Authors: The Conquest
“Aye!” the petite blond lady said with satisfaction. “And wit overweighs muscle any day, if you know how to use it.”
“Tell us about how you found our friend Drum,” the viscountess said. “I’d wager there’s a thing or two he’d never mention. Was he very sick? Have you any idea how it happened? And do you know how grateful we are that you did take him in?”
Alexandria was glad to change the subject. It was as well that she didn’t know she was now the subject of discussion upstairs.
“And what about your hostess, Drum?” his cousin asked him soberly when they were through gossiping about Town. “You’re a fast worker, getting on mighty intimate terms so quickly. Why, you sleep in her bed and build her a barn, and you only just met.” The other men chuckled.
“I’m not just asking for the sake of a joke,” the viscount went on more seriously. “You said this Mrs. Tooke is respectability itself. It’s not that which worries me. It’s your damnable sense of honor. I know you and your inexplicable charm too, as well as the gratitude you must feel toward her. Have you given rise to any expectations on her part, do you think?” He frowned when he saw Drum’s scowl. “Come to think of it, I may be entirely out of line. Have you expectations yourself in that direction? I wouldn’t blame you. She
is
lovely, well bred, and well spoken.”
“Add that she has a heart of gold,” Rafe said. “She took in a stranger who might have turned out to be a scoundrel. Not that you’re not.”
“Yes,” Drum said wryly, “add that all up, because it’s true. But remember that I broke my head, I didn’t lose my mind. She has a heart of gold, but my father’s heart is one he can document back to the Normans. Or so he keeps reminding me, and I’d certainly break it if I chose a wife he didn’t approve. It’s all I can do to persuade him I don’t want a royal princess for my bride. So however lovely Miss Gascoyne is, and she is, I promise you I’ve no expectations in that direction, and thank God, neither does she. Or so she assured me when I said my staying here might compromise her and require the services of a vicar, not just a doctor. When she heard that she almost tossed my broken bones out her door.”
“Then she’s got good sense, too,” Rafe commented.
They laughed, and changed the subject.
When the merry company left later that afternoon, they stopped to thank Alexandria for her hospitality and charity.
“We can’t say how grateful we are,” the viscountess told her. “We worried about what we’d do if we found Drum in any trouble here.”
“We couldn’t and wouldn’t just leave him alone if he needed us,” Damon Ryder explained.
“We were all being terribly noble,” Gilly agreed, “volunteering to be the ones to stay on with him. When no one could win the title of ‘noblest,’ we decided we’d have to draw straws to see who got the honor, though much as we love him, we each hoped we wouldn’t win.”
“Speak for yourself,” her husband said with mock affront, though he very obviously crossed his fingers to offset the lie.
“But now we can leave with clear consciences,” the viscount said, “because it’s clear he’s fallen in clover and has the very best care. So again, thank you, Miss Gascoyne. We’re in your debt and I don’t know how we can repay you. Is there anything we can do for you?”
“Thank you, but I don’t need anything,” Alexandria said, straightening her spine. They stood in her dooryard, looking as out of place there as the elegant carriages that awaited them did. But it was her dooryard, and her house, and she had her pride too. They must have seen it in her altered posture, because some of them looked abashed.
“Turnabout’s fair play!” Gilly Ryder said on a sudden inspiration. “You hosted Drum, we can be your hosts! We have lots of room, we all have homes in London. That would be a change of pace for you, wouldn’t it? Say you’ll come to visit and stay on with one of us when he’s gone home again. We could show you London, have fun, and repay our debt at the same time.”
“Capital idea!” Rafe agreed.
They began to argue about who would be the best host and hostess until Alexandria interrupted, silencing them. “I’m grateful,” she said sincerely, “but it isn’t possible. The boys need me here, and I’ve no time to spare. Please understand I didn’t expect nor shall I accept more than your thanks. Anyone would have done the same.”
They denied that heatedly, but had to accept it. Alexandria breathed a sigh of relief when they stopped trying to change her mind. For a moment the idea of going to London had been so terribly tempting she’d
almost hopped in the air and cried out
yes!
as one of the boys might have done. She’d never dared think of actually visiting London, though of course she’d always dreamed of it. A moment later, she realized the enormous folly of even imagining she could go.
Stay with any of these glittering people, when she didn’t have the price of fare to London, much less a hostess gift? Or the price of a new gown, much less a whole wardrobe of new clothes, which she’d need so she wouldn’t look lower than their housemaids. Not to mention the need for gratuities for those servants, and extra shillings in her purse for any unexpected thing a person might need in England’s greatest city. Her one trip to Bath had cost her triple what she’d expected. The extra expenses involved with staying in London couldn’t even be considered. Or possibly met.
Alexandria’s spirits plummeted. It was a kind invitation that hurt more than it honored her. How like the rich to forget that the poor couldn’t afford to accept such a gift. Or did they expect her to stay in the scullery and go around London with their servants? Her eyes widened. Her pride wouldn’t accept that. No. Better to keep dreaming of London than to actually experience it in ignominy or shame.
She waved good-bye and watched the coaches leave in fine procession, bearing Drum’s visitors back to their unimaginably splendid lives. They went with merry farewells and the music of competing coaching horns. She looked up at the window, wondering what her last guest was thinking as they left. Was he feeling deserted, marooned, yearning to follow, longing to be with his own kind again?
Well, she could send one of the boys to the doctor to
beg or buy a bottle of wine for his dinner, she thought as she turned back to the house. And she could make him a raspberry tart for dessert tonight too. Spirits to restore his spirits, and something sweet to take his mind from his troubles.
Alexandria went back into the kitchen, feeling a lump in her throat and a knot in her chest, wondering why she suddenly felt worse about his yearning to go to London than for her own.
S
OON AFTER
D
RUM
’
S COMPANY LEFT, THE BOYS
came home from school. They did their chores, finished dinner, and now were in the barn, chatting with Drum’s valet and footmen. After the dishes were done Mrs. Tooke accepted a carriage ride from the doctor and his wife and went to visit her grandchildren. The house had the eerie quiet a place holds when company has lately left, and Alexandria heard the echoes of laughter everywhere.
For the first night in months there was no need to light a fire in any hearth. Alexandria went to the door and saw the newly prolonged twilight stretching the sunset thin. She stayed a while, until the onset of growing shadows made her aware of time passing. She felt melancholy and thought her guest must be feeling the loneliness even more keenly, and so climbed the stair to see how he was doing.
He sat in the chair by the window, looking out. He didn’t turn his head, but spoke the moment she entered
the room. “I’ve stirred up your world again, haven’t I? See how you’re repaid for your charity. You’ll think twice before you take in another vagabond, I think.”
“Well, I don’t know that I have a choice,” she said thoughtfully. “There are so many wounded men strewn at the sides of the roads hereabouts, if I didn’t take them in they’d clutter up the place.”
He laughed and turned to look at her. “Seriously, Ally, I apologize for your treatment at the hands of those fools from London. And I also apologize for landing so much company on you. I’ve cost you a lot in time and money, haven’t I? I’d like to repay you.”
She blinked. He’d called her Ally, the way the boys did.
He was obviously unaware he’d spoken so familiarly and thought her surprised look was because of his offer. “I know you’re proud, and I respect that. I never understood why pride was considered a deadly sin,” he mused. “Surely it’s merely an annoying one? Because my father’s a good man and yet he has enough pride for all the British Isles. But you have to understand I have my pride too, and that means I pay my debts. Help me do that, please.”
She straightened a few things on his table for something to do while she thought of an answer. Then she folded her hands and looked out the window at the empty yard. “I can’t. You must understand that too. Any gift would look like more than it is. Any payment would be worse and it’s not just the way society interprets such things.” She shook her head. “I know that those two fops who came here to tease me are not all of society, but they’re enough of it to matter, I think. Still, it isn’t just that. The truth is I’d be uncomfortable with
you paying me for doing what I should. Please accept that I helped someone in need. The best way to repay me is to do the same one day, remembering me.”
She laughed suddenly. “No! I’m not such a saint. If you’re desperate to do something, then find something charming when you get back to London and send it to the boys. I’d like that. And maybe send along a bottle of spirits for me to give to the doctor, because that was his wine you had tonight, and I pay my debts too. That would be enough.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” he said quietly.
She couldn’t disagree, but she couldn’t agree either, and he knew it. So they stayed silent, knowing, not speaking. It was an intimate, companionable silence neither wanted to break.
He stole a glance at her. She’d impressed his friends even though she’d little to do it with but herself. She’d impressed them with her charm and intelligence and looks, although she’d been surprised by their company and kept so busy by them she’d had no time to change and had worn the same old gown all day.
The one she had on now was no less worn, but prettier. Whatever it had been, it had faded to a soft saffron, and she’d tied her gleaming hair with a yellow ribbon to match. It suited her. But even maidservants sported better clothes on their days off, he thought with tender pity. He’d seen them clustered like pretty pastel flowers as they strolled through the parks on their Sunday half days. If Alexandria even had a best gown, he doubted it would be half so fine. But why?
She and the boys lived simply, but had ample food. The boys were suitably dressed. Surely she had
enough money to make herself a new gown? Or was every cent saved for her brothers?
Drum considered himself a scholar of his fellow man and woman. Even aborigines dressed to impress each other, if only by their tattoos. She didn’t, wouldn’t, or couldn’t. There was always a logical reason for a person’s behavior. His friend Gilly had dressed like a lad when she’d been a girl. That was shocking, but it had been a reasonable way to protect herself from attack in the vile slums from where she’d sprung. After his cousin Ewen had taken her in as his ward, she’d taken to women’s clothing with her signature style and panache, and considerable delight.
If Alexandria Gascoyne wore old clothing from necessity, it was the necessity of genteel poverty and was understandable. She wasn’t careless of her appearance; she was always neat and clean and presentable. But she didn’t try to dress herself up in any other way. There was only one vanity he noticed she indulged herself with: She wore perfume. She always smelled of honeysuckle. It was how he had known she’d come into the room.
Why didn’t she primp or preen? he wondered. Perhaps she hadn’t married because the old man had been so sour he’d chased away suitors. But why didn’t she have any beaux now? There had to be single men somewhere in the vicinity. Did she believe she couldn’t attract a man? Or had she never learned the way of it? He suspected it was a thing she’d ruthlessly banished from her life. Drum wondered why. It wasn’t because she had no interest in men. He was aware of how she looked at him sometimes. He was far from vain but
knew when he interested a woman. Or was it that she ruthlessly squashed the attraction, just as he did, and for the same reasons?
Alexandria Gascoyne had many mysteries. Too bad that he loved a mystery. She enticed him—sorely—all the more as he grew to know her. He might want to know more about her, but he positively itched to know how that smooth skin would feel under his hands and if her mouth would taste like honeysuckle nectar too. Was this just an itch? Or something more? Too bad he couldn’t find out.
Without question, if she were well born, he’d consider her for his wife. A man who couldn’t love could do far worse than to marry someone he liked and was moreover wildly attracted to. But he couldn’t marry a woman of lesser rank, and that was that. If he
loved
—Well, but that was a different story. He’d asked Gilly to marry him once, though she had no rank at all. Fortunately Gilly had known what he’d offered had come from a different sort of love, and hadn’t been confused by his act of gallantry.
She stared out the window as though the familiar scene absorbed her. But he was the one who was bemused. He couldn’t take this intimacy with Alexandria Gascoyne any further. She could be a friend here and now, but not later. The differences in their stations were too great. The next weeks would be difficult, being in such close proximity to her with no other women to distract him. He’d have to keep reminding himself that half of her attraction might be just that.
He was glad she chose that moment to finally speak again because his thoughts were making him grim.
“I know you must be sorry your friends left,” she
said, turning and seeing his expression. “You’ll be able to join them again soon.”
He laughed. “You think I’m the same age as Kit or Rob? Poor little boy, is that it? Don’t worry. I’ve been apart from my friends before. I miss them, but I promise you I miss walking more.”
“You’ll be thumping around on crutches soon. But not for a while,” she added hastily, when she saw his azure eyes light. “You can’t try until you’re almost healed. That won’t be for at least a few more weeks.” She took pity on how disappointed he looked. “These things take time, and at that, you’re lucky. Did you know Dr. Pace said that in his father’s day they’d have taken your leg off because of the injuries you had? Isn’t that dreadful? They didn’t even try to set them back then! You’re lucky you live in modern times. He feels he got the alignment just right and there should be no lasting harm—
if
you’re careful.”
“You
do
think I’m Rob’s age.” He chuckled. “I’ll be good, I promise. I’m itching to walk but I’m also sorry I have to continue to be a burden to you. You haven’t had a minute’s rest or peace since I fell off my horse and landed myself on you and your charity.”
“You’re not a burden. I’m sorry you were hurt, but the truth is you’ve livened up our lives considerably.” Her cheeks turned pink, even in the fading light.
“Well, it’s true,” she added defensively. “I didn’t mean to say it that way, but you’re right that we haven’t had a moment’s rest since you came. And it’s been fascinating for me and the boys! Our lives just seemed to be streaming by with the seasons. We didn’t know that until you arrived. So it’s a fair trade, I think, because we needed to be shaken up and shown that
there’s a wider world out there. The boys are learning something about being gentlemen too, and in this brief time I’ve seen more people than I have in a long time.”
“Why is that?” he asked bluntly.
Alexandria hesitated, not because he’d been so direct but because she wanted to answer him directly. It was a dangerous time of day. If she wanted safety she should light the lamps; evening was drawing in around them and secrets could be more easily spoken in the shadows. But there were times when secrets had to be spoken. She valued his opinion, respected his judgment, and thought of him as an equal though she knew very well that in the way the world judged things, he was far above her touch. But they were far from the world, after all, and he’d become a friend. She hadn’t had a friend in a very long time.
He wasn’t precisely a friend, either, she realized, looking at him and seeing how still he was, awaiting her answer, as though it mattered to him. She could scarcely believe it really did. That was the crux of it. She could never be completely comfortable with him because she never forgot he was a man, and a powerful nobleman at that. In fact, if he were on his feet she might have been mute with awe and uneasiness in his presence. His injury had cut him down to a size she could deal with—only just. Because of that she’d discovered he was everything her spirit yearned toward.
She gazed at him now, wondering why he affected her so profoundly. His face wasn’t handsome. Better, it was unforgettable, filled with character and vivid masculine appeal. He was spare and lean, but she never doubted his power. He might never play a Romeo, but she could see him in the role of that seductive wizard,
Oberon. He was intelligent, brave, gallant, witty, and humane.
She felt safe with him because she couldn’t imagine him ever touching her, though the thought of it occurred to her whenever she looked at him, and made her hope her cheeks didn’t turn pink, the way they did whenever she indulged in shameful fantasy. Half her embarrassment was because she was also sure her fantasies were pathetic. Her experience of intimacy was limited and her knowledge of men who weren’t too young or too old almost nil. She knew very well the man before her was everything she could never aspire to. He was titled, wealthy, and remote. That remoteness came from more than his upbringing; there was a part of him she was sure was inaccessible. It certainly was to her.
She never expected to hear from him again after he left. When he was gone he’d be gone forever. That was sad, but maybe not so bad, because that made confidences between them possible in a way they couldn’t be if they were to see each other again. There couldn’t be anything between them except, perhaps, a confidence?
It had to be done slowly, it had to be eased into, it wasn’t a thing she could say straight out.
“Why is that?” she echoed his words softly, avoiding his eyes now, staring down into the growing violet shadows again. “Why don’t I see more people? Because we live far from everyone else.”
“There’s a school nearby, surely there are schoolmasters’ wives to befriend, and unattached young schoolmasters for you to beguile as well?”
He saw the edges of her lips curl. “My dear sir,” she
said so quietly he had to hold his breath to hear, “I’ve had quite enough of living with a schoolmaster. Besides,” she said a little more brightly, a little
too
brightly, “Mr. Gascoyne was not the most popular man, even among his peers. Those he was popular with are not those I’m comfortable with, and I’ve little in common with other men hereabouts who might be interested in me.”
Her smile grew bitter and her voice became clipped as she repeated the words that had been flung at her that day she’d left for her ill-fated trip to Bath. “I’m educated far above my station, and that station is comprised wholly of that education, and my youth, which is fast disappearing.”
“How old are you?” he asked as quietly as she’d spoken, so as not to break this strange moment of intimacy, because he believed she had something else to say that he had to hear.
“Four and twenty,” she said. “On the shelf in our little community, and even in London, I’d think.”
Her calm composure had always puzzled him. Now he saw it was a hard-won thing. She held herself straight, but seemed so vulnerable standing alone in the twilight he wished he had the use of his legs so he could go to her, put an arm around her and comfort her, even though he knew it would be the worst thing he could do.
“But surely you have more family, friends, people to introduce you to some society that would be more comfortable for you?” he asked, thinking of men who had some education and manners and enough money to live on, who could marry wherever they wished. Vicars, retired army men, merchants, farmers, and such.
“I don’t think that’s possible,” she said.
“Why?” he asked without preamble, because he knew in that moment she’d tell him, and in another she might not.
She drew a breath, opened her lips—and suddenly stopped as she saw something below taking shape, something that came racing out of the violet twilight. “My goodness!” she exclaimed with a mixture of chagrin and relief, “you must be the most popular man in England! You’ve got another guest coming. He must be here to see you, he’s a stranger to me.” She peered down at the horseman emerging from the mists, galloping toward the house. “Either that,” she said with a chuckle, “or we’re being invaded by the Vikings again!”