suggested with a glimmer of a smile.
“Good heavens!” He stepped closer. “Have you escaped your governess, child?”
“I am not a child, and I no longer require a governess. I’m seventeen years old. I am to go to London in spring for the Season.”
“Are you indeed?”
“What is your dog’s name, my lord?”
“Leo.”
Because he looks like a lion?”
“No. How could he? He’s a spaniel.”
“I am most dreadfully bored, sir. May I come and pat your dog?”
“Good heavens, no.”
“We might enjoy a cozy chat.”
He scowled. “I don’t indulge in idle chatter.”
“Why must it be idle? I’m sure I shall find it most interesting.”
He huffed out a reluctant laugh. “You are a curious young woman.”
“I have been told so on occasion.”
He nodded his shaggy head. “I’m sure.” The earl’s bright blue eyes, which had been sharp earlier, mellowed slightly.
“My sister, Nellie, and her husband, Charles, the Duke of Shewsbury, are spending Christmas at home. Charles won’t let Nellie travel because she is soon to have a baby.’
“Very wise,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting.
“And Mama has stayed with my father, who is suffering from an attack of gout.”
“Ah, devil of a thing, gout.”
“Will you have visitors at Christmas, my lord?”
“No. I’m perfectly happy alone. Too many fools come out at Christmas to annoy a fellow.”
Alice had climbed onto the wall. She sat and arranged her skirts decorously.
“You might fall off there,” he warned.
“No. I’m an excellent climber. But I don’t expect to do it again, after my Come-out.”
“Pity,” he said, looking amused.
“You haven’t any family?”
“I’ve a grandson, lives in London.”
“Can he not visit you at Christmas?”
He bristled. “Hugh and I don’t get on.”
“But you mustn’t be alone. Would you care to join us for Christmas dinner?”
“I have declined Lady Belfries’s kind invitation.”
“But why?”
“I prefer my own company,” he said. “As I have said.”
Alice observed him. His shoulders hunched, and his eyes looked sad.
Leo left the bush he’d been sniffing and bounded over to the wall. He rested his front paws on it and gazed up at her, tongue lolling. Alice leaned down to pat him, but he was just out of reach.
“Come, Leo,” the earl said. “Nice to meet you, Lady Alice.” He turned away and walked stiffly to the house, the dog at his heels.
“Goodbye,” Alice called.
She went back inside and knocked on the library door. “Come.”
Her brother-in-law, Gerald, sat at his desk, one hand on his curly brown locks, the other scratching figures in a ledger with a quill. He looked up. “I’m busy, Alice. Ask Frederick to play dominoes.”
“Frederick is having a music lesson, and Harriet is napping. I just met our neighbor.”
“The earl?” Gerald turned a page on his ledger. “Bad-tempered fellow, isn’t he?”
“Lord Hawkinge has a grandson. I wonder why he doesn’t come down for Christmas?”
“His heir, Hugh Gifford. They had a falling out over something a year ago. Never discovered what it was about.”
“Do you have Lord Gifford’s address?”
Gerald looked up in surprise. “Why?”
“I wish to write to tell him his grandfather is lonely.”
“How can you be sure he’s lonely? The fellow might just be a cranky old…never mind.”
“I just know that’s all.”
“A letter, eh? Now that would set the cat among the pigeons, wouldn’t it?” Gerald studied her. “I doubt it would change anything.” He rolled the pen between his fingers. “I suppose it can’t do any harm, though. It worries Marian how grumpy the old earl has become this past year.” He pulled open a drawer. “Gifford has rooms at Albany in Piccadilly.” He wrote the address down and handed it to her. “You’re a sympathetic soul, Alice. Don’t be too disappointed if it comes to nothing.” He paused. “Let’s keep this letter a secret, eh? No need to mention it to Marian when she’s so busy with the children, and Christmas, and whatnot.”
Last night had been a bore. The entertainment, one of Hugh’s few remaining friends in the city had arranged was not to his taste. In fact, the way his friends lived had begun to pall. Life seemed hollow and meaningless. He tried to shake off the gloom as he drank his breakfast coffee and opened his mail. Christmas was a bad time to be alone, but things would pick up again when parliament resumed and brought the ton back to Town.
A letter from Kent! Was his grandfather unwell? With a sense of dread, he quickly slit it open with his silver-handled paper-knife.
“What the deuce!” He reread the page. Some busybody neighbor, Lady something, had the gall to write and tell him