Chapter Eleven
But if I have done the public any service this way, ’tis due to nothing but industry and a patient thought.
—Isaac Newton
Will stared at me, his round face wreathed in disappointment. “Wait, you’re going to be gone for the rest of the term? How is that even possible? What about examinations?”
“My uncle is the Duke of Delmont,” I replied as I packed up a few of my belongings. “He gives a significant endowment to Cambridge. I have important duties I must attend to in London. As far as examinations, I don’t have to take them. They’re only a formality.”
I had no legitimate reason to take the tests, other than to prove something to myself, especially since Ansel was on track to graduate with an ordinary degree, the one most aristocrats aimed for with the minimal amount of study and effort.
He had nothing to prove or to gain. In fact, he probably would have received his degree anyway without me being here this term.
“And your tutor?” Will asked. “Surely he has something to say about your departure?”
“Mr. St. Clair will accompany me to make sure that I stay on track with my studies. It has all already been authorized with the Master of the College. My uncle submitted the formal petition, which was approved.” The letter with my father’s stamp was yet another crime I added to the litany of the ones I’d committed since setting out on my adventures, but was it really hurting anyone?
The college was still getting its money, and Alter Ego Ansel required formal approval to continue his course of study while I was in London.
I stopped my packing to glance at Will. “I will still see you in town. It’s truly not the calamity you’re making it out to be. ”
“I don’t want to lose my friend,” he said morosely, and his sad admission made my heart twinge. “I know the twins and Harold and James are my mates, but you’re the only one I’ve felt close to, since well…you know, the viscountcy.”
I understood what he meant. All the other peers here gave him a wide berth, as if they instinctively knew he wasn’t one of them. Luckily, none of them were part of my immediate set or I’d give them a piece of my mind.
“You won’t lose me and you’re going to be fine. I’ll only be a few hours away. And who knows? I may be back before you know it.”
“It’s already nearly June,” he said. “The term is over next month.”
I moved to stand in front of him, swiping my forearm across my sweaty face. “Will, pull yourself together, for heaven’s sake! This short absence won’t be the end of the world. I’m still enrolled and have no intention of withdrawing before the end of term. We have many weeks left.”
In truth, staying in London for a fortnight or two felt like a bit of a much needed reprieve.
The lengthy trips back and forth had started to take an unexpected toll, and keeping up the pretense of being two people was much more difficult than I’d anticipated.
I’d slipped up several times in recent days due to exhaustion.
“This is how it’s done all the time with aristocrats who have obligations in London during the social season.
With any luck, it will only be for a short while.
” As I spoke, his stare settled on my mouth…
my upper lip to be precise, and I frowned at him.
“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?
What is so interesting on my face?” I groused.
“You have a bald spot in your mustache,” he said.
I blinked at him and immediately covered my mouth with my palm. “What?”
Glancing down, I found the rogue tuft hooked to my sleeve. In dismay, I pressed my fingers to my lip, locating the smooth patch, and attempted to brush some of the remaining hairs over it. The sweat must have dislodged them somehow or maybe the adhesive paste was reaching the end of its life.
“I pick at my facial hair when I get anxious. More of a reason for me to leave now,” I explained hastily, knowing it was a rather flimsy excuse that a child could see through, but either Will was too overcome with emotion to make sense of it or he chose to ignore it.
“It’s a nervous condition like biting your fingernails,” I added.
“I’ll tell the lads you said goodbye,” he said in a forlorn voice. “They will be miffed they didn’t get to see you off.” He perked up, eyes brightening. “Maybe we can all come visit you in London. Can you imagine? They would love that!”
They would, but I didn’t want to risk them exposing Tarik, not that any of them knew we’d come up with a creative slant for the aristocracy about his personal history.
He absolutely could have rich parents in France whom no one knew about.
And perhaps they’d been estranged for a time, which was why he’d come to Cambridge on a scholarship and was working his way up to a fellowship.
We could easily navigate any overlap, should that happen.
But I had a sneaking suspicion that Will and the others’ presence would only needlessly complicate things, not just for him but also for me.
Managing my personas of Ansel and Rosalin while in London would take a lot of finesse and perfect timing, and my new friends—the twins especially—had a way of stirring up trouble, and I was tempting fate enough as it was.
I nodded noncommittally. “We shall see!”
Grabbing my traveling bags, which held most of my male clothing, I took my leave of Will with a firm handshake, and for a moment his eyes glossed over, and a sniff escaped him before he squared his shoulders and attempted—futilely—to hold it all in.
Goodness, he’s a sensitive chap. I wasn’t one for making friends easily, with Blake being my only constant, followed by Ela and Zia, but Will had grown on me like a giant Cavalier King Charles Spaniel.
If, for some unforeseen reason, I never came back here, I’d miss him terribly.
I patted him on the shoulder, nearly squeaking as he yanked me into a bone-crushing hug. “I know you can’t come to the Marquess and Marchioness of Ridley’s masquerade, but Lady Zenobia’s engagement ball is after that,” I wheezed while trying to breathe. “I’ll make sure you get an invitation.”
“Thanks, Roz,” he said. “Can I help you carry those?”
Not wanting to make things worse while he looked like he was on the verge of tears, I shook my head. “No, thanks, mate. I’ve got it.”
Hefting the heaving portmanteau and my satchel full of books without gasping for breath was a feat in itself, but I managed.
I could have gotten help from my scout—whom I still hadn’t officially met, though I could not determine if that was because of him or me; we seemed to be purposefully adept at missing each other.
However, I had two perfectly healthy arms and decided to use them—a decision I was regretting by the time I made it to my plain family coach, which I’d commandeered for my journeys to and from London.
Tarik was already waiting, a booted foot propped up against the wheel, and I felt my heart leap at the sight of him.
Anna, hidden under a face-concealing bonnet, since technically she should be with Lady Rosalin, glowered at me from her position on the bench up front, where she was ensconced next to Henry.
I flinched at the judgment on her usually pensive face.
She had made her stance very clear about me traveling with an unwed gentleman inside an enclosed carriage, and I had countered that he thought I was my male cousin, so it really wasn’t breaking any rules.
“But you are a lady, Lady Rosalin,” she’d argued a few hours earlier. “A fact that you seem to have forgotten in the last month or two of your charades.”
“It’s a few hours, Anna. My virtue will survive.”
Her mouth had tightened mulishly. “And both Henry and I shall lose our positions should any harm come to you. Or should your tomfooleries come to light. I know who he is—I saw him at the modiste. I don’t know what you’re up to, my lady, but you are playing with fire every single day that this scheme of yours continues. ”
My stomach had dipped, knowing she was sharp enough not to miss who he was.
“Nothing will happen, I promise. St. Clair is a gentleman. He’ll be prepping and quizzing me for examinations.
If I am in trouble, I will bang on the roof.
You and Henry are right there, and besides, your future husband is an expert marksman. ”
Finally, she had relented, though it was with plenty of apprehension.
“Ready to go?” I asked Tarik, after Henry had stored my bags.
He frowned at me, eyes dipping to my upper lip, and I panicked when I realized he was looking at the bald patch Will had mentioned before. “Shaving accident,” I said, adjusting my spectacles. “Lucky I didn’t slice my lip off with the razor.”
“Do I even want to know?” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Forgot to strop the blade,” I explained after we climbed into the carriage, thinking frantically back to when my father’s valet used to shave his beard and I’d been a very curious little girl.
The blade had to be stropped before every shave to make sure that it was sharp.
Tapping the smooth spot with the pad of my finger, I made a mental note to compensate for the expected regrowth over the next few days, if and when I dressed like my cousin.
“Don’t you fancy nobs have a valet for that?”
I snorted and sat on the velvet-covered bench facing him, noticing for the first time how small the spacious interior seemed with his presence barely a few feet away.
I could understand why Anna would be worried, given the situation.
No wonder Ela and Keston always looked slightly rumpled whenever they traveled anywhere together, even if it was within Mayfair—they probably could not keep their hands off each other in such an enclosed, private space. Heat bloomed in my chest.
You’re Ansel. Behave.