The Bad Luck Bride (The Brides of St. Ives #1)(61)

“If you wait that long, you’ll be an old maid,” Rebecca had stated.

“I’ll only be twenty-two.”

“Twenty-two is well on the shelf. That’s what my mother says, at any rate.” Rebecca always held a wealth of information, most of which came from either her mother or older siblings.

Five years later, all four women were unmarried with only Alice having a prospective husband. Since Berkley’s visit, Lord Northrup had only increased his campaign to win her hand, much to her mother’s clear annoyance. As they were getting ready for the ball, Alice’s mother had come into her room and wondered out loud if Lord Northrup was overstaying his welcome.

“Mama, you would not be saying that if Lord Berkley had not made an appearance.”

Her mother didn’t even try to deny it. “Lord Berkley would be an excellent match for you, Alice.”

Alice, whose maid was finishing up her intricate coiffure, stared at her mother through the mirror’s reflection. “What if I were to say to you that I didn’t want to marry either Lord Northrup or Lord Berkley?”

“I would say you were being silly. Both are good men. It’s just that Lord Berkley is the slightly better man.”

Alice laughed and her mother joined her. “You have to admit, darling, when the two men are side by side there really is no comparison.”

“I do not have to admit any such thing.” She paused to thank her maid before dismissing her. “You are correct, Mama, but it’s not about a title or his stature. I truly don’t care for how Lord Northrup treats Henderson.”

Elda waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, that. He’s a snob. Most people are.”

“Lord Berkley isn’t.”

Elda smiled. “That’s why he’s the better man for you, my dear.”

It was on the tip of Alice’s tongue to tell her mother that she thought Henderson the best man of all, but she knew that would only cause her mother distress. It was one thing to welcome a man into your home, it was quite another to allow that man to marry your daughter. Henderson’s declaration had been in the forefront of her thoughts during the three days since Lord Berkley had visited that first time. The earl had returned one other time, but Henderson had not accompanied him. Knowing he was still in St. Ives was driving her a bit mad. On the few outings she had made with Christina or her friends she had been tense, as if at any moment Henderson would leap out and publicly announce his intentions. Worse, she wanted him to. In the days since his visit, she couldn’t stop wondering where he was, what he was doing, if he had been serious when he’d said he loved her.

What bosh. He couldn’t love her.

But his parting words to her when they’d been alone haunted her: I really did come to stop the wedding, you know.

Was it possible? Had he actually hurried from India to stop her wedding? She thought back on that morning and tried to recall how Henderson had looked, how he had looked at her. No, she thought, he hadn’t acted like a man relieved, like a man who’d nearly lost the woman he loved to another. Oh, why was he fueling her doubts this way? A man who loved a woman did not leave for four years then return on the day of her third planned wedding and suddenly announce he was in love. But a man who was ashamed of his actions, who felt guilt and obligation after ruining a girl, would make such a declaration.

Alice pressed her cool fingertips to her temples, drawing a worried look from her mother. “I’m fine,” she said. “I have to admit these recent events have been quite wearing. I came to St. Ives to escape excitement and intrigue and it seems it has followed me home.”

Her mother gave her a quick hug. “Someday you may crave this sort of excitement, my dear. I do admit having Lord Northrup show up to beg forgiveness and having Lord Berkley show interest in you is rather more excitement than I expected this summer as well.”

Alice stared in the mirror at her reflection for a long moment, seeing only the girl she always saw. “Would it be so terrible if I never married, Mama?”

Elda sighed and put two gentle hands on her shoulders. “No,” she said, giving Alice a small squeeze. “It would mean I would never lose you. But it would also mean I would never get to hold your children and watch them grow. And neither would you. I cannot imagine how very dreary my life would have been if I didn’t have you children. We’ll figure this all out, shall we?”

“Yes. I just hope you support my decision.”

“I’m sure I will.”



*



The night of the John Knill ball was with thick with fog. Light from the Godrevy Lighthouse hardly made it to shore as it sliced through the night. The air was moist and by the time Henderson walked up the steps of the Lowell Hall, his hair was covered with a fine mist that created annoying curls even though he had applied a thin layer of pomade to keep it in place.

It had been more years than he could count since he had taken part in an English ball. Joseph had gained him entry into a few, but he never had been comfortable in his formal wear. Lord Berkley, horrified that he didn’t employ a valet, had let him borrow his for the evening. The poor man was put in a state when he saw what Henderson had been planning to wear, and quickly engaged a tailor to “create a proper fit, sir.” Henderson had to admit the suit fit him far better than it had, and he felt rather polished in his pristine clothes, highly polished boots, and intricately tied cravat. Perhaps when he returned to England for good and set up a house, he would make use of a valet.