The father donned his hat. “Yer not nearly as ignorant as Angus thought ye’d be.”
Before Giff followed the steward and his son out of his parlor, he glanced at Quinney, who grinned. It had been a very good idea to have him here. After the Kennedys left, Giff turned to Quinney. “Do you have any suggestions as to how I can acquire more information about the sheep and the whisky?”
“Other than speaking with other people involved in those businesses, there should be books about them. Hatchards will either have them or can order them for you.”
“I’ll stop by today. Thank you again for your help.”
Quinney smiled. “It was my pleasure. I enjoyed seeing how other properties are run.” He pulled a face. “Now back to the law.”
Giff barked a laugh. “I take you’re glad you didn’t decide to be a barrister.”
The other man’s look changed to one of horror. “God forbid. Give me a horse and land to look after any day, even a cold and rainy one.”
What would it have been like to have been able to learn about the estate instead of being left to his own devices? At least he’d never gone into debt or drank to excess. Well once each. That had been more than enough. His stomach growled. Gunn had kept them in sandwiches and tea, but Giff was still hungry. He’d have to eat something before he went to collect Alice. He supposed he should think of her as Lady Alice, but last night after a particularly erotic dream that involved her in his bed, he’d decided she’d be his wife, and he might as well get used to calling her by her name.
Gun brought him more sandwiches, some apples, and a newssheet devoted to the royal family. Now he’d have something to talk about that would interest her. An hour and a half later, he pulled up in front of Worthington House. After hopping down, he threw the ribbons to a groom, and strode the short way to the front door that opened for him.
The butler bowed. “My lord. Lady Alice will be down shortly. Indeed, as he looked up the main staircase, she was descending. She wore a pale green gown embroidered with small flowers, and a spencer that hugged her form. On her head was a medium crowned bonnet decorated with flowers that had a modest brim and a wide ribbon. He was glad he could see her golden curls beneath it. God, she took his breath away. To think he’d be spending the rest of his life with her.
Giff moved to the stairs and held out his hand. “My lady.”
Her lips curved into a smile. “My lord.”
Alice said a short prayer that Lord St. Albans would be as pleasant as he’d been the day before. He was so handsome it would be a shame if he was not. He escorted her to his glossy black curricle with gold trim and two beautiful, perfectly matched white horses. “They are beautiful! What made you decide to choose white instead of black horses?”
When he lifted her up into the seat, she had trouble breathing. He must be holding her too tightly. “It was by chance. I was going to purchase a pair of blacks, but I couldn’t find any that would do. Most of them were purely for show. Then I saw these fellows.”
Lord St. Albans went around to the other side and climbed in, took up the ribbons, and started the horses out of the square. “They are certainly a handsome pair.”
He flashed her a smile that warmed her. “Did you hear the queen has decided to come to the coronation to be crowned? Word has it the king will not allow it, but she has a great deal of support from the people.”
Alice had not heard about it, nor did she care. “I had not.”
He appeared pleased and continued in the same vein. They reached the Park and fortunately, there were enough people they had to greet to stop his flow of royal information. He pulled up beside Lady Bellamny’s carriage. “My lady.” Alice smiled. “I am glad to see you.”
Her ladyship gave her a wry look. “I am happy to see you as well, my dear. I trust your family is well.”
“They are, thank you.”
“St. Albans,” her ladyship said. “I approve of your curricle. Shall I see you and the duchess at Lady Markham’s ball this evening?”
“Indeed, my lady. We will be there.”
“Excellent.” Lady Bellamny waved them along, and he moved forward.
By the time they reached the gate, Lord St. Albans had finished with the royal family and started telling Alice about Lord Byron absconding with a young wife of an Italian count. Alice was fairly certain that was not proper conversation for a lady just making her come out. And she could not imagine running off with Lord Byron. The curricle finally came to a stop in front of Worthington House, and she almost jumped down by herself. But Lord St. Albans was there ready to help her. She held out her hand, but he wrapped his hands around her waist instead. Drat. There was that feeling again. The prickling. It must be because she was irritated with the man. And to think she had promised him the supper dance this evening.
Alice gave him a polite smile as he escorted her to the door, then curtseyed. “Thank you for the ride, my lord.”
He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. Thank goodness for gloves. “The pleasure was all mine.”
The door opened, and she forced herself to keep a measured pace into the house. How could Georgie Turley have thought he was amusing? “Are either Eleanor or Madeine here?”
“No, my lady. They have not returned yet. And her ladyship is meeting with Mrs. Thorton.”
“Thank you.” Alice climbed the stairs to her room, took off her bonnet, and threw herself down on the bed. Between the ride and the dance this evening, this was going to be the longest day of her life.
CHAPTER TEN
Giff climbed back into his carriage. That had gone well. The only problem was that he now had nothing to discuss with Alice during their dance and at supper this evening. He wished she had been a little more talkative, but he now knew she was an excellent listener. He’d have to read some more news sheets. Try as he might, Giff could not work out why making conversation with her was so hard. Words should flow easily from his lips as they always had before.
He’d planned to time his arrival at Lady Markham’s ball to coincide with the set before the supper dance, thus avoiding having to stand up with another lady. But he wanted to see Alice and arrived with his mother. The moment he stepped into the ballroom his gaze was drawn to her. She seemed to glow. It could have been the gold in her cream-colored gown or the way the light made her hair shine. His first thought was to join her and remain by her side, but every time he stared toward her another gentleman claimed her attention. The fribble with whom she was now speaking said something and she laughed. She’d never laughed at anything Giff said. He started toward her when the sound of the next set started, and she went off with the other man. Who the devil was he, and what had he said to her? When the gentleman turned, Giff recognized Hereford and let out a relieved breath. As far as he knew, Hereford wasn’t looking for a wife. Giff had finished his second circumference when he noticed Montagu holding onto one of the many potted trees decorating the room.
Giff lifted his quizzing glass. “Dancing with trees?
His friend dropped his hand as if it had been burnt. “I wanted to see how sturdy it was.”
After scanning the room, he saw what he thought had distracted Montagu. “It had nothing at all to do with Lady Eleanor standing up with Bolingbroke, I suppose.”
“Nothing at all.” That was a lie.
“Of course not.” Giff polished his quizzing glass with a handkerchief. “That would indicate some sort of jealousy. One doesn’t experience that emotion unless one is falling in love.” He caught a glimpse of Alice dancing with a gentleman he didn’t recognize. His jaw tightened. It took an effort to loosen it again.
“I would think gazing at a lady standing up with another gentleman is the same thing.” There was laughter in Montagu’s tone.
Giff raised a brow and drawled, “I beg your pardon. Did you say something?”
“Nothing.” The man’s lips twitched. “Nothing at all.”
