Chapter 12 #3
What family? He tried to imagine the sort of woman Lady Edith would want for him.
Once upon a time, she had tried putting an array of eligible ladies before him, and though they were all nice enough, none sparked a feeling stronger than indifference.
The most he could say about his mother’s selections was that they were tolerably inoffensive, nothing like…
What would he choose for himself? He knew it was corrosive to imagine her.
“Is this weather not gloriously fine?” Robert greeted as Alasdair presented himself once more in the lavish jewel box of the Dalys’ library.
The shelves gleamed, the neat rows of books smelling faintly of leather.
Robert himself stood utterly coiffed in a sky-blue cravat near a table displaying several maps.
“Lillian will be along shortly,” he continued, joining Alasdair near the sofas.
“I’m afraid she’s just received devastating news about her mother. ”
“My apologies. Is she unwell?”
Robert waved him off, eyeing the tray of refreshments that had already been brought in.
He chose a pink macaron and considered it with a sniff.
“Oh, no, she is very well, but unfortunately joining us for Christmas. Lillian is beside herself. You have never met a person more in love with the sound of their own voice.”
Smiling, Alasdair coughed lightly into his fist.
“Ha-ha. I am nothing like her, believe me. She is tedious, and I am merely full of information.” Robert ate the sweet in one bite and shrugged. “Which leads me to our business.”
“Business? I thought this was a social call.”
“Dear boy, it is never just a social call with me, you should know that by now.” Robert gave a self-indulgent little laugh.
“Do you know, after you had me arrange that sly gift, I had my man inquire after the occupants of, what was it? Beadle Cottage?” He said the words as if describing something he had stepped in.
“The Ardens live there, yes? And then, I had a cheeky think about where I knew that name, and at last I landed upon it: Violet Arden. Now, there’s a name rife with material. ”
Robert’s pale blue eyes were sparkling, which was rarely a good sign.
Shifting, Alasdair set his gaze on a vague point in the distance. “I don’t see why this is important, Robert. I told you; I’ve no interest in courting her.”
“Yet she’s reported to be a great beauty!”
“Some say so.”
Robert’s grin slid into a smirk. “But not you?”
Alasdair set his jaw. “Why does this concern you?”
“I knew it.” Robert hissed; he didn’t sound at all excited. “Are you aware of her reputation? Her obscurity? It’s almost a pity she’s so beautiful, for who would have her?”
Who, indeed. Wandering toward the far wall, he pretended to appraise the portrait of Lillian painted by Dawe. Robert came up behind him, hovering. “I don’t need her money.”
“Splendid, because she hasn’t got any.”
A footman appeared, hoisting his chin in the air to announce the arrival of two more guests. “Miss Julianna Holzer and Mr. Elias Holzer.”
Alasdair’s blood froze in his veins. He turned, slowly, to see the woman he had once cherished gliding into the library, as luminous and angelic as an early morning cloud. Turning to Robert, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Damn you. This is an ambush.”
“Nonsense,” Robert replied out of one corner of his mouth.
“It’s a favor, the second I’ve done you in short order, mm?
You could use a reminder of what a lady of good manners and breeding actually looks like.
Julianna’s reputation is spotless; Miss Arden’s may as well be a leopard.
Lord above, man, a tryst with a French painter?
Do you want to be the laughingstock of London? ”
He bristled; he didn’t want to be seen at all.
If he could have it his way, Alasdair would emerge from the remade Clafton only to swim and travel occasionally to attend exhibitions and auctions.
He had no desire to be perceived at all, least of all by a woman who had called him cold and unfeeling, and whom he had not thought of in weeks.
And yet he must be seen, his size making it impossible to blend in and diminish, and there was no escaping Julianna as she and her brother came toward them.
Was he courting Violet without meaning to? The structure of it, a thing unseen but crucial to the later image as it became whole…An underpainting. Was that what this gift really was? The beginning of something, just a wash of color, but an effort all the same…
Alasdair dropped his head. “This is unfair, Robert.”
“No, it’s what you need. I like you, Alasdair,” he went on, still in a swift undertone.
“You’ve always amused me, and I would like to continue calling you my dear friend, but think clearly.
You are quick to complain about your brother’s behavior, but where is your own better judgment?
Lillian would poison my port if I insisted that she invite Miss Arden to dine. ”
He went very still, wanting to be anywhere else and wondering if perhaps Robert Daly was his friend at all. Julianna offered a shy smile as she approached, asking, “Who were we discussing?”
Slowly, Alasdair straightened up. “Nobody of consequence.”