Alex straightened and rested her backside on her heels. “He knew. I’d told him how Declan turned my father’s men against me. I don’t care if I was twelve. That didn’t justify coercing Paddy into mixing laudanum in my tea so Declan could bring me here. My
guardian
took me away from the only home I’d ever known.” Her throat felt tight. She wasn’t sure she could bear her grandfather’s betrayal on top of everything else.
Eleanor closed the door and turned toward her. “What happened in the library?”
She looked down at the outline of the spot, still visible amongst the pattern of the carpet. “I challenged him to a duel.”
“Oh, Alex. Not again. It was bad enough that you tried to stab the man when you were twelve.”
“I wasn’t going to kill him. I simply needed to make it clear that he isn’t wanted here.”
“When will you learn that diplomacy is often the better weapon.”
Diplomacy? With Declan? Not bloody likely. She looked up at Eleanor who had restored her dignity and stood gazing at her with sorrowful blue eyes. “I had to do something.” She returned to scouring the remainder of the spill.
Eleanor crossed the room, leaned down, and laid a hand on Alex’s arm. “You should call a servant to take care of that.”
If Grandfather were alive, he would have told her the same thing. Alex stopped and shut her eyes. She would give anything to hear the gentle chiding of his voice again. Wetness gathered in the corners of her eyes. She opened them and took a deep breath to gain control. Crying wouldn’t solve anything.
She shrugged off Eleanor’s hand, straightened, and snapped the used rag in the air with a force she hadn’t intended. Her cousin backed up, attempting to avoid the spray. “The servants have other duties. They don’t need to be cleaning up my mess.” She dropped the rag to the floor and sighed. “You just don’t understand.”
Since her arrival here, her family had been unable to fathom her discomfort at having things done for her. But then again, her grandfather and cousin had been born to a life of privilege. She had not.
Over the years, the staff at Oakleigh had become accustomed to what they called her “uncivilized ways.” In spite of that, she loved them. They were her life now—her responsibility. Fear trembled in her chest, making it hard to breathe. She could lose them, just as she’d lost the people she’d loved on
The Merry Elizabeth
.
She yanked a dry rag from the pile and continued cleaning. “It’s 1783. God’s teeth, at twenty I shouldn’t be stuck with a guardian if I don’t want one.” With each word, she rubbed a little harder at the stain, ignoring her stinging hands. They wouldn’t be lily-white, but there wasn’t anyone she was endeavoring to impress. She paused and glanced at Eleanor. “Do you think he’d leave if I explained to him I’d been running the estate for Grandfather the last three years?”
“Even if you could convince him, what difference would that make?” Eleanor fidgeted with her pearl necklace, twisting the triple strands. “Alex, we’ve been over this again and again. You’ve spent hours pouring over your grandfather’s will, and the answer is always the same. He left the estates and your care to Lord Worthington.” Her cousin gave her a patient look. “You’re going to have to find some way to get along with him.”
“But the man is impossible.” Alex stood, put the rags on the dressing table with the broken glass, and started to pace.
“Your grandfather knew what he was doing.” Eleanor’s voice held a note of conviction. “You must believe that.”
Alex rolled her shoulders and glanced down. The last few weeks had not been kind to the Aubusson carpet. She’d worn a path from the dressing table to the bed. All those hours of worry, and she still didn’t know what to do. If only she’d been some minor nobility, then she might have been overlooked. But as her estates were wealthy and extensive, there was no hope of that. “Damn Queen Elizabeth’s dispensation.”
“Stop swearing.” Eleanor’s automatic response made Alex gaze heavenward. Even at a time like this, her cousin worried about lady-like behavior.
“Without the queen’s edict, I wouldn’t be forced to marry.” Alex shook her head. What good did it do to be the Countess of Lochsdale if she couldn’t control her own life? “I’ll wager Grandfather thought someone needed to approve my choice. That’s why he appointed a guardian. As if I didn’t have the sense to find a husband on my own.”
“You don’t really mean that. Without the dispensation, you’d be at Luther’s mercy.” Eleanor hugged her arms to her body. Eyes wide, she whispered, “Imagine being in his power? I, for one, think it is fortunate Queen Elizabeth’s decree was very specific that the title and lands could pass to a female, but only through direct descent. Since you’re the only direct descendant left, it fell to you.” She shivered. “Without her edict, who knows what might have happened.”
“Luther’s never forgiven me for being born.” Alex gave a dry laugh. “The irony is, if I hadn’t, everything might have reverted to the crown. King George would have decided on any claim made by Luther. I know there are whispers about the king’s illness, but I doubt he’d allow Luther to inherit.”
“Thank God.”
“I don’t need a guardian to choose whom I shall marry and when.” She glanced at Eleanor. “Grandfather told me I could make the decision. After my dreadful Season in London, he realized I wasn’t ready. I’m still not.”
Alex sat on the edge of the bed and tried to keep the frustration out of her voice. “I’ll find a husband, eventually, but right now I’m needed here. I can’t go traipsing off to London. Even after months of dinner parties and balls during my first Season, I still hadn’t met one lord I could respect, let alone love.” She lay back on the counterpane with her hands behind her head. “Do you remember all those hopefuls falling over themselves at the ball we hosted?”
“Of course. Their ardor was quite comical. How many glasses of champagne did they bring you?” Her cousin smiled and settled beside her on the bed, fanning her skirts in a futile attempt to avoid wrinkles. “When you refused to choose a husband, I could feel the outrage in the room.”
“I swear, if I hadn’t promised Grandfather I’d behave, I would have challenged Lord Duprey at that ball.” Alex sat up. “Did you know he kissed me?”
Her cousin’s shocked expression made her want to laugh. Someday Eleanor would discover that not everyone lived by Society’s rules.
“When?” Eleanor brought the tip of her fingers to her lower lip. “I thought you were well-chaperoned.”
“I was, but I’d stepped out to the garden for some air, and he came up behind me. He’s lucky I didn’t have my dagger. If kissing is the reason men and women marry, it’s most assuredly overrated.”
Her cousin laughed, a joyous sound, so incongruous with the refined woman she presented to the world. “Maybe he’s as poor at kissing as he is at everything else. As I recall, he only excelled in arrogance.”
Alex got up, crossed to the dressing table, and tried to run a brush through her curls. Why couldn’t she have Eleanor’s wavy golden hair instead of auburn tresses that couldn’t be tamed? Before she could do any more damage, Eleanor joined her and took the brush away.
“Here,” Eleanor said, “sit at the dressing table. Be still. I can’t arrange your hair if you keep fidgeting.”
She tried not to move, gazed in the mirror, then stuck her tongue out at her reflection. “I wish I’d been born poor.”
“Now if that isn’t the most foolish thing I’ve ever heard you say. Most women would be thrilled with your station in life.” Eleanor stopped the brush in mid-stroke. “What prompted this?”
“Thinking about the past.” Alex rested her chin in her palm and caught Eleanor’s gaze in the mirror. “On
The Merry Elizabeth
, it didn’t matter what I looked like or who my family was. Now I constantly have to remind myself to act like a countess.” She turned away and smoothed an imaginary wrinkle in the dresser scarf. “I guess I’m just missing the old days.”
Eleanor’s voice held amusement. “See, Lord Worthington did you a service. If you’d stayed on board ship, you never would have met me, and wouldn’t that have been a shame?”
Grinning at Eleanor’s reflection, Alex raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. “Do you mean to tell me you liked the snakes I put in your bed? I didn’t even know I had a cousin. If you’ll recall, I made a vow to hate you after we met.”
“You hated a lot of things when you first arrived, but look how well it turned out.” Eleanor patted a curl into place. “Why, I’ll wager you’ve even become accustomed to those dresses we made you wear.”
Alex joined in Eleanor’s laughter. They both knew she wore her silk shirt and breeches whenever possible. She needed to fence and ride astride. Those activities made her feel truly alive, and they couldn’t be done readily in dresses. Grandfather had understood, even if the rest of the world didn’t.
God, she missed him.
Eleanor tugged some curls loose around Alex’s face and stepped back to admire her handiwork. “There, you look like a princess. Now all we have to do is pick out your dress for this evening.” She crossed to Alex’s wardrobe, opened the doors, and shook her head. “You really should have more dresses made.” Eleanor studied the meager selection. “Why don’t you wear the green silk? It looks so nice with your hair and eyes.” She removed the gown and laid it on the bed.
“Fine.” Alex didn’t want to think about tonight, it made her head ache, but she couldn’t think of anything else. If she didn’t keep control of her estates, what would become of Eleanor and the others? They were her responsibility.
Did Declan think he could put in an appearance and usurp her place? This was
her
home. Not his. She’d kept the ledgers, instructed the servants, and decided on expenditures. He didn’t know the first thing about Oakleigh Manor. Or her, for that matter, yet he would be allowed to choose her husband.
At best, he’d let her continue as before. At worst, he might force her into marriage with a man who could destroy the home she loved.
She couldn’t let that happen. If rapiers hadn’t worked, then she’d have to outmaneuver him another way.
To do that, she needed to study her enemy. Where had he been the last eight years? From the little information she’d gleaned, he’d kept to himself. In spite of this, or perhaps because of it, rumors of his exploits with women were legendary among the Ton. The gossipmongers in the
Gazette
were forever coming up with a new love interest for him, not that she believed anything in those columns.
Eleanor came up behind her, rested her hand on Alex’s shoulder, then blurted out, “I hate to ask, but do you think you could curtail your riding and fencing while Lord Worthington’s here? Maybe watch your language?” Her cousin’s refined features appeared drawn. “It would be for your own good.”
Alex stood and faced her. “You know me better than that. I’ll not pretend for his benefit.”
“It wouldn’t be for his benefit. There’s no need to make him think worse of you than he already does.” Eleanor clutched her skirt in both hands, a sure sign she was upset.
Alex opened her mouth to respond, then realized the futility of trying to change her cousin’s mind. They’d had this discussion many times before. People often mistook Eleanor’s gentle nature for a weak will, but stubbornness ran in the family. She stepped forward and pried Eleanor’s hands from her skirt, then clasped them in her own. “Stop worrying. Everything will be fine. I’ll find a way.”
A tremulous smile appeared on Eleanor’s lips. “No one knows what changes Lord Worthington will make. All I ask is that you do your best to get along with him.”
Her cousin seemed so forlorn, Alex didn’t have the heart to argue any longer. “I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything.”
Eleanor gave her a brief hug. “Things will work out, you’ll see.” She turned back before she reached the door. “If you’d like, I’ll tell him you’re resting till dinner.”
“Actually, I’m not coming down for dinner this evening.”
“Alex.”
“I need some time to think things through. I promise, I won’t continue to avoid him.”
Eleanor sighed. “I’ll tell him you’re unwell. But sooner or later you’re going to have to deal with him.” Her cousin gave her a quick, sympathetic smile, then left.
Alex resumed pacing, reliving every moment she’d spent in Declan’s company. He thought he had absolute power over her, but he was wrong. Somewhere, somehow, she’d discover the weapon that would prove most effective against him.
The wind whipped through Alex’s hair, tangling her curls. They would take hours to comb out, but she didn’t care. Right now, she wanted to feel the morning mist on her face and the power of her horse as they sped across the meadow.
Spears of sunlight filtered through the fog, promising a beautiful day. Why couldn’t it have been gray and overcast to match her mood?