The Bad Luck Bride (The Brides of St. Ives #1)(41)

After Northrup left, Alice made her way back to her original seat and lowered herself into it, feeling drained and exhausted. “I’m so confused, Papa.”

“Understandable, my dear. It isn’t every day an errant fiancé turns up at one’s door begging forgiveness.”

After a brief and probably unconvincing smile, Alice said, “Yes, but that’s not what I meant. I was referring to what you said about Henderson. How you acted. As if he wasn’t welcome in our home anymore. I’m certain he was terribly hurt.”

Richard let out a heavy sigh before dragging another chair closer to her. “You know I like Henderson, and you are correct, he has always been welcome in our home. But you must understand that if it wasn’t for Joseph, someone like Henderson would never have rubbed elbows with our ilk. Think, Alice. We have no idea who his father is. Yes, his grandparents are fine people with a large estate, but they are commoners. Without Joseph’s insistence, Mr. Southwell is certainly not the type of man I would associate with. Nor would I want my children to.”

“Then why did you allow it?”

“Joseph begged your mother and she finally relented. You know she could never say no to him. We have never regretted the decision. Henderson proved to be a fine young man with impeccable manners.”

“But not impeccable bloodlines,” Alice said softly.

“It does matter. Blood will tell, you know,” Richard said, his tone gentle. “It always did and it always will.”

Alice closed her eyes briefly, seeing again the look on Henderson’s face when he’d left the room. “I don’t believe that,” she said finally. “Henderson is one of the finest men I know. I don’t give a fig who his father is, and, frankly, Father, I cannot believe you do.”

Richard winked at her. “You always call me ‘Father’ when you are particularly angry.”

“Do not patronize me.” The tears burned even hotter in her eyes.

“Oh, Alice, you are so young. Someday you’ll realize, as Lord Northrup and I do, that nothing good ever comes from mingling with the lower classes. Joseph found out the hard way.”

Alice could not stop the horrified gasp that erupted from her. “You cannot possibly believe that Henderson had anything to do with Joseph’s death. He wasn’t even there that night.”

“No, he wasn’t. But Henderson was the risk-taker. The clown. The one who would egg Joseph to do things your brother never would have done. He may have acted the gentleman when he was with all of us, but when Joseph and he were alone, they were always up to mischief.”

“You’re wrong,” Alice said, no longer able to stop the tears from falling.

“His first summer here, I caught Mr. Southwell trying to teach Joseph to stand upon a horse and ride it. Apparently, he’d read something about American cowboys doing such a thing and wanted Joseph to try it. My son could have broken his neck. Do you really think Joseph would have taken it in his head to do such a thing if Henderson hadn’t come up with the idea?”

Alice had no answer. Her father was probably right—Henderson and Joseph had gotten into all kinds of mischief when they were together. But one could hardly blame Henderson for Joseph’s death. It was absurd.

“You seemed so glad to see him in London.”

“And I was. Truly. But now…perhaps he’s overstayed his welcome.”



*



That night, Alice lay in bed staring at her canopy and feeling horrid about the evening’s events. Frowning, she recalled with a certain amount of dismay how her mother had agreed with her father, that Henderson should go now that Lord Northrup was here, as if Henny might taint his lordship with his presence. Would her father have sent him away if Lord Northrup hadn’t accompanied him home? She thought not. It was obvious to Alice that her parents still hoped she would marry Lord Northrup, and she wasn’t certain how she felt about that.

“Your father explained things to me, Alice,” her mother had said earlier that evening, “and I think it’s a blessing, really. He’s a very good match, I always thought so. You couldn’t hope to do better.”

“I suppose not,” Alice had said. Lord Northrup, despite his flaws, was a good man. He was a bit of a snob, but what member of the aristocracy was not? From his perspective, Alice had to admit Henderson had seemed a bit overbearing and out of line. Yes, Lord Northrup seemed to be a good match if one was not part of that match. Alice’s heart did not speed up when he entered the room, and the thought of kissing him the way Henderson had kissed her made her slightly queasy. While Henderson’s kiss… It was magical.

Her chest hurt to know her father would no longer welcome him into their home. Nothing made any sense, not her father welcoming Lord Northrup so easily back into their lives nor pushing Henderson out.

“I might never see him again,” she said aloud, and suddenly her eyes filled with tears and spilled over to leave wet spots on either side of her pillow. When Henderson had left before, Alice had always assumed he would return. Someday. Even after years had gone by, she would think of him, think about how lovely it would be when he returned.

Now, though, he would not come to their home in London and he would never set foot in Tregrennar again.

She would never kiss him. Never hold him. Never speak to him.