“I will pop down and say hello to Mrs. Henry. Think about what I said, Kit.”

“I will. Thank you, Nellie.”

She crossed the floor but then paused at the door. “Oh, and one more thing. Alice is my friend. If you are not prepared to crawl through fire to win her, then I won’t let you have her. Enjoy your afternoon.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Mary placed a huge flower bouquet—lilies of the valley and gardenias—on the tea table in Alice’s suite. “These just arrived for you, miss.”

Flowers? Alice put down her ladies’ magazine and reached for the card tucked into the bouquet. Had Lockwood sent these? Her heart, which should have raced at the idea, gave a mere thump. It was becoming more difficult to muster excitement for a match.

He’s a duke, for goodness’ sake. She had no other choice and Lockwood would make a fine husband. Alice should be positively thrilled.

She tore open the card. The crisp writing was short and to the point:

Fondly,

Mr. Christopher Ward

These flowers were from Kit? Her lips twisted into a broad smile. Then it fell. Why was he sending her flowers? And these flowers, in particular? Lilies of the valley were used to signify purity, either of person or intent. Gardenias represented sincerity in a promising new relationship, though Kit couldn’t possibly know that. She could not imagine that he followed such silly floriography.

Still, they were lovely. Perhaps this was his way of thanking her for coming to the funeral yesterday.

“Is there a vase?” she asked her maid. “If not in here, there might be one in my mother’s room.”

Mary went through the adjoining door into the other suite while Alice admired the beautiful bouquet. She had cried for most of the afternoon after leaving the church. For Kit, for herself. For what would never be. She loved him, but she would not give up her future because of him.

When Mary returned, she was not alone. “I hear you received flowers from the duke,” her mother said, wide eyes on the bouquet. Before Alice could hide the card, Mama snatched it out of her hand. “Christopher Ward? That scapegrace from the house party? Why on earth is he sending you flowers?”

“I haven’t any idea,” she lied. “But they certainly are pretty.”

Her mother pointed to the flowers. “Mary, dispose of those this instant. We must take care not to scare off the duke.”

“No, please. I’ll put them in my room.” Alice lunged for the box but she was too late.

In a flash, her mother gathered the flowers and handed them off to Mary, along with the card. “They will be disposed of and that is the end of that.” As if seeing Alice for the first time, Mama gave her a once-over. “Now, what are you wearing this afternoon?”

“This afternoon? Have we plans?”