2: Discourse & Deliberation

There was a particular type of tiredness that came upon Alexander at balls.

As he sank onto a settee, he raised a hand to his face and rubbed at the tight muscles of his jaw. It was clear he'd been frowning too much that evening – his teeth ached from clenching them, and it took active effort to smooth his brow – but the fault did not lie with him alone; if the Ton did not want to be frowned at, they needed to do something that inspired another emotion.

Granted, that was not a very generous position to hold, but he had a lifetime of pent up animosity.

With a sigh, Alex let his hand drop away and leant into the hard back of the lounge. It was not just the ball, he admitted to himself, his gaze sweeping around the room. The library was small, but well decorated, with heavy oak bookshelves lining the walls, leatherbound books all but glowing in the firelight. The rug beneath his boots was a rich purple, with gold thread weaving an intricate pattern across the surface. It was opulent. Expensive. Slowly, he inched his shoes back off the carpet.

Yes, it wasn't just the ball that had him unsettled. It was being back in this place.

Between the crackle of the fire and the hum of the quartet that snaked around the edges of the door, Alex nearly missed the soft thumps of footsteps in the hallway outside of the library. His head jerked, eyes squinting in the poor light to glare at the door. He briefly considered hiding – surely he could wrap himself easily enough in one of the heavy gold curtains drawn across the window – but his pride wouldn't quite allow that. It was easy enough if he was discovered here to say that he'd needed a moment alone, but to be found hiding... he'd never hear the end of it.

The footsteps passed the door to the library without pause, a shadow briefly disrupting the light that peaked beneath the door. Alex let out a long, slow breath. Then he unclenched his jaw again.

He knew he wouldn't have long alone. He'd escaped his mother only moments earlier, melting into the crowd as she'd searched for one of his brothers, but she'd notice his absence soon enough and send someone after him. Then he'd be dragged back to the ball. And his brothers. It was not that he didn't want to see them – it had been a painfully long time since they'd all been in a room together – but at a ball, surrounded by all and sundry, was not the place for it. Not if Alex had any say in it.

Distracted by his thoughts, Alex did not hear the footsteps until they paused outside the door. As the handle turned, he let his frown fall back into place, glaring at the door as it opened hesitantly. The figure that stepped inside was willowy, a dark satin dress hanging from her frame and just brushing the ground. The firelight caught in her blonde hair, throwing it almost to auburn, but that couldn't conceal her identity from him.

Alex would know Rosemary Albright anywhere.

He saw the very moment she noticed him, pausing mid-step and catching herself against the door.

"Oh, forgive me, I..." She trailed off, her eyes narrowing in the darkness. He felt her gaze trace his outline and he shrugged.

"Well," he said, softly so as not to startle her, "are you in or out?"

She stepped into the room before Alex had finished his question, pressing the door firmly closed behind her. She paused with her back against the wood, letting her eyes adapt to the darkness, and let out a heavy sigh.

"Your brother's guest list seems to grow every year," she commented, smiling wanly at him.

Alex wouldn't know: this was the first house party of his brother's he'd attended in nigh on a decade. But his eldest brother, Lucas, had always been sociable. It was a good trait for a marquess.

"I imagine your home is sheltering just as many for the week?"

"Of course." Rosemary crossed the room and rounded the settee, sitting opposite him on the short lounge. "And the Humphreys are full to the brim as well."

With a weeklong event such as the Westley summer house party, the three estates in the area – the March of Westley, the Hurst Earldom, and the Germaine Dukedom – had each been called upon to put up the guests. It was a grave imposition, but easily accepted. They were family, in one way or another. After the death of the Humphrey siblings' parents many years earlier, the two branches of their extended family – maternal and paternal – had come together to help them, binding the three families together more closely than blood ever could.

Alex couldn't help but think that if the family's weren't so close they might have refused to house the guests and then he wouldn't be surrounded by so very many people.

"It's almost intolerable," he said, mostly to himself. His gaze wandered the room, settling on the flickering fire.

Rosemary smiled at his dour response, studying his profile. He was frowning, his heavy brow casting his eyes in shadow, but that was no surprise. Rose could hardly recall a memory of a young Alexander Kilroy where he was not serious and sceptical. Unless he was outdoors, he was scowling, and even then it depended on the company.

"I take it will we not have the pleasure of your company for the entire week, then?" she asked eventually, turning away from his dark countenance and watching the fire crackle instead.

She missed the twitch of Alex's lip. He had already tried and failed to excuse himself from the other activities, but his mother was having none of it. "I'm afraid you will."

Rosemary did not need to ask to know that was Cordelia's doing. As the marchioness of the previous marquess, and then the mother of the heir after his passing, she was a woman used to getting her way. Thankfully, her objectives were usually kindly and compassionate, otherwise she would have been a force to rival Napoleon.

It was hardly her place, but she thought she might as well help Aunt Delia as best she could.

"They miss you," she said softly. She kept her face tilted towards her lap, one gloved hand smoothing a crease in her skirt, but she watched Alex from beneath her lashes. She saw his hands curl into fists.

Aloud, he only let out a grunt of acknowledgement.

He had not told her to sod off, so she pressed further. "Perhaps this week is a chance to reconnect with your brothers. I'm sure Lucas and Peter would welcome it." To be truthful, she knew very little of how his brothers felt. They had been bordering adulthood when she was born, and she was not particularly well acquainted with either of them. She knew their wives better, having herself been married not long after they were, but Alex's name had come up so rarely in conversation with them that she could only guess how they felt as well.

"You might even decide to stay."

His reaction was clear then, his entire body moving at he shook his head firmly. "That is not my place."

Rosemary's brows drew downwards, and she reach out to lay her hand on his nearest clenched fist. "That is exactly your place." She waited until his dark gaze met hers. "If you want it to be."

Alexander Kilroy frowned into her frown for a long moment. There was no anger in his eyes. Instead, they briefly shone with a depth of emotion beyond naming, before he blinked and it was gone. He shook his head at her, the corner of his mouth curling up.

"You are the very picture of optimism, Rosie."

The hand beneath hers uncurled slightly, allowing her fingers to slip in between his, and he gave her hand a gently squeeze.

Whether it was the flames that danced a few metres away, or an uncharacteristically warm English evening, Rose felt a wave of heat rise up from her toes, settling conspicuously in her cheeks. There was an intimacy to her hand in his that she had not expected, and it contrasted desperately with the compliment that did not suit her at all.

Her mouth opened, to protest or deny she would never be sure, for at that moment the door to the library opened too quickly for either to do much more than look to it, their eyes wide as they waited to see who had stumbled upon them.

"Rosemary, are you – oh!" A familiar face, pale with rounded pink cheeks, poked her head around the door, light eyes widening when she found the pair within. Miss Greer Evlington, friend to both the Kilroys and the Vermonts, assessed them evenly. "Really you two – you ought to know better than this! Imagine what would have happened if it was another who came across you."

Greer hesitated, casting a quick look into the hallway behind her, before apparently deciding it was best for her to be in the room as well. She slipped inside, heavy skirts swishing behind her, and shut the door quickly. Then she pinned them with a demure, raised eyebrow, and awaited their excuses.

Rose deftly pulled her hand free from Alex's as her friend's back was turned, and smiling at her gently. "Is it really so wrong that two old friends find a quiet space to reacquaint themselves, Greer?"

The other woman cast her a flat look. It was one of the things Rose most admired about Greer; she did not entertain silly questions.

"The fault lies with me, Miss Evlington." Alex's voice was closer to her than she'd imagined, and she realised how close they'd gotten on the settee. Perhaps Greer was right to scold them as she had; any old matron might have wandered in and made all sorts of assumptions. "I take little pleasure in these events and Rosemary agreed to keep me company for a while."

It was very gallant of him not to mention her own attempt at hiding from the party. Gallant, but not believable.

"Oh, I'm sure, Mister Kilroy." It was only Greer's good upbringing that prevented her from rolling her eyes. "But either way, both of your absences have been noticed. Mister and Mrs Kilroy are looking for you," she dipped her chin at Alex, "and I am not the only person your mother has enlisted to help her locate you, Rosemary."

Rose let out a soft breath. "And so ends our solace," she said, smiling wanly at Alex. She rose smoothly, giving her skirts the barest of shakes to set them in place. The fabric caught the firelight, turning the dull grey briefly to a glistening silver before she stepped towards Greer and left the shimmer in her wake.

Greer bobbed her head at Alex, smiling despite the crease in her brow, and as she departed Rosemary followed after her. In the doorway, she hesitated. "I'm sure I'll see you in the coming days, Alex."

The comment had a rather sinister undertone, startling a laugh from the man still seated in the room. "And I you, Rosie."

~~~

Hello Lovely Readers!

The second half of this chapter has now been adding (starting from: He would know Rosemary Albright anywhere) so please give it a read before moving on to the next chapter!

xx  Flo