Rowan turned, shooting her a perplexed look. He corrected his expression before she noticed, giving the servant a pleading look.
“She lives with her husband in the country,” he said bluntly. “Lord Bray, shall we begin our dealings over tea?”
“Do not let me distract you, Your Grace.” Elizabeth winked, sitting down next to her father.
I need this woman out of my home as soon as possible. If Miss Snow were here, I guarantee she would have some witty response to brighten my mood, despite the situation.
* * *
Alice had hidden the invitations in the drawer of her writing desk, but she sat now, staring at the loopy etchings of the Duke’s handwriting, wondering about the possibilities.
Why did he insist that this is how I repaid him? It surely is not worth what he has done for me.
“Alice?” Richard’s voice barked through the front door, and she raced down the stairs to assist him with his coat and hat.
“Apologies, My Lord.” She bowed, hanging up his jacket.
It had begun to rain while her brother was out at the gentlemen’s club, and he stomped through the foyer with his muddy boots to the sitting room, trailing dirt and pebbles from the drive across the carpet.
She knew that he did things like this on purpose, to get a rise out of her or just to assert his so-called dominance. But after what Rowan had done for her during his spontaneous visit several days ago, she was beginning to see through her brother’s façade.
“I need you to fix me lunch and tea. And I will need the bar restocked.” He pointed his head to the empty glass decanters on the bar cart that was parked right next to his usual chair. He flopped down into it, the wood creaking under the pressure, and he threw his feet into the air. “Help me with my shoes, Sister.”
“How are you, Richard?” she asked as she approached him and crouched down to pull his dirty boots from his feet.
She wanted to try a new technique, and if it backfired, she figured she would not be any worse off.
“You know, it does not come up often, but you can tell me your troubles. I am your sister, after all.”
Richard peered at her, his brow furrowing in what looked like confusion. She watched his expression soften as he was about to speak before he went back to his regular cold demeanor.
“Alice, I know who you are. You can pretend to be soft around the ton, and you can sweep that Duke off his feet a hundred times over. But you will not fool me. You were always the favorite, and you know the kind of influence that has had on your attitude. I refuse to let you manipulate me like you do everyone else. Go do your chores. I do not want to see you today.”
“Richard, I?—”
“Go! Now.” He turned his head away from her, turning his nose up and crossing his arms like a toddler.
She furrowed her brow, thoroughly confused by her brother’s outburst.
She decided that being in the room with him could turn out negatively quickly, so, despite him not looking, she bowed and quickly exited the room.
Throughout her childhood, she was forced to sneak away from him many times, so she followed the least creaky steps that she had discovered over the years back up to her room. She closed the door quickly, and louder than expected, flinching at the sound.
“Alice!”
She heard shouts from downstairs, and she stood as still as a statue, not even wanting to breathe. She waited a moment before feeling as if Richard would not come up the stairs, and sat down at her desk, reaching for the letters. She stared once more at the words on the paper, butterflies beginning to flutter in her stomach.
I have not been nervous about attending an event in so long… But just the simple thought of spending an evening by the Duke’s side, outside of the predictability of high society…
ChapterTen
Rowan stood in front of the full-length mirror, tossing his hair about, attempting to make it look presentable. He always had trouble with his hair, something he had in common with his father. It was something that his mother found disconcerting as she attempted to make a perfect image for herself. Rowan had found comfort in the mess of hair on his head after his father passed.
“Maxwell, please tell me Elizabeth Darcy has not sent any more,” he muttered as he saw his right-hand man’s hands full of letters as he entered the room.
Instead of the answer he wanted, he received a pitiful smile. “Unfortunately, yes, another letter. I presume it is disclosing dowry estimates.”
“What have I done to deserve this pestering? I offered her biscuits and tea, and now she is under the impression that I am in love with her. She must be mad,” Rowan muttered under his breath, straightening the lapels of his black coat, and smoothing the edges. “How do I look, Maxwell?”
