Page 19 of Dropping the Ball

“Tell them I will be there directly,” he said.

“Very good, my lord,” Smythe said with a nod. He glanced to Bernadette, then back to Alden, one eyebrow arched.

Alden nodded to acknowledge his indiscretion. As soon as Smythe was gone, he turned to Bernadette to see if he’d caused any damage that needed repair.

“I think a ball out of doors will be something that thetontalks about for years to come,” she said, as if ignoring everything that had almost happened, though her voice was rough. “As long as the weather holds.”

“I shall have the workmen construct a grand tent or a series of marquees to shelter everyone in the event of rain,” he said, feeling just as awkward as he could tell Bernadette did.

“Yes, I think that would do,” Bernadette said, glancing everywhere around the terrarium but at him.

Alden stepped closer to her and touched her arm softly. “I am sorry,” he said, owning up to his bad behavior. Even though it hadn’t felt bad to him at all. Quite the opposite.

Bernadette dragged her eyes up to meet his. Her deep, blue eyes were far too filled with regret and sorrow for his liking. “I … I forgive you, my lord,” she said, making Alden wince at the use of the formal term. “I should not have allowed myself to indulge in something so wonderful.”

Her eyes turned sultry and sad at the same time as the two of them stared at each other. There was more to Lady Bernadette’s story than he yet knew, he could tell. She wanted him, he was certain, but something was holding her back.

Which was precisely why he should have held back himself and waited to know her more before taking any liberties with her. As he needed to remind himself yet again, Bernadette was not as young as she appeared, which very well meant she could have had a lifetime of experience behind her. That experience had clearly made her more open to her desires, but it was also preventing her from further openness.

A thought occurred to Alden that caused him to pull his hand back and clench his fist. So help him, if someone had hurt Bernadette in the past, causing her to be so cautious with him now, he would end them.

He cleared his throat and stepped back before those emotions could get the better of him. “Perhaps we should revisit this at another time,” he said, deliberately vague, but hoping Bernadette would understand his meaning.

“Yes, that would be wise,” Bernadette said. “We have the ball to concentrate on for the time being.”

“We do,” Alden said. “That should be our primary concern until everything is taken care of and the weekend has come and gone.”

“Agreed,” Bernadette said.

They both sounded outwardly certain, but Alden was old and wise enough to know there was more between them. He pledged to himself that he would proceed with more caution in the coming days, but also that he would discover whatever it was that had put the sad expression in Bernadette’s eyes and make whatever was wrong with her right.

Chapter Seven

Dear Hethersett,

I am astounded at the speed with which your reply to my initial letter from Lyndhurst Grove has reached me! I am, of course, glad to hear from you and to know more about the machinations of the court in Christiana. It does not surprise me at all that your Norwegian nobles are at odds with the Swedish nobles, their conquerors. I do hope the situation resolves itself soon. Whatever the case, I am delighted that your letter reached me so swiftly.

Lyndhurst Grove is an absolute marvel. As I mentioned briefly in my previous letter, Lord Alden has made the house and the grounds into something of a sanctuary for the creatures he has collected on his many travels in South America and the Caribbean. He has converted his ballroom into a gigantic hothouse, which is now home to more than a hundred reptiles, amphibians, and birds. Somehow, he has brought the world of the Amazonian basin intoWessex. The terrarium, as he calls it, is filled with plants, waterways, and garden beds containing plants and trees from exotic locations.

Lord Alden himself is just as exotic. He has the mien of a great explorer, all handsome and rugged, even when he is dressed as carefully as any London gentleman. He has a habit of wandering his own house in a state of semi-dishabille, mostly because any number of his most favored lizards, frogs, or snakes can be found in his pockets or curled over his shoulders at any time.

I must admit to being shocked by his appearance at first, in more ways than one. Convincing any of the eligible young ladies of the ton to betroth themselves to a man who keeps toads in his pocket and who just the other day demonstrated to me how a small lizard called a gecko will latch hold of one’s earlobe and allow itself to be worn like an earbob will be a challenge.

I must confess that, despite my initial alarm at Lord Alden’s strange ways, I have become fonder and fonder of him in these last few days, as we have worked together to plan the ball he has invited me here to execute for him. I have thoroughly overcome my initial shock at finding small snakes dropping over my shoulder to warm themselves against my skin as I sit at the table Lord Alden has provided for me to do my work at in the terrarium. I hardly mind the alligators in the pond at the other side of the terrarium from where I work now. And a particular lizard by the name of Egbert seems to have decided I am his new favorite.

All of this would be enlivening and amusing were it not for the fact that I have been hired by Lord Alden to plan a ball at which he intends to find himself a wife. I must confess, though it feels exceedingly strange to confess these things to you in particular, that while I find myself more enthusiastic about the theme and festivities of the weekend Lord Alden and I are planning, I regret the ball andits purpose more and more with each passing day. The entire project has become most bittersweet.

I hope you will not find it shocking or distressing for me to say that Lord Alden and I have become quite good friends. I find his conversation enlivening and his person delightful to look at. We laugh together as quickly as we fall into intellectual debate. The other day, there was a beautiful, heart-stopping, terrifyingly wonderful moment where I was certain Lord Alden was about to kiss me. He has become a very good friend indeed, and I do not like the idea of him marrying another.

Please forgive the blots in the previous paragraph. I was distracted as I wrote and could not form my thoughts in any eloquent way.

Regardless, I will continue to pour all of my efforts into designing the ideal ball to fit Lord Alden’s purpose. I must admit that I have also been enjoying assisting in the renovations of his house as well. The majority of the unused rooms have been in desperate need of repair and refreshment. I’ve been astounded at how quickly Lord Alden has been able to hire workers, and at how swiftly those workers have worked. But I suppose everything they say about money greasing wheels and speeding things along is true.

And now, I must take myself down to the terrarium to finalize the list of young women to whom invitations to this event of my heart will be sent. I must select the potential candidates to take the place I would wish to fill myself, if such a thing was possible. Keep me in your thoughts and send me strength to accomplish this impossible task. And do let me know the results of the supper you will be hosting in an attempt to bring your disparate Scandinavian acquaintances together.

Yours sincerely,

Bernadette

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