She paused, studying her father’s strained expression. Had he heard she had sent money to her charities again and was unhappy about it? Her parents approved of benevolence on the part of a lady, but only to a point. A point not nearly far enough for her. Or maybe it really was business. Charlie had mentioned their father was thinking of selling his Scottish shooting box. ‘Is everything quite all right?’
‘Oh, yes, yes, just talking to my silly estate managers, nothing for you to think about.’ He stepped closer to the staircase, reaching up to pat her hand where it rested on the balustrade. ‘Tell me, Flower, how would you like to visit Paris?’
Alex felt a small leap of excitement in her stomach and smiled. ‘For the Exhibition? Oh, I should love it! Everyone has been talking about nothing else lately. All that beautiful art…’
‘Perhaps there will be a bit of art, of course, but mostly it would be an official visit. We have been asked by the Prince of Wales himself to be part of his visit to the city. And to loan the Eastern Star for an exhibition in the Indian Pavilion.’
Alex glanced at her mother’s portrait at the head of the stairs, the Duchess in her blue-and-white satin Worth gown, the Eastern Star sapphire in her upswept hair. It was her mother’s favourite jewel, a famous piece the Duke’s father had brought back from India, bought from a maharajah under mysterious circumstances. ‘Have you talked to Mama about that?’ she asked doubtfully.
‘Not yet. It was just presented to me as an idea. And I think it is quite a fine one, as I’m sure will your mother.’ He patted her hand again, staring up at her intently. ‘There are so many people flocking to Paris right now. It could be a marvellous opportunity for you, Flower.’
Alex felt suddenly cold and wanted to snatch back her hand. ‘Opportunity?’
‘Yes. So many royal personages are there right now. You are so pretty, Alexandra, you would grace any royal court in the world. It would be a good connection for our family, could see you secure for your life.’
‘I—I’m not sure I want to leave England, Papa.’
‘And I would miss you! But with so many railroads these days, a visit to any corner of Europe would take no time at all.’ His hand tightened on hers. ‘We are Wavertons, you know, my dear. Our first duty is always what is best for the family.’
Alex knew that. She had always known that, ever since she was in leading strings. It had been hammered into her when she’d been separated from Malcolm. The Mannerlys had been in England since the eleven hundreds, had been dukes for centuries. Every generation had to make the family name stronger, bring it glory. It was their purpose. ‘Of course.’
‘You are a good daughter, Alexandra. We only want the best, the very best, for you. Royal connections…’
‘Do we not have royal connections? The Princess…’
‘Your godmother has always been kind and her help will be invaluable to obtain the right introductions in Paris. I only want to ask you to make the very most of them. Seeing you well settled, and soon, would be the greatest comfort to your mother and me.’
Something in his voice, some edge of sharp desperation she had never heard there before, alarmed her. ‘Papa, is something amiss?’
His smile widened, but it did not quite reach his eyes. ‘Certainly not! I just wanted to tell you about Paris, Flower. It will be a splendid time.’ He patted her hand once more and retreated back into his library, closing the door behind him.
Alex grabbed her hat and dashed down the stairs, unsettled by what had just happened, though she couldn’t say why she would feel that way. It had been just a quick conversation with her father, him telling her what she had always known—she had to make a fine marriage. But it didn’t feel like that was all it was.
She paused for just an instant in front of a silver-framed mirror to pin on her hat. She made a face at herself in the glass. Surely if she was not a duke’s daughter, there would be no hope of her landing a prince and she wouldn’t have to worry! She was small, too slender to look quite right in fashionable gowns, and pale, with large eyes in a pointed face and blonde curls that wouldn’t stay in their pins. Not like Emily with her thick chestnut hair to her waist, or Diana and her auburn waves. With a sigh, she stabbed in her hat pins, drew the small net veil over her forehead and spun away from the glass.
Before anyone could stop her, she ran out to the lane just beyond the park and hailed a hansom cab. Maybe it was finally having the chance to see her friends again, but she felt a bit of a rebellious streak coming on, a restlessness. She dared not take a deep breath until the carriage door shut behind her and they rolled into traffic, leaving Waverton House behind.
She laughed, feeling free, though she knew she had to make the very most of it. If her parents had their way, she would be packed off to some German duchy forthwith.
Alex shuddered at the thought. She stared out the grimy window at the streets flashing past, the crowds, the carriages, the bright gleam of shop windows. It wasn’t that she would mind seeing the world beyond London; in fact, it would be fascinating. She was excited to be going to Paris, whatever the reason. In between official engagements, there would surely be time to see some museums, shops, the wonders of the Exhibition, like the Eiffel Tower and Mr Edison’s electric lights. Maybe even the Wild West Show!
Yet she had met princes and duchesses from Germany and Austria. If she felt smothered by life as the daughter of an English duke, that was ten times worse. The etiquette that ruled every movement in a German court, oversaw every moment, would never go away. How would it feel to be trapped in such a world for the rest of her life?
Neither, though, could she bear to think about letting her family down. Since the nursery, she had been taught that the good of the family was paramount. They had been dukes since the time of Queen Anne, devoted to royal service and rewarded for that devotion in turn. The Wavertons had one of the most respected titles in the kingdom.
But also ever since the nursery she had been plagued with a shyness, an overpowering desire to disappear into the background, that made that duty a blasted hard one! She had always known she would have to marry one day, but why did it have to be to some German prince?
‘Ugh!’ she groaned aloud. The very thought made her want to run away immediately to live alone in a hut on some snowy mountainside, if such a place could be found.
But she had no more time to think about her limited options as the hansom stopped at the gates of the park and she glimpsed her friends waiting. Diana had her sketchbook out, no doubt studying the ladies’ hats, and Emily and Christopher Blakely, Alex’s cousin and their not-very-strict-at-all chaperon, were arguing about something, as they usually did when they met. Chris was Alex’s favourite relative, always so light-hearted, so quick with a laugh, so handsome with his blond hair so like her own, but somehow much smoother and lovelier. She couldn’t understand why he and Em always seemed to be at odds.
‘Alexandra, there you are!’ Emily called as Alex stepped down from the carriage. ‘We’d almost given up on you.’
‘I’m so sorry I’m late,’ Alex said. ‘I’m afraid my father caught me as I was trying to sneak out and insisted on talking to me.’
‘I am sorry, old bean,’ Chris said as he kissed her cheek. ‘A ducal lecture must be tiresome indeed. My own fa’s are bad enough.’
‘It wasn’t a lecture, exactly,’ Alex said. She considered
