Alice liked to stay abed each morning. Her maid Daisy knew that and would bring her coffee and a roll and then leave her in peace for another two hours. It was a routine Alice had established and one she quite liked. For one thing, she was not required to face anyone else before she’d had her coffee and had lost herself in whatever book she was currently reading. So little of her time was her own, and it was only after she’d had a chance to do the things that mattered to her that she was able to face others with grace. Morning was, in truth, her favorite part of the day.
And yet, something about her encounter with Mr. Clavering the night before pushed her out of bed before Daisy arrived and had her going to her wardrobe to select something to wear. It was the first time she had found Society tolerable at an evening event, and it was a novel experience. When her maid brought in the coffee, Alice directed her to assist with her gown and said she would take her breakfast downstairs. Daisy was too well trained to raise her brows at any sudden change her mistress might make, but Alice knew her behavior would likely be talked about downstairs, as it was a departure from her usual habit.
She chose a dusky rose-colored walking dress with sleeves that gathered at the wrists. Alice’s mother would expect her to accompany her on morning calls later, and she may as well prepare herself now. She left Daisy to return the tray to the kitchen and made her way downstairs.
In the breakfast room, Alice blinked against the sunlight that streamed in under the azure-blue drapery. Her brother Bartholomew, the Marquess of Anley, was sitting at the table, and Alice raised her eyes in surprise when she caught sight of him. She walked over and ruffled his hair.
“Bart—what a shock. I had no anticipation you would be here. I was sure you would sleep longer than I did. Why, it is only nine o’clock.”
“Morning, Lis.”
The face he presented did not look quite as fresh as she was used to seeing, and she had a suspicion that he had not gone to bed at all. She was sure he had been out late gambling, attending cockfights, or doing whatever else it was gentlemen did. She hoped her brother, at the age of twenty-two, was not foolish enough to get into any sort of real trouble. But she knew she could not be naïve. His honorary degree at Cambridge was behind him, and he was not interested in taking a more personal interest in his estate. It only made sense that he would begin doing what the gentlemen of his acquaintance did.
Alice sat, and the servant came over and poured her coffee. He then brought her a plate of rolls, along with the crocks of butter and jam and set it beside her. Her preferences were well known to the servants.
“Why are you up so early?” she asked her brother as she stirred cream into her coffee. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but she did miss their closeness. Since before Christmas, he had kept his own counsel and had not invited her into his thoughts.
“I could ask the same of you. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you out of your room before noon.” Bartholomew took another healthy bite of ham as he glanced at her.
“Noon is an exaggeration. In truth, you have no idea what time I leave my room, because you are not generally an early riser either.” She was avoiding the question. Alice sipped her coffee, contemplating her brother, whom she loved more than anyone else on this earth. “I don’t know, honestly. I found myself too restless to stay in bed as I usually do. But this is no earlier than usual, for, as you must remember, I read in bed in the mornings. You used to come and join me there, and surely you could not have forgotten.”
Bartholomew shook his head, swallowed, and reached for his coffee. “No, I have not forgotten that. Truth is, I thought I would just have something to eat before I went up and closed my eyes for a bit.”
“So my suspicion was correct, then,” she replied, suffering a slight disappointment that he had to grow and change—and in some ways, not for the better. “You have not gone to bed. You stayed out all night and didn’t even bother to relieve my boredom by coming to Almack’s.”
He glanced at her, a grin lurking on his face. “What do you expect, Lis? Attending balls with one’s family does not rank high on the list of a gentleman’s amusements.”
“I suppose.” Alice’s mood plunged. Why was she not permitted the same freedom? She studied him, scolding herself for thinking it possible to cling to old relationships and old ways. “You missed a bit of amusement at Almack’s, however. I made a wager with Mr. George Clavering.”
Bartholomew looked up, a glint of interest in his eyes. “Clavering. Can’t say I know him. Should I make his acquaintance?”
She shrugged. “There is no reason to do so. It was just a friendly wager—nothing to speak of. I merely thought you might find it amusing.”
“What was it over?” Bartholomew took another bite and glanced at her as he chewed.
“Whether Miss Chauncey could win the attention of Mr. Duckworth before the Season’s end,” she said, watching him for a reaction.
“More people I don’t know.” Bartholomew shook his head. “Why you thought I’d find that amusing, I can’t guess.”
Stung, Alice went silent for a moment, overcome with a sudden sensation of being alone in the world. “Well, if you’d come with me to some of these events, you’d know who they all were, and we’d have a chance to dissect them as we used to.”
Bartholomew rested his hand on the table, his look softening. “Yes, we would. I’m sorry, Lis. I wish I were more noble, but I cannot bear to sacrifice my amusements only to follow my mother and sisters around like a trained bear—not even for you.”
His words mollified, and she shot him a smile. “Fair enough. Just don’t go and do anything foolish. Father will never forgive you.”
Bartholomew did not return an answer but scraped the last bit of food from his plate. They both knew he was the apple of his father’s eye and could do no wrong. In fact, the Duke of Carr loved his heir so much he doted on him to the complete neglect of his five daughters. It had taken him, after all, twenty-two years for his wife to present him with a son.
Their mother showed no preference in the treatment of her six children. All benefited equally from her correction. She liked to have a hand in the strict upbringing of each of her children, whether it was the heir to the dukedom or one of her daughters who might otherwise disgrace the family name by committing a faux pas. Alice had managed to escape the worst of the discipline by being born the fifth daughter in line. Although her mother had not precisely run out of energy in her educational goals, her time was divided, and now grandchildren were included in the number of people she must instruct. Alice evaded much of the attention by saying little that was contrary.
She looked up as her parents entered the room. Her mother went so far as to lift her eyebrows in surprise. “Alice, you have come down for the morning meal this morning. Although your taking breakfast in bed is one of those indulgences I allow you, I must say how pleased I am that you have shown more resolution. I believe it high time you mature in this area. One day, you will have a husband, and you will be expected to grace the breakfast room with your presence each morning so he might have the pleasure of your company.”
Lord Carr waited until his wife had finished, not looking as though he found much comfort in the pleasure of her company. He addressed a “Good morning” to no one in particular, then walked over and laid a hand on his son’s shoulder before taking a seat at the head of the table. One of the servants brought over the teapot and poured the hot beverage into the duke’s cup.
“I don’t intend to marry, Mother,” Alice said. It was the only subject upon which she had resisted her mother’s expectations. She sipped her coffee, waiting for the remonstrance that was sure to follow. It did not require a wait.
“Don’t speak nonsense. Of course you will marry. What else will you do with your life?”
“I don’t know,” Alice said. “Perhaps when I am old enough, I will buy a cottage and tend the garden there. I might even purchase one near the ocean, as I find Brighton to be a delightful town. I will read and paint, and it may be that I learn to cook my own food. In any case, I have no need to worry about funding my cottage or library, as Father so graciously explained to me. I have my own settlement.”
Her mother turned to the duke with a reproving look. “I told you that you should not have explained such things as settlements to a girl not yet married. It puts ideas into her head, as you can see.”
It was the duke’s aim to evade all manner of unpleasantness whenever possible, and he did so this time by saying, “You are perfectly right, my dear.”
The duchess brought her attention back to her daughter. “I will hear no more of this, Alice. A woman does not remain single unless she must do so because she has no offers. As you are highly eligible—and, in fact, are the most eligible girl on the market, which must surely afford you some degree of satisfaction—you will certainly receive an offer that is palatable to you.”
Alice’s mother did not allow her attention to her breakfast to deflect her instruction, and she buttered her roll as she continued. “There has been no shortage of suitors presenting themselves for your hand in the past. If we have, until now, allowed you to indulge in this freak of yours of resisting all offers, it was because at first you were young. And then no truly desirable suitor had presented himself. However, this cannot go on for much longer, and I have been meaning to speak to you on the matter. We fully expect you to agree to a match by the end of the Season, do we not, Duke?”
When the duke did not respond, Alice’s mother lifted her teacup to her lips and turned her attention to her son. “Bartholomew, it is gratifying that you have also taken to heart my encouragement to rise early enough for breakfast. I hope you have an industrious day planned. There is the dinner at the Rembrake’s that you have been invited to, you must remember.”
Bartholomew wiped his lips and dropped his napkin next to his plate. “Yes, Mother. I do have a number of engagements planned. In fact, so many, you’ll have to present my excuses to Mr. and Mrs. Rembrake.”
He stood and was about to leave when the duchess looked up sharply.
“Are those the same clothes you had on yesterday?” She did not wait for her son to answer before adding, “I should not have to tell you at your age that each day requires a fresh set of clothing. I shall have to speak to your valet.”
A flash of alarm crossed Bartholomew’s features and was gone instantly. “No need, Mother. I perfectly understand you. I will be sure to change before I leave the house.”
Their mother nodded with satisfaction and turned to Alice. “I shall not have to send word up, then, to see that you are ready for the morning calls.”
“No, Mother. I will be ready at our usual time.” Alice glanced over at her father, who was reading the morning post. He rarely contributed anything to their conversation at any time but was even more reserved in the mornings. They shared that trait, at least.
Just after noon, Alice followed the duchess into the carriage, not bothering to ask her mother where they would be going. She knew they were bound for Lady Jersey’s house first, as they always attended morning calls in her drawing room after a night spent at Almack’s. A five-minute carriage ride brought them to 38 Berkeley Square, and they were soon ushered into the house.
“Sally, a pleasure,” the duchess said. “I could not resist coming to see how you fared after last night’s opening ball.”
Lady Jersey laughed. “I knew you would come to get the latest on-dits. Come and join us in the drawing room. Barbara Gower is here, Alice, as well as Teresa Wolfe. You will wish to join them, I am sure.”
Although Alice’s mother would never admit to such a thing, the duchess was addicted to gossip and was eager to learn what the latest scandals might be. She could not bear to be behind in such privileged knowledge. Lady Jersey talked enough without prompting, and the duchess would not have to appear overly vulgar by asking but would instead be supplied with a ready stream of gossip.
Alice left them and went over to the younger ladies, who were gathered in a small circle. Sometimes there was pleasing company to be found in Lady Jersey’s drawing room, but today was not one of those days. She took a seat and accepted a plate with cake and a cup of tea, which the footman brought over from the hostess. She wasn’t hungry but would need something to do with her hands while she endured the conversation. Unlike her mother, she did not relish being fed a steady diet of gossip.
“We were just talking about Mr. Clavering when you came in,” Teresa said, startling Alice with the name of the man who had been occupying her thoughts more than she would have liked to admit. Teresa added, “Not Sir Lucius Clavering, who is married, of course, but his younger brother, George Clavering.”
Alice was thankful for her dull complexion that did not easily give way to a blush. She had no interest in Mr. Clavering but had found his company enjoyable. That Teresa and Barbara should be talking about the one gentleman who had piqued her interest for the first time in years was so unusual as to be almost suspicious. It was as if they knew what was in her thoughts. Or had they perhaps seen her talking to him last night?
She picked up her fork and took a bite of almond cake. “Oh? And what did you conclude about Mr. Clavering?” She was fairly certain no one had noticed them speaking in the alcove—at least no one of consequence who would spread rumors. But she could not be entirely sure, as London had many pairs of eyes.
“We were thinking it high time he settled down. I am married, of course,” Barbara added, placing her hand on her heart and indulging in a condescending smile. “But Teresa here is not, so I was telling her she should seek to make his acquaintance. He could be a fine marital candidate.”
Teresa added, “And I was saying that he is indeed a fine prospect. At the very least, he would be nice to look upon each morning. But I cannot say he would add to my consequence. He is only a younger son.”
Alice was out of all patience with them. And the irony was not lost on her that here were women talking about the importance of a pleasing face at the breakfast table—the very thing for which she had scolded Mr. Clavering.
She fiddled with the handle of her fork. “I am sure you have enough consequence for you both, should you wish to marry him. Has he turned his eyes in your direction?”
Teresa was a well-looking young lady, although her lack of wealth had been a hindrance to her marital prospects. Still, she replied without any trace of modesty. “In truth, I do not think of him seriously and have not attempted to attract his notice.” She tossed her chin and added, “But should I wish to do so, I am quite sure it would only be a matter of time. Perhaps I will—just to enjoy the flirtation.”
“You must surely be right,” Alice murmured. A fleeting thought crossed her mind to warn Mr. Clavering about the studied pursuit being staged, but then she wondered why she should do such a thing. He was no concern of hers.
The butler came in and announced more visitors before ushering in two young ladies with their mamas. The first was Diana Moore, and she came to take the remaining seat next to Alice. Gwendolyn Chauncey was the other one who trailed in behind her mother. It was the first time Alice had seen her at Lady Jersey’s house. But then, it was her first Season. Her mother was wealthy enough to be accepted, but she did not have the bloodline to give her access to the innermost sphere.
Miss Chauncey glanced at the circle of young ladies, which was now complete. Without showing any signs of regret, she went and took a seat on her own by the window, smiling up at the servant as he brought her refreshments.
“I believe I shall go speak to Miss Chauncey,” Alice announced.
“Who?” Diana Moore glanced over at Miss Chauncey, then drew her brows together. “But she’s barely out of the schoolroom. Surely she can have nothing of interest to say.”
“Enjoy your conversation,” Alice returned sweetly and went over to sit in the unoccupied chair by Miss Chauncey, who looked up in surprise.
“Lady Alice,” she said in some confusion. She sat upright and waited for Alice to speak.
Alice smiled at her. “I saw you sitting here on your own, and I wanted to come and introduce myself. We were not presented at the Mayfairs’ card party, but that is easily remedied. And I thought I might enjoy your conversation.”
Miss Chauncey allowed her gaze to drift to the circle of women Alice had just left, then turned her serious expression back to her. “Perhaps. It depends on what sort of things you like to talk about.”
Alice’s esteem for Miss Chauncey was growing by the minute. Apparently, she was not one to flatter people higher on the social ladder. This should prove a fruitful relationship, if given a chance to develop. “I like to talk about all manner of subjects, although I am not overly fond of gossip.”
Miss Chauncey smiled for the first time, and Alice thought that if only Mr. Clavering had seen her face in this instant, he would not write her off as having no charms to attract a man. True, she might dress without much flair, despite her family possessing wealth, but that might only mean she was preoccupied with things of greater import.
“Then we are of the same mind,” Miss Chauncey replied. “Although it is the reason my mother wished to come to Lady Jersey’s house: to learn what she may. She is hoping to launch me off creditably in my first Season. It will be her triumph if she can. If only she did not have such an intractable daughter.”
Alice laughed. “How alike we are in this. Are you able to resist her efforts?”
Miss Chauncey looked down at her hands clasped on her lap. “To a degree. But I do not have an independence. My mother’s wealth is hers to use as she sees fit, and not even my father dares cross her will. She will force me into marriage, I fear.”
“If you will permit me to meddle in your affairs,” Alice said cautiously, “do you suppose there is a way that you can marry to please your mother but choose the husband to please yourself?”
Miss Chauncey held Alice’s gaze. “I would like that, but I do not know whom I might marry that would be acceptable to both my mother and me. We have such differing ideas about what is acceptable.”
“What would you like in a husband?” Alice asked—to invite a confidence about Mr. Duckworth, to be sure, but also to learn more about Miss Chauncey, whom she instinctively liked.
A fleeting smile crossed Miss Chauncey’s face. “Someone handsome and fun. Someone who will make me laugh.”
The duchess stood, signaling an end to their visit, and for once, Alice was not ready to go. She had not achieved her objective of learning everything about Miss Chauncey. Although their conversation must come to an end, she could not help but ask, “Do you have someone in mind?”
Miss Chauncey hesitated but shook her head, clearly not ready to share what was in her heart. Alice could not blame her. She would have done no differently.
“I won’t press you,” Alice said, wishing to set her at ease. “I believe my mother is waiting for me. I hope we might meet again soon. I’ve enjoyed talking to you.”
“As have I.” Miss Chauncey’s expression showed genuine pleasure. “I hope we might be given the opportunity.”
Alice smiled and got to her feet. She went to join her mother and was filled with a sense of satisfaction. She had not erred in her assessment. Miss Chauncey wanted someone handsome and fun. Mr. Duckworth was the perfect candidate for that. And she was confident Mr. Clavering would soon be made to see that Miss Chauncey’s charms were no less present for being hidden.