Page 15

I t had been a fortnight.

Fourteen days had passed since Laurence had taken her in his arms, professed his feelings, and spoken about his want of her. It had been the singular dream she’d longed to have come true. Not just since they’d been reunited. No, since she’d become a young woman and seen him with a woman’s eyes.

And then that dream, like so many others in her life, had been quickly shattered with the arrival of the Earl of Dynevor and Lord Wakefield.

Reality had come crashing in and charges had been made against Laurence.

He’d been accused of lying to her and coming to the Devil’s Den under false pretenses.

He’d not denied it. As much as she’d wanted him to, as much as she would have believed him, first and foremost before Lords Dynevor and Wakefield. Because she knew Laurence. Because she loved him. Because she trusted him.

Except he hadn’t denied it.

He’d acknowledged what truly brought him back into her life. He’d come as a favor to Alice’s brother. He’d only ever seen her as an extension of the Marquess of Exmoor.

And that he’d positioned himself here, on behalf of Wynn, all the while pretending he was a patron but planning to convince her to return to polite society.

There was nothing fraternal in the way he touched you . The passion of their embrace, the hot vitality of his hands he’d scraped over her body as if learning and memorizing the feel of her, hadn’t been fraternal. No sense of devotion to Exmoor had been involved there.

Can that not possibly mean those two things could be true? her inner voice nudged. Maybe he had come here on behalf of Wynn but had been so overwhelmed in his feelings for Alice that he’d finally capitulated and—

“You aren’t painting, Mama.” Blinking slowly, Alice tugged her sightless gaze from the latest piece commissioned by the Duke and Duchess of Somerset and put it on her daughter.

Positioned next to Alice and in a matching outfit with a white apron over her dress, Laurel stood before her own smaller canvas. She was Alice’s exact image at work.

With one exception being the full colorful brush strokes of the Earl of Dynevor’s stables. Alice’s daughter had been far more engrossed and more productive than Alice.

“Are you still sad, Mama?”

Alice’s heart scissored.

“Why do you think I’m sad, Poppet?” Alice asked softly. Even as she asked that question, Alice silently railed at herself for having failed to shield her daughter from Alice’s own sorrow. She tweaked Laurel’s pert nose. “I haven’t cried, have I?”

Instead of giggling as she usually did, Laurel’s too-serious expression remained.

“You don’t smile. You aren’t laughing. Y-You don’t finish your a-art.” Of all the warning signs mentioned, the latter appeared to trouble Laurel the most. Her fuller lower lip trembled. “You miss him.”

Alice didn’t move. “Miss who?” she asked carefully. Surely her daughter couldn’t have noticed—

“Laurence,” Laurel said. “He is your friend, and now he is gone. I miss him too. I only played with him once. You played with him a lot. I want more time with him too.” A pout lined Laurel’s lilting voice.

“Yes, I do miss him,” Alice confessed. Her daughter, at the very least, deserved that.

“Did he go away?” Laurel asked. The worry creasing her high little brow deepened. “Can’t we see him again?”

If only Alice could…

But you can , a voice of reason echoed in her head.

Not for the first time since the note had arrived two days earlier, Alice looked at the last letter he’d sent.

She only knew it was the last letter because the guard who’d returned with it had done so under instructions from the Earl of Denbigh, informing Alice there’d be no further.

But that if she could just hold onto this one and open it, open it when the time felt right, or if she wished to burn it, she was free to do so.

He just asked that she not return it, and she considered reading it at her own time.

“Did you quarrel, Mama?”

Again, Alice’s heart squeezed. Would she refer to her last exchange with Laurence as a fight? Could it be truly considered so when he’d asked, nay pleaded , for her to hear him out, and she’d allowed Lord Dynevor to—

I will not feel guilty. I will not feel guilty. I will—

Except it wasn’t about feeling guilty. She just felt…Bloody awful . It was as though, when he’d left, she pricked her heart with the tip of a blade and continued to turn the hilt, inflicting greater pain and suffering upon herself.

“Mama?”

Alice found her voice. “We didn’t raise our voices or shout.”

It was important that her daughter understood that.

Laurence had come here with the most well-meaning of intentions.

Did she truly believe his feelings and declarations had been feigned, a product of his sacrificing himself to bring her back home?

When in so doing, it would have brought shame to him and his family if she were linked to him in any way?

“I’ve wanted you forever,” he’d insisted.

All this time, he’d felt the same way she had?

“I want a future with you.”

Alice’s brother had asked Laurence to bring her back home; but that did not mean a man of Laurence’s convictions would commit to a future with her because of Wynn .

Alice set her brush down and sank to the floor, where she sat with her knees in a triangle and her ankles crossed. She patted the floor, and Laurel followed suit.

Her daughter stared with wide, expectant eyes, waiting the way she might for her bedtime tale.

“Laurence came here because he wants me to go—” Home .

It seemed wrong to refer to a place where Laurel had never been and where she’d never resided with Alice as a home.

“Where does he want you to go?” Laurel asked.

“To see family whom, I haven’t seen in a long time—family you’ve never yet met.”

Laurel’s eyes flared. “Oh, are we? Are we?” She proceeded to jump up and down, clapping exuberantly. “ Please, say yes.”

As soon as her unvarnished child’s enthusiasm peeked out, a frown was there to steal its place.

“Does Laurence not want us to go see our family?” she asked with a wounded expression.

“Oh, no, no, not at all.” Alice reached out, caught her daughter by the waist, and pulled her onto her lap. She placed a kiss atop the jumble of golden curls. “It is the opposite, Poppet. He wants us to return—”

Correction .

“He wants us to return together.”

Confusion dawned in Laurel’s always revealing eyes. “Why don’t we go? Why don’t we go?” she repeated that as a little mantra, all the while bouncing up and down on Alice’s lap.

Her stomach clenched. “Because…” What was she to say here?

How to explain to a child that the entire reason they existed and lived in this gaming hell and not amidst Laurel and Alice’s real family was because of the little girl’s very existence?

Alice took the coward’s way; she pushed that complex exchange to a far distant future, to a time when Laurel was much, much older.

Alice hedged. “Do you want to go see our family?”

Laurel giggled. “You’re silly, Mama. When do we go?”

There wasn’t even a question on the girl’s part that Alice would’ve said anything but yes.

“I—” Alice stumbled and searched for words.

“But why are you mad at Laurence?” Laurel interjected with another question. Somehow, this one was even more disconcerting. “Don’t you want to see Grand’Mere and Uncle Wynn and Aunts Elsbeth and Aunt Caroline? You’ve talked so much about them. I want to see them.”

Alice wanted that more than anything. She wanted that more than the very air she breathed. Even more, she wanted it for her daughter.

So why, then, have you rejected Laurence’s attempt to speak? Why did she turn him away? Letter after letter. She knew it was because he’d not been honest.

He acknowledged as much, didn’t he? that voice in her head nudged again.

It’s because she loved him so hopelessly and beyond all reason, and the idea that they’d been reunited by chance and came together in truth with their feelings had been her heart’s greatest wish.

Just because it didn’t happen to be the entire way you wished it had; can it not be still the start of a future…?

Or are you going to be a ninny yet again and allow a man to lie to you?

Conflicted, she hugged her daughter tight.

“We shall see,” she said.

It appeared to be enough for Laurel. She seemed to take it as confirmation that they’d have a meeting Alice hadn’t even realized the girl had thought about.

Laurence hadn’t been wrong in that. No, he’d been completely true in talking about how important it was for her daughter to meet her family. Her eyes went to the letter he’d written. The Devil’s Den’s nursemaid arrived to take Laurel off for her nap with the other children.

Laurel lovingly and trustingly slipped her fingers through Billy’s small fingers.

“Billy, I’m going to meet my grandma and uncle and aunt.”

Askance, Billy switched her stunned gaze to Alice.

Alice closed her eyes. “Oh dear.” She gave her daughter a final hug and kiss, then found herself alone.

Alone, with the exception of Laurence’s letter. She made her way over to the hearth and picked up the envelope written in Laurence’s hand and containing the Denbigh seal.

She turned it over in her hands. Alone with his letter…

“Oi, Dynevor’s got you shut away doing family portraits, does he?”

Alone, with the exception of the letter and Addien. She forced a smile for her friend’s benefit.

“I don’t mind doing portraits.” She was just grateful for employment and a place to stay.

Painting naughty scenes of fictional and Greek and Roman figures had long lost its appeal. It was as though she continually created the same piece, just in different shapes.

“What had you far rather be painting?” Addien prodded, showing the first and any real interest in Alice’s work.

Puzzled, she looked on as Addien held over a newspaper.

“Says there Mr. Latimer’s sister wrote that piece.”

Her confusion deepening as well as her curiosity, Alice accepted the pages and proceeded to read.

“The Baroness and Baron of Bolingbrook continue to deepen their commitment to female artists, artisans, and musicians. In addition to young ladies of the ton who wish to pursue artistic endeavors, they’ve since expanded upon their philanthropic efforts.

This opportunity will expand so that women, regardless of station, those with limited means and a talent and desire to paint, may attend school or live freely while they create their art.

The new venture is only possible through the inception of an unknown sponsor who not only put forward a sizable donation, but purchased and donated the property. ”

Alice’s heart stilled, as did her gaze upon that particular sentence. She frantically read the rest of the words there.

The program has already begun enrolling those women interested and in need: widows, women without the benefit of family to look after them and their child or children, and those ladies wishing to live an independent existence without relying on the generosity and goodwill of relatives will now have control of their future… ” et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

Alice’s arm dropped to her side. Breathless, her heart swelling so big it knocked painfully against her rib cage and the organ threatened to burst from the force of emotions within her, she made her way over to that letter on unsteady legs.

This time, she snatched it up and ripped the pages open.

My dearest Alice,

I wronged you. I owed you complete honesty. Instead, I only gave you partial truth. It has only been you. I have longed for you. That is no lie. I want you in my life, but more, I want you to be happy. I do not presume to know what you want, and I never should have.

However, if you desire a life of your own, one where you are permitted to let your muse dictate your artwork, then know there is a place for you.

I hold the deed of a place that is yours.

It is yours and Laurel’s. I leave it in your possession.

I entrust it into your hands. There are no expectations on my part. I would just ask your forgiveness.

Ever yours.

Laurence

A sheen of tears filled her eyes and blurred the beloved words written there. He’d done this for her. He would allow her control of her future and freedom from the Devil’s Den, if she wished, without making her reliant upon her family or him.

Addien grunted. “Seems like they’re not all bad,” she muttered.

Alice wiped tears from her cheeks; tears that continued to come.

“No,” she said thickly. “No, they aren’t.”

In fact, Alice knew the best of men, and now? Now, she was determined to have him.