Chapter 4
She cocked a perfectly arched brow at him, gave him a shameless grin.
How odd to be sitting beside a strange girl holding an umbrella over the both of them and Alex didn’t know her name nor she his.
He had little experience with well-spoken, obviously aristocratic girls like this one, but—his mind skipped to the lovely Jayne, introduced to him by his uncle Ryder so she could teach him what was what and make him believe in heaven.
When in London, he always visited Jayne, brought her presents and prodigious enthusiasm, knew enough now to give her a little slice of heaven as well.
He blinked. “I apologize. My name is—he paused, grinned to himself, and said, “Alexi Alejandro Ivanov.”
Her lovely arched eyebrow climbed up again, just above her glasses’ frame. “Alexi? Are you Greek? Russian?”
Alex’s voice was smooth as a creek stone as he smoothly recited his history he and Ryder had created for him before he’d gone to Oxford.
Money, title and mysterious beginnings, are what is needed, Ryder had said, and rubbed his hands together.
Alex said, “I am originally from Kiev. However, you can call me Alex, most do.”
“Your middle name is Alejandro? Are you also Spanish? A mongrel of sorts? Are you a heathen? Come now, is such a name really from the Ukraine?”
“Oh yes.”
“Hmm, Ivanov sounds quite quixotic, not at all what one would expect, not one of our common herd of names. Ivanov, your name melts on the tongue like ice cream. I prefer Alexi as well, but since we are in England, sharing an umbrella under an English sky, I shall call you Alex. I’m Camilla, but most call me Cam, except my sister who never calls me anything unless she’s forced to because she says I’m skinny, nothing but a bother, and homely, and my worst sin?
I wear glasses in public, even at balls, and that is surely an affront to our father’s name.
” She sighed. “My stepmama calls me Camilla and I know she agrees with my sister.” She shoved her glasses back up her nose and tried to look indifferent, and failed.
Alex said slowly, studying her face, “I can say with perfect honesty you are not ugly. As for your glasses, they make you look distinctive, make your eyes look quite mysterious. I like them. Should you like me to smack your sister?”
She laughed. “My sister is strong, not as strong as I am, but still, she’d likely smack you back.
Well, no she wouldn’t, she would think you far too handsome, very possibly right proper husband material, depending of course on your financial situation and your bloodline.
I’ve seen paintings of monarchs and their families.
So many are married to this or that royal cousin and mix their bloodlines and produce ugly and quite revolting offspring. Have you noticed this?”
“I cannot disagree with your assessment. One thinks of pharaohs in ancient Egypt marrying their sisters. It makes the common man of the time seem quite intelligent.”
She gave him an approving look. “That was rather elegantly stated. Even though no one cares, you still made yourself sound like a deep sort with unplumbed depths. I shall try to remember what you said, however, and try to cleverly insert it into a conversation. Imagine, marrying your sister.” Cam sighed.
“Alas, if you were my sister Eliza’s brother I doubt not she would be sorrowful at the connection given you look like a god.
Even now, engaged, I know she would look at you and sigh, but believe me, she would never leave poor Winstead Towbridge, her fiancé.
Don’t get me wrong, Winstead is really quite fine-looking and nice. It is a pity.”
“I do not look like a god, that is absurd. Why is it a pity?”
“Because Winstead—she calls him Winnie—can you imagine how demeaning that is? Well, he’s a very nice man and my sister isn’t.
My father wanted to present me to the queen, but Averil, my stepmother, argued I would embarrass him and my poor sister, not to mention Winstead and his very well-received family.
She tells my father over and over I would fit in better if I went to live with Aunt Deveraux in Bath, forever, or on a small island in the South Seas, if she could manage it. ”
Amazing. She’d spit that all out in a single breath. He said, “Your stepmother’s name is Averil? An odd name. Perhaps she’s a heathen? Just as I am? Did she raise you? Were you an unpleasant child?”
“Oh, she didn’t raise either me or my sister or my brother, Bryant, who thankfully is ten years my senior and lives in Boston of all places, and runs a shipping business.
So Papa had scarce met her when they wed and she moved into the London house with her maid, Elvira, who is as nasty as her mistress.
Averil is twenty-six and considers herself the most lovely and desirable woman in London, maybe in all of Southern England, Northern France as well.
I think she made up the name to be special.
Maybe her real name is Maude or Jezebel.
” She sighed, pushed up her glasses. “My father thinks she’s perfect.
I don’t know what my brother thinks, he came for the wedding but returned to Boston as fast as he could. ”
“Well, perhaps she is perfect, to your father.”
“I don’t think it’s her character he admires, it’s something else entirely.
Aunt Deveraux whispered to me at their wedding, at the top of her lungs, that Averil is a seductress and she undoubtedly stuck out her—goodness, I can’t say that to a strange man, to any man for that matter, even my brother, Bryant—so I’ll be circumspect and say she stuck her upper parts in his face and Papa was a goner.
He never used to retire for the night as early as he does now.
“I do try to be nice to her since Papa is so happy, but it is difficult. Look, here comes my papa walking with another gentleman, but I can’t really see who it is because of their umbrellas.”
“Would you like to meet the gentleman with your father? He’s my guardian.”
“Oh dear, I’ve let my tongue run on greased wheels and I don’t know why you’re here in England and not in Kiev and have an ever-so-romantic name.
And a guardian.” As she spoke, she rose to stand beside him and he wasn’t surprised she came to his nose.
He wouldn’t get a crick in his neck waltzing with her.
Strange thought. He held the umbrella over both of them.
She cocked her head at him, shoved up her glasses again.
He wasn’t particularly surprised when Camilla—Cam—looked at him up and down and observed, “Since you appear to have no obvious nasty habits, I imagine you are very popular at all the balls and soirees. You really are remarkably handsome and blessedly tall, but then again, maybe you’re the repellent sort who kicks his dog, or you have other nasty habits. ”
Alex smiled, nothing else to do. “No, my dogs always slept with me, pushed me to the edge of the bed. What is an obvious nasty habit? You mean like some of Pilcher’s shortcomings?”
She shuddered. “Nothing could be as repulsive as Pilcher’s bad habits. Let me see—there is smoking those nasty cigars that make your breath smell like soiled sheets. You have very nice breath so smoking isn’t a bad habit.”
He stared at her, mesmerized. “Very true. What else?”
“Belching at the dinner table.”
“Don’t ladies belch occasionally?”
“If a lady belched in company, she’d be exiled to America to cook whale blubber.”
Alex spurted out a laugh. “That sounds very severe.” He wanted her to keep listing nasty habits, but she said, “Even if you were a heathen and had nasty habits, I doubt it would matter.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a treat to the eyes, that’s why, as I already told you—as if you didn’t know.
If you’re to be considered good husband material, however, you must have at least a smidgeon of blue blood and a goodly number of groats in your pockets.
” She paused a moment. “For ladies, I’ve learned it’s what’s on the outside that really counts.
If a lady has both groats and a lovely face she can attach a duke, but he just might be doddering with no teeth.
I’m also told a lady must make a gentleman feel like a god. Can you imagine?”
He slowly shook his head. “I can’t imagine. Come along and let me introduce you to my guardian.”
“That would be lovely. And you’ll meet my father. Isn’t he fine-looking? Tall and straight, no paunch for him. Is he more fine-looking than your guardian? I really can’t tell yet.”
“My guardian could charm the socks off a monkey.”
She burst into laughter.
The sun sailed out from behind a cloud at that moment.