An Affair Downstairs (7 page)

“Of course. I suppose he's out of doors where he won't hear any ringing of bells. Shall I look in the gardens?”

“Yes, he should be tending the walks to ensure a clear path for any dancers who go out wandering.”

“I'll accompany you,” Brumley announced, rising again. “A young woman shouldn't have to walk about the gardens alone on a lovely day, though it is a bit cold for my liking.”

“Stay inside where it's warm, Lord Brumley. We wouldn't want you to catch a chill,” Alice urged.

Logan could see the man wouldn't be deterred. Brumley probably thought he had his chance to corner Lady Alice and propose. It was time for drastic measures. Logan stuck out his foot and kicked over one of the pots, knowing full well it might cost him the life of a tree. The tree began to topple, and Logan called out. “Crikes! Mr. Brumley, a hand?”

Brumley looked over to see Logan struggling to keep the tree upright. “Oh dear.”

The trees were young and Logan wouldn't have any difficulty holding one of them up on his own, but he pretended to struggle. As soon as Brumley, obligated to lend a hand in crisis, came to assist him, Logan nodded at Alice to slip away.

Moments later, when Sturridge came in, he did not have Alice with him. It was as Logan had expected, but he felt the sorrier for his loss.

***

Once she fled the room, Alice broke into a run down the hall. Thanks to Winthrop, she'd made a narrow escape. As much as she wanted to return to help him, she wouldn't risk being too close to Brumley again. She knew Winthrop would understand. They were friends.

Friends! She laughed with the joy of it, an unexpected triumph. He might have felt he was doing the right thing, letting her down gently. To Alice's way of thinking, he'd opened the door. Winthrop didn't have friends. It was an intimacy he almost never allowed himself. Alice had become the closest person to Logan Winthrop in the entire world, next to perhaps Julia Kirkland. And Julia had chosen another.

Winthrop was far too principled to carry on with a married woman. Wherever she was, Julia was out of his sphere. And Alice was in. Being friends could most certainly lead to more between them. It was an enormous step in the right direction. Friendship could lead to friendly seduction…

“Mr. Sturridge,” she said, crossing the lawn into the garden, where the man was pruning back errant branches. “I hate to disturb you, but Mr. Winthrop says you're needed in the conservatory at once.”

“At once?” He looked up from his shrubbery. “Thank you, Lady Alice. I'll go straightaway.”

She watched as he handed his lopping shears to an under gardener and headed for the house. Her work was done. She supposed she should look in on Sophia, a safe enough risk with Eve Thorne still in residence, to check Sophia's urges to get Brumley alone in a room with Alice. With the ball only days away, Alice figured she would try on her gown for one last fitting. Sophia would probably insist, and so she resigned herself. At least, it would keep her out of Brumley's way until she could find someone to accompany her back to the Dower House.

But first, walking by Lord Averford's study, she had an idea. She stopped at his door and knocked. To her surprise, he called out. She'd expected he might be stalking deer.

“I only need a moment, Lord Averford.” She peeked her head around the door to see that he'd been in conversation with his brother. Informally, she usually referred to him as Gabriel, his given name, but she couldn't be sure he wasn't with more important company until after she'd spoken. “Good day to you, too, Marcus.”

“Shall I leave you alone?” Marcus stood.

“You can hear what I have to say. I'll only be a moment. Please sit.” She stepped in and closed the door. “It's about Mr. Winthrop.”

“Winthrop?” Gabriel's face registered some surprise. No doubt he wondered what she had to do with his estate manager.

“I've been informed that he does not plan to attend the ball. It struck me as a shame, since it was his idea. And of all people, doesn't it seem that Mr. Winthrop could use a spot of fun? He's so severe and alone so much of the time. I think it would be good for him to attend.”

It would be good for her. She remembered his kiss, the way his lips melted into hers, the feel of his tongue questing. The heat deep inside her, making her tremble with the need for more.

“What brings on this sudden concern for Mr. Winthrop's welfare?” Marcus asked, a note of suspicion in his voice. No doubt he'd picked up on gossip from that meddling wife of his. Not that Alice didn't love Eve Thorne like a sister, but one sister interfering in her affairs was quite enough.

She tried not to give herself away with a blush. “I was talking to him about the lemon trees, which led to a mention of the ball and of course his refusal to attend. To be perfectly honest, I asked him to dance with me when he saw me unoccupied with other partners. Anyone but Mr. Brumley. You should know, Gabriel, that your wife has horrendous taste in men that are not for her.”

He laughed. “As long as she had the good taste to accept me when I asked her.”

“Not to be indelicate, but I believe I was one of those men that you suggest reflects Sophia's taste,” Marcus added.

She blushed. Sophia had tried to pair her with Marcus before it was obvious that he had eyes only for Eve. “I'm sorry, Marcus. You were another exception. But you must understand what I mean about Brumley. No one can possibly like the man.”

“You're talking about my former schoolmate. If I didn't like him, he wouldn't be here,” Gabriel defended.

“Yes. I see.” Alice felt like she was making a muddle of things. “But I don't like him, and that's the point, isn't it? She wants me to marry him, but would she have me marry a man I don't even like?”

“And what does this have to do with Mr. Winthrop again?” Gabriel narrowed his eyes, confused.

“She doesn't want to dance with Brumley. She prefers Winthrop,” Marcus summarized.

“Should we be concerned about you and Mr. Winthrop, Alice? You know I find him a very capable estate manager, but he's not right for you.”

“I don't prefer Winthrop to Lord Brumley. Well, actually, I do. We're friends, and I prefer almost anyone to Brumley. But, the point is, I just want you to be sure Winthrop makes it to the ball.”

“You consider Mr. Winthrop a friend?” Marcus pressed the issue. “I didn't think the man had friends.”

She was becoming more and more flustered. She should have asked to be alone with Gabriel after all, but it was too late now. “All I want is to be sure that I have plenty of tolerable dance partners that are not Mr. Brumley. Gabriel, please, could you see that Mr. Winthrop attends?”

He tented his fingers on the desk as if considering and slapped his hands down flat once he'd made a decision. “I'm sorry, Alice. I can't force the man to go to the ball. If he doesn't want to go, so be it. I don't interfere in the private lives of those who serve me.”

“Isn't it his job to attend, though?” She crossed her arms. “You can make sure he's doing his job.”

“He has done his job as far as I'm concerned. Attending the ball is not part of his duties. Frankly, I'm growing a bit alarmed at your apparent personal interest in Mr. Winthrop. Has he given you any reason to take such interest?”

Now she'd really done it. She'd made Logan an object of suspicion to his employer.

“Of course not. You know Mr. Winthrop. He's strictly professional at all times. I've an interest in horticulture and I might have made myself a bit of a nuisance to him on occasion, but he has never been rude or overly encouraging. He's simply…Winthrop.” It was mostly the truth. She wasn't about to reveal that she'd thrown herself at him. “I suppose I can count him out for the ball. But don't think this leaves you off the hook, either one of you.”

“What do you mean?” Gabriel seemed taken aback to be at the end of Alice's pointed, accusing finger.

“I mean that I expect both of you to be watching over me, helping to make sure that Lord Brumley doesn't get me alone. I would rather not have to refuse a proposal. I would prefer to not be asked at all. If you're not going to do everything in your power to force every eligible, non-objectionable male into attendance, then you had better be prepared to dance with me yourselves.”

Giving them no further chance to object or raise questions, Alice turned on her heel and stomped out of the room.

Once the lemon trees were safely replanted, Logan went in search of the one person he wanted to see before the grand ball, Eve Thorne.

He found her walking in the garden, pushing her sleeping baby in a pram. Fortunately, she was alone and not attended by her nurse, husband, or Lady Averford.

“Mrs. Thorne. I've been looking for you,” he whispered, anxious that he should wake the baby.

“Looking for me? I'm honored. No need to whisper, Mr. Winthrop. Mina sleeps through anything, as evidenced by her remaining in dreamland despite the bumpiness of this path.”

“I'll look into it. Sturridge was supposed to be checking into it today, but I called him away to other tasks.”

“Heavens.” She laughed. “Quite the perfectionist, aren't you? It's supposed to be bumpy. It's only a path, not a major thoroughfare.”

“Yes, well, we don't need any ladies complaining of twisted ankles from going on midnight assignations with their lovers in the gardens, do we?” He shrugged. “It's important that what I want to talk to you about stays between us. It regards Lady Alice Emerson. You've been direct with me regarding her attentions in the past, so I feel I can be direct with you.”

“Of course. Speak your mind, Winthrop.”

“It's very important to me that she commands attention at the ball. I want her to draw the eye of every suitable bachelor in town. When I say suitable, I mean someone appropriate for Alice.”

“Not the Lord Brumleys of the world.” She nodded, clearly in agreement.

“Exactly. I'm not sure being relegated to our quiet corner of the country here at Thornbrook Park has done our lovely young lady any world of good. Lady Averford likes it because it's home to her. She has a husband. What does she need with social engagements and parties?”

“Sophia loves a good party, Mr. Winthrop. No one loves being at the center of attention quite like my dear friend the countess. But I can see why you would have the impression that she doesn't. She has been quiet these last few years, surrounding herself with dear and trusted friends and forgetting the rest of the world. We can't blame her, after what she's been through.”

“Losing her firstborn was very hard on her.” He knew that Lady Averford made frequent visits to the grave of her infant son. She didn't make a fuss about it, preferring not to call attention to her mourning perhaps, but he had seen her head that way with clusters of blue forget-me-nots in her hands. Once the flowers lost their luster, he would clean them off the grave only for her to bring more. He'd added forget-me-nots to the window boxes outside her bedroom windows and more in the conservatory so that she would always have them around.

Her husband never left flowers. Once a year, he placed a colorful kite at the grave of his son who was buried next to Lord Averford's father. Logan supposed it represented the activities they would have shared together, had the boy lived. All of the servants in the house pitied them for their loss and prayed for the still-young couple to have another child. “No one could blame her. But…”

“Your concern is for Lady Alice. It's not fair that she's here with little to no society to hold her interest. Looking after Agatha is certainly no task for a young woman. Do you know that she wants to travel the world? India, Africa, America…”

“Lady Alice? In India?” He had no idea what she had planned for herself. He'd assumed, perhaps foolishly, that she was like most young women, eager to marry well and happily. “Is it safe?”

“Safe enough, I suppose, if she's accompanied. Captain Thorne and I have thought about going with her. I would love to show my husband where I lived for many years. If we happen to be leaving at the same time, so much the better for Alice.”

“Yes. I hope you can arrange it. I hate to think of her all alone on such an adventure.”

“I'm sure you do.” She smiled. “So what is it, Winthrop? Has Alice finally thrown herself at you? I've seen the way she looks at you. I've expected it would happen one of these days. Alice is not easily deterred.”

“I did my best to discourage her, Mrs. Thorne. I had my own suspicions of her interest that I had discounted as the egotistical musings of an aging man. Until this morning.”

“This morning?” She looked at him, the question in her eyes. She didn't ask. “I see. So you let her down gently, and now your ideal solution would be that she becomes infatuated with someone else. Someone closer to her own age? Or really, anyone but Brumley, whom you've deemed unsuitable because…”

“Look at the man. Try to engage him in conversation. He's a boor. She deserves so much better.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I went over the guest list with Sophia and then gave it a second look with Mr. Finch.”

“Mr. Finch?”

“Precisely. Finch has been at Thornbrook Park for decades. He knows the families that used to come for the Dowager Countess's balls when she was mistress of the house. He knows other butlers at other houses, which ones have young men, what their expectations are. He knows so much. I relied on that knowledge to be sure that Lady Alice has a number of wealthy, eligible, handsome men her own age to dance with at Thornbrook Park's first ball in seven years. A pity if she were forced to rely on Lord Brumley for entertainment. Sophia sees his title, and that he was left a fortune and a house that could rival Thornbrook Park, and she thinks Alice would be lucky to have him. She forgets that Alice isn't looking for fortune or position. Alice only wants to have fun.”

“As befits a women of two and twenty. Thank you, Mrs. Thorne. You have set my mind at ease. Do your best to see that she is the loveliest, most breathtaking creature in the room, even over her sister.”

“Her sister? Sophia is extraordinary, yes, but none of the young men will look twice at a married woman.”

He laughed. “You would be surprised, Mrs. Thorne. I have no doubt that Lady Alice can command her share of attention. Still, I would feel better with you looking out for her, making sure she shines her brightest with no one to block her light.”

“You know I will, Mr. Winthrop. I look after Alice all too attentively for her liking.”

“She's in good hands. Good day, Mrs. Thorne.”

***

“Be careful what you wish for,” Alice said too quietly for anyone to hear as she held her place in the receiving line next to her sister. The night of the ball had finally arrived, and her parting words to Lord Averford and his brother came back to haunt her. She'd demanded that he do everything in his power to force every eligible, non-objectionable male into attendance, and he'd most certainly done it beyond her imagination.

She'd never seen so many attractive, well-heeled young men in one place. Each one that came in the door was better looking than the last. Solid prospects, all of them. According to what she'd said to Gabriel and Marcus, she should be over the moon. Yet, as she'd expected when Winthrop had suggested a ball, she'd ended up in one of her worst nightmares come true. Eligible bachelors everywhere, so many that it would be a struggle to come up with reasons to turn them all down.

She wouldn't turn any down tonight, with the exception of Brumley. He was the only one at risk to ask for her hand in marriage. The rest would need time to work up to that, if any of them had an interest after tonight. She tried to tell herself they wouldn't. She would prove to be capricious Alice, incorrigible Alice, prideful, determined Alice and scare them all away. She was tolerably pretty for a dance or two, but no one wanted an outspoken whirlwind for a wife. Again, with the exception of Brumley, who seemed to believe that marriage would transform her into a docile, library-dwelling hermit.

Brumley, she huffed under her breath, and as if she were a witch uttering an incantation, he appeared—
poof!
—straight in front of her, next in line.

“Lady Alice,” he drawled, dropping suddenly to one knee and taking her hand to deliver such a sloppy kiss to the back of her hand that she swore she could feel it dripping through her kidskin gloves. “You must save me a dance or two.”

“I don't know, Lord Brumley. I've already promised so many.” Embarrassed by his display, she looked to Sophia for help, but her sister was engaged in conversation with the next in line and would no doubt be more of a hindrance than a help. She looked to Marcus on her other side to hurry Brumley along.

“Lord Brumley.” Marcus, the dear man, took Brumley's hand and shook it vigorously, as if he'd been waiting hours for the chance. “Good to see you. I wasn't sure a ball was quite your kind of event.”

Alice wished that Winthrop would come. She imagined the fun they would have off in a corner, whispering to one another about the dancers. And later, once the lights were low and the mood was right, she could lure him into an alcove and try to get another kiss.

“Lady Alice.” A seductively low voice lured her from her reverie. She tipped her chin up to see one of the handsomest faces she had ever looked upon, next to the godlike Thorne brothers. He had a straight nose, high cheekbones, large brown eyes, pale skin, and chestnut hair with just a hint of auburn to it, not as much red as in her own hair but enough that they might pass for siblings. “Forgive me. I am Lord Ralston. We haven't been properly introduced, but it is a reception line. I'm known to take liberties.”

“Liberties?” She arched a brow. “I've been known to take a few myself.”

He broke into a grin so wide that any other man would appear comically altered, but this one's perfectly aligned shiny white teeth added to his appeal. “I had a feeling we would get along. I've been trying to get your attention since my arrival yesterday.”

“Yesterday? I think I would remember seeing you. I can't imagine that you have trouble getting anyone's attention when it suits you.” It only just occurred to her that he'd been holding her hand the entire time, his enormous palm enveloping hers so that his fingers toyed along her wrist. Through her glove, it only felt slightly scandalous.

“I rode in on a white horse, your typical fairy-tale prince sort of entrance. I thought it might set me apart. You were with your sister greeting a carload, the Sentledens, who came in ahead of me.”

“Ah yes,” she recalled. “The Sentledens. You were with others on horseback. I thought you might have been with the earl's hunting party, with most of the guests coming in by automobile these days. Forgive me for not staying to greet you properly.”

“Automobiles, a means to an end perhaps, but there's nothing like the bond between man and horse. We're sacrificing romance for convenience, and I'm sure we'll all come to regret it eventually.”

“You're a romantic, Lord Ralston?”

“A romantic, yes. A traditionalist, perhaps. In time, I'll be a relic. I don't see anything wrong with our fine old ways, but I suppose times change. They call it progress. I see it as a loss of our humanity.” He laughed. “But I'm drawing perilously close to making you think I'm a much older man.”

“You don't look very old.” Perhaps thirty if she were to hazard a guess. It shamed her a little to think that if Brumley looked more like Lord Ralston, she might have given him a chance.

“I waited for you yesterday. You went in to get the Sentledens settled and never came back out. Didn't your sister tell you I asked after you?”

She shook her head.

“Lady Averford,” he admonished, looking over to Sophia. “How could you forget to give your sister my regards?”

“Forgive me, my lord.” Sophia blushed like a schoolgirl under the man's watchful gaze. “Lady Alice, may I present the Earl of Ralston. He did, in fact, ask after you and it completely slipped my mind. But now you're acquainted.” She turned to greet the approaching Lady Holcomb.

An earl? And a handsome one at that. Sophia must really be caught up in the idea of Alice marrying Brumley if she forgot to mention a man who might actually command notice.

“And again, in the drawing room when you were having tea with the ladies. I strutted like a peacock back and forth for a quarter hour and you didn't look up once.” He might have attempted to look stricken, but he only managed to make himself all the more adorable. She guessed he was not unaware of his effect on the opposite sex, and possibly on some of his own.

She laughed. “Perhaps I could ask you to do it again. I think I missed quite a show.” Alice recalled that Brumley had come in with the gentlemen when she was pouring tea with Sophia to entertain the newly arrived guests. No wonder Alice had averted her gaze and missed his entrance!

He bowed slightly, never taking his gaze from hers. “I'm at your command, Lady Alice. A shame that all your dances have been claimed.”

He must have overheard her telling Brumley. “I think I can make an exception, Lord Ralston. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Ralston dear, move along. You're holding up the line.” Lady Holcomb urged him onward and took his place in front of Alice. “My nephew seems quite taken with you.”

“Your nephew?” Alice couldn't contain her surprise. Ralston seemed far too dashing to be a relation to the Holcombs, though she supposed it helped to explain his traditionalist views. The Holcombs were notoriously reluctant to embrace change.

“My sister's son.” Lady Holcomb nodded. “He's always in demand in London, but I've finally convinced him to come breathe the country air. He's with us for three weeks, until just after the hunt, unless I can convince him to stay through to Christmas.”

“The hunt? The fox hunt? At Holcomb House?”

“Yes. Will you be joining us?”

“I had been thinking of it.” She'd wanted to participate for the sake of the adventure, but the idea of possibly putting off Brumley had aided in her determination. And now she found that having the company of Lord Ralston might not be so intolerable, either.