“Perhaps we could repair to the side of the room?” Ruskin brought his gaze back to her face. “With this noise, no one will hear us; we’ll be able to talk, and you’ll be able to keep your ravishingly lovely young sister safe… and in view.”
Steel rang beneath his words; Alicia dismissed any thought of refusing him. Inclining her head, feigning serene indifference, she laid her fingers on his sleeve and allowed him to steer her through the crowd.
What unwelcome challenge was she about to face?
Behind her calm facade, her heart beat faster; her lungs felt tight. Had she imagined the threat in his tone?
An alcove behind a chaise filled with dowagers provided a small oasis of relative privacy. As Ruskin had said, she could still see Adriana and her court clearly. If they kept their voices low, not even the dowagers, heads close swapping scandal, would overhear.
Ruskin stood beside her, calmly looking out over the crowd. “I would suggest, my dear, that you hear me out—hear
She glanced briefly at him, then stiffly inclined her head. Lifting her fingers from his sleeve, she gripped her fan.
“I think…” Ruskin paused, then continued, “I should mention that my home lies not far from Bledington—ah, yes! I see you understand.”
Alicia struggled to mask her shock. Bledington lay southwest of the market town of Chipping Norton; Little Compton, their village, lay to the northwest—as the crow flew there could be no more than eight miles between Little Compton and Bledington.
But Ruskin and she had never met in the country. Her family had lived a circumscribed existence, until recently never venturing beyond Chipping Norton. In embarking on her masquerade, she’d been certain no one in London would know her.
Ruskin guessed her thoughts. “We never met in the country, but I saw you and your sister when I was home last Christmas. The pair of you were crossing the market square.”
She glanced up.
He caught her eye, and smiled wolfishly. “I determined, then, to have you.”
Involuntarily, her eyes widened.
His smile turned self-deprecatory. “Indeed—quite romantic.” He looked back at the crowd. “I asked and was told your name—Miss Alicia Pevensey.”
He paused, then shrugged. “If you hadn’t appeared in London, no doubt nothing would have come of it. But you did appear, a few months later—as a widow of more than a year’s standing. I wasn’t fooled for a moment, but I comprehended your need of the ruse, and appreciated your courage in implementing it. It was a bold move, but one with every chance of success. I saw no reason to do other than wish you well. As my admiration for your astuteness grew, my interest in you on a personal level firmed.
“However”—his voice hardened—“when I offered you my protection, you refused. On reflection, I decided to do the honorable thing and offer for your hand. Again, however, you turned up your nose—quite why I have no notion. You seem uninterested in attaching a husband, solely concerned with watching over your sister as she makes her choice. Presumably, given you transparently have no need of funds, you’ve determined to make your own decision in your own time.”
His gaze returned to her face. “I would suggest, my dear
Alicia fought down the faintness, the giddiness that threatened; the room seemed to be whirling. She drew a slow breath, then asked, her tone commendably even, “What, precisely, do you mean?”
His expression remained intent. “I mean that your performance as a hoity widow in dismissing my suit was so convincing I checked my information. Today, I received a letter from old Dr. Lange. He assures me that the Pevensey sisters—
The room gyrated, heaved, then abruptly stopped.
Disaster stared her in the face.
“Indeed.” Ruskin’s predatory smile dawned, yet his self-deprecation remained. “But fear not—having concluded that marrying you would be an excellent notion, nothing I’ve learned has changed my mind.”
His gaze hardened. “So let us be clear, my dear.
Triumph had turned to ashes; her mouth was dry. Moistening her lips, she fought to keep her tone even. “I believe I understand you perfectly, sir. However…I would ask for a little time to consider my reply.”
His brows rose; his untrustworthy smile returned. “Of course. You may have twenty-four hours—there isn’t much to consider, after all.”
She sucked in a breath, frantically gathered her wits to protest.
His gaze, hard, trapped hers. “Tomorrow evening you can formally accept me—tomorrow night, I’ll expect to share your bed.”
Shock held her immobile, staring at his face; she searched his eyes but found no hint of any emotion worth appealing to.
When she made no reply, he bowed punctiliously. “I’ll call on you tomorrow evening at nine.”
Turning, he left her, strolling into the crowd.
Alicia stood frozen, her wits careening, her skin icy, her stomach hollow.
A burst of raucous laughter from the dowagers, ineffectually smothered, jerked her back to earth. She glanced across the room at Adriana. Her sister was holding her own, but had noticed her distraction; their gazes met, but when Adriana arched a brow, Alicia shook her head.
She had to regain control—of their plan, of her life. Marry Ruskin, or… she could barely take it in.
Faintness still gripped her; she felt hot one minute, cold the next. Seeing a footman passing, she requested a glass of water. He brought it promptly, eyeing her warily as if she might swoon; she forced a weak smile and thanked him.
A chair stood against the wall two yards away. She walked to it and sat, sipping her water. After a few minutes, she flicked open her fan and waved it before her face.
She had to think. Adriana was safe for the moment…
Blocking out all thought of the threat Ruskin had made, she focused on him, on what he’d said—on what he knew and what he didn’t. Why he was acting as he was, what insights that gave her, how she might press him to change his mind.
They—she, Adriana and the three boys—desperately needed Adriana to make a good match. Not with just any gentleman, but one with reasonable wealth and a sufficiently good heart not only to forgive them the deception they were practicing but to provide for the boys’ schooling.
They were as near to penniless as made no difference. They were wellborn, but had no close connections; there were just the five of them—or more correctly Alicia and Adriana to look after them all. David was only twelve years old, Harry ten, and Matthew eight. Without an education, there would be no future for them.
Adriana had to be given the chance to make the match they felt certain she could. She was stunningly beautiful; the ton had already labeled her a “diamond of the first water” among other admiring epithets. She would be a hit, a wild success; once the Season proper commenced, she could take her pick from the wealthy eligibles, and she was wise enough, despite her years, to make the right choice, with Alicia’s help.
One gentleman would be the right one for her, for them all, and then the family—Adriana and the three boys— would be safe.
Alicia had no other goal before her; she hadn’t had for the past eighteen months, since their mother died. Their father had died years before, leaving the family with little money and few possessions.
They’d scrimped, saved, and survived. And now they’d risked all on this one throw that fate, in creating Adriana’s undoubted beauty, had given them. In order to do so, Alicia had behaved in ways she wouldn’t otherwise countenance; she’d taken risks she otherwise never would have—and thus far won.
She’d become Mrs. Carrington, a wealthy and fashionable widow, the perfect chaperone to introduce Adriana
