“Alison.” The vague voice grew to a loud whisper.
Mr. Foster had a face handsome enough to make women swoon, so she couldn’t expect him to choose her, but she’d opened her heart to the man and he hadn’t even noticed as it plopped to the dirt at his feet.
“Alison!” The voice hissed in a fierce whisper this time.
Alison winced, jerked her thumb from between her lips, and turned to face her sister, Charlotte. “Oh, dear.”
Charlotte leaned in. “I see Mama’s suggestion to smear your thumb with sour milk didn’t work.”
Alison shook her head. “It only cured me of drinking milk. No, it seems I’m forever flawed. I don’t think I will ever break the worst of my habits.”
“Try again. As Mama always says”—her eyebrow rose in imitation of Mother’s haughty expression—”’you must eternally struggle to overcome your unladylike qualities, if you are to marry well, my girls.’”
With all the unladylike qualities Alison possessed, it would be an eternal struggle.
Alison sighed, gazing toward Mr. Foster who. “Mama wouldn’t consider my choice ‘marrying well.’“
Charlotte placed her petite hand on Alison’s forearm. “Of course she would. If Lord Warsben dies, Mr. Foster will be heir presumptive to a duke.”
“And if not, he is merely a gentleman. The son of a knight with little fortune to speak of.”
“Mama loves him. We all do. He’s interesting.”
“Even if Mama approved, I have no idea how I would turn his eye.” If only her friend, Valera, would arrive. Vallie would certainly know what to do. “I have never seen anyone distract him from his experiments and calculations. In fact, in the past six years, I’ve seldom heard him speak of anything other than science.”
She peeked across the library from the corner of her eye. Papa said something and Mr. Foster smirked, a rarely seen crooked smile that made her heart race, and her insides pulled, as if trying to force her in his direction.
“The only time you aren’t talking about science is when we have visitors. Even then it’s only because Mama won’t allow it.” Charlotte grinned and her dimple peeked out of hiding. “That, my dear sister, is why you appreciate him so.”
Holding her thumb in her fist, Alison turned away from the thick eyebrows and piercing brown eyes that drew her in. She had to admit it; his love of science was what appealed to her most. For the most part, because science appealed to her most too. Science made sense. Using science and intellect, one could closely predict an outcome. With people, one could never be certain. It was as if their emotions and opinions changed with the tide.
Life would be blissful if she could spend every moment engaged in experiments with Mr. Foster, his strong arm and brilliant mind showing new wonders every day.
What she had done before hadn’t worked. Could she really risk her heart again? Alison sighed. “You still aren’t telling me how to catch his interest. I laugh too loud, and always at the wrong moments. I speak of things I should never mention, according to Mama. I try to behave like a lithe swan, but I inevitably end up a loping turtle.”
“First, you stop staring and go speak to him. It’s not as if you haven’t been introduced. Simply ask if he intends to stay for the entire party.” Of a sudden, Charlotte’s eyes grew wide. “The pendant. Aldora gave it to you, didn’t she?”
Alison frowned, not wanting to admit it was resting in her pocket—or that she hoped the gypsy had a little magic after all. Alison shook her head to deny her own thought. “No.”
“She didn’t?”
“No, she did. She gave it to me, but it’s silly. I’m a woman of science, not fairy stories. After all, what does a pendant know about social status, or love, or wooing dukes? And besides, Mr. Foster is not a duke, so how could the pendant lead to his heart? “
“He’s not a duke now, but he is close enough, I think. Put it on and speak with him. I’m sure he’ll see—”
Alison held up a hand to halt her sister, and to keep her fingers from reaching inside her pocket to touch the pendant, as they longed to do. “I don’t believe in magic. I believe in the real facts of the world around me. In science two chemicals may attract, but love is an inexplicable explosion of light, like a thousand invisible fireflies floating through the ether.”
“Love?”
The blood rushed from her cheeks. “Er, magic. I meant magic. It is not provable or repeatable. So I will believe in science, not some silly chunk of metal.”
“All right, all right.” Charlotte lifted her thin shoulders in an elegant and almost imperceptible shrug only a sister would recognize. “It was only a suggestion.”
“Well . . .” She glanced at Mr. Foster, then to Papa. Her stomach fluttered. If the pendant made Mr. Foster notice her, even for a moment, perhaps she should wear it. “If it will make you feel better, I will get it. I believe I remember where I put it, but I’ll have to search a bit.”
Charlotte’s eyes twinkled. “It would make me very happy.”
Without another word, Charlotte all but floated across the room, and Alison turned back toward Mr. Foster. Her gaze met eyes the color of rich earth specked with gold dust. A shock shivered over her skin, making her jaw drop and her shoulders jerked back. His brow furrowed.
Alison glanced away and closed her eyes, chiding herself for the blatant reaction and wishing she could be Charlotte, with grace enough for any society event. But she wasn’t. No one could seem to show her how to suppress her body’s natural instincts. Her mother had tried. Her governess had spent hours on the subject. Alison had made every effort to follow their instruction, but to no avail.
“Are you well, Lady Alison?” Mr. Foster asked.
“Oh my!” Alison pivoted and her hand flew to her chest as those invisible fireflies fluttered along her skin. “Why, yes. I, er. It’s only that you startled me.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, then held out a hand. “That you’re well, not that I startled you.”
She held up her hands to show she already understood and he needn’t explain. “Oh, of course.”
He stood close enough she could smell his scent. Burnt charcoal, some woodsy aroma, and a deeper and more masculine scent beneath it. The exciting combination made her skin prickle.
“Will you stay through the week’s end?” Alison gripped the pendant in her pocket. If only she could trust that bit of metal to bring her the man she truly wanted. “Or will you leave in the morning?”
“Yes, I do believe I will remain for the duration.”
“To regale us all with your intriguing tales of inventing and science?” She leaned in, hoping he might speak of his latest work with her.
Mr. Foster’s eyelids lowered and he glanced at the door. “Perhaps.”
Her chest went hollow as his waning interest became more obvious. “Will you tell us more about your latest invention?”
His gaze became distant—an expression she’d seen all too often. “Yes, you’re quite right.”
Alison fought a sigh. He wasn’t listening anymore and soon he’d make an excuse to leave and rush off to his notes.
“I hear my father intends to hold some sort of competition. Will you be participating?”
Then he caught her eye and smiled. His gaze, all of a sudden warm as her morning chocolate and twice as stimulating, held hers for an instant before he bowed. “It is a pleasure to see you again. I believe I shall have to excuse myself until the meal. My forgetful mind calls me to action. I have a few ideas of merit to write in my journal before they slip away.”
Alison bobbed as he nodded his farewell, and a moment later, she was alone again. Dalton’s Law! It seemed no matter what she did, how she spoke, or how well she behaved, his mind remained engaged in his scientific studies. Alison shook her head. And Charlotte truly believed Alison might win him over?
Chapter Two
Jonathan Foster glanced at his hastily scribbled notes, which covered a full sheet of foolscap in both directions,
then returned it to his pocket and took his guard. His valet, Franklin, stood across from him in the center of the gardens, blunted sword in hand. Though it was not Franklin’s job, the man had swiftly become Jonathan’s sparring partner. Sparring set the body in motion and freed the mind to think.
“I will win out over Sir Humphry Davy this time.” He couldn’t remain in Lady Alison’s presence for more than a few minutes without thinking of how he hadn’t bested the man. Her shy yet intelligent gaze constantly reminded him that if he never made a name for himself, never invented or discovered anything great, he would never be worthy of her affection or respect. Jonathan swung his sword and it clanged against Franklin’s blade.
“I’m certain you will.”
Jonathan gritted his teeth, imagining Davy across from him, though he’d never actually seen the man, so it was a bit difficult. But Davy was his personal bane. If Jonathan was researching something, Davy published his findings first. If Jonathan was working on an invention, such as the lamp he was currently designing, Davy would surely swoop in and invent it first. When Jonathan sneezed, someone said “God bless you” to Davy. The man had been one step ahead of him for years, and while they’d never met, it seemed Jonathan couldn’t step out from the man’s shadow.
He set forward in a ferocious attack. “Damned right I will. If I don’t, I’ll never be able to wed.”
Franklin puffed, brow furrowed as he desperately blocked the blows. “I’m not certain I see the connection. I wasn’t even aware you wanted a wife.”
“Of course I do. Like any man, I want a companion and a mother for my children. What’s more, I’ve known for more than a year now precisely whom I would choose.” Jonathan sidestepped, blocking a strike. “Her beauty and intelligence are beyond compare.” And she had a hint of vulnerability he found appealing. “More importantly, she understands science better than any other woman I’ve met—and most men, if truth be told.”
He allowed himself to be distracted by the image of her widening eyes, her thumbnail tucked between her lips in a sensual imitation of—the blunted edge of Franklin’s blade struck his shoulder, and he glanced up with a frown.
“You certainly have chosen a distracting bride. That’s the first blow I’ve landed in an age.” Franklin grinned sheepishly. “So why haven’t you claimed her? You’re a good man with a respectable family name.”
Jonathan sighed and took his guard again. “And nothing else to recommend me. I can support her needs, but I can’t give her what a woman really wants. I must do something great to make myself worthy. Women don’t want an average man.” Or worse, one constantly in the shadow of another man.
“Any woman you would choose wouldn’t care about any such thing,” Franklin said as Jonathan’s blade struck his chest, dead center. “Easy there, please. If you ran me through, you’d have to find a new valet.”
“The blade is blunt and you’re strong as an ox. Now stop your sniveling and take your guard.”
Franklin glowered, but his eyes shimmered with amusement as he lifted his blade. “Women only want three things, if you’ll forgive my blunt tongue. Strength, security, and a good lover.”
“You forgot ‘a little notoriety.’ What woman would choose a peasant over a king?”
“You’re far from a peasant.”
Jonathan stepped in, knocking Franklin’s blade aside, then circled around to stab his thigh. “Be that as it may, I aimed to give her all those things, even if it kills me.”
“You are the best swordsman in all of England, I’d wager. Show her your skill.” Franklin lunged.
“It may have awed my father,” Jonathan said, swiping away the man’s weapon, “but such a masculine and earthy display would never impress her.”
Jonathan attacked, his weapon striking Franklin in the stomach.
The man grabbed his gut. “Come, let’s return to your rooms before you kill me. Besides, if I don’t ready you now, you will be late for the meal. We can think of a plan later.”
“No need to think on it later.” Jonathan handed away his sword and touched the folded sheet of foolscap. “I plan to start with my name in all the scientific journals, then I will claim my bride.”
Alison pressed her lips together, all too aware of the pendant in her pocket. She’d been battling the illogical desire to wear the thing. As a believer in science, she shouldn’t want to wear it. How could she listen to Mr. Foster speak of his studies if she were wearing the superstitious icon of an age gone by? Still, she wanted nothing more than to please her family, and with the interest Mr. Foster showed her, she might well wait for him forever.
She removed the pendant and stared at it for a moment. Perhaps she should just make up her mind to wear the thing and find a husband. Then, if her birthday came and even the pendant couldn’t make Mr. Foster offer for her, she would accept whatever man offered. Maybe she could find a way to be happy, even if she had to forget her dreams of science and a certain very scientific man. Her heart sank but she successfully fought her sigh.
Alison started down the empty corridor vaguely aware of the sound of low voices. She slipped the chain around her neck, but held the pendant between her fingertips. She couldn’t bring herself to release it into place against her skin. There had been handsome men, at the balls and events in London, and she’d even found her heart beating a bit faster once or twice, when she’d believed one might ask her to dance—none had, of course. This was different though. When she released this pendant, it meant possibly having to give up on what she truly wanted. She would focus on finding a husband, no matter who he might be.
“Alison!” Vallie’s voice startled her from her thoughts.
Her fingers released the pendant without her permission and for a second she stared at it. Vallie, who stood together with Papa and Charlotte, started toward her, her grin as full of sunshine as her hair. Behind her, the others hurried off toward the dining room with an oddly swift stride that Alison couldn’t consider with the pendant’s odd foreignness against her skin.
“Oh, you’re wearing the pendant?” Happiness wrote itself over Vallie’s glowing cheeks. “Does that mean some duke or other has caught your eye?” Then her expression fell. “Not Langley?”
“Not precisely,” Alison said, her gaze returning to where the pendant rested against her skin. “But I do need to find a husband.”
Now she would have to accept one on her birthday, no matter what. Still, it might be Mr. Foster. She shouldn’t believe in such silliness . . . but her friends had all married. Oh, perhaps not to dukes, as the gypsy had promised, but they’d still all found delightful men to love.
“Well, thank goodness you haven’t fallen prey to Langley’s charm.” Vallie snorted at her own joke.
Alison bit her lip to avoid admitting that she was considering the Duke of Langley. She had no choice. Mama had invited him, which meant he had expressed interest in marrying her, and he was an influential man. If she didn’t choose him, Papa would. After all, her maid had informed her that the only other eligible bachelor invited was an elderly baron. Papa and Mama couldn’t have made her choice plainer than if they had arranged her marriage.
Vallie took Alison’s hands. “You look lovely. Any man would be happy to have you. Why, I bet they will be fighting to spend time with you.”
Alison’s gaze returned to the pendant, as if drawn to it. “You always did know what to say to make me feel better.”
“Come now. Charlotte said the cook has been working on dinner most of the day. I’ll bet it will be spectacular. Let’s see what excitement dinner will bring.”
Alison let out a nervous giggle, dragging her eyes from the pendant, as Vallie linked arms with her and together they walked down the long corridor.
A moment later, Alison sat at the full table two seats down from Vallie, whose new husband, the Earl of Ravenswood, was positioned across from her. The two couldn’t take their eyes from one another. Alison grinned, using her napkin to cover the expression. Seeing them tog
ether was bitter sweet. Her friend was in high spirits, and Alison was glad to see it, but along with it came the acute knowledge that the one man who made her feel as blissful as Vallie looked would never belong to her.
Alison pushed the trout around her plate and peeked past the deep frown and dark curls of the Duke of Langley, then returned her gaze to him. In a surprising break with tradition, instead of placing the high-ranking duke next to Papa, Mama had placed him beside Alison. After seating him, Mama had personally escorted an elderly and quite deaf baron to the other seat beside Alison. She should speak with the duke, but her gaze kept moving past him and down the table to the disheveled hair and stubble-covered cheeks of a certain man. Mr. Foster had almost caught her looking once, but she’d shifted her gaze to the duke and pretended to be deep in conversation.
She fought a sigh. “Did you enjoy your trip through the countryside, Your Grace?”
He peered over at her and she burst out with a too-loud giggle, uncomfortable with the directness of his gaze. His shoulders stiffened in a haughty manner. She lifted her napkin again. Why had she even tried to speak with anyone? She should have taken to her bed with a headache or feminine complaints. Surely those would work, even during this particular gathering.
He arched an eyebrow. “The carriage was uncomfortable and the trip too long.”
“Oh.” Alison glanced down the table to find Jonathan’s gaze on her, he held his fork perfectly still now, his stare intent. A voice in her head screamed that she was doing something she shouldn’t—speaking with another man when her heart knew what it wanted. Heat flushed her skin, and she glanced at her father, who smiled and didn’t appear perturbed by her outburst in the least. In fact, it was almost the opposite. Obviously, it pleased Papa to see her talking to the duke, even if she wasn’t being entirely proper. She turned back to the duke. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
The Heart of a Duke Page 25
