Page 67 of To Tempt a Scandalous Lord
The confession was nothing more than a ragged whisper, but it was like a punch to the gut. “You don’t know that I would have asked you to stop.”
“Of course you would have.” Alicia spun away, pacing to the window. “Your pride would have demanded atonement. You would have been blinded to all the ways my writings have helped you.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “So I’ve tried to show you. With my essays about child labor reform and how your platform supports it. And it’s boosted your bid. You can’t say it hasn’t.”
Niall advanced on her, his hands tight fists. “But at what cost? I would have happily lost the leadership vote if it meant my wife respected me enough to tell me the truth.”
The color drained from her face. “Of course I res—”
“My lady, are you ready to dress for tonight?” Jane appeared in the doorway of the connecting bathroom, but paused, her eyes wide when her gaze landed on the two of them. “Oh, I beg your pardon.”
After Jane disappeared back into the bathroom, Alicia stared at him, her features drawn and her dark eyes listless. “Matthews wants me to write of Medlinger. Of how his measured, conservative approach to reform is what is needed now.” She swallowed. “He wants me to call your ideas radical. The viscount wants you to lose the vote.”
Niall dragged a hand down his face. “I can’t say I’m surprised. He’s been more my adversary than my ally, as of late.”
“And I fear he will continue to use the threat of my identity to keep both of us under his thumb.” Her sigh filled the room. “My essays will no longer be mine. My opinions will be replaced by his. I will be a stenographer and nothing more.”
Alicia was right. Now that Matthews knew who she was, he would exploit his position of power with no regard for those he ruined in the process.
“Should I tell Jane we will not be attending the Willingham event?” she asked quietly.
As much as he wanted to say yes, wanted to sequester himself in his study and down an entire bottle of his best whisky, such a thing was not possible. Matthews and other important electors would be in attendance at the dinner party, and Niall needed to act like nothing was amiss. The viscount must think him naive to the truth…at least until he had determined a solution.
“We must go, Alicia. We have to play our parts.” Niall looked down at her, his gaze touching on her lips. The lips that he longed to kiss even now. “We will continue this discussion later.”
And with those words, he left her standing there, alone.
Chapter Twenty-Two
For the third time that night, Alicia had lost track of the conversation happening around her. It was impossible to care about the gossip and banter when guilt, fear, and anger simmered like a noxious miasma in the center of her chest. So when Juliana’s casual shoulder bump snapped her back to the moment, she could only blink into Lady Ellis’s expectant eyes. “I do beg your pardon.”
The other woman laughed, a jaunty sound that complemented her beautiful face. “You seem quite distracted this evening, Lady Inverray. Are you well?”
Alicia willed her expression to remain impassive, even though she wanted to bare her teeth at her. Of all the days to have to face her husband’s former lover… “I apologize. I’m just a bit tired, but I thank you for your concern.”
“I remember those early days after my marriage to Ashwood. I was tiredallthe time,” Juliana shared, her lips stretching into a knowing smile.
The other ladies tittered, and Alicia slid her sister-in-law a grateful look. Despite how she clung to her turbulent emotions, the dinner had been a success, thanks in large part to Juliana’s and Charlotte’s presence. Their engaging conversation had kept Alicia from falling into a well of crushing guilt, and she’d managed to converse with the other guests as if their inane conversation had been all that was interesting.
Now, the ladies sat cloistered in the parlor, where they drank tea and discussed the latest gossip or fashion trend. Alicia tried not to watch the clock until the men finished their port or brandy or whatever temperance they engaged in. Once again, she wished she could join them, well aware that their conversations were more stimulating than the one she was currently subjected to. Not that she blamed the women in attendance for her boredom. Their conversation had been shaped by the cage they had been kept in, and soon every caged bird sang the same tune.
“You’re making me nervous with how you keep darting your eyes to the door,” Charlotte said.
She flinched. “I apologize. I suppose I’m just anxious for the men to rejoin us. How many snifters of brandy can they drink before they’re foxed or fall asleep?”
“They’re not so much drinking as gossiping.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Whoever said women gossiped more than men was obviously a man.”
A gruff chuckle escaped her, and Juliana gave her a commiserating smile. “It’s silly to separate the men from the women after dinner. Don’t they have every other time of day to talk privately about politics or whatever topics they deem too sensitive for women’s ears? It’s an antiquated tradition, if you ask me.”
“Peopleshouldbe asking you,” Alicia grumbled, frowning down at her empty teacup. It suddenly represented all the old-fashioned and ridiculous norms she had to observe simply because they were traditions. Norms she had attempted to subvert to her painful penitence.
Suddenly, she longed to throw the delicate cup directly into the grate.
“Why such a long face? In my day, a future duchess would never scowl. She might earn herself early wrinkles.”
Alicia slid her gaze to the side and met the Duchess of Claremore’s stern blue eyes. She knew better than to show any weakness before the lioness. “I am simply anxious for my husband to return, Your Grace. I never realized how long the after-dinner routine was.”
“Of course you didn’t. You had no person worth pining for.”
A sob lodged in her throat. “Th-that’s not exactly—”
