Gareth turned toward her. He looked mildly amused, as if he knew precisely what she was doing. Which he very probably did. “I’ve found I prefer Italian leather and French tailors, but should I find myself in need of anything, I shall know precisely where to go.”
Alice sighed to herself. Years ago she would have bantered back, taking him to task for wearing coats worn through at the elbows or boots so battered that they sagged. As a boy he’d been untidy, as an adolescent carelessly disheveled. Now, even had she still felt easy enough to tease, it would have been forced. In his dark blue superfine coat and fawn breeches, he appeared precisely what he was: a well-heeled gentleman far better suited to Rome and Paris than rural Ireland.
“I suppose you’ll have to give some custom to the local merchants,” Clarissa announced breezily. “Support the tenants, and all that. But of course you’ll be in London during the season. Arthur did so love to tell me about the session in Lords. Goodness, I wish he hadn’t. There is no conversation quite so dreadful as politics.”
Gareth’s mouth had thinned at the mention of Parliament. Yet one more duty that went with the title. He’d always declared himself a Whig, supporting Irish independence from England and sending his arch-conservative father into sputtering fits. Alice knew the Earls of Kilcullen had been Tories since time immemorial. She also knew that much as the young Gareth had believed in his ideologies, he had never once considered fighting for them on the benches of Parliament. If nothing else, the Honorable Gareth Blackwell loathed sitting still.
“Perhaps,” he said after a moment, tone deceptively bland, “I will merely be accompanying a nephew to Astley’s.”
“Escorting a sister-in-law and niece to Gunther’s!” Clarissa shot back and in that moment Alice had a very clear idea of how bumpy the ride ahead was going to be. Who has the most to lose will be the one to gain. Someone was going to be made very unhappy by the birth of this child. And that was very, very sad. Her eyes strayed to the holly garlands and pine boughs decorating the room.
Happy Christmas, she wished herself, and sighed.
Fortunately, her grandfather chose that moment to totter into the room. He’d glared at her over breakfast, grunted at her at luncheon, and patted her absently on the head now. He never held a sulk for long. Alice would have been delighted, had not his returned cheer usually meant he was plotting his next escape.
“What’s for dinner?” he demanded of Clarissa who, as usual, had no idea.
“Roast pheasant,” Alice informed him.
“Splendid, splendid.” He made his way to the drinks table and poured himself a large sherry. “Drink, boy?” he asked Gareth.
“I, ah . . . thank you.”
Alice had a very good idea that Gareth had expected a scolding, or to be threatened again with a good caning. He might still get it, but for the moment Sir Reginald seemed content with merely pouring him a considerably smaller draught of sherry than his own. Not that Gareth would mind that much. He had always been more of an ale sort. He accepted the sherry with only the smallest grimace.
Sir Reginald settled himself creakily into the chair beside Alice. “You look peaky, girl. Not getting ill, are you?”
“No, Grandfather. I am quite well.”
“You do look rather colorless,” Clarissa added her opinion, albeit fondly, “though I suppose not much more so than usual. Has she not altered greatly since you saw her last, Gareth? I am forever encouraging her to put a bit of color in her cheeks, but she will not heed me.”
He dutifully gave her a careful perusal and Alice wondered if her immediate flush would satisfy her sister’s demand for color. She wondered, too, how Gareth could possibly answer. As much as he had always teased her privately, he would never be so callous as to do so in public. Yes, she had changed and, for the first time, felt a sharp tug of sadness for her lost bloom.
“I think,” he said slowly after a moment, “that Alice looks very much as she always did. One of a very lovely pair.” He turned back to Clarissa, who graced him with a smile that had stupefied a great many lesser men.
“How very gallant,” she murmured.
Alice felt something softening around her heart.
Their grandfather snorted. “Didn’t teach you such pretty speech in the navy.”
Gareth actually laughed. “There was nothing pretty about what I learned in the navy. In fact, had I stayed a week longer, I should have been wholly unfit company for these ladies, indeed.”
“Sold out, did you?” Sir Reginald demanded.
“I did. Several years ago.”
“Don’t suppose you made much money.”