The Scandals Of An Innocent

CHAPTER SEVEN

“IF THIS IS THE CREAM of Fortune’s Folly society,” Lizzie Scarlet said, flicking her fan crossly as she and Alice stood viewing the sparsely populated ballroom at the Granby Hotel that evening, “then I may as well resign myself to remaining a spinster. Fortune’s Folly in the winter is so dull! There is not a single gentleman here that pleases me, Alice, except for your brother, Lowell, and you will not let me flirt with him, so where is the fun?”

“You are only cross because Lord Waterhouse is dancing attendance on Miss Minchin,” Alice responded. It had been hard to ignore the fact that Lizzie had been in a foul temper all evening. If it came to that, Alice was in a foul temper, too, and was out of patience with herself because of it. She felt edgy and anxious. She had expected to see Miles and had found herself looking for him as soon as they entered the ballroom. When she had realized he was not present she had felt angry and slighted. It was typical of Miles’s breathtaking conceit to demand that she be there and that she save a dance for him, and then to be absent. She slapped her fan into the palm of her glove in a gesture of irritation.

Lizzie was still grumbling about Nat Waterhouse.

“You are quite unreasonable, you know, Lizzie,” Alice said, cutting her off, “for poor Lord Waterhouse must devote a little time to his affianced bride. You know he will come back to you in the end, for he enjoys your company too much to give you up.”

She did not miss the small, self-satisfied smile on Lizzie’s face as her friend contemplated her eventual triumph over poor Flora Minchin. No doubt Lizzie had not even spared one second’s thought for how Miss Minchin might feel to have a suitor who spent much of his time with another woman. Lady Elizabeth Scarlet was very sure of her power, Alice thought, and why should she not be confident when she was beautiful and rich and titled, and had all the self-assurance that came with inherited privilege? In her beautiful sea-green silk and lace gown Lizzie looked poised and elegant with an innate style that bespoke birthright. She looked glossy, Alice thought, in the same way that Miles Vickery also looked expensive and self-assured even though he was a pauper.

Alice shifted a little, sighing. In contrast to Lizzie she still felt a little unsure of herself whenever she went out into society. She had had the dancing lessons and she could converse and play cards and do all the things that a real debutante heiress could do, but every day she was conscious of the sideways looks and the whispered comments. She thought that she always would be. Even her gown of rose pink, which both Lizzie and Lydia had admired extremely, could not give her the inner confidence she lacked.

One of Lizzie’s admirers, a young army captain called John Jerrold, came over to carry her off for a cotillion, and Lowell arrived with two glasses of lemonade, one of which he handed his sister.

“I see I have missed my chance with Lady Elizabeth,” he said in his lazy country drawl, putting the second glass down on a ledge beside them, next to one of the carved marble busts of Grecian goddesses that adorned the alcoves in the ballroom. “Can’t drink this ghastly stuff myself and the Granby never serves beer on evenings like this.”

Alice smothered a snort to think of her brother bringing a tankard in from the taproom.

“I’d give a great deal to see you drinking beer in the ballroom in front of the Duchess of Cole,” she said, nodding toward Lydia’s mama, who was holding court in the chaperones’ corner, surrounded by her cronies. Faye Cole had managed to ride out the scandal of her daughter’s pregnancy by virtue of being the first and loudest to condemn Lydia, and she remained an arbiter of county society. Alice could not abide her. Neither could Mrs. Lister, who quite rightly blamed the duchess for being the architect of her social exclusion. Every so often the two of them would eye each other like prizefighters.

“The duchess will be distraught that Mama’s feathers are higher than hers tonight,” Lowell continued. “Could you not prevent her from buying such a monstrous headpiece, Allie? She looks like a cockatoo with such a high crest!”

Alice gave him a speaking look. “I would not dream of spoiling Mama’s fun, Lowell. If she wishes to wear pearls and feathers and artificial roses, that is her choice.”

“She’s wearing them all together tonight,” Lowell said gloomily. “Looks like an accident in a flower cart.”

“I did not think you would care about it,” Alice said, slipping her hand through her brother’s arm. “You never bother about what people say.”

Lowell shrugged moodily. The morose expression sat oddly on his fair, open features. Normally he was the most equable of characters but Alice sensed there was something troubling him tonight.

“Lowell?” she prompted. “You do not really have a tendre for Lady Elizabeth, do you?”

Lowell’s grim expression was banished as he gave her his flashing smile. “Good God, no! Did you think I was sulking because she prefers some sprig of the nobility to me? Lady Elizabeth is far above my touch. Besides, we would not suit.”

“No,” Alice agreed. “She needs someone less tolerant than you are.”

“She needs to grow up,” Lowell said brutally. “She’s spoiled.”

“She’s been a good friend to me,” Alice said, whilst not exactly contradicting him.

“I appreciate that,” her brother said. He shot her a look. “You’re not happy though, are you, Allie?”

Alice was startled at his perspicacity. “What do you mean? Of course I am-”

“No, you are not. Neither am I, and Mama is the unhappiest of all. She hates to be slighted like this.” Lowell’s gesture encompassed the ballroom with its neat rows of dancers, their reflections repeated endlessly in the long series of mirrors that adorned the walls. “Strange, is it not, that when you are hungry and exhausted from working all the hours there are, you think that to have money will cure all your woes?”

“It cures a great many of them,” Alice said feelingly.

“But not the sense that somehow you have wandered into the wrong party,” Lowell said, his eyes still on the shifting patterns of the dance. “I am coming to detest the way in which we are patronized. This isn’t our world, is it, Allie? If it was, you would be dancing rather than standing here like a wallflower.”

“The only reason I am not dancing,” Alice said, “is that I have refused proposals of marriage from so many of these gentlemen that there is no one left to stand up with me. No one except you, that is,” she added. “If we do not fit in, then the least we can do is stand out with style.”

Lowell grinned and let the matter go as he led her into the set of country dances that was forming.

“He dances well enough for a farm boy, I suppose,” Alice heard the Duchess of Cole say as the movement of the dance took them past her coven, “but I never thought to see the day a laborer would be dancing in the Granby!”

Lowell laughed, executed a particularly ostentatious turn under the duchess’s disapproving eye and bowed to Alice as the dance came to an end. “Better be getting back to the byre, I suppose,” he drawled in his best rural accent. “Time’s moving on and the cows will need milking early. Dashed slow business squiring my own sister about, anyway, when I would rather be tumbling a milkmaid in a haystack.”

“Lowell, will you be quiet!” Alice grumbled, dragging her brother away as Faye Cole squawked like an outraged hen. “People will believe you!”

“Who says I am lying?” Lowell said unrepentantly. He glanced over her shoulder and his expression changed abruptly. “Alice-”

“Good evening, Miss Lister.”

Alice spun around. Miles Vickery was standing just behind her, immaculate in his evening dress. Her stomach tumbled as she looked at him. Her breathing constricted. Miles took her hand. Determined not to show him how much his appearance had affected her, Alice gave him a cool smile.

“Lord Vickery,” she said. “You are well?”

She saw Miles smile in return as he took her meaning.

“In the best of health, Miss Lister, I thank you,” he said. “The Curse of Drum has yet to carry me off.”

Alice could feel Lowell shifting impatiently beside her. He seemed incredulous that Miles should even approach her, which, Alice thought, was no great wonder given the nature of their previous acquaintance. She cast a quick look at her brother’s face and saw that he was frowning ferociously. “Alice,” he began again.

Alice turned to him, gripping his arm tightly in a gesture she hoped conveyed a plea for good behavior. “I am sorry,” she said quickly. “Lord Vickery, may I introduce my brother, Lowell Lister? Lowell, this is Miles Vickery, Marquis of Drummond.” She squeezed Lowell’s arm again and gave him a speaking look into the bargain.

Miles held his hand out to shake Lowell’s. “How do you do, Mr. Lister?” he said pleasantly. He did not adopt the patronizing air of superiority that most of the local aristocracy used when greeting the Lister family, the condescension of the great recognizing their inferiors. Alice noticed it and felt surprised.

Lowell, however, ignored both the hand and the greeting. “I know who you are,” he said. “You are the…nobleman…who made a wager concerning my sister last year.” His tone was steely.

Alice caught her breath. “Lowell-”

“I was,” Miles said truthfully, his gaze meeting Alice’s very directly. A smile still lurked in the depths of his hazel eyes. “Although,” he added, “I now regret it most profoundly.”

“Twenty guineas against my sister’s virtue, so I heard,” Lowell said, the contempt in his voice as cutting as a knife.

“You heard incorrectly,” Miles said. “It was thirty guineas.”

Alice drew a sharp breath. Why had she not foreseen that this might happen? This was such an inconvenient moment for Miles to start telling the truth on everything. The tension radiating from Lowell was so powerful as to be palpable. He clenched his fists.

“When my mother told me that you wished to renew your addresses to Alice, I thought there was some mistake,” Lowell said. His eyes were narrowed pinpricks of fury. “Is it true that you still seek to marry her for her fortune?”

“My interest is not entirely in Miss Lister’s fortune,” Miles drawled, making his meaning explicitly clear. Alice felt the color rush into her face. She saw Lowell take an involuntary step forward.

“Lowell,” she said again, “not here, not now.”

Lowell turned on her. “I cannot believe that you are prepared to tolerate this man’s company for a single moment, Alice!”

“It’s complicated,” Alice said, avoiding looking at Miles and placing a placatory hand on her brother’s arm. “Lord Vickery and I have an understanding. I’ll explain later. Please leave this-”

“You’re defending me,” Miles said. “That’s very sweet.”

“I am trying to avoid a public scene,” Alice said tersely. She gave a sharp sigh as Lowell shook off her hand and stalked away. “Perhaps I should follow him and try to explain,” she said.

“Don’t,” Miles said. “He has gone to the card room. You will only cause more speculation if you follow him in there. The worst that is likely to happen is that he will be so angry he will lose heavily. Inconvenient, I know, when you are paying his bills, but there it is.”

Alice gave him an exasperated look. “Did you have to provoke him like that?”

“I was telling the truth,” Miles said. “I am obliged to do so under the terms of Lady Membury’s will, if you recall.” He took her arm and steered her away from the curious gazes of the other guests. “Am I supposed to lie and pretend that I do not want you, Miss Lister?” he added softly.

“Yes! No! I don’t know!” Alice looked up, her troubled blue gaze tangling with his hazel one. There was a lazy smile on his lips but it was belied by the glint in his eyes. He looked dangerous. Alice pressed her fingers to her temples. “I did not realize that it would be like this!” she said.

“I appreciate that,” Miles said, “but if I am to fulfill the terms of the agreement I must be honest.” His fingers tightened on her elbow. “You wanted the truth from me, Miss Lister,” he said. “Well, you will have it. And you will have to deal with that.”

Alice bit her lip. She shook her head fiercely. “You said that there were good social reasons for not always telling the truth.”

“There are. You have just experienced one of them.” Miles laughed softly. “Never tell the hotheaded brother of a young lady that you desire her. It is asking for trouble.”

“He could have challenged you!”

Miles shrugged. “I had every faith that you would come to my rescue before that happened, my sweet. Which you did.”

“It was more than you deserved,” Alice said hotly. She wished now that she had not followed her natural instinct to help him. She knew that she had always been far too kind.

Miles smiled. “That is true, as well. I deserve nothing from you.”

His matter-of-fact acceptance of it, his utter lack of emotion, made Alice blink, until she remembered that Miles Vickery was renowned for having ice rather than blood in his veins. He did not care whether she was kind to him or not. It was not kindness he wanted from her.

“Very likely Lowell will never speak to me again,” Alice said forlornly, suddenly feeling acutely lonely. She felt bereft to have lost her brother’s support so swiftly and unexpectedly. She knew that she should have grasped the nettle before now and told her family and friends that she had accepted Miles’s proposal, but there had never seemed to be a right time. There never would be, she realized. Her mother would be delighted, of course, and ask no difficult questions, but Lowell and Lizzie and Lydia all knew her too well to accept a feeble explanation and she could not think of any convincing ones.

“Lowell will come round,” Miles said. “He’ll speak to me, too. I’ll think of a way to smooth matters over. It would not do to be at odds with my future brother-in-law.”

Alice glared at him. “This is all an entertainment to you, is it not, my lord!”

Miles shook his head. “On the contrary, Miss Lister, I am deadly serious. You have already seen tonight how determined I am to win your hand by meeting Lady Membury’s stipulations. I assure you that I will stop at nothing.”

They stood staring at one another whilst the tension seemed to spin out between them and the chatter and hum of the ballroom carried on unnoticed around them. Alice felt trapped and alone, captured by the intensity she could see in his eyes. There was such single-mindedness in Miles, such unwavering intent. When she had surrendered to his blackmail she’d had no idea of what she was unleashing.

“This frightens me,” Alice whispered. “I don’t like you. I hoped the terms of the will would make matters difficult for you.”

Miles did not smile this time. “Oh, they have,” he said. He raised a hand to her cheek and she felt his gloved fingers brush her skin in the lightest of touches. His hazel eyes were dark. “Be careful what you wish for, Miss Lister,” he said. “The terms of the will have made matters difficult for you, as well, because my honesty now compels me to show you how much I want you.”

He stopped and bent closer to her, and despite the crowded ballroom and the press of people about them and the curious glances, Alice had the absolute conviction that he was about to kiss her. His face was so close to hers that she instinctively closed her eyes. Immediately she did so her other senses took over. She could hear Miles’s breathing, smell the tang of his cologne and the delicious scent of his body beneath it, a smell that went straight to her head and made it spin. She knew he was so close, only inches away from her, and then she sensed his withdrawal and opened her eyes quickly.

Miles had straightened up, swearing softly beneath his breath, and Alice turned to see a tall, rather gaunt woman bearing down on them with a determined look on her face. She had Miles’s hazel eyes and brown hair, and an air of piercing intelligence.

“Celia, I had not forgotten that you and Mama had asked for an introduction to Miss Lister,” Miles said. “I was intending to bring her over to you.”

“You were such an unconscionably long time about it that Mama sent me instead,” Celia Vickery said. She held out a hand to Alice. “How do you do, Miss Lister?”

“This is my sister, Celia,” Miles said. “I apologize in advance for her. She is quite terrifying.”

Celia Vickery gave her brother a look that would have stripped paint and then turned to smile at Alice. “I have been in a positive fever to make your acquaintance, Miss Lister,” she said. “I was desperate to meet a woman brave-or foolish-enough to accept my brother’s suit. You know that he is an inveterate fortune hunter, of course, so you can have no illusions about him. He has very little to commend him, I fear, other than the marquisate and his good looks, and you do not strike me as a ninnyhammer who would have her head turned by those. Are you sure you do not wish to reconsider?”

Alice glanced at Miles. His stance betrayed tension. He was watching his sister, not with the sort of acceptance and affection that Alice had for Lowell, for example, but with a definite wariness.

Alice smiled back at the older woman. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Celia,” she said. “I am sure you are right that your brother has little to commend him. I am accepting him out of a sense of pity, and in the unwavering belief that the Curse of Drum will carry him off before long, leaving me a widow.”

Celia gave a bark of laughter. “Pity! How marvelous!” She gave Miles a malicious look. “I do not believe any woman has ever pitied you before, Miles.”

“I am happy to take whatever Miss Lister offers me,” Miles said smoothly, with a speaking glance at Alice.

“Hmm, well, I do not believe you for a moment, Miss Lister,” Celia Vickery said, “but no doubt you have your reasons and I shall not press you. Oh, there is Mr. Gaines!” she added. “Pray excuse me. I really must go and importune him for a dance. It is rare enough for me to meet a man who is tall enough to partner me, but when he can also hold an intelligent conversation he is to be prized indeed.” She smiled at Alice, gave her brother a sharp nod and walked away.

“Pity,” Miles said thoughtfully as she walked away. “A neat setdown, Miss Lister.”

“I thought so,” Alice said. She watched Celia stroll over to Frank Gaines, who was standing with Mr. Churchward at the edge of the ballroom. Mr. Churchward was nursing a glass of lemonade and looking very ill at ease. Mr. Gaines was drinking some hot rum punch and looked entirely at home and entirely oblivious to the glances of disgust that the Duchess of Cole was shooting in his direction.

“I see that my lawyers are here tonight to ensure that you behave in an upright and worthy manner, my lord,” Alice said. She could not help a smile. “How tiresome for you! Do you think they will follow you around everywhere for three months?”

“Very probably,” Miles said. “I am sure they will be disappointed by my blameless life. Mr. Gaines in particular is determined to catch me out and protect you from my dangerous ways.”

“Well, that is what I pay him for,” Alice said. She watched as Gaines handed his glass to Churchward, who looked as though he did not know what to do with it, and offered Celia Vickery his hand for the country dance that was forming.

“I think your sister is marvelous,” she said. She looked up into Miles’s face. “But tell me, does she really dislike you or is it merely her manner?”

Miles was silent for a long time, a rueful expression on his face. “Honesty compels me to say that I do not know Celia well so cannot answer with any certainty,” he said finally.

Alice was startled. “How is it that you do not know her?”

“Not everyone is as close to their siblings as you are to Lowell,” Miles said. There was a shade of expression in his voice that Alice could not place. “I have been away from my family a great deal and so have not had the opportunity to build a close relationship with them.”

“I did not realize,” Alice said. Once again she felt a treacherous stir of sympathy for him. She looked at him but his face was dark and closed, his expression impossible to read. “That must have been difficult for you,” she said slowly, thinking of how she had always relied on the love and support provided by her mother and by Lowell in particular.

Miles shrugged. There was tension in the line of his shoulders. “There is no need to commiserate with me,” he said. His voice was terse. “I have managed tolerably well to survive without them.”

Alice frowned. “But surely it must have hurt you to be estranged from them?”

Miles’s hand tightened on her arm. “Miss Lister, pray do not endow me with feelings that I do not possess. I assure you that I am not hurt.” Then, as Alice shook her head slightly in disbelief, he added a little roughly, “Do I look vulnerable to you, Miss Lister?”

Alice looked at him and caught her breath at the hard, dangerous look in his eyes. “No,” she whispered. “You look…” Virile? Menacing?

A man who was prepared to blackmail a woman into marriage for her money was hardly weak and defenseless, she thought, nor did he deserve any sympathy. Alice shivered, and knew that he had felt it.

“Quite,” Miles said. “Save your pity for a more deserving cause.” His grip on her arm was at the same time a warning and a gesture of possession as he steered her toward the corner where a gaggle of matrons occupied their rout chairs.

“You will allow me to introduce you to my mother, I hope, Miss Lister?” he said formally. “She is aware of our betrothal and as Celia mentioned, she is anxious to make your acquaintance.”

“I am sure she is,” Alice said. Miles had asked courteously, but she knew she had no choice other than to fall in with his wishes. His politeness was just for show.

Miles slanted a look down at her. “You will oblige me by showing some enthusiasm for our betrothal this time, Miss Lister,” he said, his words echoing Alice’s thoughts.

“I shall muster what eagerness I can, my lord,” Alice said coldly.

Unlike her daughter, Lady Vickery was tiny, and Alice thought that she must have been a diamond of the first water in her youth. She was still a very beautiful woman, with stunning bone structure, a very slim figure and not a trace of gray in the rich chestnut hair that was exactly the same shade as her son’s. Her presence in the Granby’s ballroom was provoking some interest and the Duchess of Cole was looking very put out to have a rival for the role of grande dame of the neighborhood. Lady Vickery might only be a baron’s widow but that baron had also been a bishop, and Lady Vickery was the daughter of a viscount and had family connections to half the blue bloods of England. Faye Cole, on the other hand, might be a duchess now but had once been a mere Miss Bigelow, daughter of a coal magnate.

“My dear!” Lady Vickery grasped Alice’s hands tightly as soon as she was within touching distance, drawing her down to sit beside her. “You look like a young woman with a great deal of compassion. Can I not prevail upon you to marry my son at once and do away with all these tiresome conditions and requirements? For my sake, if no one else’s?”

Alice was laughing as she took a seat beside the dowager. “Yours is certainly an unusual approach, ma’am,” she commented.

“May I appeal to you as a mother?” the dowager persisted. “I am absolutely desperate for you to marry Miles, my dear. Can you not elope and confound the lawyers that way? Three months is a dreadful long time to expect Miles to behave well. I am not at all sure he can do it. Besides, I must be frank and say that we are as poor as church mice, and we need you. We need you now! We are all in Queer Street and then there is this wretched family curse that is ruining all our lives and positively driving me to distraction! One cannot trifle with such dangerous things as curses, you know.” She looked at her son. “And though we all know that Miles is an out-and-out scoundrel, and it would be foolish to pretend otherwise, I confess I am still too fond of him to wish him to die horribly.”

Alice looked up at Miles. His expression was, she thought, particularly wooden. This time he met her gaze with absolutely no emotion at all.

“How interesting to know that your mother cares so deeply for you, my lord,” Alice said. “What have you done to deserve her love?”

Miles laughed harshly. “That is a mother’s privilege,” he said, “regardless of whether or not such affection is justified.”

Alice returned the grasp of the dowager’s hand. She felt a slight shock as she saw the depth of sincerity in Lady Vickery’s eyes. She had assumed that Miles had set his mother up to plead his case, but now she was not so sure. There was anxiety in the dowager’s gaze as well as hope and a rather touching appeal that Alice found difficult to resist.

“Dear ma’am,” she said gently. “As Lord Vickery’s mother you would naturally feel a degree of attachment to him. I imagine that most mothers know something of their sons’ faults and love them anyway.”

“I knew you would understand, Miss Lister!” Lady Vickery said. “You are a delightful young woman. And you are excessively pretty, just as Mr. Gaines said that you were. Yes, really, much prettier than I had imagined.” She sat back a little and cast an appreciative look over Alice’s rose-pink evening gown. “You have good taste, too, for a provincial.”

“And very good manners, Mama,” Miles intervened smoothly, “unlike you and Celia, who have been distressingly blunt with Miss Lister.”

“What have I said?” Lady Vickery demanded. “Only what everyone else is thinking, I’ll wager, since Miss Lister was once a housemaid and could have been impossibly unpresentable-”

“I see my own mama approaching,” Alice murmured, entertained against her will by the discovery that the elegant and highborn Dowager Lady Vickery had such an unfortunate penchant for putting her foot in her mouth. “If you will permit, ma’am, I should like to introduce you to her.”

“Of course!” Lady Vickery said, beaming. “Of course! I am sure that she will agree with me that a marriage between you and Miles is greatly to be encouraged as soon as possible. We mamas must put our heads together and see if we can come up with a way to persuade Mr. Gaines and Mr. Churchward to overlook the trifling matter of the conditions…” She squeezed Alice’s hand. “You should know, Miss Lister,” she said, a slight shadow touching her face, “that it is not merely for his own sake that Miles wishes to pay off his debts and to evade the Curse of Drum. He has a young brother, Philip, who will inherit if Miles dies, and it would distress all of us unbearably if he were to be crippled by debt or, even worse, if the Curse of Drum fell on a mere boy.”

“Mama!” Miles’s voice cut like a lash and Lady Vickery jumped, as did Alice. “You have already importuned Miss Lister quite shamefully,” Miles said, moderating his tone. “Pray, say no more.”

The dowager drooped like an elegantly cut flower. “But, Miles, darling,” she protested, “we all know that you would positively detest anything bad happening to your little brother-”

“Mama, I beseech you. You have said enough.” This time Miles sounded really angry, and Lady Vickery looked hurt and downcast. Alice hurried to smooth matters over. Lady Vickery, she thought, was far too good for her son.

“I understand, ma’am,” she said. “Although Lord Vickery has not spoken of his younger brother to me…no doubt not wishing to influence me unduly-” she cast an ironic look at Miles “-it would be unnatural indeed for him not to be moved at the horrid thought of the Curse of Drum falling upon him.”

Lady Vickery smiled. “I knew you would understand,” she said again. “My very dear Miss Lister, you are indeed a charming young woman, and so I shall tell your mama…” She let go of Alice and extended a hand to Mrs. Lister, who had swum up to them, very much like a swan, Alice thought, in her regal purple with white feathered headdress.

“Dearest madam,” the dowager said theatrically, “I am so pleased to make your acquaintance. Your daughter is delightful and it is my greatest wish that she marry my son!”

“Oh, indeed, it is mine, too!” Mrs. Lister said in heartfelt tones. She cast Alice a look in which hope and incredulity were all too clearly at war. “I can scarce believe that Alice is going to accept Lord Vickery,” she said, failing to eradicate the doubt from her tone. “She has been distressingly recalcitrant in even considering her previous nineteen proposals, but then Lord Vickery is a marquis and no one of higher rank than an earl has proposed before…”

Alice sighed. There had never been any point in trying to explain to her mother that neither she nor Lowell shared Mrs. Lister’s social-climbing ambitions, and anyway, Alice could see the nervous look in her mother’s eyes fading as the dowager encouraged her to take the seat beside her. She knew Mrs. Lister had been half expecting a rebuff, for it was the normal response of most titled ladies to the upstart in their midst. But Lady Vickery was talking animatedly and Mrs. Lister was beaming at her as though they were lifelong friends, and really, Alice thought, it was exactly the happiness she would have wanted for her mother if only the circumstances had been different. The bitterness caught in her throat. It was difficult to see her mother’s joy and not resent that it had been bought at the high price of her own freedom and desires. And of course if-when-Miles failed to meet Lady Membury’s conditions and this sham betrothal was at an end, Lady Vickery would no doubt drop Mrs. Lister like a hot brick and Mrs. Lister would be inconsolable.

“Nineteen suitors?” Miles said to her, claiming her attention. “How sought after you are, Miss Lister.”

“You mean how sought after is my money,” Alice corrected him. “It would have been twenty refusals,” she added, lowering her voice so that only he could hear, “had you not found the means to coerce me, my lord.”

“Thank you for the reminder, Miss Lister,” Miles said dryly. “I would not wish to forget that this is no ordinary betrothal.”

“At least Mama is happy,” Alice said, sighing. “One of us is.”

“I adore your gown,” Lady Vickery was saying to Mrs. Lister.

“I love your shoes,” Mrs. Lister responded.

“And the feathers-so chic!”

“And your diamonds. Are they a family heirloom?”

“Paste,” the dowager said briskly. “But with your daughter’s money…”

“Oh, quite,” Mrs. Lister said. “And in return, your son’s title-”

“Absolutely!”

Alice shook her head and turned away. “I can scarce believe that they are bosom bows already,” she said.

She saw the smile curve Miles’s firm lips, and it made her stomach flip and her toes curl within her slippers. “They are united by a very powerful desire, Miss Lister,” he said softly. “They both want to see you as Marchioness of Drummond. We all do.”

“For all the wrong reasons,” Alice said bitterly. She looked at him. “Tell me about your brother, Lord Vickery,” she said. “I was fascinated by what your mother was saying.”

Miles laughed harshly. “Is this your revenge for my blackmail, Miss Lister? To ask me awkward questions about my family and oblige me to tell you the truth?”

“If you wish to see it like that,” Alice said. “Indulge my curiosity, my lord. How old is Philip?”

There was a pause. Miles’s face was blank of expression, but Alice could sense a conflict in him, one she could not understand.

“Philip is sixteen,” he said, after a moment.

“Hmm,” Alice said. “Your mother swears you are attached to him. It would be a callous man indeed who did not care for the fate of a sixteen-year-old boy.”

“It would,” Miles said.

Alice moved a little closer to him. “Could you be such a man?” she asked.

“I could quite easily,” Miles said. He grabbed Alice’s arms so suddenly that she could not prevent the gasp that escaped her lips. Several people standing nearby turned to look at them with mingled curiosity and surprise. “Do not look for gentleness in me, Miss Lister,” Miles ground out, his fingers digging into her skin. “You will not find it. I care for no one.”

“But your mama-” Alice began.

“She deludes herself.” He let her go as swiftly as he had captured her. “It makes her happy to think that I love my family, so-” she saw him shrug “-I let her believe it. The truth is that she is the one who worries about what might happen to Philip, not me.”

Alice rubbed her arm where he had gripped her. “But surely you must care, too! They are your family.”

“And I have already told you that I barely know them and have no desire to change that.” Miles sounded cold, as though she was trespassing on dangerous ground.

Alice knew that she was stubborn. Obstinacy was one of her besetting sins. She knew she was persisting long after it would have been polite and politic to give up, but some tenacious instinct pushed her on to challenge him further.

“You are not as cold and unfeeling as you claim,” she said, wanting to make him admit it. “You want to marry money not only for your own sake but to save Philip from inheriting crippling debt and to spare your mother the humiliation of seeing your birthright sold. That is the reason you are a fortune hunter-”

Miles laughed. He sounded genuinely amused. “Do not endow me with qualities or motives that I do not possess, Miss Lister,” he said. “What you mean is that you wish I was not so cold and unfeeling.” His hazel eyes were hard as they appraised her face. “You want to find an acceptable reason for my behavior. Sadly there isn’t one. I cannot fulfill your faith in me. I am as callous as I appear, I have no affection for my family and I wish to marry you solely to save myself from the Fleet and in order to bed you. Is that honest enough for you?” He smiled grimly at Alice’s look of shock. “Now-” his voice eased “-would you care to dance? We are, after all, pretending to the perfect courtship.”

Alice moved a little away from him. She tried to breathe calmly and steady her erratic pulse. It was true-he had shocked her. She had wanted to make him admit that he cared for something worthwhile. Instead he had confirmed that he cared for nothing-and no one.

I wish to marry you solely to save myself from the Fleet and in order to bed you.

The bluntness of it stole her breath and bruised her feelings.

“I can pretend to a devotion to your title,” she said sharply, wanting to retaliate, “or even at a pinch to pity you because of your family curse, but I will not pretend that this is a perfect courtship nor that I am in love with you, my lord.”

Miles’s hand tightened suddenly on her arm. He drew her out of the heated ballroom and through the doors that led to the conservatory. The cooler air was soothing against Alice’s hot skin. Through the glass roof she could see the stars pricking the black, winter sky and she could hear the faint splash of a fountain in the depths of the shadows. Miles led her away from the ballroom door and deep into the darkness. His hold on her was unrelenting and he did not release her until they were well away from all prying eyes. The only light in this dark corner was from one lamp high on the wall, and by its glow Alice could see Miles’s expression was harsh and uncompromising.

“Perhaps I did not make myself clear enough yesterday,” Miles said. His voice was level but there was a hard undertone to it now. “Privately we are betrothed. I am your official suitor. As such we shall be in each other’s company a great deal and I expect you to behave as though you are glad of my attentions.”

“There is not the least chance of that, my lord,” Alice said. Her feelings were so bruised by now that she was not even prepared to try to be diplomatic.

“That,” Miles corrected, ignoring her protests, “is precisely how it will be. If you do not manage to summon at least a modicum of enthusiasm for my presence, I will kiss you in front of anyone who happens to be about until it is quite clear that you are extremely happy to be courted by me.”

Alice was outraged. “How dare you.”

“I also expect you to address me by my given name,” Miles continued, as though she had not spoken. “When you call me my lord you sound like a servant.” He saw her flinch. “I appreciate that you do not like being reminded of your past.”

“I am not ashamed of my past!” Alice retorted. The anger she had been suppressing all evening flared up. “What I do object to, however, is the fact that if I were still a housemaid I doubt you would even look at me, whereas now I am an heiress you think to pay court to me for my money.” She invested the words with all the scorn that was in her heart. “You are a hypocrite, Lord Vickery, amongst other things.”

“Oh, you need be in no doubt that I would have looked at you,” Miles drawled, infuriating her further. “I would probably have touched you, as well.”

“Not with marriage in mind,” Alice flashed. “You disgust me.”

“No, I do not,” Miles said. “That is your difficulty, is it not, Miss Lister?” He took her hand. Even through gloves, his touch scalded her. “You know that I desire you,” he said. His voice had softened, and his tone raised shivers along her skin. “Why not be honest and admit that you want me, too, and that there would have been lust between us whether you were a maidservant or an heiress.” He moved a little closer to her so that his thigh brushed the silk of her gown. “I may have forced your hand with this marriage, Alice, but you know you will surrender to me in the end because, deep down, you want to.”

His words and the slippery glide of his leg against her skirts sent a shiver of awareness sliding along Alice’s veins. He was right, of course. Through all her disillusionment and betrayal the one stark fact that she could not deny was that she was deeply, helplessly, disturbingly attracted to Miles Vickery. She always had been, right from the moment she had met him. There was no sane and rational reason for it. She might logically expect that her dislike for him would cancel out any attraction she felt. It did not. It infuriated her.

A second later she realized that he had read her thoughts with disconcerting accuracy, for his eyebrows lifted and a smile that was as sensual as it was teasing lifted the corners of his firm mouth.

“Alice,” he said again. There was a rough edge to his voice now, like the rub of steel against silk. Alice shivered again. She was so close to him that in the lamplight she could see that his eyelashes were golden at the roots fading to dark at the tips, and that his eyes had the same gold color sprinkled deep in the hazel. She stared at him as though she was trying to commit his face to heart, captured in the moment and by the desire in his eyes, knowing that in a minute he was going to kiss her.

Miles had kissed her before, the previous autumn, and she had been dazzled and overwhelmed. Looking back, she could see that that had been the moment when Miles had undermined her defenses and she had started to surrender her guarded heart to him. Now she felt afraid, as though there was so much more at stake. She did not want to be hurt again. She had been foolish and trusting before, but that had not made the pain any the less. She had no illusions now that Miles would ever love her, so in that respect she was armored against him, but she also knew that her perfidious body responded to him with a need and a desire that was as insatiable and seductive as his own.

She freed herself from his grip and stepped back, escaping before it was too late. “I do not want to talk about this,” she said. She sounded breathless even to her own ears. “Don’t seek to dictate to me, my lord. I will accept your attentions with as much enthusiasm as I can summon up-until you break the terms of the will and I am free of you.”

She walked quickly away, slipping open the catch on the long windows and stepping back inside the ballroom. Miles did not follow her and she felt an immense relief. She wanted to retire from the ball, to go home to the privacy of her room where she could vent her frustration and her anger. She hated being in Miles’s power. She could not bear to be coerced, and the insidious attraction Miles held for her confused as well as mocked. And yet what alternative did she have? She was bound to this hollow travesty of a betrothal for as long as Miles was able to fulfill Lady Membury’s terms and conditions. God forbid that he should succeed completely and that she should be obliged to wed him.

Her heart bled for the naive young girl she had been the previous year. She had built Miles up into such a hero and all her hopes and beliefs had been blighted. Not only was he like every other last scoundrel who had ever seduced and betrayed an innocent young girl, he was without heart and without feeling. She thought of the Dowager Lady Vickery and of Celia and Philip. Miles was blessed to have a family who cared for him and yet he pushed them away, scorning their affection. There had been a moment when he had been telling her of his feelings for his family, when instinct had made her think that there was some terrible secret there, some hidden truth that had wounded him so badly in the past that he could never recover. Yet when she had pressed him on it he had shown no weakness. He had scorned her sentimentality as much as he seemed to reject his family’s love for him. So the truth was that he had no capacity to love and she had better remember that for her own good. She would never make the same mistakes again, thinking that she loved him, risking disillusion. Miles Vickery was not worth it and he never had been.