Page 175

He despised attending social events, especially of the Almack’s sort.

Too many people, too much noise, too little air.

Alice always seemed to sense when his dislike of London society got the best of him.

He was certain that was why she’d taken his hand.

Unfortunately, as much as he wasn’t happy about attending Almack’s that was the least of his concerns.

They’d managed to pull off the great Venetian breakfast debacle without anyone being any the wiser.

Had they stopped with that she would have her revenge and Sinjin might gain the courage to tell her how he felt about her. Now, however?

“There she is,” Dickie, who had been peering out the window the entire way, pointed as they pulled up in front of the Golden Lion. Sinjin leaned over Alice to take a look. And he was assaulted by the sight of the biggest pair of breasts he’d ever seen.

“Good Lord.” He dropped back into his seat. Alice and Nell both laughed.

“Told you,” Dickie said with a smirk as opened the carriage door. The tall, large woman wandered up to the carriage, her bosom arriving a good few seconds before the rest of her.

“Here you go,” Alice said as she handed the woman the basket of pasties. “Remember, once they’ve bought their pasties and gone inside dump the rest in the Thames. You do not want to eat them.”

“I’ll remember so long as you forget I had anything to do with this, milady.

Yer uncle will have me hide if he finds out, not to mention what Captain El will do.

” She pulled a battered straw hat over her face and disappeared into an alley to the side of the tavern.

Dickie slipped out of the carriage and squeezed into the Golden Lion where he appeared in the front window and offered them a salute.

The carriage jerked into motion and headed towards Almack’s on King Street just down the way.

Once they arrived at Almack’s and paid homage to the patronesses, Sinjin immediately sought out the refreshments table and fetched himself and Alice a generous glass of punch.

Nell had beat a hasty retreat to the retiring room, and Sinjin was half-inclined to join her.

Instead he stood next to a slightly open French window behind Alice’s chair and made short work of the insipid beverage that was a staple of the Almack’s assemblies.

“Might I suggest when we leave here that we raid Missus Beatty’s kitchens for some decent lemonade?” he whispered as he bent to Alice’s ear.

She snorted punch up her nose and whipped her head around to give him a half-angry glare.

When he gave her his best innocent smile, she had no choice but to laugh.

“Give me your handkerchief. I have punch all over my face and chest.” Sinjin obliged, pulling the clean white linen square from his jacket inside pocket.

He watched with heated fascination as she blotted the drops of punch from the expanse of ivory flesh bared by the low cut of her ball gown.

She handed him his handkerchief which he carefully folded and tucked back into his pocket.

“Perhaps I should join the other gentlemen in the card room. My standing here may prevent anyone from asking you to dance.”

She looked up at him, the excitement and laughter gone from her face. “Sinjin, you are not the reason no one has asked me to dance. No one ever asks me to dance.”

“That is ridiculous. You are beautiful, kind, a fine dancer. If the gentlemen of London cannot see that they are all nodcocks.” His heart ached for her.

Other young ladies her age strolled by arm in arm and gave her such haughty looks he wanted to drag Alice out of that chair and kiss her senseless in front of them all.

He wanted to tell them no beautiful gown or oversized jewels would ever make them as enchanting and desirable as Lady Alice Lister.

Sheep, that’s what they all were, mindless and heartless sheep.

“Oy!” He was snatched from his reverie by a sharp tug on the tail of his evening jacket.

He sidled in front of the open French door and peered over his shoulder.

“They’re here,” Dickie Jones whispered. “They et those pasties like starving men, put down a few tankards of ale, and they should be coming down those stairs any time now.”

Sinjin tapped Alice’s shoulder. She glanced back and spotted Dickie behind Sinjin. The lad grinned at her and nodded. With that he stepped back and strolled out of sight. Sinjin had no doubt he’d find a way to watch the night unfold from some window or corner of the assembly room.

“There they are,” Alice said. She moved forward to the edge of her chair. “They’re coming this way. Damn!”

Sinjin stepped in front of her and bowed.

“Such language, Lady Alice. May I have this dance?” He grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet.

In moments they were lined up to begin la boulangere .

Like any gentleman’s son he’d been forced to participate in dance instruction.

He was never so grateful for his nearly perfect memory in his life.

Leading a joyful, glowing Alice through the dance, he was truly astonished at how much he enjoyed dancing with her.

Perhaps he simply appreciated any opportunity afforded him to hold her in his arms.

“You, sirrah, have been keeping secrets,” she said when the steps of the dance brought them together.

“Secrets?” He stumbled and had to add a few steps to catch up.

“When did you learn to dance so well?”

He breathed a small sigh of relief. “Frederick taught me.”

“Frederick?” she blurted out. She covered her mouth with one hand and kept dancing. “Stiff-rumped Frederick?”

Sinjin laughed. “In his defense, Mama made him teach me.”

“Then I shall thank your mother,” she said as the circled each other in the figures of la boulangere . “I am so happy to be dancing with you, Sinjin.”

His lungs seized for a moment. “I’m happy to be dancing with you too,” he said tightly.

The dance ended all too soon. He bowed. She curtsied, and he escorted her back to the chair next to the French windows.

Alice twisted and turned in her seat as she searched the ballroom.

Couples were forming for the next set. As they began to take to the floor her ability to see those at the refreshment table and in little groups around the edge of the ballroom improved considerably.

“Where are they?” she whispered. Sinjin leaned down from his place behind her chair.

“Trust me, Alice. Once the Carapichea ipecacuanha begins to work we will most definitely?—”

Shrieeeeek!

“Know.” Sinjin snapped upright as Alice shot out of the dainty chair.

He clutched her elbow and slowly steered her into the crowd that had begun to head toward the screams that echoed over and over in the cavernous confines of Almack’s.

With some careful maneuvering and a firm grip on Alice’s arm he managed to weave the two of them into the highly excited throng without actually giving them a full view of the trouble.

“What is the matter?” he asked the bejeweled dowager between them and the scene around which everyone gathered at the edge of the dance floor.

The woman turned, her fan flittering back and forth in front of her face so furiously he could hardly see her.

A particularly noxious odor floated on the air stirred by her fan. Alice gasped next to him.

“Lord Earden has just cast up his accounts all over Miss Rutherford,” the dowager announced.

“And there is a suspicious substance leaking from the leg of his breeches. Oh dear!” Another wave of noisesome air wafted past him.

Alice pushed forward to stand next to the dowager.

Sinjin remained behind her, his hand firmly around her elbow. He peered over her shoulder.

“Bloody hell,” he murmured. The dowager stared at him open-mouthed.

Millicent Rutherford, dressed in what had very likely been a lovely white gown, stood in the middle of the ballroom screaming at the top of her lungs.

The front of her gown was splashed with…

well, for lack of a better term what appeared to be vomit.

The reddish-brown substance dripped and slid down the front of her dress and little chunks sounded like gunshots when landing on the polished wooden floor.

Her mother stood next to her, but not too close, arms flapping and begging someone to do something.

Earden was bent double nearly to the floor.

Stanton stumbled out onto the floor with a brass spittoon in his hand.

He likely meant to offer the vessel to Earden, but just before he reached his friend he dropped to his knees and began to empty his belly into the container, the vomit producing a loud gong-like sound against the brass.

Several gentlemen took a few steps forward as if to offer aid.

However, when a stream of watery brown material began to slither from where Stanton knelt those gentlemen thought better of it.

“What the devil are you about, Lord Stanton? What is the meaning of this?” Lady Jersey parted the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea.

Stanton glanced up at the venerable lady, opened his mouth to speak and then returned to the spittoon, heaving like an Oxford lad after his first visit to the local tavern.

“Poison!” a loud voice cried from somewhere in the crowd.

Men shouted. Ladies screamed. Viscount Weatherly staggered out onto the dance floor, his breeches around his knees and his arse covered in shite.

“We’ve been poisoned.” He fell flat on his face next to the still shrieking Millicent Rutherford.

As expected, that set pandemonium in motion.

Some ladies began to swoon. Others were dragged out by their mamas.

Gentlemen divided themselves into those desperate to get away from the rancid smell that now permeated the assembly like a morning fog and those frankly enjoying the show.

“Swoon,” Sinjin whispered into Alice’s ear.

“What?”

“Past time to go, my dear. Swoon, so we can make our escape without arousing suspicion. Now.”

To his astonishment, Alice let loose an exaggerated cry and crumpled toward the floor.

Sinjin caught her and swept her up into his arms. “Please move aside,” he said as he turned and headed along the edge of the crowd towards the steps out of the ballroom.

People quickly moved out of his way, shaking their heads sympathetically.

Sinjin struggled to appear the concerned hero rescuing the lady in distress because though her eyes were tightly closed, Alice’s entire body shook with laughter.

Once he reached the foyer, he sent one footman in search of his and Alice’s coat and cloak and another to order John Coachman to bring Frederick’s carriage to the door.

Fortunately, the sight of a supposedly unconscious lady in his arms sped the footmen’s steps, and Sinjin soon had himself and Alice in the carriage.

“Where to, sir?” the coachman asked as he closed the door.

“Hyde Park,” Alice said as she sat up and settled her cloak around her shoulders. John tapped two fingers to his hat and climbed up onto the coachman’s bench.

“Hyde Park?” Sinjin asked as he pulled off his gloves and tucked them into the pocket of his greatcoat draped across his lap.

“Oh, Sinjin, I am too excited to go home just now. Do you mind?” She removed her gloves and placed them in the little silk reticule at her wrist.

“Excited? Did you hear what Weatherly said?” Sinjin wasn’t truly worried about the accusation. He doubted anyone would believe three gentlemen known to appear at social events well into their cups. Especially not after the Venetian breakfast misadventure.

“Pshaw!” Alice snapped her fingers. “No one will remember what he said. They will, however, remember the smell, and the sight of Millicent Rutherford covered in…” She broke off into peals of laughter.

Once she stopped, she grew serious. Her expression grew grim, made even more so by the dim light of the lamps in Frederick’s carriage.

“Am I an evil person to take such pleasure in their misery?” She worried her bottom lip.

“Did they enjoy making your last two seasons so unbearable every letter I received bore the stains of your tears?” Sinjin kept his expression neutral to hide the rage that enveloped him every time he thought of her alone in London dealing with the hateful ugliness of those who thought themselves superior to her.

“Oh.” She touched her fingers to her lips. “Those weren’t tears. You know how messy my writing is. I should have…”

“Alice.” He pulled her hand away from her mouth and pressed a kiss to her palm, closing her fingers over his kiss. “I wish I had been here. I wish you had stayed in Surrey.”

She cupped his cheek with her other hand. “I wish I had too. You always take such good care of me.” She leaned towards him, so close he could almost taste the punch on her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed.

“I always will, Alice. Always.” A fine madness seized him, a madness he was helpless to fight. He settled his lips on hers.