Early the next afternoon, George went to Philippa’s house to fetch the belongings Lady Alice had promised to have delivered for Miss Chauncey’s flight. He wished he could have gotten them directly from her to see how she fared.
He had called her Alice, and she hadn’t protested. It had slipped out with their growing intimacy. He had kissed her, and she had not pulled away. He had tasted her lips. Had she also felt the world pause when their lips touched? That every sensation had shouted with vibrancy? He could think of almost nothing else. She had given him no promises, but surely she could not hold him at arm’s length even now?
“This is it,” Philippa said, descending the stairs with a simple bundle in her arms. It was wrapped in cloth and tied with ribbon. “Lady Alice came and brought it herself, along with her maid, and promised that it had all the essentials Miss Chauncey would need. You must keep me informed of the situation.”
George accepted the bundle, wishing he had come earlier. He might have seen Alice. “Does Jack know?”
Philippa nodded. “I don’t keep things from my husband. You know he can be trusted.”
“I do. He was not overly shocked, I hope.” George lifted his brows, not truly worried.
“Little shocks my husband,” Philippa replied.
“I suppose not, being married to you.” George left the drawing room and headed down the hall, where a footman standing in attendance opened the door. He had not missed his sister’s grin.
He took a hackney to Cockspur, near the alley where Duck was to wait. He paid the driver, then had a glimpse of the alley. In it, the closed coach faced the correct way for a quick exit, with Duck’s groom in the front holding the reins. George was thankful for the good weather that would not make it a misery to travel. The couple had a week’s journey ahead of them.
He saluted the groom, then pulled open the door to the coach, causing Duck to jump. He was twisted in the seat, facing the back door to the modiste, which could be seen through the window of the coach. For once, George had no desire to tease. His friend was already suffering enough from nerves.
“You’re here,” Duck said, then turned back to his surveillance, falling into a tense silence. He remained perfectly still and clenched his jaw as he continued to stare out of the window.
George patted his shoulder. “Nothing will hinder her, Duck. She will be here as planned. Lady Alice said that Miss Chauncey’s determination left her in no doubt of your intended’s being where she said she would be. You are not going to be married to some weak miss who does not know her own mind.”
Despite his gray pallor, Duck laughed. “Oh, I know that. I have known it from the very first night we were paired together at cards. I cannot believe she will have me.”
George appreciated this rare spurt of humility in his friend. Duck was not generally one to doubt himself, and probably would not even now, were it not for that unfortunate incident with Mary Morgan that had stolen his confidence in finding someone true. Perhaps that had done some good, after all, if only to help him distinguish what truly mattered.
George turned to look through the window, but there was no point in them both staring. One was enough. Facing forward again, he pulled the bundle from his lap and put it on the seat between them, not bothering to break the silence. He wondered what Alice was doing right now. She was likely sitting at home, just waiting for the news that all had gone well. There was little else she could do without a chaperone, and he was amazed she had managed to get away to visit his sister. George frowned as he mulled over how restricted her movements were. How hard it must be as a woman—to bear having so little freedom. If Alice were married, she could go wherever she pleased.
If she were married to him, he would never hinder her from anything she set her mind to.
Perhaps—just perhaps—Alice was softening and considering him in the role of a husband. As for George, he was doing the reverse. He needed no softening at all. His resolve was only growing firmer. He had to try his luck with her. He could not risk making the same mistake as Duck and letting this woman slip through his fingers without declaring how he felt.
If his initial reticence had been because it was unsportsmanlike to go counter to Alice’s wishes, he no longer thought that way. It was also not sportsmanlike—in fact it was even worse—to know how he felt and have a hint of how she felt and still not make a push.
Duck froze before drawing a sharp breath. “Heavens,” he whispered. “There she is.”
In a split second, Duck was out of the carriage, and George exited from the other side. He glanced around the alley to make sure no one had seen them, and there was no one in sight. There were not even windows on the building façades in the alley, except for one, and it was shuttered. Miss Chauncey ran toward Duck, her face white with a look of terror mixed with fierce determination splashed across her features. She was wearing a yellow dress embellished throughout with intricate green leaves.
“Oswald,” she breathed out.
Duck put his arm around her and hurried her to the carriage. He tucked her into the coach and slammed the door shut, then circled to the other side.
George opened the door that Duck had just shut and peered in. “Miss Chauncey, give me word to send to Lady Alice. Did everything go off as planned?”
“I believe so. I had my mother’s maid wait in the front of the shop. The seamstress wanted me to leave so she could finish the manteau and have it sent to me, but I refused. She warned me that it would take her at least a quarter of an hour to make the last-minute adjustments, and very likely more. But I will feel much better if we can be off without being spotted.”
“You heard the lady,” Duck said impatiently, sitting next to her, his eyes pleading for George to understand and forgive his brusque tone.
George reached across the seat to shake Duck’s hand and gave him a wink. “Best be off, then.” He tapped the side of the carriage, which sped away.
His shoulders tense, George looked around one last time and still saw no one. It would not do for him to be seen in the vicinity; he could have nothing to do with this elopement. His reputation would likely never recover, as any proper gentleman should be stopping an elopement, not aiding one. However, he could not leave without seeing how this played out so he had something to report to Alice.
He walked to the end of the alley and stepped out of sight, pressing his lips together. Never mind the question of what it meant to be a gentleman. This was Duck’s life, and he would not have stopped their flight for the world.
It would ease Alice’s mind to know how long it was before Miss Chauncey’s absence was noted, and George decided he would stay to find out. Cockspur Street crossed with the broader Pall Mall, and there were people moving to and from in both directions as they went about their business. Nobody glanced at the closed carriage driving off. George stood to the side of the intersection, waiting to see what might happen.
“Clavering.” Lord Anley appeared from George’s left and walked forward, an air of surprise on his face. He came to where George was standing. “What are you doing here in this part of town?” He looked at him suspiciously. “This is not about me, I hope? This is the area where a certain name we are both familiar with has her residence.”
George shook his head. “I give you my word: my presence here has nothing to do with you—or that. I trust you to handle your own affairs as you see fit.”
“Good.” The marquess folded his arms over his chest. Then he relaxed his stance, and a reluctant smile came over his face. “As a matter of fact, I have just come from ending things with her.”
“Did you?” Alice would be so relieved when news reached her that her brother had ended the affair. George was careful not to show any reaction to the news and merely lifted a brow. “And how did she take things?”
Lord Anley shrugged, looking much like a boy. A reluctant smile appeared on his face. “There was an abundance of weeping. Do you know? I am beginning to think she is not all that sincere.”
There was just enough humor in Anley’s voice for George to let out a soft laugh. “It is possible she is not.” He was careful to leave the subject there. A man did not need to have his errors paraded in front of him.
Anley gave a rueful grin. “In any case, it has given me a closer glimpse of her true nature—and her ample tear ducts.”
A noise erupted as the alley door banged open, and a woman came running out, a wild look to her eyes. The marquess turned in that direction, and George was careful not to appear overly curious. He hoped no one would come and question him in front of Anley. The marquess knew he was friends with Duckworth and likely had heard of his sister’s adoption of Miss Chauncey. He might piece it together.
To his relief, the modiste ran back indoors without asking questions. He suspected she did not dare to interrupt them.
George was searching for another topic of conversation when the door opened again, and the same woman came out with a maid trailing her footsteps. They both looked around but, upon seeing the clear alley, did not attempt to do more to discover Miss Chauncey’s whereabouts.
George had not looked at his watch and did not wish to draw attention to himself, but he suspected that about ten minutes had passed since Duck and Miss Chauncey had left. Given that it was unlikely anyone knew where she had gone, he was hopeful this would be the advantage they needed to be free.
He turned back to Lord Anley and decided to be open about his intentions. “I had a mind to call on your sister.”
Anley’s eyebrows rose, and he studied George. “Is that so? I was just about to go home myself. Why don’t we travel together?”
“Excellent.”
George followed the marquess to the nearby mews, where Anley’s carriage was kept. He carried on a light conversation, hiding his nervousness about Duck’s elopement, and now about seeing Alice. The last thing he wished for was to have Anley witness the extent of his attachment to Alice. That would be as good as publicly declaring himself, and he was far from being sure how she felt. At last, he came upon a topic he thought would interest them both.
“Gentleman Jackson is gathering some of the men he’s trained to assist in the Prince Regent’s coronation. They will be used to keep the crowds in line. Had you heard?”
Anley breathed out. “How I would love to do that. I never could, though. My father would be scandalized.”
“Along with the rest of London, I imagine,” George added. “No, I imagine it will be men of a humbler nature who will fulfill that role.”
“Do you never think—” Anley stopped and looked at George. “Oh, but I suppose it does not matter. You can do as you wish.”
“I believe I know what you wish to say, though.” George turned a sympathetic smile to the marquess. He understood the urge to do something noble. “If only there was a war or something, where we could go off and prove our valor, is that not so?”
“Yes, something like that.” Anley trained his gaze ahead.
George fell silent until a new thought took hold. “Then again, there are plenty of ways to show a man’s valor that don’t involve fighting. I’m sure you’ll figure that out.”
They had arrived, and George followed Anley into the house. The marquess brought him directly into the drawing room, where Alice and her mother were seated. He had not expected to see the duchess, who showed no obvious signs of her invalided state. He hoped his having arrived with the marquess would soften her displeasure at his having come unannounced. He stood at Anley’s side, debating whether it had been the best decision to come.
“Mother, you are downstairs,” Anley said. “Wonderful. May I present Mr. Clavering?”
The duchess wore a severe expression. “We have met.”
George bowed. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.” After a split second’s hesitation, he also bowed to Lady Alice. “My lady.”
The duchess hesitated before gesturing to the seat near them. “Would you care to be seated?”
“I thank you, Your Grace,” George said. “If it would not be inconvenient, I am wondering if Lady Alice would care to go for a walk.”
The duchess looked at Alice, who shrugged and gave a small nod. George caught the gesture and hoped desperately that this was an act for her mother and not a sign of the true state of her feelings for him.
“I will ask Daisy to accompany us.” Alice went quickly to the door, then met George’s gaze. “I won’t be but a minute.”
“Very well, even though it is not the usual hour for walking,” the duchess said, giving him a dark look. He wondered what he had done to make her so suspicious. However, the important thing was that she was letting Alice go.
“I will not keep her out long. We may walk in the square, as it is a beautiful afternoon,” he said, eager to appease her mother.
“I will leave you, then, Clavering. You may as well sit while you wait,” Anley told him. He walked toward the door and turned back. “Mother, I will be here for dinner tonight if you wish.”
The duchess nodded, and George did not miss the look of maternal affection in her eyes. Anley left, and George sat with a glance at his hostess, trying to look as though his whole world was not hinged on what chances he might have with Lady Alice.
“I heard you visited while I was invalided,” the duchess said. “It hastened my recovery, for I did not wish to leave my daughter unchaperoned. As much as I would like to trust Daisy, I fear she has too romantic a nature. What are your intentions toward Alice?”
George was ill prepared for such a direct question, but he did not hesitate. “I would marry her if she would have me.”
“Against her parents’ own wishes?” the duchess asked, and he had to remind himself that Her Grace had once given her approval, although he was not supposed to know that. He rather thought she might be bluffing. The duchess did not look as though she were bluffing.
“You are beneath her. You—a second son, and of a baronet, no less. It is audacious of you to attempt the suit.”
He would not cower under her gaze. “Perhaps. Although if you’ll permit me to inform you, Your Grace, my inheritance is not to be despised. Your daughter would not want for anything. That, however, is neither here nor there if she will not have me. You asked me of my intentions. They are merely to make her aware of my feelings. If she returns them, I will ask to speak to His Grace. If she does not, what you or I think of the matter has no relevance.”
He had spoken forcefully, but he could not regret it. He would not flatter the duchess or attempt to win Alice’s hand through conniving.
“Very well. We shall see.” The duchess turned her eyes toward the door as Alice stepped into the room. She had a bonnet tied under her chin that framed her face and hid her expression. Her maid stepped in behind her.
Alice looked at George. “I am ready.”