11: Prove me Wrong

It was a very awkward time for the Quentin-Kilroy family to have a scandal, given that almost all of their acquaintance was within five miles for a house party they were hosting. It meant the could not make a swift retreat, even if they wanted to. Thankfully, many of their guests had been awake long into the night spreading rumours and gossip, so no one was displeased when the planned croquet tournament was postponed. Instead, many stayed in their rooms and slept off what they had imbibed the previous night.

But then there was the matter of that night's ball.

Alex's sisters-in-law were of the mind to cancel that as well.

"Surely no one will mind an extra night of rest," Lucas' wife Lucinda said softly when they were all gathered in her husband's study once more. "And I think it's best for the whole thing to be called off, rather than Mrs Albright and Alexander to be... conspicuously absent."

"Yes, yes, I agree," Helena chimed in. "Perhaps an early hunt could be arranged as an excuse?"

Their plans were well-intentioned, Alex thought, but knowing his mother as he did, he doubted that hiding would be an option.

He was right.

"I agree that they cannot be absent from the ball," Cordelia said, "but I think the ball must go on with them in attendance. Otherwise there is more time for gossip and mischief to spread."

Although the thought of another ball pained him, Alex did not disagree. After a few more comments from his mother, his sisters-in-law agreed it was the best plan – no one was really inclined to disagree with Mrs Cordelia Kilroy at the best of times – and everyone dissipated to prepare for the evening ahead.

His mother caught him at the door, linking her arm through his and slowing their progress down the hallway. It seemed she wanted to talk. Or perhaps for him to talk, but Alex had volunteered more than enough information in the last twelve hours, and he waited for her instead.

After about twenty paces, she spoke. "I called on Rosemary this morning."

Alex had a visceral response to that news, his muscles tensing almost automatically, and causing him to nearly trip as he took his twenty-first step. "Is she alright? What did she say?" He bit the inside of his cheek to keep the rest of his questions inside.

"She is as well as can be expected," his mother responded, patting his arm lightly with her free hand. "She's a very strong woman, Rosemary Albright."

Her youngest son nodded easily at that.

"As for the rest," Cordelia continued, "you'll have to ask her yourself."

Alex couldn't contain a huff of laughter; he didn't know why he had hoped for a straightforward answer.

"Although, when she and I were speaking I did realise something. Something about you."

There was no point in asking. His mother would either tell him or she wouldn't. In case she decided to be less cryptic, Alex pulled them both to a stop, unlinking their arms so he could face her more directly. The hallway was empty and surrounded as it was by family quarters, there was no reason to seek out a more private place for this conversation.

Cordelia set her hands on her hips, looking down her nose at him, and announced loudly: "You are an idiot, Alexander Kilroy."

Alex blinked. "And this is a new realisation for you, mother?"

The woman's lips twitched, amused despite herself. "It is, I'm afraid. You see, I've always thought you a little silly," she said, inclining her head towards him as if to take the sting out of her words. "Like when you were at Eaton and you got in those fights because the other boys told you that you did not deserve to be there because your father didn't have a title. Very silly."

One of those fights had given Alex a perpetually wiggly tooth; he did not consider it silly!

"Or when you refused to let your father and I pay for you to go to university, because people might assume that it was the Marquis' money funding you."

Of course, they would have assumed that. He had already heard the snide comments about his father and his ability to provide for his family. He had been called a leech more times at Eaton than he could remember. Instead he had worked and invested, and slowly but surely earned his place. No one could tell him otherwise now.

"Or when you wrote two-line replies to my letters because you thought we would be ashamed of your hard work at the docks."

Alex blinked. He'd never told his family he'd worked in shipping.

"That one I find particularly insulting! Your father came to me with callouses on his hands, why would I be ashamed of my son having them!" She stared him down after that rebuke, her slipper tapping on the tiles.

"It was not you I was worried about," he said softly, "but how the Ton would treat you if they knew."

Maybe he expected her to soften some at the admission. She did not.

"This!" She exclaimed, stepping forward to jab him in the chest with one finger. "This is what makes you an idiot, Alexander! When did we, did I, ever give you an indication that I cared how the Ton treated me? When," she poked him in the chest again, her finger hitting his breastbone in a way that was sure to bruise later, "did I ever seem hurt or offended or insulted by the nonsense they mutter in the shadows? When," he caught her by the wrist this time, self-preservation bleeding through the stupor her words had him in, "did you decide that it was your responsibility to protect us from them? That it was your fault they were saying it in the first place?"

She pulled her hand free from his grip, clicking her tongue against her teeth as she shook her head. She looked at him for a long moment, her anger slowly softening until all that remained was sadness and pain. "When did you decide," she asked, "that you were a burden to this family?"

There was no way Alexander Kilroy could respond to his mother, not when she asked questions that threatened to rip his soul open to the world. That she had known – that his father and brothers had known – what he was going through, and what he was shielding them from... It made it pointless. All he had done was create more pain.

He blinked and realised his face was wet.

As her own tears spilled over, his mother stepped closer to him and reached up to wipe his cheeks dry. "My beautiful, sensitive, protective boy," she murmured under her breath. "What am I to do with you?"

Alex couldn't tell her. He was adrift in his emotions, reliving every cruel thing that had been said about his family and every sacrifice he'd made to protect the people he loved. He was imaging how different him life might have been if he never made those choices.

"Will you answer just one question for me, Alexander?" His mother took him by the hands, squeezing tightly. "You don't even need to answer aloud. I just want you to be truly honest with yourself."

He couldn't promise her words, even if he'd wanted to. Not whilst his tongue felt like a dead weight in his mouth. But he could promise her honesty. He nodded.

His mother gave his hands another squeeze, and then took a deep breath, locking their gazes before she continued. "Before you left, I told you that it was time for you to start considering marriage. Did you leave because of what the Ton would say if you married one of their daughters..."

Yes. He knew the answer before she'd even finished the question.

Cordelia's smile was watery. "Or did you leave because you knew what they'd say if you married Rosemary?"

He didn't dare breathe. Not whilst his heart felt like it might break out of his chest and take flight. The pain was unlike anything he'd felt before, a gaping hollowness that opened up within him and threatened to swallow him whole. It taunted him, told him that he was an idiot. That the things he had known to be true were actually false. That the things he had convinced himself could never be true were...

From the void rose up the answer to his mother's question: yes.

Whether she saw his inner turmoil or the answer to her question or nothing at all on his face, Cordelia seemed satisfied. She gave his numb hands one final squeeze and let go.

"So yes, my darling boy, I have concluded that you are an idiot." With a delicate sigh, his mother leant forward, and he unconsciously lowered his face to let her press a kiss to his cheek. She paused, wobbling on her tiptoes as she whispered in his ear, "But you still have time to prove me wrong."

.

Rosemary had long given up trying to hide in the corner of the ballroom; it made no difference to the number of eyes on her, so she may as well be near the punch bowl so that she had an excuse to be busy. The footman manning the ladle had already cast her a few confused looks as she held out her glass every few minutes for him to add a drizzle to the bottom. That way, when someone approached to speak with her, she could make niceties for a minute and then excuse herself for a refill. The glass could never get too full however, or it undermined her whole pretext.

She was well-aware the whole gambit was a bit touched in the head, but it was the only thing keeping her night tolerable. Before she'd left that morning, Aunt Delia had told her under to circumstances was she to miss the ball. So there she was, loitering around the punch bowl.

At this rate, someone might accuse her of having an affair with the footman!

"Mrs Albright, how are you this evening."

Rosemary flinched at the sudden voice, her head whipping to the side to watch Lord DeGeorge close the distance between them. She raised her cup to her mouth, trying to wet her suddenly dry lips, but the darned vessel was all but empty. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the footman chuckle.

"Good evening, Lord DeGeorge," she said. She dipped a slight curtsy, one hand gripping the soft grey fabric of her dress as the other threatened to crush the cup. "I am..." She didn't have the energy to lie. "Tolerable. And yourself?"

He didn't seem surprised by her blunt reply. "I'm well. I wonder if you would partner me for the next dance, Mrs Albright?"

To say she was not in the mood was an understatement. But beyond that, DeGeorge needed to know exactly what mess he was getting himself into just by speaking with her. She could feel eyes on them, the prickle across her skin as they looked between her and the eligible bachelor speaking with her. The longer they stood there, the longer the opportunity for further rumour.

Rose clasped her hands in front of her, the cup held loosely between them. "Lord DeGeorge, may I be frank with you?"

"I welcome it."

There was no point in dancing around the issue. She took a deep breath.

"I'm not sure what my mother told you before she introduced us, and I'm not sure what you have heard over the past few days, but I am not a suitable match for you. I am a widow who, despite what the Ton thinks, is not on the hunt for another husband, and my reputation is currently in tatters, hence..." She gestured around them vaguely, indicating the attention they held in that moment. As if to prove her point, the whispers died down, half the room straining to hear what DeGeorge's response would be.

His expression was unreadable beneath his beard. "I appreciate your honesty, Mrs Albright."

She accepted that with a dip of her head.

"Would you mind if I speak candidly in turn?"

"Please, go ahead." This time she swept a hand between them, clearing space for his retreat from their acquaintance.

He nodded, his brow furrowed. It struck her in that moment that both he and Alex were so frequently frowning, but they gave off such different impressions. On DeGeorge, a frown was academic, like his thoughts required great effort. For Alex, a frown was like a shield, criticising the world around him before the world could criticise him.

But she did not need to be thinking about Alex now.

"I do not care much about reputation. In my experience it's more fiction than fact. I would rather judge for myself whether a person is good or otherwise." His beard twitched, a slight smile peaking through. "As for your widowhood or whether other people believe you should remarry, well..." He shrugged. He was definitely smiling now. "I cannot believe they are my business either."

Whilst DeGeorge's expression had transitioned to a smile, Rosemary's had turned perplexed. This was not what she had expected of him. "I... I see..." Was all she managed to say into the pregnant silence.

"The only part that affects me is whether you are truly against remarrying, or if you are truly opposed to marrying me." He leant forward slightly. "I would clarify, this is not a proposal. I am merely being frank."

This house party was truly becoming the most stressful week of Rose's life. She had been accused of consorting with one man, and now a different man was not-proposing to her. And three days ago, she hadn't wanted any man at all!

But now she had Aunt Delia's words floating through her mind. She had Victoria in her head telling her she would be a lovely bride, and Greer delicately informing her that she was still considered very marriageable. She saw her mother's hopeful expression every time she'd made an introduction over the last few years. She saw her life play out if she continued as she intended and allowed herself to be... scared.

"Honestly," she said after a long moment, hoping De George couldn't hear the croak in her voice. "I don't have an answer. To either question." She swallowed and attempted a smile. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "No apologies necessary. Let me know when you do."

There was a murmur in the crowd, a slight hubbub that seemed to roll over them, and DeGeorge's gaze shifted past her. His eyebrow twitched, but he bowed before she could decipher his expression.

"I'll take my leave. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mrs Albright."

She watched him disappear into the crowd with a frown of surprise. Had she gone from a not-proposal to rejection in less than a minute?

"Rosie."

It was the strangest sensation to hear her name whispered on Alex's tongue in that moment. A part of her was irritated, upset that he would seek her out in such a public place when they already had so much scrutiny on them. And then to use such an intimate nickname! Did the man have no shame? But at the same time, there was relief. He was alright, he was talking to her, and their friendship had not been ruined by the whispers around them.

And lastly she felt his voice trail down her spine like the prickle from standing too close to an open fire, not quite painful, but definitely dangerous. In the way he said her name, she felt the touch of his hand against her face and the way he leant into her in the library.

It was a lot to feel simultaneously, and it might have explained why her expression looked quite alarmed when she turned to face him.

He was his usual serious self, a tiny curve of his lips suggesting he was happy to see her, but as he took in her distress his eyebrows rose.

"Are you alright? What's the matter?" He had moved towards her elbow, his eyes trailing the crowd around them, but as she swayed away from his touch it clicked. He was the matter.

She shook her head at him, her eyes wide and bright with an emotion he couldn't name. "Are you?" she asked on an exhale.

No. Of course he wasn't.

He swallowed, flashed her a half-smile in answer to her question, and started anew. "Rosie, I've been think-" he frowned and tried again. "That is to say, I've been speaking to..." He trailed off as she shook her head vehemently, her hair threatening to come entirely undone.

"We cannot talk here, Alex."

She was right, of course. Most of the room was watching them.

"In fact, we should probably not talk at all, not for a while at least. Not until-"

She cut off abruptly. Alex's hand hung in the space between them, palm up and fingers dancing, as if searching for another. He took a slow, deep breath, exhaling the tension from his shoulders and the anxiety from the pit in his stomach.

He attempted a smile. "I believe I owe you a dance."

Rosemary's green eyes flashed, and she scowled at him. "You cannot be serious."

"I am. I have a ten dance debt, and I would like to start paying if off now."

The quip earned him the hint of a smile, but she still did not take his hand.

"Do you think that wise?" Her own opinion was clear in the tone of her question. And Alex did not disagree. It was most definitely a mistake to draw more attention to themselves, but perhaps to not be an idiot, he needed to ... be an idiot.

"Not in the least."

~~~

Hello Lovely Readers! Yeah, so it's going to be two more chapters from here... I got verbose oops. Hope you're enjoying it though!

xx Flo