Page 40 of Dropping the Ball

“–and I decided right then and there that I must learn more about you,” Lord Lawrence continued, his enthusiasm undimmed. “Would you care to take a turn about the garden with me, Lady Minerva?”

“Why?” Minerva asked, one eyebrow raised. “Is the garden planning to put on some sort of a show?”

“Only once your loveliness is added to it,” Lord Lawrence said.

Bernadette could not determine if he was genuinely enthusiastic about all things or if he was having a go at Minerva. Judging by the way Alden was having difficulty concealing a smile, it was the latter.

Seeing Alden even passingly happy with something had Bernadette’s heart aching. “Why do you not go with Lord Lawrence and explore the garden,” she said, nudging her friend a bit.

Minerva glanced to her with a look of mutiny.

Bernadette returned that look with a desperate one and nodded her head slightly to Alden.

Minerva peeked at Alden, then sighed and gave in. “I will allow you to show me the garden, Lord Lawrence,” she said stepping away with him. “But I will not allow you to tease and flirt with me as if I am an empty-headed miss of no consequence.”

“I would never dream of it, Lady Minerva,” Lord Lawrence said as the two walked off. “I am fascinated with the small bit I have learned about you, and I would not ever wish to dampen the light that clearly shines from you.”

Bernadette nearly snorted at the compliment. It most likely had Minerva red with irritation.

“Does your cousin know what he has taken on?” Bernadette asked.

She turned to Alden, but rather than answering her, Alden reached for her hand as subtly as he could and led her over to the far end of the terrace, where none of the guests were gathered.

“Thank God I have you alone for a moment,” he said with a quiet rush of emotion once they were far from anyone who might overhear them.

“Is something amiss?” Bernadette asked, alarmed. She glanced out over the terrace and the garden, all too aware that they were being observed, if only casually, by several of the guests.

“What is amiss is that I am miserable without you,” Alden whispered, outwardly calm, but in a voice filled with passion. “Not one of these reasonable and interesting women come close to your sweetness, your bravery, or your tenderness.”

As carefully as he could, making certain their hands were hidden from view, he brushed his fingers over hers, threading their hands together.

“I do not want any of these ladies,” he whispered. “I want them all to go away so that it is just the two of us again. I want you.”

There was nothing more in heaven or on earth that Bernadette wanted, but she could not have what she wanted.

“Alden,” she whispered, lowering her head and glancing up at him sadly. “You know that if it were possible–”

“I know,” he interrupted, stepping back a bit, since the painting master had shifted to their side of the terrace and seemed more interested in the possibility of learning interesting gossip than instructing the guests.

“Has Lady Gladys introduced you to all of the young ladies?” Bernadette asked, raising her voice and pretending the inquiry was part of an effort to consult with her employer about the course of the weekend thus far.

Alden blew out a breath through his nose. “She has,” he said. “Or nearly all of them. And she’s found fault with each and every one.”

Bernadette bit her lip. “I have observed that the gentlemen she invited are swooping in to converse with the young ladies the moment Lady Gladys moves you on.”

Alden looked surprised, but only for a moment. “It is clear what she is doing, then,” he said. “She invited the gentlemen to provide better alternatives than me for each lady.”

Bernadette was glad she would not have to spell things out for Alden. She couldn’t help but smile, despite Lady Gladys’s conniving. “Do you know, you might just be hosting the premier matchmaking party of the season,” she said, giving Alden’s hand a small squeeze. “Mamas from all across the Kingdom of Wessex may end up thanking you for helping their daughters settle in happy situations.”

“If you trust the caliber of gentlemen that Lady Gladys would invite to a party hosted by her rival,” Alden said, almost as if speaking a thought aloud.

Bernadette’s smile faltered. She had not thought of that. She would have to put Kat to work at once, investigating the background of each of Lady Gladys’s–

Bernadette’s thoughts were cut short by a flurry of alarm from one of the ladies sitting at the back of the terrace, close to the house. The young woman leapt up from her painting, dropping her brush and suddenly shaking her skirts as she danced around her chair.

“I suppose there is no need to wonder what that is about,” Alden said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Bernadette sent him a look of apology, though she certainly wasn’t apologizing for herself, then rushed across to assist the young lady. Several of the others near her had begun to panic as well.

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