The Bad Luck Bride (The Brides of St. Ives #1)(37)

Henderson smiled. “But you will try?”

“I will,” Berkley said with a hard jerk of his head. “You’re bloody right I will.”



*



The next evening, the women were gathered in the parlor again, her mother knitting, and Alice and Christina playing Pinochle. Henderson had been gone all day, leaving Alice on pins and needle, not knowing when he would return or how he would act. She did know one thing: There could be no more kissing. She’d hardly slept at all and felt as if she were crawling out of her skin all day, an uncommon sensation she had no idea how to stop.

“Kings around,” Christina said excitedly, placing four kings down triumphantly on the table.

Christina was winning—again—and Alice made a face at her sister, which only made Christina laugh. A loud, excited barking drew their attention away from the game, and the ladies all stood, smiles on their faces. The sound of Cleo’s bark could mean only one thing: Richard was home. Sure enough, her father burst through the parlor door, Cleo bouncing in behind him and going to each woman for a quick hello before throwing himself next to Richard and leaning against his leg.

“My dears, just look who I have brought with me.” Richard turned, his arm extended, and Alice wondered if her father had met Henderson in the village. But it wasn’t Henderson at all.

It was Harvey Reginald Heddingford III, Viscount Northrup, Alice’s missing fiancé.





Chapter 9


Shock could not come close to describing what Alice felt, staring at Lord Northrup, who stood there looking uncertain with a small, hopeful smile on his face.

“Richard, how could you?” Elda said, finally breaking the silence.

Richard held his hands out in supplication. “Now, now, Elda, there is an explanation. One that I found quite satisfactory, though I do not believe this man handled the situation as well as he could have.” Her father gave Northrup a quelling look.

“No, sir, I did not.” Lord Northrup turned to Alice. “I cannot express to you how very sorry I am that you were put through the disgrace of my having missed our wedding. But I want you to know that circumstances prevented me from appearing.”

“You don’t look dead,” Alice said, her eyes narrowed. “Father, is this a ghost you have brought with you?”

Richard pressed his lips together in an obvious attempt not to laugh aloud at Alice’s question, then gave his daughter a chastising look.

“You should know there are very few things that could have kept me from the church that day.”

“You were tied up? Gagged? Unable to write? I daresay those are the only reasons I can think of for not only missing our wedding but also not contacting me and begging my forgiveness immediately. If you don’t mind, I’ve developed a terrible headache.” Alice looked around the room to gauge the others’ reactions to Northrup’s appearance, but her mother and Christina looked just as confused as she felt. “I believe I shall retire.”

“Alice,” her father said sharply. “You will hear this young man out.”

Alice straightened, her eyes flashing. “Will I.”

“Yes,” Richard said with a snap of his head.

“Mama, this is outrageous.”

Elda glanced from Alice to her husband to Lord Northrup, who still stood in the doorway, looking hopeful and uncertain. “Very well. Alice, hear Lord Northrup out. And then he can remove himself from this house.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Northrup said.

Everyone filed out of the room, and as Christina passed, she gave Alice’s hand a squeeze.

She simply could not believe that Lord Northrup had the audacity to show his face to her and that her father had allowed it. Alice sat and stared stonily in front of her, her face set, her hands clenched tightly in her lap.

“You have every reason to be angry with me.”

“Yes, I do,” Alice said, finally looking at the man she’d thought would be her husband. She’d thought he was handsome and charming, but looking at him now, he appeared pale and small and not nearly as good looking as she remembered. His eyes were a dull brown, his chin was weak, his shoulders drooping and not even his outrageously expensive clothes helped him. He sat across from her, and Alice noted his knees were bony. In fact, nothing about him appealed to her, that’s how angry she was, for Lord Northrup was actually a fair looking fellow—at least that’s what she’d once thought.

“Mine is a terrible story and one that I hope will sway you to forgive me. And perhaps lead us toward a happier ending.” He had that hopeful smile on this face again, and Alice had the terrible urge to slap him. She had her own terrible story to tell, one that began the moment the vicar made his way slowly to the back of the church to tell her there would be no wedding that day.

Alice simply glared at him, and he shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. This was an Alice he had never seen before, one who was unsmiling and rigid. Perhaps he had thought she would be so grateful to see him she would forgive him instantly. He could not be more wrong, Alice thought to herself, looking at him with no small amount of distaste. Had he no idea what he had done to her? How he had ruined her life and taken away all hope of having a family and home of her own?

“You are familiar with Lester Flemings, Lord Porter.”