Page 52 of Dropping the Ball

Instead, he sighed and said, “The thought has crossed my mind as well.”

Bernadette snapped her gaze up to him. It was ridiculous for her to be offended or alarmed by the very thing she had just suggested, but emotions rarely followed the rules of logic.

Alden clearly noted her reaction. “I do not wish it either,” he said, a bit argumentative. “But this evening, it occurred to me that our best chance at happiness might very well come about if … if I marry Lady Gladys, as she wants. She has already informed me that she would have no objection to the two of us being together. We could travel the world. I could show you everything I saw in South America and the Caribbean.”

“I–” Bernadette had no idea how to answer, just as she’d had no idea what to think when Lady Gladys had told her that her late husband had been the love of her life. Alden was correct. Lady Gladys would allow the two of them to live togetherhappily. She would likely tear apart the terrarium as soon as the two of them departed on their travels, but was that a small price to pay?

“I do not know how I feel about that,” Bernadette said, shifting to her back and snuggling down under the covers, as if she were ready to sleep. “It is not a possibility I ever thought I would entertain. I dislike Lady Gladys. I find her to be conniving and selfish.”

“So do I,” Alden admitted, moving to his back in mirror of her. “But it is one way we could be together.”

Bernadette huffed out a breath. “There must be another way,” she said. “If only Hethersett would answer my letter.”

Alden’s eyes went wide, and he flipped back to his side to stare at her. “You wrote to your husband?”

Bernadette winced. “Yes,” she admitted. She pushed herself back up to one arm. “We may have spent the last ten years apart, but Hethersett has been a faithful correspondent. He’s even sent me two letters while I’ve been here, at the very beginning of my stay. But I’ve heard nothing since writing to tell him that I … that I love you.”

Alden merely gaped at her, as if he had no idea what to think or how to react to what she’d just told him. Bernadette feared that he was angry with her. She was angry with herself for thinking it best not to tell Alden of her appeal to Hethersett to release her from their shadow of a marriage.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” she confessed quietly. “I do not know why I assumed everything could be settled with a simple letter, or that Hethersett would write back at once saying he would seek an annulment to our marriage and not to worry.”

Bernadette bit her lip, expecting Alden to rail at her. Instead, he flopped to his back once more, rubbed his hands over his face, and said, “There must be a way.”

It was all the reassurance Bernadette was going to get. She lay down once more, tucking herself against Alden’s side this time. “There must,” she said, echoing him.

But was there? Something had to be amiss. Hethersett would have written, one way or another, unless he was extraordinarily vexed with her, or unless something had happened to him. Lady Gladys would not be pursuing Alden so doggedly if she did not think she had a chance of succeeding in winning him, or rather, Lyndhurst Grove and Alden’s fortune.

Bernadette sighed and closed her eyes, snuggling against Alden. As optimistic as she wanted to remain, she had the horrible feeling that the stolen moments she had just spent with Alden were their last. In order for the two of them to be together, a great many disparate things would need to fall into place. The likelihood of that happening was shaky at best. She very much feared the time was coming when she would need to formulate a secondary plan, one that would see her continuing on with her life alone.

Chapter Eighteen

When Alden awoke the next morning, the bed beside him was empty. It came as a complete shock to him. He’d expected to greet the new, momentous day with Bernadette tucked against him, their naked bodies entwined. He’d hoped for kisses, giggling, and sweet words exchanged while trying to remain still and hide from the maid who came to light the fire in the grate. He’d partially planned what he would say to Bernadette, how the ball that evening should be made into a celebration of life and love rather than culminating in him choosing a bride from among his guests.

It was silly to think that he could decide upon a partner for the rest of his life after little more than a day of knowing a young lady. He hadn’t encountered a single one that could come anywhere close to the affection he felt for Bernadette. He had thought that he would spend the early morning hours plotting with Bernadette ways to bring other young couples together, like Lady Gladys intended, but for different reasons.

Instead, he sat up, reaching into the cool sheets beside him, fighting to keep himself from jumping to conclusions and panicking needlessly.

“Be reasonable,” he told himself, glancing around the room.

The fire had gone out and the room had a chill to it, but his banyan was hung by the wardrobe. That meant the maid hadn’t yet come to light the fire, so it must have been Bernadette who plucked his banyan from the floor and hung it. If his beloved had fled his bedroom with the intent of running away entirely, she would not have taken the time to tidy his room.

It was weak logic, but enough to propel Alden out of his bed. He headed to the chamber pot behind a screen in the corner of his room, and once that was taken care of, he bathed with a sponge in the cool water of his washstand before dressing. All the while, he told himself that Bernadette was a reasonable woman with a sterling reputation; she would have wanted to return to her own bedchamber before dawn so as to avoid gossip. She would not leave him entirely without saying goodbye.

Alden was nearly finished dressing when there was a quiet scratch at the door, followed by a tired-looking maid creeping into his chamber with a bucket of kindling and wood over her arm.

“Oh! My lord, I am terribly sorry,” she said, shrinking in on herself and flushing. “I did not expect you to be up, and with all the guests, I’ve fallen behind.”

“Not to worry, Ivy,” Alden said in his most cheerful and forgiving voice. “I understand entirely. Please do proceed with your work.”

As Ivy dropped a curtsy, then scuttled to the grate to make his fire, Alden hurried to finish dressing. He hated making his servants feel uncomfortable, since they were so dear and loyal to him. At the last minute, however, as he started for the door, it occurred to him that Ivy might be able to put his mind at rest.

“Ivy,” he began, wincing slightly at the guilt in his tone. “Have you been to Lady Bernadette’s room yet this morning?”

“Oh, yes, my lord,” Ivy said, glancing over her shoulder at him with a smile. “She’s ever so kind is Lady Bernadette. She was already awake as well. Already packing her things too,” Ivy added with a wistful sigh.

Alden had begun to smile with relief that Bernadette had returned to her room, but at Ivy’s statement that she was packing, his stomach twisted. “Did she say why?” he asked.

He cursed himself a moment later. Gentlemen did not ask their maids about the actions of fine ladies.

---