The Bad Luck Bride (The Brides of St. Ives #1)(54)
Chapter 12
“Two men are getting out of the carriage,” Christina called to Alice and her mother, who were waiting in the parlor pretending not to be sitting on the edge of their seats in anticipation of the earl’s arrival. “I cannot see them at all through the rain. They have an umbrella hiding them. Were you expecting two gentlemen, Mama?”
“I was not,” Elda said, and it was clear to Alice that she was slightly alarmed. Rising, she opened the door and caught the attention of a footman, instructing him to tell Mrs. Godfrey there would be an additional person for luncheon. “There, that’s settled. I do hope Mrs. Godfrey isn’t too upset. It is only one addition.”
“I’m certain she will handle the news with aplomb, Mama,” Alice said. “I do wonder who he has brought.”
“The more the merrier,” Northrup said, in the exaggerated cheerfulness he’d adopted since his arrival. He was being extremely solicitous to Alice, and was so agreeable it was difficult to remain angry with him. Still, Alice found herself resisting him and could only blame her new feelings for Henderson. Northrup had kissed her a few times, and had very nearly gotten carried away on one occasion (for which he’d profusely apologized), but his kisses did not nearly elicit the passion that Henderson’s had. Just thinking about it—which she did more than she should—would cause her entire body to heat. It made her want to find that wonderful release she’d found with Henderson, and longing, a subtle pressure between her legs, had her pressing her limbs together far too often. And that left her aching for more.
The butler entered and announced their visitors with solemn dignity. “His Lordship the Earl of Berkley and Mr. Southwell, madam.”
Alice, who had been trying to look pointedly uninterested, for she didn’t want to encourage her mother at all in trying to push her toward the earl, snapped her head up. Henderson, the rascal, smiled broadly, first at her mother and then at her. With narrowed eyes, Alice tried in vain to stop her heart from picking up a beat and her lips from tilting up at the corners. Henderson would know, of course, that despite her mock anger, she was entirely too pleased to see him at Tregrennar again.
“A pleasure, Lord Berkley, Mr. Southwell,” Elda said, giving a slight disapproving emphasis to Henderson’s name. “I would like to offer my condolences on the loss of your father.”
Berkley nodded. “Thank you, my lady.”
“I hadn’t realized you were acquainted with Mr. Southwell, my lord.”
“I met Mr. Southwell only recently when he approached me regarding the famine relief.” Alice tore her gaze away from Henderson to look at Lord Berkley, who epitomized elegance and wealth. Berkley was tall and lean, with thick dark hair pushed back from a strong forehead, lined by worry or time, Alice wasn’t certain which. He was handsome, true, but Alice did not care for the arrogant way he looked at those in the room, nor for his lazy smile, which exuded confidence and privilege. It was almost as if he were playing some secret joke on everyone and he was the only one who knew.
“Oh, yes. Of course. I recall now you were on Mr. Southwell’s list.”
“I rather think it was my father who was on that list, but I shall do what I can for the relief. Mr. Southwell is quite passionate and has convinced me to join his efforts.”
“As have I,” Lord Northrup said, and for some reason, he sounded overloud, like a child who wants to be noticed.
Elda turned a startled gaze his way, as if she’d quite forgotten Northrup was in the room. That did not bode well for her efforts to deter her mother’s efforts toward Lord Berkley, Alice thought morosely. Lord Berkley was precisely the sort of man her mother would love for her to marry—wealthy and with a prestigious title that any mother would adore for her daughter.
“Of course. It is so good to see you again, Mr. Southwell.”
“It has been ages, my lady,” Henderson said on a laugh. Alice watched, delighted, as her mother couldn’t stop her smile. No matter that her father had rudely asked him to leave, Alice knew her mother was pleased to have Henderson beneath her roof again despite her effort to appear otherwise.
“Mr. Southwell is a particular friend of the family,” Elda said. “Did you know this, my lord?”
“Indeed I did,” he said, and Alice could swear he darted her a quick look. For some reason, that look made her blush. “Mr. Southwell has mentioned how he spent many happy summers here as a youth. I am glad I was able to convince him to come today.”
“And did he need convincing?” Alice asked, unable to stop herself.
“As a matter of fact, he did. I fear I am not a social creature, and having Mr. Southwell along makes it much easier to walk into a home of virtual strangers. I know I visited here as a youth, but it is so long ago, I feared you might have forgotten me.” He smiled easily at her mother, and Alice could see she was falling under Berkley’s spell. Berkley hardly seemed the sort of man who would be anxious about paying a local family a visit, and she wondered why he would say such a thing? Had Henderson somehow begged an invitation?
The women sat together on a long settee and the men followed and found seats as well, Henderson and Berkley choosing two wingbacked chairs that faced them and Northrup pulling another chair into the group. Alice couldn’t help but notice that Henderson, for all his easy grins, seemed slightly nervous; he kept darting looks to the door as if he expected someone to come remove him from the room. Likely her father, Alice thought darkly. Her father was expected to join them for luncheon, and Alice did wonder at the reaction he would have when he saw Henderson at the table. No doubt he would be as displeased as she was pleased.