by Rose Gordon
“Tallywag,” Father supplied for him, garnering a snicker from his brother.
“You think that’s funny?” Alex asked his protestant minister uncle.
Uncle John shrugged. “I’m used to it. I grew up with him. He may be six years my senior, but I was not immune from hearing his tasteless remarks. You know he only says half the things he says and does half the things he does for a reaction. And, my dear nephew, he seems to have gotten the reaction he desired from you.”
Alex shook his head. His entire family was insane, there was nothing else for it. “You’re not used to it,” Alex said suddenly. “Just last year, he shocked you when he asked Paul a rather personal question about his relationship with your youngest daughter.”
His uncle snorted. “It wasn’t the words that shocked me. I was merely surprised he’d been so bold as to ask the poor man such a question in front of a room full of people.”
Father and Alex both shook their heads. “Say what you wish, brother, you were not merely surprised. You looked furious. Which, don’t get me wrong, I do understand. I would be rather uncomfortable in your position, too. But someone had to ask the man, he wasn’t offering up any useful information.”
Raising his hands, Uncle John said, “All right, I admit I was shocked. But not nearly as shocked as Paul.” He smiled. “My discomfort was a small price to pay for the look on that man’s face. He and I had previously had several awkward conversations privately, but none quite like that.”
“While I’m glad I could be of help to you in making your son-in-law squirm,” Father drawled, shifting back against his pillows. “This talk of making others uncomfortable does nothing in helping Alex in his quest of a bride.”
Alex tensed. Did even his own father think him incapable of anything but studying? Everyone else did. He just hoped at least one person could see him as more than that. He stood. “While I’ve enjoyed listening to your invaluable advice about letting my privates lead my decisions, I must be going.”
Father sighed. “That’s not what I said. I hope you don’t leave this room only remembering that. I said to rely on your feelings and think with other parts of your body.” He made a sound of aggravation and ran his hand through his hair, pulling it before letting it go. “Alex, ladies are told they’re not supposed to enjoy certain attentions from a man. But they do. Or they can, if it’s done right.” He took another swig of water. “What I’m trying to tell you is I think you’ll have better success if you quit being so damned logical all the time.”
“He has a point,” Uncle John said quietly, steepling his hands in front of him. “As much as I don’t like to think about my children in such a manner, all three of my daughters seem very happy with their husbands. I’d be blind if I didn’t see the affection passed between them and their husbands.”
“Yes, you would have to be blind,” Father retorted with a snort. “For pity’s sake, John, in less than two years you’ve managed to marry off all three of your daughters, gain two grandchildren, and you have two more on the way.”
His brother smiled brightly. “You’re right. I’ll admit, I think you’re right about where their happiness stems from. And I’m big enough to admit that even if I didn’t approve of two of my three daughters’ husbands at first, I am very pleased with how everything turned out.”
“See?” Father said smugly. “I was right.”
“Well, none of this will even matter if Caroline doesn’t wish to marry me. I’ll not force my attentions on her,” Alex repeated firmly. “We’ll not be forced to marry due to a scandal.” His statement struck a nerve with his uncle, Alex just didn’t care. He had no wish to bring shame to Caroline. It wasn’t her fault his father had stupidly made a betrothal agreement; therefore, he couldn’t see any reason to expose her to public censure.
“That’s fine,” Father said testily. “I’m just giving you a bit of advice I’d wished my father had given me. My marriage was arranged for me. However, I was fortunate to be paired with your mother. You’re not going to be so fortunate with Lady Olivia.” The sour look on his face that accompanied his words made a wicked idea form in Alex’s brain.
“You never know, we just might suit,” he drawled with a shrug.
Father’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”
He leaned against the doorjamb. “I just might have to. It was a binding contract you signed, wasn’t it?”
“That was a foolish mistake on my part. But it can be rectified if you marry another. You still have nearly a month.”
Alex shoved his hands in his pocket and ran his thumb around the edge of his pocket watch. “Yes, but you seem doubtful in my ability to find another bride. Perhaps I should just resign myself to the idea of making Olivia my bride, and one day Baroness Watson. If I post the banns today, we could have the wedding on my birthday.”
“Son, stop talking,” Father croaked. “You have no idea what marriage to that harpy would be like.”
Alex bit back a smile at the twin expressions of what he interpreted to be horror that had come over the other men’s faces. Schooling his features to look impassive, he said, “Aren’t all females the same in the dark?”
A gagging, choking, strangled sound emerged from father’s throat. “Hell, no. And how can you even think of bedding her?”
He couldn’t, but he wasn’t about to admit to them that in the event he was forced to marry her, he’d not even come close to consummating the marriage. Elijah could inherit Alex’s title upon his death for all Alex cared. “Don’t I owe it to the barony to secure an heir?” he drawled, willing his stomach to calm down.
“Elijah or Elijah’s son can inherit,” Father said tightly. “I want to sleep soundly in my grave, not spin in circles at the gut wrenching possibility of any spawn of Lady Olivia getting my title.”
“Who knows, Edward, he might only have girls. I did,” Uncle John said, rubbing his forearm like he was suffering a chill.
“That’s possible,” Father said excitedly. “Perhaps you should just assume Lady Olivia is unable to give you a son and stay away from her bedchamber.”
“I’m not a monk. I’m not about to make a vow of eternal celibacy. And you never know, the nights might get cold, and I might get lonely,” Alex replied as smoothly as he could while trying not to choke on his own tongue.
Father crossed his arms. “There are precautions a man can take.”
“But why would I do that?”
“So she doesn’t conceive,” Father said as if he were talking to a simpleton.
Alex made his eyes go wide. “But I might want children, you know? And what of you? You seem awfully jealous of Uncle John and the fact he’s been made a grandfather nearly four times over. Wouldn’t you love a little plump, flame-haired, freckle-faced urchin to dandle on your knee while he—or she—caterwauls and screams at you to tell another story?”
“Oh, Alex, please stop. That mental image is going to give me nightmares,” Father said, pushing on his eyes with the tips of his fingers.
Uncle John laughed. “At least my grandchildren are attractive. Their fathers may be scoundrels, but at least they’re handsome scoundrels.”
Father laid his head down on his pillow and sighed. “It really doesn’t matter. We all know I won’t be around to see any of my grandchildren, no matter who the parents.”
A hush fell on the room as everyone contemplated the reality of his words. It was true he wouldn’t be around to meet any of his grandchildren. But he would likely be around to see who Alex married. At the least, he could go to his grave in peace, knowing his title would be passed to a decent sort, preferably the son Alex created with Caroline.
Alex moved to the door. “Rest well, Father. I’ve not given up hope on Caroline.”
Chapter 9
Caroline slipped out the servants’ door and walked down the path that led down to the storage shed where her telescope was presently stored. After the uncomfortable end to yesterday’s visit at Alex’s, she honestly didn’t expec
t him to call on her today. She assumed he only asked to be polite. She stopped walking. When had she ever been told of Alex Banks saying something only to be polite? Never. He was polite of course, and always a perfect gentleman, but she’d never heard rumors of him only saying something out of politeness and not following through. She glanced at the house before shrugging and continuing her walk to the shed. If he really was coming, he could speak to Marcus while he waited for her to come back. Right now she had no desire to go back in that house.
Olivia had been on a tirade ever since she’d gotten in the carriage in Bath. She’d ranted on and on about how it was all Caroline’s fault her foot was broken and how the bath had done nothing to heal it. Caroline let her words fly in one ear then immediately tumble out the other as she stared out the window and prayed they’d get home soon.
This morning, Olivia wanted to whine and complain about her blasted wedding to Arid Alex again, and Caroline could take it no more. She no longer was only irritated when Olivia spoke about him and marriage to him that way; she’d also discovered she had a slight pain in her chest as well. A slight pain she had no business feeling. Alex was Olivia’s intended, not hers. She shouldn’t be entertaining any thoughts about him unless directly related to their experiment—pardon, campaign—or the fact he was about to be her cousin’s husband. Anything else was not for her to think of.
A strong gust of wind caught Caroline’s skirts and she nearly tripped. Righting herself, she swallowed an unladylike phrase she’d like to direct at Olivia. If it weren’t for Olivia, her telescope wouldn’t be stored in the shed. And if her telescope wasn’t in the shed, she wouldn’t presently be outside being blown about. But her telescope was in the shed, which was actually the safest place for it as far as Caroline was concerned.
A few years ago Uncle Joseph had allowed her to set it up in the drawing room. The location was perfect for Caroline to stargaze from the warmth of the house. The location also seemed to be an ideal place for Olivia to use the telescope to hang flower pots, dirty stockings, drying laundry, or anything else she could find around the house to drape over it. Caroline repeatedly asked her not to, and as usual, her request was ignored. She would have moved the telescope to her room and been done with it, but the only window in her room had a giant tree just outside it. Marcus had offered to have a building erected for it. She’d refused, of course. It was one thing to rely on him and his family for her basic needs. She couldn’t possibly accept something so extravagant from him. Therefore, she’d resigned herself to allowing it to be stored in the shed.
“Wait,” a man’s voice called from behind her, halting her steps and speeding up the pace of her heart.
“Alex! What are you doing here?”
He smiled at her. “I asked if it was all right to come by. You said I could. So here I am.”
She blushed. He’d really come! “Yes, I remember the conversation.”
“Good. What are you doing out here?”
She shot a quick glance at the storage shed and bit her lip. “Getting my telescope,” she said at last, hoping he’d not object to her getting it out by herself.
“Why? It’s not quite noon.” He leaned with his shoulder against the side of the building.
“I know. It’s for tonight. If my math is correct, there’s to be a lunar eclipse tonight.” She shook off the dirt that had blown onto her green skirt.
He nodded. “Your math is correct. But you don’t need a telescope to see the eclipse, you know.” His mouth was bent in a smile that took the starch right out of her knees.
“I know that,” she said defensively. “I just wanted to look at the constellations and planets while I waited for it.”
“I can understand that,” he said, looking around. “Where is it?”
“What?”
“Your scope.”
She pointed one finger to the shed. “In there.”
He blinked at her. “You store it in the shed?”
“No. Yes.” She cleared her throat. “It’s safer than in the house.”
“I can understand why,” he muttered, moving his hands to the lock. “Where’s the key?”
“I have it. What are you doing?”
He held his hand out with his palm up. “I’m going to get it out for you.”
“I’ll get it,” she said quickly, tightening her grip around the key. There was no way she was going to allow him in that disastrous shed.
He frowned. “I’ve a lot of ungentlemanly behavior to make up for as far as you’re concerned. Let me demonstrate my good manners by getting your scope.”
“No.” Caroline shook her head wildly. That shed was offensive, to say the least. Olivia didn’t believe in throwing anything away. Ever. That shed was full of all sorts of odd and ends from Olivia’s past. Most of which amounted to broken or stray pieces of outdoor games, torn paint canvases, ripped or broken furniture, outgrown clothes, and anything else Olivia couldn’t bear to part with for some sentimental purpose or another.
“Why not?” he asked, crossing his arms and blocking the door.
“Alex, please, if there was ever a time not to ask questions, this might be it.”
He didn’t budge.
She sighed. “That shed has a lot of personal things of Olivia’s, and she’d be unhappy if she knew you’d been in there.”
He looked like he didn’t believe her at first. “Very well. But as soon as you get your scope out of there, I’m going to carry it for you. No arguments.”
“Agreed.”
Alex moved out of her way and she unlocked the door, simultaneously sending up a prayer pleading that everything would not fall out as soon as she opened the door. Slowly, she cracked the door just far enough to be able to go slip in and said a prayer of thanksgiving when nothing fell out.
Pushing her way inside, she paused a minute and let her eyes adjust to the dimly lit little room. Three of the walls were solid brick and mortar, but the far wall had a window that was about two feet tall and ran the length of the wall.
“This is a mess,” she muttered, squinting at the giant pile of junk that was heaped in the little space.
She did a quick scan of the shed to find her telescope and sighed. Of course her telescope was over in the back corner. Where else had she expected it to be? The front? No. That would be too convenient and heaven forbid Olivia allow Caroline to get to her telescope without having to work for it. She bit her lip. Perhaps she should just go fetch a footman to dig it out for her. She shook her head. She was already here. Besides, if she left the shed now, Alex would insist he’d get it for her, and the last thing she wanted was for him to see the inside of this shed.
“Need any help?” Alex called impatiently from outside.
“No,” she said, stepping over a broken easel. “I’ve got it.”
She lifted her leg as high as she could so as not to knock over a stack of moldy, leather-bound tomes. Sadly, her hard work was for naught and the heavy fabric of her skirts sent them tumbling as she lowered her foot back to the rubbish pile on the other side of the stack. “Good gracious,” she said between clenched teeth as she tried to yank her skirt out from under the books that had just fallen on it.
“Caroline, are you sure you don’t wish for any help? I couldn’t care less about seeing your cousin’s tokens of her girlhood,” Alex said loudly.
“I’m almost done, I promise,” she lied, wishing it was the truth. She turned her attention back to her skirt which was now trapped under what used to be a not-so-tidy stack of ruined books. She needed to get free. Clutching a fistful of her skirt, she jerked a little harder than necessary—partly because of haste, partly from pure irritation. The jerk did not free her skirt; instead, she lost her balance and gave a high pitched yelp as she collapsed on top of the junk.
“I heard that,” Alex said tightly, opening the door. “Hell’s afire, Caroline. You could have been seriously hurt digging around in this rubbish.” He walked over to where she was laying and picked her up
with more care than she imaged him capable of. He set her down on a somewhat flat area and kept his arm wrapped around her for support. “Where’s the scope.”
She inclined her chin a notch to stave off her extreme embarrassment. “In the corner.”
His eyes went to the corner. “I see it. You wait outside and I’ll get it.”
“No. I’ll help,” she protested.
“No, you’ll wait outside. Now.”
She sighed. “Fine. But please leave the drape on it until you get it outside. I don’t want it to get scratched.”
He nodded.
Caroline stood outside the shed and waited, trying not to smile or grimace as she listened to Alex mumbling phrases she couldn’t quite make out, but somehow knew they were inappropriate nonetheless. Two minutes later, he emerged holding her telescope over his head, one hand on the tube of the telescope and the other supporting it at the base where it attached to the tripod.
“Thank you,” she said, blushing. She wasn’t an extremely neat person, but she’d be deathly embarrassed if he thought she kept her things that way.
“No problem,” he said, setting her telescope down with care. “Have you ever heard the term blivet?”
Caroline stood frozen and stared at him. She knew what a blight was. She gave her head a little shake. That’s probably what he said. “I believe so, yes.”
He cocked one eyebrow at her. “Is that so? My father used to use that term, I always assumed he’d made it up,” he informed her quietly, untying the ties at the bottom of the drape. “When I was a boy, my father would come into my room and look around at all my specimens and instruments and say, ‘Boy, this room is a blivet.’ I just thought he was saying my room was a mess. Then, when I was about fifteen, my father came to visit me at Eton during the middle of the term. He walked into the room Marcus and I were sharing, let out a low whistle and said, ‘Boys, this room is a blivet and a half.’ Marcus looked bewildered and I was about to explain to him Father thought our room was a mess, but just as I got my mouth open, my father shook his head and said, ‘Marcus, a blivet is when a man has a box or a bag that is designed to hold five pounds worth of stuff and he tries to shove ten pounds worth of stuff into it instead. And you boys are trying to shove fifteen pounds into this five pound room.’”
