Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
The next day, Alec sat down rather heavily in the chair across from his cousin at their club.
The attendant popped up at his elbow and Alec requested a whisky.
Finn was studiously reading his paper and pointedly ignoring him until Alec finally said, “Oh, Finn, I mean, Henry—leave off. How is your head today?”
Finn set down the paper and directed a keen eye at him. “My head is fine. I,” and he hit the word with a particular emphasis, “did not over-indulge last night.”
“Nonsense. I was exceedingly well behaved. No excess of any kind. Well, all right. I desperately needed to add a little something to the punch after that waltz. Alas, nothing was at hand. I did find some recompense in front of my hearth at home.”
“Oh, truly terrible, was it?”
Alec suddenly found something absolutely fascinating to look at over his cousin’s left shoulder. He was staring at it so intently, Finn started to turn around.
“Tolerable,” came out rather abruptly.
Finn’s head whipped back to look at Alec. As Alec said nothing further, Finn leaned back in his chair. Steepling his fingers, he assumed an air of studied patience. “Do tell.”
“First you tell me. How was your waltz with the Incomparable?”
Refusing to take the bait, Finn replied, “Incomparable. Beautifully executed. Nothing of any matter was discussed. I believe we each enjoyed the other’s company. I do not sense a pounding of our hearts in mutual attraction. Nevertheless, I believe we are coming along.”
At that, Alec lifted an eyebrow.
Finn raised his hands in self-defense. “No, truly. Alec, one of the things I appreciate about Miss Wentworth is that she is eminently practical. Her head is totting up figures, assessing the rankings in Debrett’s, and her ambition wants to put her at the head of the Ton.
I can help make that possible for her. With me, she can live in comfort the rest of her life, be the belle of Society, and achieve what she wishes to achieve.
I know you find it cold-blooded, yet there it is.
On the other hand, I believe she and I could find a way to scrape along together.
We might even have an affection grow between us.
I believe I could come to care for her. I believe she could come to tolerate me. ”
“Oh, Henry,” Alec looked at his cousin and had a sudden moment of clarity. “Do not you wish for something more? This seems so hollow. I want more for you.”
“And that is where you and I differ, Alec. I am fine with stepping into my expected role as a wealthy member of the Ton. I have chosen to play this particular part of Nonesuch, as you can see.” Here he gestured from the crown of his head to his boots.
“We have had our soldiering and now it is time to get along with things.
I shall sire an heir, I most fervently hope, along with a backup or two, to be safe.
Then the dukedom will be preserved for the next generation.
I will manage my estates with the right balance of conservatism and spendthriftness.
I will drive a fine pair of matched grays. I shall parade in the Park.
“Miss Wentworth appears suitable for what I need. And I for her. It is practically settled, unless someone else should emerge this Season. It is early days as yet. But, yes, I am fine with living the life that has been set out for me. Truly.”
“Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much.” Alec could not suppress a tinge of envy, though.
To have that much freedom to choose. And to have the exquisite Miss Wentworth as one of the options.
That little voice in the back of his head began to hum.
He recognized the tune; it was the piece of Bach’s played at Lady Hinsdale’s soiree. He shoved it back down.
“I’m a realist, Alec. I always have been.
Oh, certainly, when we were younger: a young man’s fancy turns to love, eh?
” Finn’s voice dropped almost to a whisper.
“We made it through Badajoz, cousin. Not entirely in one piece, but we lived. I am ready for steadiness. Normality. And, I fervently hope, no drama.”
“No drama, eh?” Alec watched the darkness gathering in Finn’s face and gave him a crooked grin to bring him back to the present. “Hmmm. Sounds rather dull. I think you are going to need a lot of visits to see Marjorie, then.”
Finn gave a small chuckle. “Touché.” He ducked his head briefly, conceding the point.
“I may, at that. She will let me be her Uncle Finn, at least for a while as yet. Yes. I will need to become Henry, the Nonpareil, even in the country. With the exception of my visits to Marjorie.” He used the moment of concession to return to the lighter notes of their current field of battle.
“However, you were saying about Miss Hardcastle? Any Greek last night?”
“No, no Greek. Byron.” Noting the shadows receding from his cousin’s eyes, Alec relaxed into a laugh. “I must confess, I had fun. And, so, I believe, did she.”
“Byron?”
“‘Childe Harold.’”
“Holy hell, Alec.”
“Do not worry—that was me. She may be a bluestocking, Henry,” he repeated his cousin’s assumed name for the Season (Or for forever?
a voice said in his ear) slowly, and deliberately, acknowledging it was his cousin’s decision to play this role, and he would have his back, “but she is no prude. Or miss-ish. In fact, I believe Miss Hardcastle is turning out to be a most interesting young woman.”
“Interesting, you say. Hmm. Is that good?”
“I believe so. I know beggars cannot wholly be choosers. I would prefer, well, someone of some interest. And depth. Apart from that first dinner at Lady Hinsdale’s when she was too scared to speak, she has turned out to be a most congenial companion.
I might even go so far as to say, I actually am—” He paused. “Well, as I said, she is tolerable.”
Alec realized, whatever he did and didn’t know about Miss Hardcastle, what Finn was describing as his intended marriage did not seem to fit within the scope of possibility of the woman that he, Alec, was nakedly making a play for.
As usual, the acknowledgement of the mercenary nature of the entire proceeding made him squirm slightly in his chair.
Alec said nothing further to his cousin about the waltz.
Or that moment at the end where he had nearly forgotten himself and almost— he cut the memory off.
Or the restlessness of the night which followed it.
It was something he was not willing to probe deeply with himself, and damned if he was going to delve into it with Finn.
The best way forward was to keep a proper distance from Miss Hardcastle, doing all that was required of him, but no more.
This was a business transaction. He needed to take a page from Finn’s book.
Yes, that was it. Business. Proper. No more waltzes.
It should carry him forward to the finish line.
And then, Alec? And then? He slammed that particular door shut, locked it with a padlock, then bricked it up entirely. With a coat of plaster over top, for good measure.
Finn was speaking. It took a moment for his words to penetrate the swirl in Alec’s head.
“Words of praise indeed.”
“Indeed, you oaf. Indeed.” Alec pushed any recollections of Miss Hardcastle away and tossed back the rest of his whisky. “And now I think I would like to go for a ride somewhere. Is there any place a man might gallop in this God-forsaken city?”
Finn put down his paper, conceding the end of the skirmish. “Come. I’ll show you. Let’s go for one of our mad dashes.”