Chapter Six

 

A bird sang a lovely tune from a branch of a large oak which grew in the corner of the garden. Alice did not know what kind of bird it was, but the light twitter sounded much like a goldfinch. She giggled. As if she knew birds. Her mother had wished her to study the winged creatures of their garden, but Alice found knowing the names took away the beauty of their song. She preferred to think of them as winged sprites or tiny faeries rather than animals. Not that she was given to flights of fancy—that was not something her parents wanted for her—but at times she wished to free her mind from the everyday normalities of the world around her.

She closed her eyes and used the moment for just that. The sun warmed her cheeks and she was reminded of the story of Icarus and his failed attempt to fly to the sun. Granted, an English sun was nowhere nearly as warm enough to melt wax on most days, but in her fantasy, it was. With outstretched arms, Alice flew, and the sun became hotter and hotter until, in the end, her wings melted and she fell to the ground.

She giggled again. Of course, she still stood. Her mother would have been apoplectic if she found her elder daughter, the spinster of the family, lying on the path in the garden for any other reason than stumbling due to a twisted ankle, which had happened on more than one occasion, and typically when she wanted to make a point.

“Are you practicing a new dance of some sort?” a low baritone asked from behind her.

Blast the man! she thought. How was it he could startle her on so many occasions?

She turned and Lord Blackmoore stood regally in his long dark coat over a ruffled blue shirt. His trousers hugged his legs nicely and Alice found herself looking away. It was no wonder he could have so many women if they acted as she did at this moment.

It had been several days since the Earl’s last visit, and though they had come to the point of amicability, Alice still felt the need to resist the man’s charms. She was no closed flower bud or naive peasant woman who could easily be taken in by the rouge’s charming ways, and she had spent the time since their previous time together building up the resolve that had begun to crumble. Now she stood stiff and ready for battle once again.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Alice asked haughtily.

He smiled and plucked a flower from a nearby bush, and Alice could not help but feel as if he were reading her mind somehow, for the flower had not completely opened yet. “I wonder if I might walk with you,” he said. “I am here to meet with your father on some business and he is currently occupied.” She gave him a skeptical look and looked around her. “Worry not,” he added, “he knew you were here alone, so he asked one of your servants…Esther I believe? To accompany us.”

As if invoking the woman Alice had known most of her life, Esther moved from behind a large bush, smiled, and gave a small curtsy. “Miss,” was all she said.

Well, is he not clever? Alice thought. “In all honesty, I would on most occasions love to have you accompany me, but…”

“Wonderful!” he said heartily as he offered her his arm. “Then let us be on our way.”

She stared wide-eyed at his arm for several moments, and he waited patiently until she placed her hand on his sleeve. He smiled warmly and she felt her cheeks heat up. He was a scoundrel, she had no doubt; so, why was his presence so disarming?

“Your gardens are quite lovely,” Lord Blackmoore said as they followed the path. “One day you must come to Shetfield Manor and see the gardens there. I believe you will be quite impressed, although they are not nearly as beautiful as what I see before me.”

Alice shot him a sneer, but he was not looking at her as she had expected, but rather was eying a fountain Alice’s mother had procured just last summer. It was made of white marble that gleamed in the bright sunlight with a large cherub in the middle with a jug that poured water into the pool below. The fact Alice had thought the man was being impudent with her made her cheeks heat up even more. Of course, he was not speaking of her. She was not a woman most men made attempts to conquer, and that was what she preferred.

“Yes, my mother had that fountain brought in from France last summer after she and Father journeyed to Paris. Father was against it in the beginning but is not one to deny my mother anything.”

“Your father is right in doing so,” he said. “It seems he takes great care with everything, and everyone, in his family.” This time he looked directly at Alice, and Alice wondered what game he was playing.

Of course, her defenses immediately rose. This was not the man from the dozens of stories she had heard. No, he was being extremely charming, and she was too intelligent to fall for his games. “Yes, well, he does protect all of his interests.”

There it was, a slight wince. Yet, it was gone so quickly, Alice was unsure it was really there. Perhaps her suspicious nature caused her to imagine it. Regardless, she kept up her defenses, just in case.

One way she could keep him at bay was one that worked every time a man tried to win her over. “I am feeling a bit overheated,” she said as she waved a hand over her face. “I believe I must sit.”

Concern lined his face, but Alice thought it a bit forced. He led her toward a bench only a few paces from where they currently stood. Perfect. Next to the bench was a raised bed that contained a variety of flowers, none with thorns.

“Look there,” she said, pointing at a tall tree in the far corner. “Can you see the robin in the branches?”

Lord Blackmoore shaded his eyes, and as he looked away, she took a step back and ‘stumbled’ over the corner of the flowerbed, pulling at his sleeve in the process in an attempt to catch herself. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the sleeve tore away from his coat and Alice ended up on her backside in the middle of the flowerbed.

“Oh, my!” she gasped theatrically as she held up his sleeve. “I do apologize. I am afraid I stumbled.” She forced a tear into her eye by staring in the direction of the sun, a trick she had learned from a traveling theater show when she was younger.

The Earl stood over her, a mixture of alarm, rage and something she could not recognize on his face. He rapidly shook his head, as if to clear it, and offered Alice a hand that now was attached to a shirt-covered arm. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Alice took his hand with her left and Esther’s in her right, and the two helped her to her feet. Her gray gown was now covered in dirt and Alice swiped at her backside, not missing the look of amusement that had replaced whatever it was that had been on Lord Blackmoore’s face earlier. However, that unknown emotion remained.

“Yes,” she said breathily, a feeling of being closed in coming over her as she looked into the dark pools of his eyes. It was a strange feeling, one she had not felt in many years, and it confused her. She closed her eyes and made an attempt to clear her head. She had done what she planned to do. Now she must use her misfortune to end the visit. “I am afraid that is not the first time I have tripped over that corner.” She shook her head sadly. “I do tend to make a ninny of myself at times.”

She shot Esther a glare when the woman snorted. Esther forced a cough. “I beg your pardon, Miss,” she said.

Lord Blackmoore did not seem to notice. Instead, he stood staring at Alice as if she had grown a third arm. Her hair had caught on one of the rose bushes and fallen loose and she pulled it back from her face. “I must look a fright,” she said.

His eyes were wide as he reached down to hand her the hideous eyeglasses, which had fallen to the ground when she had stumbled. “Not at all,” he said in a choked voice, which caused Alice to freeze in place. What was the matter with the man?

“Miss?” Esther said.

Alice sighed. “Yes?”

Esther leaned in close. “You have dirt on your face,” she whispered.

Alice took several swipes at her cheek. It was one thing to fall into the soil and dirty one’s gown but quite another to get that soil on one’s face. “Oh, well, I believe I should go inside and wash up.” She gave Lord Blackmoore a quick curtsy, only to hide her face and not to show him a respect she did not have for him. “If you will excuse me.” With that, she walked—almost ran—down the path to the house, her heart beating heavily in her chest.

What had gotten into her? No matter how much she fought against it, she found herself drawn to the handsome rogue, and the idea that she could actually have feelings for him, even after such a short time, only made her want to tear her hair out.