An Unsuitable Bride

by Jane Feather

  Master Langham took a magnifying glass from the inside pocket of his jacket and with a murmured “May I?” bent to examine the first book.

  His air of reverence reassured Alexandra, who came closer. “You see the binding on this volume?” She ran a finger down the gilded spine. “I understand the engraving originated in a monastery in Perugia in the fourteenth century.”

  Master Langham lifted the book and held it to the light, examining the spine through his glass. “ ’Tis exquisite,” he murmured. “I have never seen its like, ma’am.”

  “ ’Tis one of a kind, sir. Which I believe is true of every volume in the collection. Lord Dewforth will be purchasing a priceless library.”

  “But I daresay, ma’am, you have a price in mind,” he observed drily, raising his head to look at her.

  “That, sir, is a matter for the market,” she responded with a cool smile. “There are other interested buyers. I would be doing a disservice to my employer by taking a first offer.”

  “Mmm. Indeed,” he muttered, returning to his examination of the remainder of the volumes.

  When the door knocker sounded at four o’clock, she said, “Forgive me, Master Langham, but I have another interested purchaser.” Smiling, she moved to the door to the library. “Perhaps you would let me know your decision at your earliest convenience.”

  He moved with her to the door. “May I ask who my rival might be?”

  “I believe Mr. Murdock is interested, sir.”

  He grimaced a little but then said, “I suppose that was only to be expected. I will consult with Lord Dewforth immediately.”

  “I will wait to hear from you most eagerly, sir.” She bobbed a curtsy in response to his bow and hid a smile of satisfaction. She was doing Stephen a great service, but at the same time, she was going to ensure that her father’s precious library went to a worthy owner. She was going to keep just one volume for herself: the Chaucer, which her father had long ago promised to her. Yet another promise that he had forgotten to keep. She had it at the bottom of her portmanteau in her chamber abovestairs and had already decided to leave it with Peregrine for safekeeping when she returned to Combe Abbey. Stephen would never notice its absence, if indeed he had ever remarked its presence. She had no intention of selling it, but simply to possess it filled her with a sublime pleasure.

  “A Mr. Murdock, ma’am,” Billings intoned from the doorway.

  Alexandra turned with a smile and an extended hand. “Welcome, sir.”

  Silence reigned in the library while the prospective purchaser examined the books. Finally, he straightened, letting his quizzing glass fall to his chest. “Your employer is Sir Stephen Douglas, is that so?”

  “It is.”

  “Why the devil’s he want to sell the library? Any man would be honored to own it. Sir Arthur would be spinning in his grave.”

  Alexandra concealed her expression by turning away for a moment. When she spoke, she said softly, “That’s as may be, sir. But ’tis not relevant to the sale of his library. Sir Stephen has instructed me to sell it, and I am obeying instruction.”

  “Hmm.” He stroked his chin, regarding her with a frown. “There was a Chaucer in the library, as I recall. Beautiful piece. ’Tis still there, I trust.”

  “No, sir. Sir Arthur left the Chaucer to his daughter on his death. But ’tis the only volume missing.”

  “Pity,” he muttered. “It was the gem of the collection.”

  “There are many gems, sir.”

  He said nothing, continuing to stroke his chin, frowning at the volumes on the table. “Well, ma’am, I will think about a bid, and I will let you know.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Murdock.” She curtsied and moved to show him to the door. He left without a backwards glance, and Alex stood for a moment in the hall, wondering if she’d overplayed her hand. But then she shook her head, dispelling the notion. The library was her hand, and it was impossible to overplay it with hungry bibliophiles such as Lord Dewforth and Adam Murdock.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Peregrine was sitting beside the fire, staring morosely into the flames, a glass of claret in his hand. He couldn’t imagine what Alexandra was doing at the moment. He knew her when she was playing the diffident Mistress Hathaway with her employers, and he knew her when she was flamboyantly displaying her talents as Mistress Player. He knew her as a passionate lover, eager to learn, and he knew her as a learned scholar, demon chess player, and outrageous manipulator.

  Which of these roles was she playing that afternoon as she played one prospective buyer off against another? A mélange of several roles, he decided. But she would be in control. Of that he was confident. He was about to abandon his fireside and go in search of some outside stimulation when he heard a carriage draw up outside the house. Curious, he went to the window.

  The carriage was a hired post chaise, and the postilion was letting down the footstep. Peregrine knew who its passengers were the instant before his twin stepped down to the street. Sebastian stood for a moment, straightening his coat, looking up at the house, before he turned and lifted a young woman with hair the color of jet down to the street beside him.

  Peregrine felt a surge of delight. He and Sebastian had spent so little time apart over their lives that the last months of separation had been a sore trial. He hurried from the parlor and wrenched open the front door. “Seb, I’d almost despaired of hearing from you.” He flung his arms around his twin, who hugged him in a close, wordless embrace. Only then did they break apart as Perry turned to greet his twin’s companion, who was standing placidly to one side, watching the brothers’ reunion with an understanding smile.

  “Serena . . .” He bowed over her hand and then laughed and kissed her warmly. “Why didn’t you warn me? We have nothing prepared.”

  “And we need nothing prepared, Perry,” Serena reassured him. “As long as there’s still a bedchamber and Bart to bring up hot water—”

  “And as long as there’s claret in the decanter, m’boy,” Sebastian declared. He turned to direct the postilion and the coachman to untie their luggage from the chaise. “So, Perry, what have you been up to?”

  “Oh, rather a lot,” his twin said with a chuckle. “Come in out of the cold.” He ushered his sister-in-law into the house with an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sure Mistress Croft could rustle up something.”

  “I only need to get out of my travel dirt,” Serena said. “We’ve come from Dover this morning, and the crossing from Calais was brutal. I feel as if I have salt encrusted on my eyelids.”

  The housekeeper appeared in the hall as they came in from the street. “Why, Lord love us. Master Sebastian and Lady Serena. I wish you’d given a bit of warning, sir.”

  “We need very little, Mistress Croft,” Serena said swiftly, shaking the housekeeper’s hand. “ ’Tis so good to see you again. May I ask for some hot water and maybe a cup of your spiced wine? I’ve been dreaming of it since we left Calais.” Her warm smile brought a beam to the housekeeper’s countenance.

  “Aye, that you can, my lady. I’ll have it up to you in a trice. You go on into the parlor, Master Sebastian. I daresay Master Peregrine will take care of you.”

  “Ah, me, relegated to the tender mercies of my brother,” Sebastian said with a mock sigh. “While my darling bride has the undivided attention of the admirable Mistress Croft.” He blew Serena a kiss as she hurried up the narrow staircase, laughing over her shoulder at him.

  The brothers went into the parlor. Peregrine filled a wine glass for his twin. “All is very well, I gather.”

  “Couldn’t be better,” Sebastian said, standing with his back to the fire. “And with you, Perry?” His gaze was sharp and knowing as it rested on his brother’s countenance. “Something is afoot, I’ll lay odds. I know that look in your eye, brother.” He raised his glass in a toast.

  “I can’t deny it,” Perry said placidly, raising his own glass in response. “But tell me, are you home for good now?”

  “Ye
s, I think we’ve satisfied our wanderlust. Serena wishes to rent a house in town—”

  “Whatever for?” his twin interrupted. “There’s room to spare in this house, and why waste money when ’tis in such short supply?”

  Sebastian shrugged. “If it were up to me, we would certainly make this our home, but Serena has some notion of being mistress of her own household. And besides, we don’t wish to cramp your style.”

  Perry shook his head in swift demurral. “You won’t be doing that.” But even as he denied it, he wondered how Alexandra would feel after their marriage about sharing a house with her in-laws.

  “Ah-ha,” Sebastian said with a triumphant chuckle. “You’ve just thought better of that, haven’t you?”

  His twin grinned ruefully. “I have missed you, Seb.”

  “And I you,” Sebastian said warmly. “But come, tell all.”

  “In a nutshell, I have found my unsuitable bride.”

  “Congratulations.” Sebastian’s smile was a little twisted. “I hate to say it, but ’tis a considerable relief, Perry.”

  “Oh, I know it,” Peregrine said without rancor. “But it took me rather longer than you and Jasper to reach an epiphany.”

  “So, who is she? Or, rather, what is she?”

  “A bastard, an embezzler, a fraud, an actor of some considerable skill, and an out-and-out bluestocking. To put it simply, Alexandra has a brilliant mind and happens to be a gross manipulator.”

  Sebastian whistled. “Well, that is a catalogue, indeed. She certainly sounds as if she fits Bradley’s stipulation. What does Jasper say?”

  “He’s only met her briefly. We are bidden for dinner tonight. You and Serena will come, too, of course.”

  “Oh, wouldn’t miss it for the world. And Serena will be happy to see Clarissa again. I was going to call at Blackwater House later this afternoon, but I’ll send Bart with a note inviting us for dinner.” He took another sip of wine, regarding his brother thoughtfully. “So, where is this paragon of unsuitability at the moment?”

  “She’s selling a library of rare books, intent on driving a hard bargain by setting two of the richest bibliophiles in the country at each other’s throats.”

  “Intriguing. And where exactly is she doing this?”

  “In Berkeley Square, her family’s town house, to be precise.”

  Sebastian sat down, stretching his booted feet to the andirons. “All right, Perry. Let’s hear the rest of it. You can’t keep feeding me morsels; I feel like Tantalus.”

  “Hear the rest of what? Morsels of what?” Serena came into the room, speaking through a mouthful of hairpins, twisting the thick mass of black hair into a knot at her nape. “Or am I intruding?” She stuck the pins into the knot in a somewhat haphazard fashion.

  “Not in the least,” Perry said. “It will be easier to tell you both at once; then I won’t have to repeat myself.”

  Serena took a seat with an air of expectation. “Could I have a glass of wine while I’m listening, please?”

  Peregrine poured her a glass and brought it over for her. “If you’re sitting comfortably, I will begin.”

  His audience listened to his tale, their faces registering amusement, astonishment, and finally a fair degree of awe. “She sounds like a remarkable woman,” Serena said when he fell silent.

  “Oh, she is,” Perry agreed. “But she is also utterly exasperating and as stubborn as can be.”

  “That seems an inevitable quality, if you can call it such, with unsuitable brides.” Sebastian chuckled, looking at his wife. “They get themselves into absurd situations and then refuse to be rescued. The knight in shining armor doesn’t appear to figure in their romantic fantasies.”

  “If, indeed, we have such fantasies,” Serena retorted. “I think we’re all too pragmatic for such flights of fancy. We have too much to do to make the world work for us.”

  “Has she seen the viscount yet?” Seb asked.

  “This morning. She dressed in breeches.”

  Sebastian gave a shout of laughter. “That was a happy thought. Right up the old man’s alley. Did he salivate?”

  “Oh, he licked his lips once or twice, but Alexandra gave him his own back. It was a pleasure to watch.”

  Sebastian nodded. “I can imagine. And when’s the happy day?”

  Perry sighed. “I have it in mind to go to Doctors’ Commons in the morning and procure a marriage license. We could be married around the corner in the church on Bolton Street as soon as we wish, as I’ve lived in the parish for well over the necessary fifteen days. But I haven’t as yet presented the case for a speedy wedding to Alexandra.”

  “Will she object?” Serena asked.

  “Probably,” Peregrine said honestly. “But I intend to override those objections.”

  “As we’re all meeting her tonight for the first time, maybe Serena and Clarissa could work a little womanly magic,” Sebastian suggested, glancing interrogatively at his wife.

  “We’ll see,” Serena said firmly. “I know ’tis vital that the marriage take place quickly, but I’m not dragooning anyone into anything.”

  “The old man could slip his mortal coil at any moment,” Sebastian pointed out.

  “I understand that. But if Perry can’t persuade her, then I doubt two complete strangers can do so.” Serena set her lips in a way that Sebastian recognized. He shrugged and gave his twin a rueful shake of his head.

  “No, Serena’s quite right,” Peregrine said. “I’ll talk with Alexandra tonight.” He glanced at the clock. “ ’Tis almost five-thirty. You should send your note to Clarissa, Seb. I told Alexandra I would fetch her at six o’clock, so I’ll walk around to Berkeley Square now and bring her back here. We can all share a hackney to Upper Brook Street.”

  “In that case, I must dress for dinner.” Serena followed Perry from the parlor. “Are you coming up, Seb? You’re looking sadly travel-worn.”

  “On your heels. One must look one’s best on such an occasion.” Sebastian uncurled himself languidly from his chair and went upstairs on the heels of his wife. In their own bedchamber, across the hall from his twin’s, he looked around, smiling at its familiarity. He and Perry had shared the house on Stratton Street for more than six years, since they had first dipped their toes into London’s social scene, but it was time now to set up his own household, particularly in the light of Perry’s news. The house was too small for two married couples, particularly when the wives in question were as strong-willed and independent as he guessed Alexandra was and knew Serena to be.

  Peregrine strolled to Berkeley Square and banged the tarnished knocker on the Douglas house. The door was eventually opened a few inches by the ancient retainer, who peered at the visitor through the crack.

  “Is Mistress Hathaway at home?” Perry tried to keep the impatience from his voice.

  “Reckon so. She’s ’ad visitors all afternoon, bangin’ at the door, givin’ a man no peace.” Billings remained holding the door half closed, still peering around it.

  “Well, you may admit me,” Peregrine said firmly, pushing the door wider and stepping swiftly past the old man into the dingy hall. “Inform Mistress Hathaway that I am waiting to escort her to dinner.”

  Billings sniffed and shuffled off into the back regions. A moment later, a young lad scampered across the hall and up the stairs. He came down within moments and scampered back towards the kitchen without so much as a glance at the visitor.

  Perry tapped his cane against his boot. He had to assume that the boy had taken the message to Alexandra. He paced the hall, examining the various pictures on the wall. A few gloomy landscapes and several portraits of severe gentlemen, all of whom were members of the Douglas family. He stopped in front of one and looked closely. It was of Sir Arthur Douglas. He had the air of an unhappy man, preoccupied and disappointed. His curled white wig sat above a very broad forehead. His nose was Alexandra’s, shapely and aquiline; his mouth was thinner, though, and his eyes were green instead of gray. But then
Alexandra had her mother’s eyes, as Peregrine had already noticed.

  “My father,” Alexandra’s voice said softly from the stairs.

  Peregrine turned from the portrait. “Yes, so I see. You have his nose.” He smiled, as always delightfully surprised at the pleasure he found on seeing her after even a short absence. She was wrapped in a hooded cloak, and he couldn’t see if she’d found yet more discarded treasures in the attic, but that was a pleasure to be anticipated.

  “But little else,” she responded, jumping off the last step. “Oh, except for his love of books.”

  “Was he also a superb chess player?”

  “I learned at the knee of a master,” she conceded, coming over to him. “Are we to go immediately to your brother’s house?”

  “Not immediately. We’ll walk back to Stratton Street; ’tis but a step or two, and the evening is not overly chill. There are some people I would like you to meet.”

  “Oh?” Her eyes sparked with curiosity. “Who?”

  “My twin brother and his wife. They arrived back from the Continent this afternoon.”

  “And you have told them about me.” It was statement, not question. She had long since sensed the bond between Perry and his twin and knew he would not have kept his own circumstances a secret.

  “Yes. I hope you don’t mind.” He opened the front door.

  “No. How should I? In the circumstances, they have a right to know that when and if we wed, I will satisfy your uncle’s stipulations.” She moved past him into the street.

  “What do you mean, if?” he demanded, closing the door behind him with a bang. “We are agreed, are we not?”

  She paused, turning to look at him. “As long as you accept that I have to complete what I started.”

  “God help me,” he said roughly, taking her arm. He began to walk swiftly in the direction of Stratton Street.

  Alexandra found that she almost had to trot to keep up with his long stride and swift pace. “Oh, please, don’t let’s quarrel, Perry, please slow down.”