Her Cinderella Season

‘Well then, it appears I have arrived at the perfect time,’ an amused masculine voice interrupted.

Lily turned to find Mr Alden framed handsomely in the doorway. An instant flush began to spread up and over her.

Was she doomed to always encounter this man at a serious disadvantage?

He advanced into the room and she tried to collect herself. Not an easy task. Poetic—that was the word that had sprung to mind earlier. Brooding was the one that popped up now. Darkly handsome and brooding. Though he had a sardonic smile hovering at the corner of his mouth, the effect was ruined by the rest of him. She just could not be entirely intimidated by anyone in that rumpled state. He looked as if his valet had dressed him in the height of fashion, in only the best silk and superfine, and then laid him down and rolled him repeatedly about on the bed. She tightened her mouth at the image evoked and her flush grew stronger yet. A great many women, she strongly suspected, would enjoy rolling Mr Alden about on the bed.

‘Jack, darling.’ Lady Dayle rose to welcome her son. ‘Do come in and join us. The ladies have only just finished with the fair and we are taking a cold supper.’

He kissed his mother on the cheek and made an elegant bow to the rest of the ladies. Lily shifted slightly away as he took the chair directly next to hers.

‘I should thank you right away, Miss Beecham,’ he said with a quirk of a smile in her direction. ‘Usually I am the one for ever introducing inappropriate topics to the conversation. My brother informs me that virtually no one else cares for my mouldy ancients.’ He leaned back. The seating was so close that Lily could feel the heat emanating from him. ‘But you have saved me the trouble.’ He raised a brow at her. ‘Which distasteful subject have you brought to the table?’

‘Never mind that, Jack,’ scolded his mother. ‘Mrs Beecham has been granted a singular honour. We are celebrating.’

Lady Ashford explained while Lily fumed.

‘My heartfelt congratulations,’ Mr Alden said to her mother when the countess had finished. He turned again to Lily. ‘I’m sure you will enjoy the journey, Miss Beecham. There are some amazingly picturesque vistas in that part of the country.’

‘I am not to go, Mr Alden.’ Lily could not keep the anger completely from her tone. ‘I am instead sent home like a wayward child.’

She noticed that he grew very still. ‘Where is home, if I might ask?’

‘In Dorset, near Weymouth,’ she answered, though she did not see the relevance of the question.

‘Ah.’ He steepled his fingers and thought a moment. ‘I suppose I can understand your mother’s point of view.’

Irritation nearly choked Lily. She glared at him.

‘You can?’ asked her mother in surprise.

‘Yes, well, it is only fair to consider both sides of the argument, and you must admit that travelling with an innocent young girl must always be complicated.’

‘Innocent young girl?’ Lily objected. ‘I am nearly three and twenty and I have seen and done many things in the course of my volunteer work.’

‘I do not doubt you, but the fact remains that you are a young, unmarried lady. As such you will most likely require frequent stops to rest, and special arrangements for private parlours to shield you from the coarser elements. If you stay at private homes, there will have to be thought given as to whether or not any single gentlemen are in residence. Not to mention that you will have to have a chaperon for every minute of every day. Without a doubt, two older, more mature ladies will travel easier alone.’

Lily gaped at him.

‘You can see the logic of the situation.’ He nodded towards her.

‘There are so many things wrong with that litany of statements that I must give serious consideration on where to begin,’ she responded.

‘Do tell,’ he invited. That lurking grin spread a little wider.

‘I could refute your errors one by one, but instead I will merely ask you if you have any sisters, Mr Alden?’

‘Nary a one.’

‘Then I fail to see where you might have come by any experience travelling with innocent young ladies,’ she said hotly. ‘And if you are in the habit of consorting with other types, then I would only beg you not to equate me with them!’

‘Lilith!’ Her mother was clearly scandalised.

Lady Dayle, however, laughed. ‘Bravo, Miss Beecham! You have routed him in one fell swoop. But now you are both guilty of introducing inappropriate topics to the conversation, so let us talk of something else.’ She frowned at her son. ‘Do not tease the dear girl, Jack. I believe it is a real disappointment for her.’

Mr Alden nodded at his mother, then spared a glance for Lily. Mortified, she avoided his eye.

Lady Ashford offered him the tray of biscuits. He took one and Lily saw him blink thoughtfully at the countess. 'Will the two of you exceptional ladies be travelling alone?’ he asked in an innocent tone.

‘In fact, we will not,’ the countess answered. ‘Mr Cooperage will accompany us. We thought it possible to also raise money for his mission as we travel.’

‘I knew it!’ Lily exclaimed. ‘Only today he informed me that he did not approve of ladies travelling from home.’

She cast a disparaging glance at Mr Alden. ‘I just did not expect to find other gentlemen in agreement with such an antiquated notion.’

‘I said no such thing,’ he protested. ‘I said it was complicated, not that it should not be done. Is Mr Cooperage the gentleman from Park Lane, the one who was with you when you had your…near accident?’

‘He is.’

‘And he is an Evangelical, is he not?’

‘He is. Why do you ask?’

Mr Alden drew a deep breath. He sat a little straighter. For the first time Lily noticed true animation in his face and a light begin to shine in his eye.

‘I ask because I admit to some curiosity about the Evangelicals. For instance, I find their attitudes towards women to be conflicting and confusing.’

‘How so, Mr Alden?’ Lady Ashford bristled a little.

‘Hannah More argues that women are cheated out of an education and are thus made unfit to be mothers and moral guides. She advocates educating women, but only to a degree. Evangelicals encourage women to confine themselves to domestic concerns, but when their important issues take the stage—abolition of the slave trade, or changing the East India Company’s charter to allow missionaries into India—they urge them to boycott, to petition, to persuade.’

‘Women are perfectly able to understand and embrace such issues, Mr Alden.’ Now Lily bristled at the thought of this dangerously intelligent and handsome man negating the causes she had worked for.

‘I agree, Miss Beecham. In fact, in encouraging such participation, I would say that the Evangelicals have opened the political process to a far wider public.’

Understanding dawned. She cast a bright smile on him. ‘Yes, of course you are correct,’ Lily said, turning to her mother. ‘You see, Mother, I have petitioned for change, educated people about the work that needs done and laboured myself for the common good. What is a little trip through Kent when compared to all of that?’

‘That was not my point,’ Mr Alden interrupted. ‘On the contrary, I counsel you ladies to proceed with caution. People are noticing the good that you have accomplished. But if they begin to suspect that Evangelicals encourage women to rise beyond their station—not my words, by the way—then you could have a public uprising on your hands.’

‘Like the Blagdon Controversy,’ breathed Mrs Beecham, referring to the extensive public outcry against Hannah More’s Sunday Schools as dangerous and ‘Methodist’.

‘It could be far worse,’ Mr Alden said. ‘Women do not rate any higher on the Church of England’s scale than Methodists.'.’

‘Thank you, Mr Alden,’ Lady Ashford intoned. ‘You have given us a great deal to consider. We shall proceed with care.’ She fixed a stern gaze on Lily. ‘You can see that it would indeed be best for you to stay home, Miss Beecham. Old warhorses like your mother and I are one thing. We would not wish to be accused of corrupting young ladies.’

Lily lowered her gaze. Hurt and dismay congealed in her throat, choking off any protest. She barely knew MrAlden; it was ridiculous to feel this bone-deep sense of betrayal. But she could not stem it, any more than she could hold back the rising tide of anger in her breast. She raised her head and met Mr Alden’s gaze with a steely one of her own.

‘I cannot see where sending Miss Beecham home on the mail coach is any kinder or gentler than carting her around Surrey.’ Mr Alden’s eyes never left hers as he spoke. ‘Clearly, the best thing for her to do is to remain here.’