Page 39 of To Tempt a Scandalous Lord
Pressing her lips together, Alicia weighed what to say, if anything at all. She was rescued from the decision when Niall rubbed a tired hand across his eyes.
“That did not go the way I envisioned. At all.”
“I didn’t even have visions of that situation, and still it did not live up to my expectations,” she grumbled in solidarity.
Niall slid his gaze to her, a pucker between his brows.
That encouraged her to continue speaking. “Despite how it may appear, I apologize if I overstepped. I know you did not need me to interject myself into the situation, but when the viscount started blaming you for things outside of your control, I could not help myself.”
“While I appreciate your desire to help, I was not in need of your defense, wife.”
Alicia took a step back, feeling as if she had been slapped. “O-of course not. How preposterous it was for me to believe you might appreciate not having to wage every political battle alone.”
Niall pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not everything is a battle.”
“It’s certainly not if you’re always willing to surrender.”
And with those harsh words, she stalked out the room.
“Alicia,” he called after her, her name a tired plea.
But she was done being his fool.
Chapter Fourteen
Alicia was in the small parlor of Little Windmill House, a collection of art projects spread before her. Mr. Newell, the art and music teacher, had tapped her to judge an informal competition he conducted with his older students. They were to take inspiration from popular culture and create a presentation with their vision of the future.
Alicia had expected the demonstrations to be depressing. Even macabre.
Instead, she had been inspired.
She had critiqued a collection of watercolor paintings depicting shuttered collieries and seedlings growing on craggy slopes, as well as models of towns where the homes shared aqueduct-like pipes that snaked through the community like threads from a spider’s web.
Each presentation amazed her, and she feared Mr. Newell would reject her overwhelmingly high scores when she delivered them.
So engrossed was she in her study, Alicia missed the sound of footsteps behind her.
“My lady, I didn’t expect to find you here.”
Alicia jerked about, clutching at her chest. Her husband stood just inside the doorframe of the parlor, looking as handsome as ever. He also appeared as forbidding as ever, with a disapproving scowl on his face, but she would not be intimidated.
Niall had not spoken with her since she had inserted herself into his conversation with Lord Matthews two days prior. She didn’t know if he intended to follow his mentor’s advice and that was why she had not seen him…or he had simply not wished to see her.
It was a lowering thought.
The enormity of her new marriage overwhelmed her at times. Their union had been on uneven ground from the moment they took their vows…yet she’d glimpsed enough gentle moments to guess that Niall’s stern exterior hid a tender underbelly he tried hard to conceal. And because she reveled in a challenge, Alicia couldn’t help but to coax those amiable qualities to the surface. Not just for her own edification, but for his, as well.
Still, his formal regard was exhausting.
She exhaled loudly, even while she clasped her hands demurely at her waist. “Where did you expect me to be? After the newest tract released yesterday, Mrs. Simpson said Little Windmill has been inundated with requests for tours and donations. I’m delighted to help.”
What she left unsaid was how the tract praised Niall’s dedication to the youngest members of society with his work at the Home, proving his commitment was not simply a political talking point. The tract had also stressed that with such a leader in Parliament, perhaps child labor reform would finally be addressed, an issue that had started garnering support in ballrooms and drawing rooms across Mayfair.
Alicia was quite proud of the critique and hoped, fervently, it made inroads with those hard-hearted fools stubbornly standing in the way of progress.
“Yes, well”—Niall coughed into his fist—“I had not expected such praise from the writer.”
“Why not?” Alicia pinned him with her gimlet stare. “The essays I’ve read have been fair, even if such fairness has been uncomfortable for you at times.”
