by Leenie Brown
“However,” Jonathan continued, “since he has seen you with her this evening, I expect, he will do his best to discredit you while he charms her.” He drew his horse to a stop and waited for his friend to do the same. “I must ask…”
“Yes,” said Alex sharply. “Yes, she is worth the risk.”
“He’ll not stop at just trying to lower you in her eyes.”
Alex exhaled loudly. “I know.” He circled his horse around Jonathan’s. “I know that by pursuing her I will risk my position and my future plans, but frankly, neither has any meaning without her.”
“Very well,” said Jonathan. “You know my opinion, but I am your friend and will stand by you.”
“Will you also ride beside me?” A smile spread slowly across Alex’s face.
Jonathan’s eyes narrowed. “I want to say yes, but I should like to know to what I am agreeing before I do.”
“It seems,” said Alex lightly, “that five o’clock is a grand time to go riding in Hyde Park.” He held his friend’s gaze. “Tomorrow,” he said in a very serious tone.
Jonathan sighed. “Must we always knock down the hive?”
“Only if we want the honey.” Alex nudged his horse to move forward. “And I want the honey, Lester.”
Jonathan sighed. “Very well.”
Alex heard the resignation in his friend’s voice. “You do not have to do this,” he said. “The admiral would be happy to ride with me, I believe. It was his suggestion. I do not plan to storm the castle until I am forced to do so. For now, I wish only to make my presence known.”
Jonathan shook his head in disbelief. “Madoch, you have already told her cousins you plan to marry her. You have sat on her step for hours trying to gain an audience with her, and you are using her aunt and uncle to assist you in your quest. I would say you are already well on your way to storming the castle.” He chuckled. “You do typically beat down the front gate. You do it quietly and with few casualties, but I fear you are constitutionally incapable of not storming the castle.”
Alex shrugged. He could not deny it when he looked at it from Jonathan’s perspective. Though he had fallen into some fortunate circumstances, he had also quietly beaten down many doors to gain his current position.
Jonathan was still shaking his head. “I cannot believe I am about to say this, and I am not sure I will ever repeat it, so listen carefully, Madoch.” He drew a deep breath. “Miss de Bourgh may actually be the best woman for you. She has a backbone, I will give you that ─ misdirected as it may be. ” He held up a hand. “I do not want to hear it. I just want to get home to my bed. It is best to storm castles when well-rested.” He clucked to his horse and was off before Alex had time to more than laugh.
“Not the best woman for me,” he called after his friend, “the only woman for me.”
Chapter 7
Alex paced the length of the green sitting room at Brownlow’s townhouse. Then, he peered through the window before turning and pacing the length in the opposite direction. “Blasted rain,” he muttered for the fourteenth time in the past half hour. There would be no riding in the park and no sitting on the step at Matlock House today. And at present, he did not know where she would be this evening. He had hoped to discover that bit of information when he saw her at the park.
“Blasted rain.” He inhaled deeply and rapidly and then exhaled just as quickly as he turned to make yet another circuit of the sitting room.
“It is not necessary to wear holes in one’s boots before purchasing a new pair,” said Rycroft as he entered. “Brownlow will be along soon.” He took a seat near the window. “I have come to learn that you are in town to marry my cousin.” He tossed his right leg over his left knee.
Alex stopped his pacing, tilted his head, and gave Rycroft an appraising look. “That is the plan if the rain ever stops.”
“Ah, yes, rain will put a damper on outdoor plans such as riding?” Rycroft raised a brow and steepled his fingers together in front of him. He smiled as he achieved the full attention of the man who was still wearing a path along the length of the room. “My uncle.” He chuckled. “And my mother. They seem to like you. I can’t imagine there is much more that I need to know about you that my uncle has not already told me. He does not shower praise to earn friends. He only speaks highly of those he deems worthy, and it seems you are worthy.” Rycroft shifted slightly in his chair. “I almost feel jealous, for I do not believe I have ever earned such accolades as you have.”
Alex shook his head. “I do not know why he feels I deserve them.”
“You saved his horse,” Jonathan said from the corner and then turned his attention back to his book. “And you are as upstanding as any man ever was, which is one of the reasons so many of us stand with you even when we do not agree with you. You are annoyingly correct.” He muttered the last bit in a tone that was very close to a growl.
“Have you met Mr. Lester?” Alex asked Rycroft.
“Not officially, but my uncle could not speak of you without speaking of him. You, Mr. Lester, also, seem to hold my uncle’s good opinion.”
Jonathan inclined his head in acceptance. “That is Madoch’s fault,” he said with a smile, “as is most of the good fortune I have met in my life.” He stood, placed his book on the table, and bowed. “Jonathan Lester at your service, my lord.”
“Please,” Rycroft waved the man back to his chair, “I do not stand on ceremony among friends, and since my uncle has spoken so highly of you both, I intend for us to be friends unless there is an objection.”
“You will get none from me,” said Alex, finally taking a seat.
“Which means you will also get no objection from me.” Jonathan picked up his book again and ignored the pointed glare that Alex was giving him. “Not that I would have objected if I had been able to form my own opinion.”
“Read your book before I sack you,” Alex growled.
Jonathan chuckled and opened his book. “That is not possible. I am invaluable, you know.”
“Read your book,” Alex growled again.
Rycroft eyed the two. He had learned that one employed the other but that before that they had been best of friends and inseparable. According to his uncle, Madoch was the man with the grand ideas, and Lester, the one with the skills to assist in seeing them accomplished.
“Would you care for a game?” Madoch motioned to the chess set at the far end of the room. “I admit to being unable to sit unoccupied for any great length of time.”
“Especially when there is a plan that is being thwarted by rain,” Jonathan added from behind his book.
Madoch sighed. “Especially then.”
“You remind me of my cousin,” said Rycroft, rising from his chair. “It was one thing at which I could best him. Richard and I used to challenge Darcy to a game of sitting. We would pick a place to sit and an object to observe and then see who could hold their position the longest. I never won — Richard always did — but I also never lost. Darcy was always the first to quit the field, claiming he had something that needed his attention.” Rycroft arranged his pieces on the board. “However, place a book or a tiring pile of estate papers before him, and he will out sit me every time.” He chuckled. “And this is one game in which I hesitate to ever accept his challenge.”
“He should play Lester.”
“Good, is he?”
Alex nodded. “He can see things a few steps ahead of most people. It is part of what makes him invaluable.” He smiled slowly as he placed his last piece. ‘I have, however, on occasion, beaten him.”
Rycroft sighed. “So I have no hope?”
Alex chuckled. “My mind is a bit busy devising a plan to replace the one that has been washed away by the rain. You stand a very good chance unless I can find my concentration.”
Rycroft pulled a paper from his pocket. “Then I should not give you this as you may find it helpful.” He handed the note to Alex. “My mother and wife have agreed that tonight would be an excellent night for di
nner and games. Neither of them had any other soiree to attend, and it is raining. I must warn you, however, that Anne will be there as will be the Darcys, Richard, and Miss Bennet, and the Bingleys,” he sighed, “including Miss Bingley.” Rycroft turned to his friend, Brownlow, who had just joined them. “Will you be attending, Brownlow?”
“My sister has committed us to another dinner for this evening, and since I expect to be adding the man and his family to my own, I dare not try to alter the plans.”
“Oh,” said Rycroft, sitting up as if someone had poked him in the back, “I nearly forgot that my wife’s aunt and uncle will be there and her youngest sister, who has just arrived in town to assist Kitty in wedding preparations.” He rolled his eyes.
Alex gave him a puzzled look. “That seems a rather normal thing to have a sister help another sister prepare.”
Rycroft chuckled. “Miss Bennet has four sisters. One of her sisters is, of course, my wife. Another is Darcy’s wife, and the third is Bingley’s. Miss Lydia’s help is not needed, but I suspect, her mother is hoping that she might be thrown in the path of some wealthy gentleman, and wedding clothes seemed a good reason to send her to town.”
“Seems reasonable,” said Brownlow, who stood behind Rycroft studying the chess board. “I am sure if I had five daughters to see secured, I would take every opportunity available.”
“She is sixteen,” said Rycroft as he moved a piece on the board.
Alex whistled softly. “That seems young to be sending her out into society.”
Rycroft shrugged. “It is.” He studied the board. “You and Lester will come?”
Alex nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
“Good.”
“I have called for tea in half an hour,” said Brownlow. “Until then, I shall let you get on with your game as I would prefer to follow Mr. Lester’s lead and read.”
Alex watched Brownlow stop and pick out a book from a shelf near where Lester sat. Then, he turned his eyes back to the chess board, trying to school his mind to concentrate on the game instead of the good fortune of being able to see Anne that evening.
Two games were begun and finished within the span of time it took for tea to arrived. The first game had not gone well for Alex, but the second had seen him come very close to winning.
Rycroft let out a breath as if relieved of the possibility of a third game as the tea things arrived. “I am absolutely certain you would have had me at a distinct disadvantage in another round,” he said as he placed his pieces back on the board. “Your concentration seemed to return a quarter into that second match.” He chuckled. “It was about the same time that your sole remaining knight was threatened.”
Alex picked up the chess piece in question and smiled ruefully. “I do hate to see a horse endangered, and it is my belief that a king should be left with at least one noble steed when he meets his demise.”
“That is the key to it,” said Jonathan around a mouthful of pastry. “Threaten his knights, and he’ll leave his king to save the horses. He’s about the horses, always about the horses.” The gentleman gulped down a bit of tea, seemingly unaware of the glare being leveled at him by his friend and the chuckles of the other gentlemen. “Before you begin threatening to sack me again, Madoch, I must add that that is precisely what makes you the best at what you do.”
“Well said,” Brownlow agreed. “I have only heard good of you.”
“Yes,” said Alex dryly, “that is another reason why I cannot sack Lester. He has an annoying way of making sure I do not ruin my reputation with a hasty decision. Like I said, he has a knack of seeing things a few steps ahead of most people.”
“I find it difficult to believe that you would do anything in haste.” Rycroft directed the statement to Alex. “You seem more the calm and calculating sort.”
Jonathan snorted. “To a point,” he agreed, “but pass that point and all bets are off, gentleman. He would cut ties with his mother if she crossed him.”
“I would not,” Alex retorted.
“She would not cause you to ever have a need to prove me right,” replied Jonathan.
“I say, you have a very different relationship,” said Rycroft, once again looking at the two men with some interest.
“We are nearly brothers,” said Alex, “or, should I say, Lester is more a brother to me than mine ever was.”
“Well, we share a common interest,” said Jonathan, “your brother knows nothing of horses and sees your pursuit of them as only a waste of legal training.”
Alex nodded thoughtfully. “True. Neither he nor father was pleased when upon my graduation I refused to take up my robes and instead took a position with my uncle.” He placed his cup on the table. From the looks of interest on the faces of his companions, he felt his relationship with Jonathan needed some explanation. “I clerked for a year after my graduation. As was my custom in any area where I found myself, I learned who had the best horses and grooms. One of those grooms happened to have a son who was more keen to learn accounting and bookwork than how to mend a harness. I traded what I knew of the subjects for the opportunity to learn to mend a harness.”
“He knew how to mend a harness.” Jonathan’s mouth was once again full of pastry.
Alex shrugged. “True, but your father knew things that I did not, and I wanted him to share them with me.” He turned toward Rycroft. “He is, in my opinion, one of the best grooms I have met.” He smiled. “Tucked away in the country, serving a country squire and happy as any man could ever be.”
“And it kept him from having to attend many social functions.”
Alex chuckled. “I only had to attend one assembly and two or three card parties during the entirety of my term. It annoyed my employer’s wife to no end, which pleased him quite well. Of course, I used the opportunity to meet the gentlemen of the area.” He pursed his lips and thought for a moment. “I think I managed to only be required to partner one or two young ladies for a dance. They were lovely, but my heart was not available, and my plans were not to be fulfilled through courting.”
“Ah, see I was right!” cried Rycroft. “Cool and calculating.”
“Driven,” mutter Jonathan.
“I find it admirable,” said Brownlow. “I wish I had thought of pursuing the breeding and sale of cattle as a means to avoid social events.”
Rycroft chuckled. “You are an earl, and I have never seen you at a loss for entertainment at a soiree.”
“Do not,” grumbled Brownlow, “begin speaking to me of duty, or I shall toss the lot of you out into the rain.”
“It is not so bad,” said Rycroft. “In fact, it can be delightful to fulfill one’s duty.”
“We cannot all be so fortunate as you, Rycroft.”
“Why not?” asked Alex, looking from one gentleman to the other. “I see no reason why every man, titled or not, cannot find happiness in marriage. It does not need to be a matter of chance.”
“Strictures of society prevent it,” answered Brownlow. “It is nearly impossible to get to know a lady. She is told how to speak, what to say, what not to say, how to laugh and bat her eyes. It is a show. They are all actresses, but their stage is not in a theater: it is a ballroom or a drawing room.”
Alex tipped his head to the side as he considered what Brownlow had said. “Perhaps you are not looking in the proper places then. It cannot be as hopeless as that.”
“He still does not attend functions to spend time with ladies,” explained Jonathan. “I assure you, Madoch, that what Brownlow says is true. You should pay more attention to these things.”
“Then I do not see why it must continue in such a fashion.” He shook his head. “What gain can there be in being tied to someone whom you deceived into accepting you?”
Jonathan sighed as if he had had this conversation before, which he had. “It is not a deception. It is showing yourself to best advantage.”
“Presenting perfection is deception,” Alex countered. “There is not one person living or dead, s
ave the good Lord himself, who is perfect. Why must one pretend to be such? It will surely only bring disappointment and embarrassment when the truth is discovered. Much better to be yourself.” He scowled. “Unless, of course, yourself is entirely unacceptable. Then one might try a bath and some lessons in etiquette,” he held up a cautioning finger, “not acting.”
A small growl emanated from Jonathan, causing Rycroft to look his direction. Storm clouds looked as if they were not only brewing outside.
“Then, my friend,” Jonathan said in a flat but serious tone, “why do you insist on concealing your true value and connections. Are you not lying to try to win Miss de Bourgh’s hand?”
“No, I am not.”
For all the blustering that seemed to be gathering in the face of his friend, Rycroft noted, Madoch seemed rather at ease, even helping himself to another pastry. “How so?” he asked.
“Concealing would mean I am covering up a truth. I am not.” A small amount of guilt had begun to form in his mind.
“A sin of omission,” muttered Jonathan.
Alex paused, taking as long as possible to chew the bit of sweetness he had just popped into his mouth. Perhaps his friend was correct. Perhaps he was being just as deceitful as the many misses that stood in the ballroom saying only what they were allowed and never straying from the prescribed form of behaviour. He swallowed and took a sip of tea to rinse the stickiness from his palate. “It is necessary.”
“So you admit I am right.” Jonathan had crossed his arms and was glaring at his friend.
“I maintain that I am concealing nothing.” Alex straightened a sleeve. “I am merely not revealing all — and for very good reason. I must know the truth of her heart, and if she knows all, that will be clouded.”