The Bad Luck Bride (The Brides of St. Ives #1)(82)

“I am much better, thank you, and looking forward to seeing the doctor later this afternoon so I can convince him I’m more than ready to get out of bed. All this lying about cannot be good for me.”

“A couple days’ more rest will not hurt, Papa,” Oliver said, and Alice laughed at his stern voice. She realized with a twinge that Oliver had been small moments from being the man of the house, a position he fervently did not want. At least not yet.

“Oliver, would you mind giving Papa and me some privacy?”

“Of course.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead, completely surprising Alice and making her eyes shine with unshed tears. Though she knew her brother loved her, he had never shown her affection, unless tugging ribbons from her hair could be construed as affection, and Alice was touched far more than he could know. Perhaps he understood how dreadful she’d been feeling about the entire episode.

After he’d left, Alice sat down in the chair her brother had occupied and took a bracing breath. “I don’t want you to think ill of Henderson, Papa. I love him dearly and it hurts to think of you at odds with him.”

To her disappointment, her father’s smile faded and he turned his head away.

“I wanted him to kiss me. I knew when I went out on that terrace that he would. If you want to be angry with someone, be angry with me.”

Her father gave her a quick look before turning his attention back to the ceiling.

“A gentleman would never have taken such liberties—”

“—without the benefit of marriage?” she finished for him, her tone rife with meaning.

It took perhaps two seconds for Richard to understand what she was saying. He stared at her for two beats, then, “Agatha.” It was not a question, but a pronouncement, and Alice understood that he knew what she knew.

“I am sorry, Papa. I wasn’t supposed to know but I do and I fear I must save you from hypocrisy.”

He let out a sharp laugh, then quickly sobered and shook his head. “It is not only that,” he said. “It is that Henderson’s background is not what I would have chosen for you. You must realize how inappropriate a match with him would be.”

“I don’t care. I love him, Papa, and he loves me. And perhaps best of all, he already loves all of us, despite your awful snobbishness.”

“So.” He moved his hands atop the covers, smoothing them. “I thought you swore never to marry.”

“That’s because I’d never been in love before. It’s easy to swear you will never marry if you’ve never been in love.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “And if it makes you feel any better, Henderson is quite wealthy.”

“So I’ve been told. By more than one person in this family. It appears you are all conspiring against me in this. Somehow you’ve even won over your mother.”

Alice smiled. Her father’s words were like seeing a slice of sunshine splitting the clouds after a long rain. Waving her hand dismissively, she said, “Mama was easy to convince. She’s always adored Henderson. I think she just wanted to please you.”

“Hmm.” Alice held her breath, sensing that her father was about to make some sort of pronouncement. “You may have Henderson visit with me later today if you’d like.”

“Oh, Papa,” Alice said, leaning into him and giving him a long embrace. If he’d been well, she would have flung herself atop him, but she feared she might hurt him if she did that now. “You have no idea how happy you have made me.”

He let out a grunt, and Alice chose to take that sound as one of pleasure, not regret. “I cannot wait to tell Henderson the news. Thank you, Papa.”

She sailed from the room, and her father watched her depart, a fond look on his face, for it truly was impossible to remain angry at Alice for any length of time.



*



Henderson arrived in time for tea, and Mrs. Godfrey, having somehow learned he would be coming for a visit, served his favorite, cherry tarts. Elda, Christina, Oliver, and Alice sat expectantly when he entered the parlor, and used to being treated as a member of the family, he nearly laughed at the formal way they each greeted him.

“Thank you for inviting me,” he said to Elda.

“Thank you for coming. Lord Hubbard is still not well enough to join us, but has requested an interview after we’ve finished with tea.”

Henderson glanced over at Alice, who sat stiff and still, the oddest look on her face, as if she were bursting with some news but was unable to express it. The note inviting him to tea that afternoon had arrived at his hotel earlier that day, a cryptic message in the neat handwriting of Lady Hubbard. He’d studied the invitation for long minutes, not knowing quite what to make of it. Had Alice told her mother what had happened last night? Had something happened between the time he had left her standing on the terrace and the time her mother had written the note?

This formal greeting confused him even more. Everyone seemed happy enough to see him, and he could see no censor in Lady Hubbard’s expression, but it was clear that something was up.

“Is Lord Hubbard well?” he asked, because he wasn’t supposed to know he was doing much better.

“As well as can be expected,” Elda said, and Alice gave her mother a look of disbelief.

“He’s doing much better,” Alice said. “Things are looking very positive.”