Chapter Twenty #2
One did not have to be loud to be subversive. She listened and then shared her opinions with my father, who clearly respected those opinions.
The “Listen more and speak less” adage had never been there to silence me; it was there to arm me. Because living was political. How one interacted with the world was political. How one raised and educated one’s children was inherently political.
I had been allowed to study with my male cousin.
I had been given free rein over my many so-called failed seasons.
I had been encouraged to read diversely and widely at every opportunity.
Eyes stinging, I recalled my determination to find a spouse who valued me in sentiment and intelligence, who offered me a true connection, and who allowed me to pursue my own passions.
Goodness, I’d been a fool to think my parents’ marriage was everything I didn’t want.
My mother’s passion had shifted to family, and my father had always valued that.
Their love for each other wasn’t showy like fireworks, but it ran deep, rooted in mutual esteem.
“Mama?” I pressed a hand to the fluttering pulse at my throat. “Remember when you used to tell me stories of the ancient Greek constellations? You had your own telescope and tracked the stars. Why did you give up your passion for it?”
“I didn’t give it up, darling,” she said after a beat. “My priorities simply shifted. First with you and then Bowen. You became the primary stars in my sky.”
“Don’t you miss it?”
She shrugged one elegantly garbed shoulder.
“There’s a reason your father keeps our libraries stocked with the latest editions of books and catalogues by notable scientists and astronomers.
He does that for me. You just benefit from it.
” She let out a soft laugh. “And I’m not completely cut off from that life.
Caroline is still a dear friend who keeps me abreast of new developments, and of course, all her accomplishments in astronomy. ”
I blinked—there was only one Caroline in astronomy worth mentioning. “Caroline Herschel?” My voice was a strained squeak.
Mama nodded. “The telescope I had before you were born was a gift from her, one her brother built.”
Oh dear God, I was going to faint. The telescope I’d used as a child had been built by William Herschel, one of the most brilliant astronomers of our time…the astronomer to the king. My bones felt like they were made of jelly.
“I see her for tea sometimes,” Mama added fondly. “Along with Mary Somerville and Sophie Germain when we are all in town together. Our discussions on science and mathematical law are quite provocative. We share a mutual love for solving mathematical problems in journals.”
Spots converged over my vision. I truly was going to expire from a lack of breath. “Mary Somerville and Sophie Germain have tea with you?” My voice sounded like it shifted an entire octave from the start to the end.
The duchess looked at me as if I were addlebrained. “Are you unwell, Rosalin? Should I summon Dr. Barker?”
No. No, Mama. I am decidedly not well.
Because my own quiet, don’t-make-a-fuss, fashion-obsessed, marriage-minded mother was close friends with my own personal heroes and not just a few faceless charity friends. And she had them over for tea. “May I…Would it be possible to join you sometime?”
“Of course, Rosalin. You’re welcome whenever you like.
I’m sure your contributions on the subjects would be appreciated, especially after your recent stint at Trinity.
They would find that extremely diverting, especially Sophie, who I recalled might have used a male pseudonym for her analysis and number-theory work in France. ”
“You’re not cross about what I did?” I asked quietly.
“I am more relieved, my darling. Your reputation and future could have been irreparably harmed.” She exhaled. “But the truth is women have been disrupting the patriarchy for centuries, whether by pretending to be men or assuming male pseudonyms or publishing anonymously.”
My mind was spinning as I considered what I had learned.
Honestly, had I been so consumed with my own life that I had ignored what was right in front of me?
Mama and I were quite similar, despite our occasional divergences, like fashion.
And she’d never discouraged me from following my interests.
In fact, the only time we had ever clashed was over the subject of marriage.
“Mama, may I ask you a personal question? Did you love Papa when your marriage was arranged?”
Her smile was warm. “No, but we were great rivals.”
I blinked. That was not what I’d been expecting her to say. “Rivals?”
“When we were young, our families were neighbors. We had a fierce competition for any of the prizes awarded in the monthly journals to solve mathematical or philosophical problems. He won some, I won others.” She stood and walked to the bay window that looked out to the street.
“After a while, our families decided that the only way we would stop reviling each other was if we got married. And so, we did.” Her mouth quirked. “I love him now.”
“Do you think Papa still plans to marry me off to someone?”
She crossed the room to where I was sitting and perched on the sofa beside me. “We only want you to be secured with a partner who can provide for you. Hardship is not something either of us desire for you, though your dowry will stand you in good stead.”
“What if I found someone, but he’s not titled or wealthy?” I asked.
Her head canted. “Your young gentleman? The one your father went to help?” She paused. “Do you care for him?” my mother asked quietly, and when I nodded jerkily, she patted my knee. “And does he return your affections?”
The truth was, even after our last kiss, I didn’t know. And there was no time to ponder a reply before the butler announced the duke’s return. I flew up, nerves trembling as Papa and Ansel entered the foyer, followed by my weary, disheveled, cherished tutor.
“Tarik!” I was so happy to see him unhurt and safe that I threw myself into his arms, likely scandalizing my parents and my cousin. Tarik, however, had enough restraint to keep me from embarrassing us both as he returned a brief squeeze but set me back on my feet a respectable distance away.
My father took my mother’s hand, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “Dinner and then we will talk.” He glanced pointedly at Tarik. “You too, young man. You can wash up in one of the guest rooms. My nephew will show you the way.”
I wanted to go with him desperately, but I had to respect the rules of etiquette, even though I had been flouting them so shamelessly for the past three months, from the start of April through to June. A single Easter term that had felt like a lifetime.
Instead of following behind, I went to my own chambers to change, fussing when Anna insisted on tending to my hair, but the repeated brushstrokes calmed my frazzled nerves.
I met her eyes in the mirror as she stood behind me, pinning my slippery locks into intricate loops.
“Thank you, Anna. I’ll make sure that my parents know you played no willing part in my deception. Your job is safe.”
“I know, my lady,” she murmured. “I did want to tell you though that your bravery to follow your dreams inspired me to follow mine. I submitted my first piece of poetry to a contest in a periodical.” She grinned.
“And I won! Five whole pounds! And it will be printed in the next issue. I will be a published poet.”
I spun in my chair. “Oh my goodness, Anna, that is wonderful!”
Her mouth made a wry curl. “So, it wasn’t all bad. I wanted you to know that.”
When she was finished, I smoothed my favorite cobalt-blue dress, which matched the lapis lazuli hue of Tarik’s eyes, adjusted my gloves, and made my way downstairs to the dining room, where Tarik and my cousin were waiting.
My mother was off tucking Bowen into bed—she loved reading him stories, too, a task most aristocratic mothers didn’t do.
One more thing we were both lucky for, I supposed.
“Lady Rosalin, you look lovely,” Tarik said, strolling forward to take my white-gloved hand.
I blushed. “Thank you, so do you.”
He had changed as well—Ansel must have sent a messenger to wherever Tarik had been staying to retrieve fresh clothing. I recognized the navy ensemble as one he had been fitted for, remembering how well the color suited his rich complexion. The ends of his hair were still curled and wet from a bath.
“Was it awful at the Magistrates’ Court? What did they ask you?” I inquired in a hushed voice.
“Nothing, especially once I told them the Duke of Delmont would be arriving soon.”
I stared quizzically at him. “You knew I’d send my father?”
“Roz,” he said softly, making my silly heart quicken. “You adore your father, even if you loathe his stringency. Because your tenacity comes from him. I knew you would ask him for help when you needed it most.”
My brows dipped. “But how did you know? What if my pride and stubborn nature didn’t allow it?”
“You would never let your pride stop you from helping a friend,” he said firmly, and I flushed with pleasure at the praise. “And nothing you say will convince me otherwise. By the way, Lord Ansel also informed me of what was going on at Trinity, and my old friend James’s accusations.”
“What will you do?” I asked, just as my parents appeared. “And James is a louse.”
“Defend myself the best I can against the allegations that I’ve been purposefully lying about my identity to hoodwink aristocratic society and therefore do not exemplify the character of someone who should be a Fellow at Trinity.”
I gasped. “They would oust you for that?”
“They have done it for much less.”
We followed my parents, who both appeared somewhat refreshed, and sat at the dining room table before the first course of white soup was served.
My stomach clenched with nerves, but I forced myself to consume a few spoonfuls of the creamy beef broth with almonds before worry stopped me completely.
The second course, roasted mutton with minted jelly accompanied by mushroom ragu and creamed asparagus, appeared quickly after.
I was sure Tarik had to be ravenous after his ordeal. We ate in relative silence, taking our cues from my father, until he finally put down his fork to summarize the earlier events of the evening.
It hadn’t taken him long to find that Tarik was indeed at the Bow Street Magistrates’ Court, being ruthlessly interrogated about cheating during cards—an accusation that had been levied against him by a peer, who turned out to be the gentleman who had assaulted me.
My father had informed said peer that we would formally submit our own charges if he didn’t renounce his silly claims.
He’d dropped them immediately.
Papa had also made a stop at Danforth’s Den, where he spoke to the owner himself and made sure Tarik wasn’t accused of anything that might hurt his future prospects of starting his own social club or even returning to Danforth’s.
I suspected that Mr. Danforth had been quite obliging as it was rather useful to have a duke in one’s debt…
or perhaps better yet, to not have one as an enemy.
My father was a powerful man, but hearing him use his considerable influence to protect me as well as a man he didn’t even know was humbling… and made my heart feel quite warm.
My appetite slightly restored, I was able to eat a tiny bit more of my meal, and by the time the dishes were cleared, my relief as well as my gratitude to my father were palpable.
Without him, the situation could have been so much worse.
The disquiet plaguing me had eased somewhat, but we still had to deal with the matter of what James was doing at Trinity to ruin Tarik’s reputation.
When the dessert course was brought to the table, a tiny smile touched my lips at the intricate moon-and-stars stamped motif of the traditional Chinese mooncake.
Even though it was my favorite—with its refined pastry crust and sweet lotus-seed-paste filling—I could barely stomach more than a bite or two. My nerves were entirely too frazzled.
“What will you do about James?” I asked Tarik while he consumed his portion, and then the rest of mine, with relish. At least one of us wasn’t letting food go to waste.
“James who?” my father boomed as he sat back with a glass of claret.
“A student at Trinity determined to besmirch St. Clair’s standing,” Ansel put in, and then proceeded to explain everything Will had told us.
It sounded worse when put so plainly, especially as my father’s eyes darkened at the part where James might have known my true identity all along…
and what he might do with said knowledge.
Papa was fiercely protective of our family.
“Mr. St. Clair, you’re in quite the pickle,” he said in a calm tone that belied his grim expression.
Tarik exhaled. “That’s the sum of it, Your Grace.
I’ll be heading back tomorrow to meet with the Master of the College.
My actions are my own, and I must be accountable for them, but I also won’t allow someone to besmirch my name over a personal vendetta.
Sir Lowry is undoubtedly embellishing the events.
He has attempted unsuccessfully to discredit me before. ”
“Your integrity is admirable,” Papa said. “But it’s not just your future at stake. From what my nephew has said, it seems that this Lowry character might have known Rosalin’s true identity all along.”
“That is correct, Your Grace.”
My father’s gaze panned between the three of us. “Then that is why I will be going with you.”