Chapter 2
Two
“Aunt Aurelia! Alex! Cook is threatening to give notice if the two of you are late again for supper.”
A rustle of silk sounded, followed by a glimmer of silvery hair and a pair of bespectacled eyes as Lady Aurelia Beckworth face appeared from behind a large leatherbound quarto of The Iliad. “Supper?” A note of surprise shaded her voice. “But … but we just had our mid-day meal an hour ago.”
At the other end of the table, Alexandra Chilton—her left cheek liberally smudged with black pigment—closed her sketchbook and squinted at the mantel clock.
“Umm, actually, it was more like five hours ago.” She, too, sounded vaguely surprised. “My apologies, Justin,” she called to her younger brother after setting aside her stick of charcoal. “I fear time has passed rather more quickly than I had imagined.”
“My dear, given my advanced years, it is I who am supposed to say that,” retorted Lady Beckworth as she reluctantly put down her book.
Her voice carried a tone of mild reproval, but there was a twinkle in her hazel-colored eyes.
Though age had brought the inevitable physical changes to her face, it had not dulled the glint of intelligence that radiated from their depths.
There was, however, also a glint of concern as she turned to face her niece. “You, on the other hand,” she said lightly, “should be thinking about the Worthington’s ball, not the leaf structure of verbena patagonica.
“Hmmph.” Alex rubbed her hand absently on the folds of her muslin day dress, leaving a smudges of gray on the fabric. “Why on earth should I be thinking about the Worthington’s ball? I’m not a giddy fresh-from the-schoolroom miss in my first Season. In fact, I’m as good as on the shelf …”
“Now my dear …”
“You know as well as I do that it’s the truth,” countered Alex.
“I’m too old, too opinionated and too poor to attract any offer—decent or otherwise.
And I’m very glad of that!” She made a pained face.
“I’ve yet to meet a man who is interesting enough for me to want to be leg-shackled to him for the rest of my life. ”
Her aunt tried to look shocked, but instead her lips curled up in a wry smile and a chuckle escaped her lips.
“Oh, Aunt Aurelia—how lucky I am that I may freely express my sentiments and know that you will understand how I feel,” said Alex, flashing a look of gratitude at her aunt.
“That you have a sense of humor is yet another gift. Thank heaven that we can both laugh at the foibles of Society—and at ourselves.”
Alex sighed. “My only regret is that we are such a burden on you. If I can find a publisher for my paintings of the flowers of Kent—and Mr. Simpson thinks it is very possible—then I shall have an income, and Justin and I can …”
Lady Beckworth had risen and come to stand by Alex. “My dear, never call yourselves a burden!” She placed a hand on her niece’s shoulder. “You and Justin are treasures to me, not a burden.”
Alex squeezed her aunt’s fragile fingers but kept her face averted as she blinked back the glint of tears.
“Yes, well, it is Justin about whom you should be concerned,” she said in a husky voice.
“It is for his sake that we are spending a Season here. He deserves the chance to acquire a little Town polish—and to convince Anne’s father that he will make her a good match, despite his lack of fortune.
Thus I shall dutifully attend the Worthington’s ball and try not to say or do anything that might disgrace the family name … ”
Another thump reverberated on the heavy oak door, and this time it also flew open to admit a slender young man into the library
“That’s enough dithering, you two!” exclaimed Justin, his hands threading through his tousled sandy curls in mock despair.
But like his sister and aunt, his eyes danced with humor.
“Translating another stanza of Homer into English from the original Greek and discerning the number of stamens in a Nigella damascena will have to wait until tomorrow.”
Drawing his brows together in a mock scowl, he pointed a finger meaningfully towards the hall. “As I said, supper is served. After you, ladies.”
“Shall I put your hair in a bun, milady, or or coil it in a soft chignon?” The maid was forced to ask the question for a second time..
“Oh dear, I fear I was woolgathering, Maggie. A soft chignon, please.” Lady Beckworth shifted in her chair as her long-time retainer continued to style her hair for the coming evening.
But although she was looking straight ahead at the large looking glass on her dressing table, her gaze took in none of the details of her coiffeur.
Her thoughts were focused on her niece and nephew.
How capricious life was, she mused …
To have lost her husband and her brother-in law within weeks of each other had been a cruel blow. But then, the now-orphaned Alex and Justin had come to live with her. She hadn’t thought it possible to feel true happiness again—but to her surprise, she had, in ways she had never imagined.
Lady Beckworth repressed a sigh, not wishing to alarm Maggie. Oh, if only she could find a way to ensure that both Alex and Justin find the same happiness in life as she had. But then again, she knew in her heart how presumptuous it was to think she could—or should—control another’s destiny.
Still, it was hard not to fret about them. Their futures were the most important things in her life.
The future.
Lady Beckworth found her thoughts turning even more brooding. Alex and Justin’s father had been a distant man, even before her sister had died, leaving him with two young children to raise. And he had become increasingly withdrawn over the years, retreating into his own private world of ideas.
She didn’t think he truly comprehended how much the absence of a loving parent had forced his motherless children to fend for themselves, both emotionally as well as having to deal with the realities of keeping a household running with precious little money.
Now nineteen, Justin had grown into a level-headed young man who showed such a sense of responsibility for his family that Lady Beckworth almost wished that he would cut a caper or two, just to assure her that he wasn’t too serious …
But then she reminded herself of his ready wit and warm laughter and knew there was really no danger of that!
And along with his sterling character, Justin possessed a sharp intelligence as well! He had applied himself to his studies at Oxford and his ideas on farming already had her lands turning a modest profit for the first time ever.
Hell’s Bells! Any parents wise enough to look beyond his lack of title or fortune would see that he would make a perfect husband. Indeed, Lady Beckworth didn’t doubt that more than a few young ladies would be developing a tendre for him during this London Season.
However, he seemed to have his heart set on one in particular … And so, with well-placed words here and there among her many connections in the beau monde, she hoped to be able to influence the young lady’s mother and father—
“Do sit still,” murmured Maggie. “I’m almost finished.”
“My apologies again.”
“I know you worry about our young ones, milady.” Her longtime maid gave her a supportive pat on the shoulder, before threading a decorative ribbon through her silvery curls. “It is the way of the world to do so, but they have good hearts and heads.”
Lady Beckworth summoned a quick smile. “Yes, of course you are right.” But in truth it was worries over Alex that kept her awake at night.
It was not that her niece lacked in practicality—if anything, she had too much of it.
Alex had been forced to take on the responsibilities of running a household and raising a younger sibling at an early age.
She had learned to deal with tradesmen and stretch their meager funds while her father went haring off hither and yon on his scholarly adventures.
But Lady Beckworth feared that Alex also displayed some of her father’s penchant for making rash decisions.
“Impetuous” was the word that came to mind when thinking of both father and daughter.
Why else would Marcus have been rushing home in such dismal weather on the night of his death?
No doubt it was to bring some fragile specimen back to his library— even though no rational person would have attempted to drive a carriage along the seaside cliffs.
Alex had that same unwavering determination—as well as the same touch of recklessness.
She had acquired her father’s love for the natural world and had translated it into becoming a very talented botanical painter.
Indeed, the only reason she had agreed to come to Town and take part in the social swirl of the Season was to meet the members of the London Botanical Society, with whom she had been corresponding for several years.
Ye heavens, what an unconventional family they were!
This time, Lady Beckworth couldn’t hold back a sigh, though Maggie tactfully ignored it.
She herself was immersed in finishing the work of her late husband—a translation of Homer’s Iliad.
But at her stage and position in life, she was allowed to be bookish and opinionated—while Alex was in danger of being considered beyond the pale of Society because of her independent-minded ideas and opinions.
Her niece was already considered old for an unmarried young lady.
Heaven forfend that she also garner a reputation for being odd.
Despite what Alex might think, Lady Beckworth was sure it would be a grave mistake for her niece to cut herself off from …
“I think the red shawl goes best with your gown, don’t you, milady?”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.”
Maggie draped the soft cashmere over Lady Beckworth frail shoulders and arranged it into neat folds. “You are late, as you well know,” she said. “Now go along and enjoy the evening—and don’t you be worrying about Alex and Justin. They will manage just fine.”
Hammerton swirled his brandy, eyeing the rich amber color as his mouth curled upwards at the corners.
“I don’t know why you’re looking so devilishly pleased with yourself.
” His cousin, Arthur Standish, turned his head as far as the overly high starched points of his collar allowed.
“I thought you disliked the Icy Earl, so I can’t imagine why you provoked such a wager with him.
” He paused to take a large swallow of his drink.
“Especially since you’ve had precious little luck against him.
I have to say, Branford is bound to win this one, too, given his alley cat reputation in the boudoir.
” A lecherous chuckle. “It’s a wonder his breeches are ever buttoned. ”
Hammerton’s smile grew more pronounced. “Ah, but his conquest will serve my purposes very well. To have the young lady disgraced and her family forced to retreat back to the country is exactly what I want.” A humorless laugh slipped from his lips.
“And to have Branford act as my unwitting pawn makes it even more sweet. My share of the wager—a hundred and some odd pounds—is well worth it to have the beau monde add yet another dishonorable act to his name.”
Standish grunted as he toyed with the buttons on his brightly striped waistcoat. “I say, that’s deuced clever of you. But I’d be very careful in voicing such thoughts aloud.” He darted a glance around the room as if to discern whether anyone else was close enough to have overheard the conversation.
“I’m well aware that most of you are deathly afraid of the earl. Well, I, for one, do not hold him in such awe. I shall prove that his bloody lordship is not half so clever as I am.”
His cousin frowned. “It’s said that he saved Wellington on the Peninsula through both his wits and his courage.”
“That’s the only reason Polite Society still tolerates him. Remember that Branford also as good as murdered his young cousin during the war in order to get the title, the lands and wealth that he now holds.” Hammerton’s grip tightened on his glass. “The earl is nothing but a scoundrel.”
Standish looked quickly around again. “Careful,” he hissed. “I’d caution you not to forget the two duels he fought over a slur to his honor.”
“Have no fear. I won’t be foolish enough to give him any reason to call me out.” A nasty gleam lit in Hammerton’s eyes. “My besting of him will be far more subtle. And far more satisfying.”
“Why do you care about the Miss Chilton being ruined? I thought …”
Hammerton’s lips were still curled in a semblance of a smile. “Because it suits my plan, dear cousin,” he interjected. “Just leave the thinking to me.”