The Bad Luck Bride (The Brides of St. Ives #1)(30)
“Alice, you cannot live here forever, you silly goose. What will you do when Mama and Papa are no longer here?” Christina cast a look of apology to their mother. “Oliver will eventually get married, for all his protestations to the contrary. And I doubt he’d like to have his sister hanging about.”
Alice hated when her younger sister was more practical than she.
“I’ll live with you.”
Christina laughed. “I’m afraid His Grace and I will not have room in our castle.”
“You’re marrying a duke, are you?”
“Why not? My grandfather is a duke,” Christina said predictably. “I don’t know why you didn’t have higher aspirations.”
Alice shot her little sister a look of disbelief. “I was engaged to marry a baron and a viscount. And a pretend earl. I hardly call that having low aspirations.”
Elda looked between her daughters, an indulgent smile on her face. “If you want to marry a duke and Alice wants to marry a baron, that’s fine with me.”
“I’m not getting married to anyone,” Alice announced, and was surprised when her mother and her sister both laughed. “I’m not,” she insisted. “Don’t you think it highly unlikely at this point that anyone will want to marry me? The bad luck bride?”
Elda furrowed her brow. “Christina, you didn’t.”
“Someone had to tell her. Really, Mother, did you think she wouldn’t find out?”
Alice quickly interjected before her mother got truly angry with Christina. “Mother, it’s far better that I know than not. This way when someone says something—and they will—I shall be prepared. Harriet told me already at any rate, so you cannot place sole blame on Christina.”
“That silly moniker will not prevent you from marrying,” Elda said firmly. “I’m certain most people have already forgotten it or haven’t read that awful piece in the first place.”
“Maybe we can bribe someone to marry her,” Christina said cheerfully. “What about Mr. Southwell?”
Alice immediately felt her face heat. “That’s just silly. He’s far too good a friend to subject him to having you as a sister-in-law.”
Christina stuck out her tongue and Elda tsked. “Girls, that is enough. No one is marrying anyone in the foreseeable future.”
“I might marry next year,” Christina said. “I’ve made a list of potential suitors already.” She giggled. “Would you like to know who is at the top of the list?”
Alice struggled not to roll her eyes. “I know very well who is at the top of your list. It might as well be Prince Edward.”
“He’s married,” Christina quipped. “And Prince Napoleon is living in England now, you know.”
“Yes, I know. It’s all you can speak of. You do know there is talk of him marrying Princess Beatrice.”
Christina made a face. “Have you seen her nose?”
“Christina!” Elda looked at her daughter, shocked.
“Well, have you?”
Alice tried her best to stifle her laughter but found it nearly impossible. “You are terrible. The princess is really a lovely person.” Christina picked up her book pointedly and began to read, effectively ending the conversation and leaving Alice to her own thoughts again, which immediately returned to the path to Tregrennar and Henderson.
And that kiss.
Forever it would be sealed in her memory. She wished it had never happened, that she hadn’t teased him about his kiss being brotherly. It would be far better to have never experienced Henderson’s skilled caresses. The thought of a man’s tongue in her mouth would have repulsed her just one day before. Truthfully, the thought of any man’s tongue other than Henderson’s made her feel slightly queasy. With that one, scorching, life-altering kiss, Henderson had completely changed the way she thought of him. While her heart had always stepped up a beat whenever he walked in a room, now it seemed ready to explode out of her body just at the thought of him. She felt odd and faint and not at all herself. And she didn’t like it one bit, because she had a terrible feeling that after he’d done kissing her and stepped back, he hadn’t given another thought to how wonderful it had been. All her friends had insisted that men felt differently about kissing than did women. For a woman to kiss, it was far more emotional, held far more meaning. Men went around kissing girls all the time if they could get away with it. Four years ago, even as sheltered as she’d been, she’d heard the rumors about Henderson being quite the ladies’ man.
For him it had been a kiss. For her it had been the kiss.
The kiss that changed her life. Now she was even more certain that she would never marry. For what man could she possibly marry who could make her forget she wasn’t in the arms of the man she loved?
Chapter 8
Henderson returned, as promised, just before midnight. He’d been in the Downalong, the very old center of St. Ives, sharing drinks and stories with one of the chaps Joseph and he used to see when they were in school. Percy Taylor was the son of a local squire and was one of the most intelligent men Henderson had ever known. Unfortunately, Percy also had a tendency to think of all others who didn’t share his intelligence as lesser beings. Still, he was sharp-witted and a nice distraction—and he had mellowed in the past four years since his marriage and the birth of his daughter. The last time Henderson had seen Percy was at Joseph’s funeral, a common theme since his return to England. They studiously avoided talking about Joseph, to Henderson’s great relief. It was difficult enough staying at Tregrennar with all its ghosts without discussing Joseph with every man he met who had known of their friendship. Like Henderson, Percy had not been there the night Joseph died.