A Certain Magic by Mary Balogh Read Free Book Online Page B

he did not find any companionship with his wife.
    There had never been the smallest evidence that he mistreated Harriet, and no sign whatsoever that she was unhappy with him. Indeed, there was no indication that Piers himself was unhappy. Except that they knew him. Web had always known him, and she had known him for several years before he married. They had both known him well enough to detect signs of restlessness that would have been imperceptible to anyone else, Harriet included.
    He had been distraught, suicidal even, on her death. But had love been the cause? Or had it been something else?
    “He does not have a cruel bone in his body, Allie, despite some of the outrageous things he says,” Web had told her the night of the funeral, when Piers had finally staggered home, refusing their offer of hospitality for the night. “He did not love her, but that now is the trouble. He will blame himself for her death, you will see, because he did not love her and should not therefore have put her life at risk. We will have to keep a careful eye on him, love, mark my words.”
    And he had been quite right, of course.
    Had Piers not learned from that experience that foolish young girls were not the right kind of bride for him?
    Apparently not. Alice wished fiercely that Web were still alive. Not that he had been able to stop Piers that first time, of course. But then they had not known of the marriage until Piers had brought Harriet home.
    It had been a worrying evening. And it had been capped by Sir Clayton’s proposing to her in the carriage and even trying to kiss her. She had been forced to engage in a most undignified wrestling match, and had escaped the kiss only with the aid of some sharp words. It was a blessing indeed that she had not been forced to slap him. That would have been too mortifying for words.
    She had refused his offer. But she feared that her natural reluctance to hurt another had made her refusal less than convincing. Certainly Sir Clayton had assured himself that he would do himself the honor of asking her again when she had had time to consider the advantages of such a match and would be taken less by surprise. “For I realize, Mrs. Penhallow,” he had said, “that you could have had no forewarning of the extent of my feelings.”
    Sometimes, Alice thought, sitting up in bed and punching her pillows, she longed for the dullness and peace of her life in Bath.

Chapter 4
    BRUCE was in a bad temper when Alice arrived at Portman Square soon after breakfast the following morning. Not that he was ever exactly sunny-natured, she thought with an inward sigh. But this morning he was more than ordinarily irritable. He had learned that his efforts to have his son reinstated at Oxford had been in vain. Jarvis would have to wait until the following year to resume his studies.
    In addition to that annoyance, Phoebe was indisposed, and Bruce blamed Alice. “For she has a great deal on her mind,” he said, “What with the children sick, Jarvis in disgrace, and Amanda making her come-out. The least you could do, Alice, is have some family feeling and take some of the load from her shoulders.”
    “Which is exactly what I will do today,” Alice said briskly. “I shall do what I can to entertain Richard and Mary this morning, and this afternoon, if the weather continues fine, I shall take them for a short drive.” 
    “And give them both a chill?” he said. “I would have thought you had learned your lesson with Webster, Alice.”
    Alice bit her lip and decided not to retaliate. She retired to the nursery to a long and tedious day. The afternoon brought a little interest when Richard agreed to the drive—indeed, he would have liked nothing better than to take a horse and gallop in Hyde Park, but Alice laughingly suggested that he wait a few days for that pleasure.
    “I can guarantee,” she said, “that your legs will feel like jelly when you step out of doors, Richard. Being