Chapter 4
The moment she realized she was dreaming was the moment the Duchess of Warington strolled into the drawing room with a bright smile. As usual, she had the power to bring light into any room, to chase shadows from the corners and the hearts of anyone who gazed upon her. Alice felt that herself when her spirits lifted and every weight that had been on her shoulders—the pressure to be a motherly figure to Emma, the pressure to marry—disappear.
“Close your mouth, Alice,” came her mother’s gentle voice. “You’ll attract flies and then it will truly be difficult speaking to you.”
Laughter filled the room. That was when Alice noticed that they were not alone. Her father, the Duke, and Emma sat to the left of her. Her father lowered the Times and laid it on the table next to his armchair, his eyes glittering with humor. Emma became distracted from her embroidery, still giggling behind her hand.
Alice didn’t know whether to laugh or not. She could only stare at her beautiful mother as the Duchess came to sit on the chaise lounge next to Emma. A few strands of her golden blond hair were pinned to the back of her head, while the rest tumbled down her back like a waterfall. Her crystal-blue eyes were filled with mischief, even as she reached out an elegant hand and stroked Emma on her cheek.
“Would you look at her?” the Duke said, still chuckling. “She does not know what to say.”
“Come now, Alice.” The Duchess turned to face Alice, tilting her head to the side. For as long as Alice had known her, the Duchess of Warington always wore her jewelry—and so pearl earrings dangled from her lobes at every move she made. “You’ve always been far quicker with your retorts than that. Or is it that I’ve hurt your feelings?”
“You know it takes far more than that to bother me, Mother,” Alice murmured, completely on instinct. She still couldn’t believe her eyes, still couldn’t believe that her dear, very deceased mother, was sitting before in the same room as her. And everyone else was pretending as if it was fine, as if she hadn’t died at all.
It’s all a dream.
The words whispered through Alice’s mind even as she watched her mother giggle at Alice’s response—even as her family delved into normal conversation as if nothing were amiss. Tears pricked her eyes, knowing that no matter how beautiful this dream was, it would come to an end.
But for now, Alice was simply happy to be here. She blinked back the tears and eagerly refocused on the conversation swirling around her head, listening to her mother’s witty little comments. It had been her favorite thing about her, a trait Alice had been told she’d picked up ever since she’d learned how to speak.
And then, the door opened once more and the Marquess of Erlington walked in.
Alice’s smile fell, her lips parting in surprise once more. He strolled into the room with ease, as if he belonged there. And the Duke and Duchess of Warington, Emma—her dear sister—greeted him as if he did.
The Marquess nodded his head at Alice’s family, but his eyes were on her as his long legs ate up the distance between them. Without hesitation, he reached down and took her hand, sitting by her side.
No, it couldn’t be. Alice stared in disbelief, taking in the adoring look in his eyes and the gentle way he ran his thumb over the back of her hand.Why is he here? Why is he ruining this perfect dream?
But he wasn’t ruining it. Every swipe of his thumb sent chills through her body, that gentle gaze he gave her filling her with such happiness and…and love. A foreign feeling, an impossible one, and yet she recognized it all the same. The same feeling she’d feared for most of her life, seized her with all its might as the man she should despise leaned closer and said, “Good morning, my dear Wife.”
Alice eye’s shot open, her breath seizing in her chest as if she’d been in the grips of a nightmare. Her heart hammered against her ribcage and she lifted a hand to her bosom, hoping to quell the feeling. It certainly should have been a nightmare. From the moment the Marquess walked in, she should have hated every second of it.
Slowly, she sat up. Sunlight streamed through the cracks of her drawn drapes, bringing the room into semi-dark state. Her dark hair fell over her face as she tried to quiet the pounding of her heart but every time she pictured the Marquess’ devastatingly handsome face—his chiseled jaw, his boyish grin, the teasing dimple that made her heart skip a beat—Alice couldn’t control her body. Her cheeks grew flushed with what she hoped was anger and so she quickly got out of bed and padded over to the nearest window, drawing the drapes.
At that moment, the door opened. Alice turned into time to see Nancy stiffen at the sight of her by the window, and then bow her head. “My Lady, you’re awake! I thought you would sleep in a bit more seeing that it is only a bit after dawn.”
“I should, shouldn’t I?” Alice sighed. She made her way back to the bed and sat, staring out the window and seeing nothing. “I’m afraid of what might happen, however.”
“Pardon me, My Lady?”
“It’s nothing.” She waved a dismissive hand. “There are a few letters I should respond to, aren’t there? I shall get ready now and go to the library for a while before breakfast. That should surely take my mind off things.”
Nancy looked bemused for a moment and Alice didn’t blame her. She was mainly talking to herself anyhow, thinking up any solution she could to rid her mind of Lord Erlington’s infuriating image.
“A…ah,” Nancy said finally, inching away from the door with a bit of uncertainty. “Then, I shall prepare a dress for you.”
Alice nodded. She wasn’t in much of a mood to speak right now, not with that dream still weighing on her mind. So she silently watched as Nancy rummaged through her armoire and brought out a peach-colored morning gown, pairing it with satin-lined kid slippers. Not caring what she wore today, Alice only nodded then stood to make her way to the vanity table.
To her annoyance, Lord Erlington would simply not leave her mind. Every time she banished his image, he came creeping back with that provoking smirk of his and his infuriating dimple. She could not even enjoy the blissful moments she had in reminiscing about her mother, picturing a life where she had not died. Not when the Marquess hounded her so.
Thankfully, Nancy seemed to have finally picked up on Alice’s mood and so she didn’t tarry very long. Her fingers moved quickly as she spun Alice’s hair into a simple style, one that left a few tendrils framing her face while the rest of her black mane was tucked under a lace cap. Dressing was a quick and simple matter as well and by the time they were finished, only ten minutes had gone by. Even though she was not in a very good mood, Alice took care to bid Nancy a good day before she left her lady’s maid in her bedchamber.
“You were simply tired, Alice,” she murmured to herself, strolling down the long hallway outside her bedchamber. “A tired mind conjures many useless things.”
Such as imagining a life with her mother, without the heartbreak that had broken her father, and the fear that developed in her. Such as being married to the most frustrating and irritating man she’d ever had the displeasure of meeting.
At least, it seems he is not interested in Emma. Unfortunately, he’s seemed to have set his eyes on me.
