Chapter 2 #2
When at last he looked up, his face had become implacable. The only hint of his annoyance or embarrassment was a slight pinkening of his cheeks, but it was almost unnoticeable.
“I… suppose… I could be mistaken…” he said gruffly.
She smiled smugly at him. “Have you been keeping up to date with the most recent botanical journals, sir?”
The man’s mouth twitched.
“No,” he said curtly. “I have been away from London for some time.”
“Well, that explains it,” she said with a shrug, then smiled at Mr. Hatchard. “You shall not have to worry about pulling your copies of the book, Mr. Hatchard.”
The bookseller moved away, muttering something about meddling customers, leaving Alexandra alone with the stranger.
He was standing closer now, and she was very aware of how tall and broad he was and the swirling darkness of his energy.
He was unlike any amateur botanist she had ever met before.
He was handsome. And mysterious. And it made her heart beat faster, made her stomach clench into knots, and her skin feel warm and prickly.
“Do you always give your opinion so decidedly?” the man asked after a moment. His voice was lower now, as if he did not wish to be overheard.
“Always,” she said, raising her chin just slightly. “Not a morning goes by when I do not argue with my father at the breakfast table.”
Why did I need to tell him I am unmarried? She wondered wildly. But the man showed no sign that he had understood the implication.
“That is an unusual quality in a young lady,” he said instead.
“Perhaps. Or perhaps the young ladies have changed since you were last in town.”
The man almost smiled. Almost.
“Perhaps they have. If so, then I shall have to tread carefully.”
“Indeed. You would not want to make a fool of yourself over orchids in front of any eligible debutantes.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Something tells me I already have.”
Her heart gave a lurch, but she kept her face calm and her smile placid.
The man’s face darkened, and he looked away.
“In truth, London has changed much since I was last here. In many ways. I do not remember so many factories on the horizon on my last visit, nor so many people, nor the air being filled with so much soot and smog. The city has become even darker, grimier, and more crowded.”
“I suppose,” she said thoughtfully. “The factories can be unpleasant to look at, and they have made London more crowded. But they have also given many men and women good jobs and incomes.”
“Good jobs and incomes?” The man stared at her incredulously. “They give hardworking men and women meager incomes they can barely live on, working conditions that destroy their health, and put their lives in danger every day using untested and unregulated machinery.”
“The reform movements will bring regulation and higher wages,” Alexandra said carefully. “But is it not better that commoners can seek their fortune in the city now, rather than remain forever shackled to their landlords in the country?”
“Shackled?” The man’s face twisted, and his lips pressed into a thin, angry line.
“The landlords you speak of take care of their tenants. They are like family to them. The industrialists who have lured these people to the city do not know their families, their farms, their lineages. They want only to exploit their labor and throw them away once they are used up. Wage labor is a crime against the commoner.”
Alexandra’s heart was beating very fast. It was always like this when she found herself in a heated debate. She loved the thrill of it, of finding her equal. It did not happen often.
“I must disagree,” she said. “Wage labor offers the common man a means by which to advance himself.”
“Most do not advance. Most remain in poverty.”
“And how is that any different than being a tenant farmer?”
“Because as a tenant farmer you have your own land on which to grow food, a home of your own, with clean air and water to drink.”
“Not with the commons being enclosed.”
“Then they must be reopened!” The man’s eyes blazed, and the force of his words was so strong that she felt like a blow across her chest. “At once!”
Alexandra nodded, her own eyes wild as well. “On that,” she murmured, “we can agree.”
The man stared down at her, unmoving. He looked tense and taut, she thought, like a horse about to be set free on the racetrack, but the longer they gazed at one another, the calmer he seemed to become—until, at last, he took a deep, steadying breath.
“I should go,” he said shortly. “I am needed elsewhere. Pray, forgive me for intruding upon your time, madam.” He bowed, his eyes never leaving hers. “And forgive me if I was…brusque. It is another consequence of my time away from polite society.”
“There is nothing to—” But he was gone before she could finish the sentence, disappearing around the bookshelf in a flash. Seconds later, she heard the bell tinkle over the door. He was gone.
Alexandra leaned back against the bookshelf, the spine of the books pressing uncomfortably into her back. She placed a gloved hand to her chest, feeling the warmth of her skin, the texture of the cotton. Her heart was beating wildly, and her cheeks, when she touched them, were hot.
Who was this gentleman? And why did he make her feel as if every inch of her was on fire? She was not even sure she had liked him, and yet, she wished she could chase after him and ask him his name.
She did not have long to dwell on it. Moments later, Helena arrived in the bookshop, gushing over the lavender silk she’d ordered, and then the two of them were heading back home, along Bond Street to Grosvenor Square, where they bid goodbye outside of Alexandra’s father’s townhouse.
Her mother met her in the entrance hall, hands on her hips, and immediately began to chide her about how rudely she had left the Countess of Pemberton’s house.
“At least you did not make such a bad impression in front of Lady Blackwood last week,” Lady Lytton grumbled, “as we have received an invitation to her house party the Friday after next. And before that, we have a ball at Lord Thorne’s house.
His eldest son is hosting. I must emphasize the importance of using both these social gatherings in order to entice a gentleman, Alexandra.
You heard the countess today, your lack of a husband is being commented upon, and very soon you will be considered a spinster… ”
But as her mother continued to prattle on about eligible young men and which one Alexandra ought to marry, Alexandra’s mind was still back in the bookshop, on the man with fire in his eyes, who had spoken with such unbridled passion about everything from the commons to orchids.