Page 30 of Dropping the Ball

Lady Gladys had not taken his dismissal easily. She had not taken it at all, really. She’d gone away for a few days after the disastrous luncheon, but returned a few days later, as insistent that she help with ball preparations as ever. She had openly sent invitations to guests of her own choosing, whose names she would not bother to divulge to either Alden or Bernadette. She had also meddled with the choosing of decorations, badgered Cook about the food to be served, informed Bernadette that her choice of musicians for the orchestra were sub-par and that she would hire proper musicians herself, and generally attempted to override or undermine Bernadette at every turn.

Alden and Bernadette had been too consumed with their own tragic love story to take the necessary measures to put Lady Gladys in her place. And now here Alden was, staring down a line of carriages the length of his drive, wondering what other sort of tricks and traps Lady Gladys had sewn into the rest of the fabric of the weekend.

“We will do what we can,” Alden said with a nod to his butler. “See that our guests’ trunks are dealt with directly, and we’ll sort out where to put all the horses and carriages later.”

“Yes, my lord,” Smythe said with a nod, then turned to be about his work.

Alden rubbed a hand over his face as he stared at the carriages, then turned back to the house, as if the answer to his problems would be there.

Instead of an answer, he found Bernadette stepping out onto the terrace. His heart seemed to swell in his chest. She was the picture of beauty in her blue gown with her blonde hair pinned in a simple yet lovely style. She stood straight and tall, with her shoulders squared and a pleasant smile on her face. As Alden watched, Lady Laura moved to greet her, and even from a distance, Alden could see the respect that the older lady had for Bernadette.

By all appearances, Bernadette was the lady of the house. She carried herself as such, she was greeted as such, and when she turned and noticed Alden watching her in wonder, she smiled at him with such affectionate softness that, once again, Alden longed to throw everything else aside so he could claim her as the partner of his future happiness.

Within seconds, however, Bernadette’s smile vanished, and she looked away from Alden as though the sight of him hurt her.

“Father was right about you having a mess on your hands.”

Alden jumped and turned to find Waldorf striding up to stand by his side.

“Waldorf.” Alden pivoted to offer a hand to his cousin, so grateful to have the man he considered one of his brothers by his side that he might have wept. “You said you couldn’t come.”

“I said I had no interest in coming,” Waldorf said, shaking Alden’s hand heartily. “Father hinted that you would need me here, however. Cedric and his bride are somewhere down that line of carriages as well.”

“Thank God,” Alden exclaimed, then pushed a hand through his hair as he looked at the carriages again. “I cannot imagine what I was thinking to host an event such as this.”

“Curses will make men do strange things,” Waldorf said in his usual, grave tones.

Alden laughed humorlessly. “Come inside and help me locate the rest of the footmen who are meant to be unloading trunks and carrying them up to guestrooms.”

Waldorf nodded, and the two of them walked up the terrace stairs. Bernadette now had three of the older women circled around her and appeared to be making the acquaintance of some of the younger ladies, the ones Alden was meant to be choosing a bride from. She glanced in his direction, and as soon as their eyes met, her cheeks flushed the same rose-pink that they had when he’d brought her to orgasm with a hand under her skirts as they’d discussed the menu for the ball in the terrarium the week before.

Alden cleared his throat and pulled his gaze away from Bernadette as he and Waldorf walked into the house. It had been a terrible idea to allow himself to touch where he shouldn’t that afternoon. It had been equally wicked for him not to put his foot down and tell Bernadette to stop when she had dropped to her knees on an afternoon walk in a secluded part of the garden four days ago.

“So it’s just as bad as Cedric tells me it is,” Waldorf said once they’d stepped into the front hall.

Alden was still gazing back through the doorway at the way Bernadette was bathed in sunlight on the terrace. “What?” he asked, forcing himself to look at Waldorf.

Waldorf smirked, which, with his ridiculous sideburns, made him look like a cantankerous old man. “Cedric told me you wrote to him last week, and that you could write of nothing more thanyour ardor for Lady Bernadette and your wish that the two of you could wed.”

“Oh,” Alden said, lowering his head a bit. That single syllable reminded him of Bernadette, though, which just confused his insides more. “He told you that?”

Waldorf snorted and stroked his whiskers. “You told me yourself, you daft old fool.”

Alden felt sheepish for all of a few seconds before remembering the mission he’d sent Waldorf on. “Did you find out anything about this marriage of hers?” he asked quietly.

“I’ve discovered that Lord Hethersett is extraordinarily popular in both Norway and Sweden,” Waldorf said, glancing back to the doorway. Alden was certain he would say something, and he was eager to know what his cousin had discovered, but a sudden burst of noise and movement flooded through the door as more guests arrived.

“I have never known such disorganization so early in a weekend party,” Lady Chessington declared to another young gentleman that Alden was certain Bernadette had not invited.

“I am certain everyone at Lyndhurst Grove is doing their best,” the young man said, then added, “Although I do not think finer servants are to be found than those I employ at Bracknell Glen.”

Alden frowned, unsure of the comment. Was the young buck bragging about owning an estate? The young lady trailing behind him certainly seemed impressed.

Alden had only just begun to form the thought that Lady Gladys had invited eager young men of title and attractiveness to his party with the intent of catching the interest of the young ladies, thus diverting their interest from him, when another burst of movement in the doorway snagged his attention.

A streak of black and white shot into the house and immediately off into the parlor to the left.

“Napoleon!” a woman’s shout followed.

---