Free A Certain Magic by Mary Balogh Page A

Piers, unless you have definitely decided that Miss Borden is the girl you wish to make your bride.”
    “I really did not intend to single her out for more attention within the next week,” he said. “But she told me over supper that all the other young bucks who surrounded her this evening frightened her. She was afraid that they were going to be calling on her uncle and inviting her out. She seemed truly terrified at the prospect and looked very grateful when I suggested forestalling them by calling early on her uncle myself and offering to take her driving. She actually looked full at me for a whole second. I think she must see me as a father figure, don’t you, Allie?”
    She laughed. “A father figure? You?” she said. “I shall say to you what you said to me awhile ago, Piers. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?”
    “That bad, eh?” he said ruefully. “Do you think your servants are tossing and turning in their beds, afraid for your virtue, Allie?”
    “I would not be at all surprised,” she said. “This is highly improper, you know.”
    “But you don’t really mind, do you?” he asked, getting to his feet. “It’s just me. You know you are perfectly safe with me, don’t you, Allie?”
    “Yes,” she said, smiling. “But it is quite scandalously late. After two o’clock. Good night, Piers.”
    “Good night, Allie,” he said, setting his hands at her waist. “Thank you for letting me come in. You have made me feel as you and Web never failed to do—relaxed and comfortable. I shall walk home and sleep the rest of the night away, I am sure of it.”
    She smiled at him as he lowered his head and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
    ***
    Bruce was in the blackest of moods when Alice arrived at Portman Square the following morning. The physician had been summoned and had given the incredible verdict that Phoebe had indeed succumbed to a case of the measles. She was in bed with a high fever, a sore throat, and a headache.
    “It is ridiculous,” Bruce said. “A woman of forty does not have the measles.” He sounded aggrieved, as if he suspected the doctor of having deliberately given a false diagnosis.
    “But clearly it is possible,” Alice said calmly. “Poor Phoebe. She must be feeling wretched.”
    “What about my feelings?” the fond husband replied. “There are the children not half well yet and needing to be taken about for air. And there is Jarvis out until all hours of the night or morning, doubtless making a begger of me at the tailor’s and at the gaming tables. And there is Amanda. How am I to go on without Phoebe?”
    Alice did not point out that perhaps White’s and Brooks’ and any other club her brother frequented could probably survive without his constant presence for the next week or so.
    “Don’t trouble yourself, Bruce,” she said. “I shall nurse Phoebe, and Jarvis shall be given the task of taking the children about during the daytime. It will give him something to do, and they will be delighted to have the company of their elder brother. As for Amanda, I am sure a week of somewhat fewer social activities will not harm her.”
    “Phoebe will never recover,” he said, “She is burning with fever and worrying over Amanda.” 
    Alice sighed. She knew quite perfectly what her brother was going to say next.
    “There is no choice in the matter,” he said. “You will have to take Amanda about, Alice. You are a widow, after all, even if you are rather young. That makes you respectable.”
    Alice did not point out that she had been hoping to return to Bath within the week. She did not mention the fact that she had no wish to attend any other social function in London. What was the point? She was a widow and as such could not possibly have anything else of value to do with her life but serve the needs of her brother and his family.
    “For a couple of days, then,” she said. “Perhaps we will be able to make arrangements with the