Alice found herself looking for Mr. Clavering at each gathering she went to. She tried to spot him in Hyde Park. She looked for him at the theater, then at three different parties, although she had only expected to see him at one. She looked for him at Gunter’s and even at Hookham’s, although she had some doubts over whether he was the reading type. Everywhere Alice went that week, she paid close attention to the faces around her with the expectation and the hope that she would see Mr. George Clavering. And yes, she had seen the irony in the fact that she was searching high and low for him only to inform him that she could not be seen with him anymore.
In the end, Alice did not encounter him until a week later, back at Almack’s. Her heart gave a jolt as soon as she saw him, and she started forward before she caught herself. What in heaven’s name? She had been so accustomed to looking for him, she had forgotten that she was completely unavailable and that if he wished to speak with her, he needed to come and talk to her. Fortunately for her sanity and her dignity, Cleda approached her from the stream of people passing by and stopped at her side.
“You are in luck, my dear. I am here! I almost did not come today because I was not feeling at all well, but in the end, I was able to overcome those disagreeable sensations and rush to your side.”
Alice linked arms with her friend, grateful for the distraction. “I am glad you are feeling much more the thing and am very glad to see you here. Does your husband regret your rush back to England now that it appears you are in much better form than initially thought?”
“He did not say, but I am under the distinct impression that he would do anything to keep me protected and that he does not regret a thing. Although I protested when he first proposed the idea of returning, I am now glad that we have come back.” Cleda looked around the room. “Have you been inundated with requests to dance?”
Cleda had followed Alice’s impetuous decision to hook up her train at Almack’s and her subsequent evening going from one partner to another.
“No, I believe it is because I’ve only just arrived. I suspect that the invitations will not be long in coming.”
Cleda turned to study her. “You do intend to dance, then.” She looked around as if searching for someone, and her gaze landed on Mr. Clavering. “Is there anybody in particular you are interested in dancing with?”
“I can tell you one man I do not wish to dance with, and that is Mr. George Clavering.” Alice tossed her head impatiently. “Can you believe Teresa Wolfe had the audacity to say he is haunting my footsteps? It has gotten so bad, my own mother has stooped from her lofty position and has actually sanctioned the match.”
Cleda put a gloved hand to her lips, her eyes brimming with amusement. Alice could hear the barely controlled quiver in her voice when her friend replied. “I am very happy for the common sense that your mother shows in giving her approval—if you’ll excuse me for saying something so impertinent regarding the duchess—but I suspect her sanction does not please you.”
Alice shook her head firmly. “It does not. What would please me is if my mother would allow me to take my settlement and live on my own. I know such a thing might not be thought of for another two years at least, but to know I had that possibility is what matters to me.”
Cleda nodded soberly, and Alice saw the variety of emotions that flitted across her face. She knew her friend wanted to respect Alice’s wishes while also urging her to try for a love match like the one she had. If only Cleda could be brought to realize how unlikely such a thing was for Alice. She simply did not trust men—not with her position, fortune and experience.
“There is Mr. Clavering,” Cleda said after a moment’s pause. It was spoken as an innocent observation, but Alice knew her far too well to think there was anything casual in it.
“I have seen him. In fact—” Alice stopped short before revealing that she had almost been on her way to talk to him. For some reason she could not put her finger on, Alice was reluctant to let even her closest friend know that she had been tempted to march over there and engage him in conversation. Mr. Clavering was taking on entirely too much significance in her thoughts.
“In fact?” Cleda prompted.
“In fact, this is the perfect time to let Mr. Clavering know that we will need to be more circumspect and not seek each other out each time we are at some assembly together.” Alice glanced at him, and at her look, Mr. Clavering began to move her way in that jaunty manner of his—full of confidence, as though he had not a care in the world. How she would love to be able to carry herself in such a way. How she would love to have no worries.
“Lady Alice,” Mr. Clavering said, sweeping a bow. He looked at Cleda and paused as if searching his memory.
“You remember my friend, Mrs. Bell?” Alice said, coming to his aid. All of her senses were heightened at his presence, although that particular knowledge did not please her. It was a timely decision to inform him that they must now act as indifferent acquaintances rather than people who shared a closer connection. It shouldn’t be hard, really. After all, they did not share a closer connection. They barely knew each other.
“Of course,” Mr. Clavering said with a gallant bow. “Mrs. Bell, it is a pleasure.”
Cleda curtsied, not bothering to hide the satisfied smirk that had touched her lips. She was enjoying Alice’s predicament. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Clavering.” She glanced at Alice. “I will be sure to come find you later, but I must speak to Mrs. Gower, whom I have just seen enter the room.”
Cleda walked off, and since her friend had no more affection for Barbara Gower than Alice did, she knew it was merely an excuse to leave her alone with Mr. Clavering. In some ways, Alice was relieved for the solicitude, for she would rather that what she had to say to him not be done under Cleda’s all-too-perceptive gaze. At the same time, she was chagrined to discover how happy she was to talk to Mr. Clavering for his own sake. It was not a good beginning.
She turned back to face him. “Mr. Clavering, I have not seen hide nor hair of you since last week.” She had striven for a light tone, but it had come out accusatory.
Mr. Clavering’s brow rose, and if his smile was any indication, her words had pleased him. “Oh? Have you been searching for me?”
Irritation warred with embarrassment. Alice had failed at being as elusive as she liked to be in her dealings with men. Normally, it was easy to hold them at arm’s length, and she did not want him to get the impression that he had a privileged place in her thoughts.
She attempted a recovery by deciding to go straight to the matter at hand. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I wished to speak with you on a particular matter, and that was why I was looking for you.”
Mr. Clavering’s gaze was intent on hers, and at the seriousness of her tone, his pleased expression vanished. It was replaced by curiosity and concern.
“I do hope there is nothing amiss. Does it have something to do with our wager?” A look of hope grew on his face. “Has Duck given Miss Chauncey a cut direct, causing her to take refuge in her tears for having mistaken his attention?” He leaned in, and the sensation of his nearness was so appealing, Alice did not pull away. She wondered where her resolve had fled. He murmured, “I am glad she has you to console her. I will need some time to think of what my terms will be for our wager.”
She had misread him. The look on his face had not been hope—it was teasing. Something in her breast responded to it. It was a desire to tease back and to spend more time in the company of a man who amused her and also possessed more depth than the ordinary London gentleman.
Except for his mistress. She must not forget that.
“You are premature.” Alice allowed a dry tone to seep into her voice. “I have observed no developments on our wager, other than the fact that I have some cause to be encouraged. While I did not see you this week, I have twice seen Mr. Duckworth and Miss Chauncey deep in conversation.” She leaned in to deliver the thrust. “And one of those times was while he was escorting her for a promenade in Hyde Park.”
Mr. Clavering drew back at the news she’d imparted and stared at her in surprise. From her position, she was able to get a glance at his face, and she could not read any pleasure in his expression. Alice sensed that winning this wager was not so much about winning for its own sake. He truly did not seem to desire a match between Miss Chauncey and his friend, and she could not say why. Surely he would want his friend to be happy? Every time she had seen Mr. Duckworth in Miss Chauncey’s presence, he had shown himself to be that.
“Interesting,” was all Mr. Clavering said at first, his voice flat.
She watched him, and after a moment, he made a recovery and moved in closer again. Alice held her breath in anticipation.
“However, you know that when one bets on a horse, one often thinks that it is a sure thing until some unknown by the name of Topsy-Turvy jumps to the lead at the last possible second, upsetting the entire bet. A wager is never won until the favored one crosses the finish line.”
Alice allowed an incredulous smile to touch her lips. “Are you comparing your friend and mine to racehorses?”
Mr. Clavering shrugged, the corners of his lips curling upward. He showed no signs of impatience to leave her side, a sentiment she reciprocated. The idea that she would have to abandon their burgeoning friendship left her feeling empty.
“There have been worse analogies,” he replied.
Streams of people flowed around them, but neither moved their gaze from the other. It was an island of comfort in the sea of fatuity. It had to end.
Taking a deep breath, Alice came to the point. “To return to the reason that I was seeking you out,” she began, then stopped.
“Yes?” Mr. Clavering stilled, waiting for what she had to say.
“There have been comments made about our tête-à-têtes, linking us together in a way that I am sure neither of us wants. I think it will be in our best interest to put an end to them.”
Mr. Clavering did not move, and his expression remained unchanged. Only the narrowing of his eyes gave indication that he had understood her.
“What are these people saying?” He had still not moved away from her, and the edge of his arm brushed against hers.
“One of my acquaintances—I shall not call her a friend—has remarked upon how many times we have been seen in each other’s company and appears to think there is some deeper connection growing between us.” Alice gave herself only a slight second’s pause in which to consider whether she would speak of her mother. She would! Surely it would convince him how serious the matter had become.
“And what is more, my mother has actually supported the idea of our making a match of it. When we were on our morning calls last week, she announced that she and my father agreed to countenance it.”
His gaze grew more intent. “Did she?”
Alice almost could not breathe through the intensity of that question and the look that came with it. She had expected him to go into gales of laughter, and instead, his reaction caused some strange fluttering in her belly that had never been there before.
She was unable to achieve the teasing tone she had hoped for, but she managed to reply. “She did. Of course, it is most ridiculous, and I beg you will disregard it. As you can imagine, I have done nothing to encourage her to think you were attempting a courtship. Or to persuade her that such a thing was my desire.”
By now, her face must be glowing with the embarrassment that coursed through her. What a ridiculous conversation, and it was not going at all the way she had hoped. Where was the teasing, bantering Mr. Clavering she had come to know?
She drew a deep breath. “And so I am sure you must understand that we cannot be seen too often in each other’s company or be seen sharing conversations that go beyond the merest pleasantries.”
“Like this one?” he clarified, his voice deep.
She nodded, though all she felt was regret. “Like this one.” They stood for a moment, both seeming reluctant to move. At last, she found her voice. “So, if you will excuse me—”
“I met your brother at the boxing saloon.”
Alice had started to turn and make her escape, but at this, she turned back. “Did you?” Her mind reeled with the implications. “Did you speak to him about anything in particular?”
Mr. Clavering had lost some of his shine. Or perhaps the evening was wearing on them both. It truly was hot inside the ballroom, and there was not a breath of fresh air nearby to relieve her.
“We spoke only of boxing,” Mr. Clavering replied. “But your brother is an excellent fellow. I suppose we might have been friends had we gone to school together.”
Alice found the notion agreeable that her brother could become friends with Mr. Clavering. She supposed there were few people she would rather he followed as an example in the ton, considering how respectful and kind Mr. Clavering was.
Then she remembered once again that he had kept mistresses in the past and probably had one even now. The recollection brought her back to reality. There was a good reason she was curbing her interactions with Mr. Clavering and should continue to do so. He was too much like the rest of London gentlemen. If only she could remember her determination when she stood near him and her body wanted to lean into his. She wondered what had possessed her to begin dancing again—and carrying on what looked like a flirtation to the rest of London. Where had her will gone?
She came back to their conversation, knowing he was waiting for a response. “How nice.” Alice did not know what else to say, and after another awkward pause, Mr. Clavering gave her a tight smile.
“Well, Lady Alice, I shall not importune you any longer and cause more tongues to wag. We must continue to follow the course of our wager, as one of us will have a debt of honor to pay.” His eyes gleamed with teasing, but they had lost their sparkle. In sympathy, her own evening felt flat.
“Yes, we must. Good evening, Mr. Clavering.” Lady Alice curtsied.
Mr. Clavering bowed and turned to leave.
For the rest of the evening, Lady Alice managed to sense where he was, despite not having any sort of view over the crowds. She accepted more invitations to dance, which lost their amusement when she was not giving an indirect challenge to Mr. Clavering. Fortunately, there were still some men who did not dare approach her, and she was given some periods of rest in which to talk to Cleda.
Throughout the evening, she caught glimpses of Mr. Clavering talking and dancing and carrying on as though he had never heard of an Alice St. Claire. She tried not to look, though. She did not want anyone to say of her that her heart had been given at last. It was not true.
Of course such a thing could not be true.