had however informed her sister, Aunt Genevieve, that she'd be taking care of Alice's debut and marriage proposal, throwing her into an unthinkable tornado of preparations.
To Aunt Genevieve’s delight and Alice’s greatest misfortune.
And thus, with the aid of a simple letter, the nightmare of hat hunting, fabric choosing and flower arranging had begun quite frenetically. The morning’s were spent learning dances or practicing music while the afternoons were divided between shopping and teas with the utmost privileged people Alice had to know. Because, truth be told and rewards be granted, no-one was more experienced to give the young country girl as perfect a start as one could wish for in society than her aunt. Aunt Genevieve, also known as Lady Kilkeel, was the older sister of Lord Sunleigh, married to Lord Kilkeel. She had spent the last four years marrying every single one of her five children. And in London's society, five weddings in four years was quite a record, if not a miracle. Alice's father was thus convinced he'd have a wedding and a complementary income by the end of the season.
Ugh.
"Not if I can have my way with it." Alice swore to herself as she stopped and stood on the other side of the dancefloor from her aunt. Tonight was her first ball and she had already said and did the wrong thing to, apparently, the wrong people. A discreet grin appeared on Alice's lips as she recalled the events. She had made sure to sound innocent enough so everyone would mistake her for comment for what she looked like, a clumsy beginner, when she purposely slipped her remark to the meanest debutante she had been introduced to and her mother, killing her chances of good reputation. If, she repeated herself another time just to comfort herself in her plan, she could appear like an uncivilised girl to the most influential members of London's society, she'd be sent back home before the end of the week. And no-one would ever ask anything of her anymore, Alice nodded shortly. She'd be able to resume her simple life in the fields, planting and taking care of vegetables in order to feed her father's poor people.
That was all she was and all she intended to be.
A country girl didn't play the piano forte as well as those well-bred debutantes, nor did embroidery or wrote poems. When she wasn't helping in farms, she ran, shot and rode horses. Her unladylike manners and habits were going to be her way out of this nightmare, Alice was sure of it as she scanned the entire room. No-one here would wish for a wife like her, not here and not in the whole of London. Alice stepped aside to let a young couple walk by and studied the room once again. Men and women were dancing while chaperones and mothers were staring. The couple next to her wasn't married, she noticed, but they stood close enough to each other to show that they were soon to be, if not betrothed already. They lacked this delicate and precious discretion everyone else seemed to be made of. And that was quite refreshing, Alice on a second thought. She even considered them as the only sane people in the entire guestlist until the young girl swooned at something her companion murmured and Alice couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. This precise behaviour was worse than a bad theater play, which disappointed Alice. Every single move of the young ladies surrounding her was planned and rehearsed. Yet badly executed. How that remained possible was beyond Alice's unders--
"There you are!" A cheerful high-pitched voice cut into Alice's thoughts and, after she regained her composure, Alice frowned at her cousin now standing at her side. Pippa had married last year, to an earl in Wales, but she remained so fond of the season in London that she decided to travel to the city and spend it at Alice's side. It added to the young girl’s despair but it also meant she had someone who stood by her, in almost any situation. Balls and wedding plans unfortunately excepted. Pippa cheered her cousin, helped her with her gowns and dresses and even gave her inside knowledge of the people in town. She was genuinely nice and generous, but as Alice regretted, her attention was focused on her so-called apparent need of a husband. Only on rare occasions where the above wasn’t a subject of conversation did Pippa focus on making Alice’s stay enjoyable and interesting.
Assuming that you liked rubbans and embroidery...
Which Alice didn't.
At all.
"Cheer up!" Pippa nudged her slightly as she looked gracefully at the room. "Someone might be watching you." Her voice was hiding a warning which made Alice want to roll her eyes again. As if one liked to be spied from afar. How some could call it romance was quite questionable. Pippa's soft gaze landed on her cousin again, the spark in them not bearing good news according to Alice's point of view. "I heard the Duke of Ashford was of intendance." Something in her cousin's high-pitched tone intrigued Alice, however she didn't have the time to comment on the subject before Pippa added in haste. "Not that you should ever consider marrying him! Oh my– No. No, no, no." Alice watched quizzically her cousin look behind her shoulder and around them. Everyone who knew Pippa could see that she had started blushing and the married woman waved her hands slowly in front of her face to cover her rosy cheeks. "He's not the kind of man you'd want for you, Ali. Trust me. Too much of a..." Pippa stated as she cleared her throat, leaving her sentence unfinished and adding to Alice's curiosity. Which was a very unsettling characteristic trait of her personality, according to her aunt. One fine lady shouldn't be led by curiosity or gossip, she repeated countless times. But, truthfully, if a not-so-fine lady wanted to get some entertainment around here, what else did she have? A mysterious Duke with an unsaid adjective to describe him was indeed quite the amusement Alice could wish for the evening. And just the act of getting her cousin to elaborate on the subject was going to be a blast. "Anyway! His presence here is sure to have brought many other more suitable young men eager to meet you." Pippa nudged Alice discreetly as she cracked her neck to the dancefloor, changing the conversation as softly as Aunt Genevieve would. At least, Alice noted, one of them followed Lady Kilkeel’s advice on how to lead a mundane conversation. "Hmph. I can see Mr Shortsmith dancing with that horrid Wordworth's girl. Such a pity. He had been asking Mother for you just a moment ago." Pippa's attention came once again on Alice. Her face showed a slight annoyance, as if this Mr Shortsmith had been a prize to win and had been wrongfully taken by an unworthy opponent. "Where were you by the way?"
"Near the refreshment table." Alice answered vaguely as she pretended to be deeply focused on the waltz or whatever dance was taking place in front of them. Those people could swirl like the turns didn't shake their heads and make them lose balance. That, it had to be noted, was quite an accomplishment on its own. And if faking interest could prevent her from hearing too much of her cousin’s disapproval tone, so be it.
"No, you weren't. I checked." Pippa teased her gently with a knowing smile, showing her she didn’t hold it against her. Yet.
They were quite close in age and, even though her cousin was a few years younger than her, and now married, they had been good friends in their youth. As much as Alice couldn't welcome Pippa's medling presence, she was glad she had a friendly face to talk to.
"Mother is still looking for you." Pippa insisted, making Alice swallow a grunt as she deflected her gaze from the Mama's corner. The last thing Alice wanted was for Aunt Genevieve to chained her to potential suitors all night long. First of all, she thought, she had to get rid of her dancing card. That should prevent people from asking her. Or maybe she could sign it entirely with fake names. Surely someone already thought of it, didn’t they?
"Tell her I'm heading to the ladies' resting room then." Alice whispered as a tall yet thin gentleman walked past them. She punctuated her statement with a step to the right, following the man toward the darkest corner of the giant ballroom, leaving her cousin baffled.
"The restrooms are on the opposite side of the--" Pippa's big brown eyes stared at her for a few seconds before Alice gave her a pointing look. My point exactly. She'd known the toilets were located on the other side of the room, that was the main purpose of her scheme. Avoiding her aunt's grip had gathered most of her energy from the moment she stepped inside Heshley Hall. Alice wasn't going to let her guard down now and be forced to dance with strangers for the next two hours.
She had to get away.
Unfortunately, the ball room didn't have a direct opening to the balcony and the refreshment table had been too cleverly located next to the corridor leading to the gardens, wiping out Alice's last hopes of fresh air. The dark corner would have to do then, Alice thought as she walked as gracefully and discreetly as she could. She knew this wasn't the area where she was expected to stand nor where she'd meet the most educated people nevertheless, she wanted peace and quiet and this was where she'd find it. A few candles were off, which tickled Alice’s mind but she chose not to linger on it. This wasn’t made on purpose. Who would, in the middle of a dancing ball, blow off a couple of candles and hope to disappear in the shadows? Lifting her chin in a very ladylike way that would have made her aunt proud, she ignored the few men standing around and stopped in front of an puffed armchair.
Alice knew she wouldn't sit yet the presence of the piece of furniture gave her some comfort. She'd have something to grab onto if some man were to accost her in an unfriendly manner. Fidgeting and playing with the hem of her green gown, Alice almost changed her mind. As frustrating as her aunt could be, she always made her feel at ease and cared for. The fabric of Alice’s dress felt smooth and soft, creating an appeasing sensation on her palm. Just two more hours, Alice muttered. Two more hours and she'd be able to return to the familiar four pastel walls of her room. But while she was convincing herself that her hiding place was safe enough to spend the evening, a deep voice resounded on her right.
"You shouldn't be here."
