Doubtful, but Alice would rather explain to Daddy and take her punishment than spend another minute under her mother’s thumb. “We shall see, won’t we? Until morning, Mother.”

Heart pounding, Alice yanked open the door and escaped into the corridor. Her skin was hot with anger and frustration, the pent-up fury boiling in her veins like water on a range.

In the corridor, a familiar figure leaned against the wall in front of her room.

Kit.

She wiped any hint of expression off her face and tried to appear calm, though every part of her longed to feel his arms wrapped around her just once more before she returned to Boston. But she had to look out for herself now. Silly crushes on men uninterested in marriage were out of the question. “Why are you here? I said all that needed to be said in the kitchen.”

“Yes, but I didn’t. May I come into your room?”

“You are wasting your time.”

“No second spent in your presence is ever wasted. Please, let me talk to you.”

“I’d like to be alone, Kit. And you should be chasing that reporter, not me. That story will ruin your supper club before it even opens.”

“You come first, Alice. Always. Do you not yet understand? I am besotted beyond measure. You’ve stolen my heart from the moment we met in Newport.”

Her own heart squeezed, soaking in the words like a dried-out sponge. But was it real . . . or pity?

Perhaps privacy would be better. She opened the door to her room and he followed her inside. Instead of sitting, she crossed to the opposite side of the room, putting as much distance as possible between them. “You are telling me what you think I wish to hear, just so I will let you rescue me. But I won’t marry someone who pities me, who feels sorry for me. I won’t marry you to assuage your guilt. We would only make each other miserable.” Like when Kit took a mistress in a few years and stopped coming to her bed. That would kill her slowly, like a thousand tiny cuts to her heart.

“I don’t need to rescue you. I decided to win you before this all happened.”

She narrowed her gaze, studying each of his familiar features, from the dark eyes and perfect nose, to the high cheekbones and sharp jawline. He appeared sincere, but she was skeptical. “Kit, there is no need to lie—”

“I have never lied to you, not once, and I never will.” His mouth hitched and he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “Why do you think I sent you the flowers? I even went to that terrible Van Allen tea party to see you.”

Alice’s jaw fell open. “What? You went to a tea party?”