Page 21 of A Virgin for the Duke of Thorns

“Papa,” she murmured brokenly, tears threatening to spill from her eyes at the sight of her frail father making an effort to face this “suitor” of hers.

She wanted to run to him, to bury her face in his chest as she did when she was a child, but pride held her in check.

“Silly girl.” He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling with more life than she had seen these past few months. “What is that look for? I always knew that you were bound for greater things.”

No! Alice wanted to scream. No, Papa. It is not what you think it is.

She wanted to tell him the truth, to confess the entirety of her faults. But his eyes were so warm. He looked so pleased, as if the mere arrival of the Duke of Thorns had injected more life into him than any of the medications that their family physician had given him.

She tried to open her mouth, but the words were stuck in her throat. Nothing came out. Not even a croak.

“Lord Brandon.”

She closed her eyes when she heard Colin’s deep voice greeting her father. When she felt him press his hand to her back, she had to force herself to open her eyes and smile as if everything was perfectly fine, even though she wanted nothing more than to run away.

There was a special place in hell for liars—or so her superstitious nurse used to tell her. She thought that the old woman was silly most of the time, but she was right about this at least.

She was in hell, and she had not even died yet.

“Your Grace.” The Marquess managed to sketch a bow, but Colin stopped him. “You must pardon me,” he wheezed with a tremulous smile. “My years are showing.”

“What are you talking about, Papa? You have many, many more years left!” Phoebe cried, rushing to her father.

“Of course, my dear. Of course.” He patted her hand reassuringly and gave her a fond smile. “Look at you, acting like a child all over again. You are about to make your bow in a few days.”

The Marchioness laughed at this, but even that joyful sound was tinged with sorrow. “Indeed,” she murmured with a sharp look directed at her youngest daughter.

Phoebe smiled and immediately stood back, perfectly composed once more, although her eyes were still tinged with sadness. Her gaze landed on Alice, who had been staring at their father unwaveringly ever since he entered the room.

“You must forgive my daughter, Your Graces. I am afraid we have spoiled them.” The Marquess shook his head.

His words spoke of censure, but his smile spoke of his great affection for Alice and her sister. It was that smile that nearly drove Alice to her knees before him.

“And they have grown up to be perfectly wonderful young ladies whom you should be proud of, Lord Brandon. Lady Alice in particular,” Colin added with a meaningful look at Alice, who had fallen strangely silent.

“Yes, my beloved wife tells me that you mean to discuss something with me regarding our dear Alice, if I am correct.”

Colin nodded. “That is correct, My Lord.”

“Very well, then.” The Marquess smiled grimly at him. “I suppose this is a conversation best had between us both in private. If you would please follow me to my study, young man. We have much to discuss.”

Alice watched as Colin followed her father out of the room, hanging at his elbow in such a solicitous manner that one would think he was the biological offspring of the Marquess and not Phoebe. She caught his eye just before they walked out of the parlor, and she pressed her lips into a grim line.

They had to talk, the two of them—and soon.

* * *

The Marquess of Brandon walked feebly as he led the way to the study. There might be some who would say that he was a man diminished, but that was not how it appeared to Colin. His steps might be measured, he might be taking more time than usual, but there was a certainty in his gait that came with a knowledge of his place in the world—and an acceptance of the inevitable.

Both men stepped into the study, and the Marquess motioned for him to take the seat opposite him.

“I must admit that your visit today surprised me,” the older man admitted with a faint smile. “Alice has not mentioned any suitor to me previously.”

A loaded question, that one, and one that carried a lot of implications. It was best that Colin answered this carefully, or he risked exposing himself as a fraud.

“I do not suppose she would be able to, My Lord,” Colin answered him politely. “The truth of the matter is that Lady Alice herself might not have expected me to hasten here.”

The Marquess raised an eyebrow at this. “Oh? Do carry on.”

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