Down the Rabbit Hole

“Nothing will happen that you do not want.” He meant that even as he wished that she would want what he did. “I do suspect the brandy left you confused.”


“Never say that word to me again. Brandy.” She shuddered and closed her eyes as he watched her. “I may have been confused before, but now I feel fine. Even the headache is gone.”

“Lucky you, Alice. That is not the norm.”

She gave him a look that said her episode in the bathroom had been punishment enough.

“Can you guess how many times I have wished for this, Wes?”

Now there was a change of subject, but he was not sure the subject was a wise choice.

“Us in bed together? I imagine that I have wished for it at least as many times as you have.” He would wait for her to decide how much more it would be than lying side by side.

She raised her head and, oddly, kissed his shoulder. Then she moved away and turned her attention to the ceiling.

“They no longer have bed curtains,” she said, changing the subject.

“No, the rooms are warm enough that they do not even need a fire, either,” he said, following her lead.

“Without curtains, sleeping feels so much more public to me.”

“This from a woman who made love in a boathouse.” He knew it was the wrong thing to say.

“I am not talking about making love!” she snapped.

“It’s all I can think about.”

“You know, Weston, you know,” she repeated the words with emphasis, “from our one experience that making love makes our world even more complicated.”

Yes, it did. Making love satisfied him, them, physically, but to be satisfied emotionally was something else entirely.

“Only because we allow it to complicate.”

“Perhaps for a man the act is simpler. For a woman it means a kind of commitment. At least for this woman it does.”

“Then make the commitment, Alice. Say you will marry me. That one yes will be as binding to me as any said before a vicar in a church.”

She did not answer him with words. Alice pushed the covers back, slipped from the bed, gathered her clothes and then faced him. “I wonder if women today feel less of an emotional commitment when they make love? Weston, in all the ways that matter I have been yours since that first time we were together. You are the one and only man I will ever love. But the very act of marrying you would mean living with the constant reminder that I am not your equal and never will be.”

Alice left the room, and he was smart enough not to call her back or follow her. One moment of honesty was enough for tonight. She loved him. Would love him forever. He held that thought as closely as he wanted to hold her. And actually fell asleep smiling.





CHAPTER TWELVE




Mr. Arbuckle was waiting for them in the library. Weston wished he had been with them at breakfast, a meal made awkward by the housekeeper’s nonchalance and Alice’s embarrassment. Her discomfort made him so restless it was all he could do not to stand up and prowl the room.

“Good morning!” Mr. Arbuckle announced, rubbing his hands together as if he were preparing to share a special treat. “Is there something specific you would like to do today?”

“I want to go back to my proper time and place,” Alice announced. Her discomfort dimmed some of Mr. Arbuckle’s enthusiasm.

“I am afraid I have no control over that. The coin does, and it is most certainly at the earl’s country house, Westmoreland, far out of our reach.”

“Alice, try not to worry so much.”

“Oh, Weston, that is so easy for you to say. My whole livelihood depends on creating and maintaining a good packet of references. I am so afraid that Miss Amy, despite her best intentions, is ruining the profession I have nurtured so carefully.”