to turn the derelict old wilderness into something rather magical. Rosalie worked as well as keeping an eye on the children, who were making daisy chains to rope round the docile Ajax’s neck.
But every time she heard a man’s voice in the distance, she wondered if Alec was back yet.
In the evening she bathed Katy and put her to bed as usual. And as she headed down the stairs, she saw Alec standing in the hallway talking to Garrett.
Emotion jolted her. He must have come back a while ago and changed, because he was dressed formally, in the black tailcoat and cream breeches he’d worn at his father’s house yesterday. He had shaved. And brushed back his thick hair. He looked relaxed, and devastating.
Dressed for supper, at Two Crows Castle? She thought not. ‘I’ve got your horse ready, Captain,’ Garrett was saying.
Then Alec spotted Rosalie. ‘Mrs Rowland. I trust you’ve had a pleasant day?’
Rosalie came on down the stairs, forcing herself to sound calm. ‘Very pleasant, thank you, Captain. You’re going out this evening?’
‘To a party,’ he answered, absently fingering his starched neckcloth. ‘A long-standing invitation, I’m afraid.’
A cold fist was squeezing the air from her lungs. He was going to a place that was part of his world, and of course she wasn’t in it … For heaven’s sake, you little fool, once he was betrothed to the granddaughter of a duke!
‘You sound regretful,’ she said mildly. ‘But I hope you enjoy yourself—and I like your Gordian Knot.’
His hand flew to his cravat. ‘You’re knowledgeable.’
‘Oh, I once wrote an article about men’s neckwear for The Scribbler—’ She broke off. Idiot. He hates your writing.
But his handsome face relaxed into a smile that made her insides turn over. ‘Then I’m flattered that you approve of my choice.’
Mentally she was flaying herself. Yesterday at his father’s house she’d dared to wonder if he’d put on those clothes to impress her. How stupid could she be?
He was smoothing his coat sleeves, glancing down to check his gleaming topboots. ‘How is Katy?’
‘Oh, she’s sleeping now, but she was happy, very happy, with the toys you allowed Mary to buy for her yesterday, thank you. That little horse nearly went in the bath with her!’
Another flicker of a smile. ‘I’m sorry I have to go out. We must find time to speak in the morning, Mrs Rowland.’ He looked, for a moment, as if he was about to say something else. Then he quickly bowed his head and left.
She went to sit down in the little parlour off the hall. She’d wanted to talk to him, oh, about the garden, and about Linette, and—just talk to him. She felt hollow inside with his departure. She caught a sharp breath, surprised at how she could physically hurt so.
And then, through the open door, she heard Garrett saying in a low voice to McGrath, ‘So she’s back in town. That’s why he’s goin’ to this fancy ball, our Captain. Dear God, she’s beautiful, but she’s wrecked his life, and you’d think he’d have more sense than to get within a hundred miles of her …’ They wandered on towards the kitchen where the soldiers gathered in the evening.
And Rosalie had no doubt at all that they were speaking of his lost heiress. She could almost hear Alec’s voice—’She was in love with a make-believe hero and must count herself lucky to have broken it off.’ He was too proud, far too proud, to admit to anyone, let alone Rosalie, that he still had longings for what could never be.
‘I hope we can at least be friends,’ Alec had said to her earlier.
She felt like writing his words on her tormented heart. Friends, Mrs Rowland, you idiot. And with that, you will be content. Do you understand?
A small string orchestra played discreetly in a corner of the grand salon of Lord Fanton’s house in exclusive Sackville Street and the chink of glasses punctuated the murmur of polite conversation. It had been a long time since Alec had been anywhere like this.
Lord Lucas Conistone, laconic and immaculate, was at his side—in fact, they’d arrived together—and Lucas was murmuring, ‘Brace yourself, dear fellow. Can’t be worse than when you and I dressed up as Spanish peasants to sneak inside French-held Badajoz!’
‘How we got away with it,’ breathed Alec, ‘God knows. Both of us are too damned tall.’
‘And your Spanish was execrable,’ accused Lucas with a grin.
‘At least I didn’t let myself be waylaid by every Spanish señorita who gave me a pretty smile!’
‘They weren’t just after me!’ retorted Lucas merrily. ‘Good Lord, those females were baiting their traps for you, too, just as they are now!’
Indeed, people were watching them and murmuring behind raised hands. The presence of Lord Conistone was always noteworthy at any social event, and though Alec was known to be estranged for some reason from his father, society’s foremost hostesses were always eager to have a handsome war hero who was also the son of an earl to adorn their gatherings.
Soon the two men were in the midst of a babble of old army colleagues, though after a while Lucas was swept away to talk politics, since some of his Whig associates were hoping to persuade him into a government post. But before he went, he was at Alec’s side, saying quietly, ‘All right if I move on, old friend?’
‘Certainly. I’ll see you later, Lucas.’
Because the conversation Alec had come here for had to be held in private.
Alec had called at his father’s house on his way, to be regaled by Jarvis with the tale of Stephen’s reaction last night to the missing food. ‘Was my brother angry, Jarvis?’
‘You could say that, sir.’ Jarvis’s cheeks creased in a smile. ‘His guests left almost as soon as they arrived, once Lord Stephen told them there was no food or drink.’
Alec pictured the scene. ‘I hope he didn’t take it out on you?’
‘I pointed out, Master Alec, that the tradesmen’s bills were in the Earl’s name and that, since the Earl was away, I’d no clear idea for whom the goods were intended. As far as I was aware, you, sir, had as much right to the food and wine as Lord Stephen!’
‘You’re a good man, Jarvis.’ Alec looked around the big hall. ‘What about the paintings?’
‘Lord Stephen said nothing about them whatsoever, sir. But he noticed those labels you’d asked me to fasten on. And only an hour ago, he was back here bringing in some new ones—or should I say, the originals, sir—and telling me some story about mistakes having been made at the restorer’s shop!’
Alec had smiled grimly at the thought of Stephen’s angry confusion. And now, at Lord Fanton’s, he continued to mingle with the top-lofty guests and even allowed himself to be pressed into introductions by the determined mamas of marriageable daughters. ‘He’s the younger son of the Earl of Aldchester, you know,’ he heard the old tabbies whispering avidly. ‘There’s
