The Bad Luck Bride (The Brides of St. Ives #1)(52)

“Lord Berkley wishes to pay us a call.” Elda gave Alice a thoughtful look, then shook her head slightly. “Have you thought about Lord Northrup’s proposal, my dear?”

“Oh, Mama, for goodness sake. Get that calculating look out of your eyes,” Alice said, pointing her spoon at her mother.

Christina looked from one woman to the other, clearly confused.

“She’s thinking of Lord Berkley for me,” Alice said, exasperated. “I already have one almost-fiancé under the roof and she wants to add another.”

Christina giggled into her napkin.

“He’s an earl, Alice. Lord Northrup is only a viscount,” Elda pointed out, before turning to Christina and studying her younger daughter thoughtfully.

“Mother!”

Elda had the good grace to look slightly chagrined.

“Don’t tell me you were thinking about me,” Christina said, shocked. It only took about ten seconds for her to embrace the idea. “What does he look like?” Alice could tell she was trying to sound nonchalant and was failing miserably.

“He’s more than double your age,” Alice said, wrinkling her nose.

“True, true,” Elda said with some reluctance. “But why on earth is he asking to call? Of course we shall welcome him. His father was quite esteemed.”

“Welcome whom?” Richard asked, walking into the room the way he did everything—quickly and with little concern for what was happening around him.

“Lord Berkley.”

“The son?”

And to Alice’s horror, her father immediately looked at her. Really.

“Yes. I thought it was odd. It’s not as if we know him. I haven’t seen him since he was a young boy.”

“What does the note say?” Richard asked, already losing patience with the conversation.

Elda opened the note. “I would like to call on you and your family tomorrow afternoon so that I may reacquaint myself with you. Truly yours, Augustus Lawton, Earl of Berkley.”

Richard stole a piece of sausage from his younger daughter’s plate and she slapped at his hand playfully. “Short and sweet. Do we have any prior engagements tomorrow?”

“Not until evening. The Airsdales have invited us for a small showing. Apparently, they are hosting some French artist for the summer. Gagin or Gaugan. I’ve never heard of him, which isn’t shocking given my complete lack of interest in the world of art, but Mrs. Airsdale believes him to be quite accomplished.”

Richard stifled a groan but smiled at his wife. “Then of course we should accept Berkley’s request.”

“Perhaps I can invite my friends for luncheon to even out the numbers,” Alice said, knowing her mother would object.

“The numbers are even, my dear,” she said with calm steel. As a girl who had not yet come out, Christina could hardly be considered when “evening out the numbers” but Alice didn’t argue. To be honest, after yesterday’s events, talking about anything else was a relief.

The Hubbards, in silent agreement, had decided not to discuss the gruesome discovery made yesterday on the beach. The entire day had been upsetting in so many ways, least of which was Henderson’s appearance on the Island. She wasn’t quite certain she believed his meeting them had been complete happenstance, though he had appeared to be surprised. Happily surprised.

And if she had to admit it, she had been happily surprised as well. She’d imagined he would have returned immediately to London, not stayed in St Ives where he could haunt her. It had always seemed to her that cutting things off cleanly was the best course, and one she would hardly have been able to accomplish with Northrup under her roof and Henderson wandering about St. Ives looking for her. And being invited to balls where he would no doubt ask for a dance.

I want to taste you.

Those words, just thinking of them, made her body burn. It seemed so un-Henderson like, and made Alice wonder if their stolen time together was preoccupying him as much as it was her. If she had known what would happen and, more importantly, how it would make her feel, she never would have gone to his room. Henderson had called her na?ve that night, and she hadn’t realized just how na?ve until now. At the Island yesterday, he hadn’t touched her, but those words—oh Lord, just those words made her feel as if he were touching her. Worst of all, it was thrilling.

Alice let out a sigh, which earned her a look of concern from her mother. “Yesterday’s events,” she said by way of explanation, telling the truth even though she knew her mother would misinterpret what she said. Elda immediately let it go, which Alice had known she would; her mother often refused to discuss or acknowledge upsetting events and was always visibly relieved to learn she would not have to dwell on them. It wasn’t that Elda did not care—she cared rather too deeply and wished it would all go away. That was why she was so relieved that Northrup was back and wooing Alice. It meant the end of an unpleasant chapter.

“Papa, do you think there is any truth to the rumors that Lord Berkley’s wife died of anything more than an accident? It would be so exciting to think we are entertaining an actual murderer,” Christina said, unable to hide her fascination with the man.

Richard placed his fork slowly and purposefully on the table and turned toward his younger daughter. “There will be no more such talk, young lady. Do I make myself clear?”