Page 44 of Her Ruse with the Wicked Duke
The man’s head was still bowed deeply as he shook Rowan’s hand. “I will prove myself, Your Grace. You will not regret this.”
Rowan walked back to his horse, mounting it. It whined in anticipation, and they said their last goodbyes before he headed off.
He rode quickly through the countryside, letting the fresh air prepare him for the day he had in store.
It had been two weeks since he had any contact with Alice, and while memories of her lingered and made themselves known frequently, he felt confident that their deal was still intact. Today was the day that he was supposed to play cricket for a fundraiser for the ton. He accepted the Queen’s request a week ago and had been practicing with Maxwell since then.
He brought his horse to the stables behind the enormous estate and fed it an apple while he waited for his stablehand to bring him to the barn, and then he headed inside.
“Your Grace.” Maxwell bowed as he entered. “I have your attire all prepared, when would you like to leave?”
“As soon as possible. I would like to meet with the Royal Family before the event starts.”
“Of course, they will be happy to see you after all this time, I am sure.” Maxwell smiled.
Rowan’s father used to be close with King George, and their children used to play together.
Rowan had not seen them since he fled the country on a ship to the Americas. He was nervous to see them again, but he had no other option.
“Perhaps Miss Snow will be there to greet you before you play,” Maxwell added.
“Perhaps.” Rowan felt a small smile spread across his face, but he erased it as soon as he saw Maxwell give him a knowing look.
As if I have feelings for her. What an assumption.
* * *
“Well?” Alice spun around in her bedroom, showing off her new dress.
It was a chartreuse gown, with a layered skirt. The white accents of the lacy cuffs of the long sleeves and the white bodice complimented the light green of the dress and matched the white flowers that adorned her brimmed hat.
“You look so beautiful, Miss.” Grace grinned, taking Alice’s hand and walking her around the room to the mirror. “Look at you. Just like your mother.”
“Do you truly think I look like her?” Alice looked at her, tears beginning to sting her eyes. Grace nodded quickly, and Alice turned and hugged her, beginning to sob. “I wish she was here.”
“I know.” Grace consoled her. “Make her proud today.”
“I will. I promise.” Alice wiped the tears from her cheek.
A memory flashed across her mind of Rowan, which had become a usual pastime, and an unwelcome one at that. She knew in her heart that he would never agree to marry her, but she could not help but think of the possibilities.
The thoughts will go away, eventually, I am sure. Until then, I will just have to work on winning Lord Eaton over.
“Are you ready to leave, Miss? Perhaps I should pin your hair up?” Grace asked.
“I suppose.” Alice looked in the mirror at her curled blonde hair, sweeping the stray hair from her face. A memory suddenly came back to her, one of Rowan’s fingers dancing across her skin and his whisper against her neck, praising her for her beautiful hair. “Perhaps a few curls left down.”
“Are you sure, Miss?” Grace said, bringing her hands to her lips, pondering the look.
“Yes, I am sure.” Alice turned around, putting on a bright smile to try and mask the sudden rosy blush that touched her cheeks. “Let us make haste. I want to get acquainted with the other guests before Miss Darcy arrives and decides to try and ruin my life once again.”
* * *
“Salvator! I did not know you were back!” A man with a cricket bat jogged over to Rowan, patting him on the back.
Marcus Orwell, an old school friend, ran his fingers through his somehow perfectly kempt blonde hair.
“Orwell! Bloody hell, I have not seen you since Eton! How have you been?”
