Which was disturbing. Because he still had five sisters to marry off, and he didn’t know if his mother had it in her to keep her bedchamber door closed long enough for all of them to find respectable husbands.
Lord Hughes had already made three calls since the opening of the Season. One call from the man meant he was hoping to get familiar. Two calls meant the man was making arrangements with his mother that involved far more than tea. And three calls meant the arrangements were done.
Lady Hawksford stood before the pile of letters scattered across the carpet, smiled, and lowered herself onto the floor next to him, arranging her riding habit around her feet. She glanced at everyone in the room then caught Alexander’s gaze with those devilish green eyes that twinkled far too much for her age. “Are there any invitations from Lord Hughes? He promised to send Caroline a few during the course of the Season.”
Alexander stiffened. So they were involved. He knew it. He bloody knew it. He’d have to talk to Caldwell about fending the bastard off. Immediately. At the very least, he wanted his family to try to be like everyone else. That was the whole point of even involving them in the Season and having a coming-out for Caroline.
Lady Hawksford leaned toward him and enthusiastically patted his leg. “I absolutely adore his parties. Everyone does.”
Considering Lord Hughes had the memory of a boulder and was unpopular with the ton due to the company he kept, Alexander highly doubted that everyone adored them. “Do try and remember that Caroline is only the first of five girls we have to marry off. I’m doing my best to ensure a sense of respectability, and I ask that you do the same. After his public overture toward Caroline at the Whittle ball, I don’t want him calling on this house anymore. He’ll only complicate matters for us.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Alex,” Caroline scoffed from outside their circle. “Lord Hughes has never made a public overture toward me. Why must you continue to treat him with such disrespect? Unlike us, he doesn’t imprison himself in an artificial life when he steps out into public and could not care less about what the bon ton thinks. He involves himself with fascinating people. Do you know that he’s involved with a French courtesan who plans on opening a school? A school that will educate men on the topic of women. Brilliant, if you ask me. All men ought to attend.” She stared him down as if she knew something he didn’t. “Yourself included.”
Alexander lowered his gaze and picked up a piece of lint from the upper knee of his trousers, feeling very uncomfortable. For the obvious reasons. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she knew about his application to the school.
“Madame de Maitenon is brilliant,” Lady Hawksford agreed. “As well as delightfully lovely.”
Caroline stepped toward them, her face beaming with newfound excitement. “You’ve actually met Madame de Maitenon?”
Lady Hawksford offered a naughty little smile. “When your father and I had a fancy or two several years ago. She was wildly entertaining.”
Alexander cringed. The last thing his sisters needed intimated was his mother and father’s bizarre sexual escapades. “Ladies, please. Need I remind you that there are individuals here under the age of eighteen.”
He flashed a quick smile over at his four youngest sisters, who had all ceased rifling through their invitations.
Alexander pointed toward the forgotten pile of letters around them. “I see a lot more invitations that need opening. There’s still that quid and a ride to the park for the first one to gather ten.”
Victoria smoothed out her green muslin morning gown and challenged him by arching a brow. “A quid isn’t nearly enough to buy me the sort of books that I want.” She then turned her gaze back to their mother. “Do go on. You were saying?”
Alexander quirked a challenging brow back at her. “Try to remember you turned sixteen last month, not forty.”
Victoria glared at him. “I can assure you, Alex, that I know much more than most of the forty-year-old women in this town.”
Alexander choked. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
Lady Hawksford held up a hand, then lowered it and sighed. “There’s no need to puff out feathers, Alexander. The more my girls know about these matters, the less likely a man is going to take advantage of them. You know how they are, being one yourself. Forever trying to throw up a skirt.”
Alexander felt his entire face bloom with heat as all his sisters openly smirked at him. Though, yes, he’d been born unto the wild and wicked ways of a Hawksford, and had led his life according to those ways, he was a man. It was acceptable for him. But when it came to his sisters, he simply didn’t feel comfortable with the notion that respectability was but a façade one imparted for the ton. And that the moment no one was looking, everything and anything was permissible for them.
Sometimes, only sometimes, Alexander wondered what life would have been like if he had been born into a normal family. A family that wouldn’t discuss inappropriate things in front of twelve-, thirteen-, fifteen-, sixteen-, and nineteen-year-olds.
Mary scooted closer to their mother from the opposite side and tapped her arm. “What exactly is a courtesan, Mother?”
He glared at his mother. “Don’t.”
“Have a bit more faith, Alex. You’ve become unusually uptight.” Lady Hawksford patted Mary’s hand and cheerfully offered, “’Tis something you never want to be, dear. That is all you need to know for now.” She smiled down at her, then shifted toward Mary as if about to impart a conversation fit for tea. “Oh, and by the by. I ordered that casket for you. The one lined and ruffled with black lace and silk. It should arrive sometime in the next two weeks.”
Mary clapped her hands together, a rare smile bursting forth onto her small lips. “Can I keep it in my room? Please?”
Alexander’s heart skid from its usual rhythm. He jumped to his feet and pointed sternly at his mother. “Mother, I’ll not accept you feeding into Mary’s delusions like this. Hell, with all this ongoing encouragement, she’s likely to start digging up bodies from the cemetery. And setting them about the house like oversized dolls!”
He paused, then eyed Mary, suddenly concerned with the notion that he might have given her an idea.
Lady Hawksford pulled in her chin, causing the ivory veil of her riding hat to quiver. “Really, now. There’s no need for dramatics. She’ll outgrow it. What else would you have me do? Lock her in her room so that she may despise us all? I think not. Here in our own home, we are free to make our own rules and worry not about society. We only ever worry when we step outside that door.”
To be sure, ever since his father’s death, the woman had grown nothing short of intolerable. Free to make their own rules, indeed. There weren’t any rules. And that was part of the damn problem. That was why Caroline hated the Season, why Mary wanted caskets, why Victoria, Anne, and Elizabeth acted like they were all forty, and why he wanted to attend a sex school and bed Lady Charlotte.
It was obvious the Hawksford household was long overdue for a solid set of rules. He was, after all, the head of the household and would be until he died. Which hopefully wouldn’t be anytime soon.
“Victoria, Mary, Anne, Elizabeth.” He turned to his sisters, who were all quietly and intently sitting about. They all blinked up at him, invitations still in their hands. “Return to your studies at once. Mrs. Peterson has been left waiting long enough.”
“Must we?” the girls all whined in disappointed unison, their faces sagging.
What did a man have to do to earn some respect within his own household? “Yes, you bloody must.” He pointed toward the doorway. “Off with you now. Or I’ll see to it Mrs. Peterson permanently binds a quill to each of your hands.”
He swiveled at Mary and narrowed his gaze. “As for you. We shall discuss this casket business later on in the afternoon. I think it high time we bring you back to the ways of the living. Now go.”
“Yes, Alex,” Mary muttered, lowering her eyes. She slowly rose to her feet and tossed an invita
tion onto the floor. She watched it float down with solemn remorse.
“Now all of you.” He snapped his forefinger toward the direction of the ceiling. “Upstairs. And be quick about it.”
Grumbling, one by one, all of his sisters, save Caroline, scrambled to their feet, turned, and hurried out of the room. Even Mary, who wasn’t prone to running due to her condition, hurried out without a single complaint.
Alexander lowered his hand back to his side, feeling more at ease. As though he could breathe again. “Caroline, I need a few moments alone with Mother. If you please.”
Caroline moved toward their mother, who still sat on the floor, and settled herself elegantly beside her. “If this is about Mary, I intend to stay.”
Stay? Oh, no. Absolutely not. He’d already played this little game of hers many times before. And it was anything but fun. With her and Mother in the room, it always turned into a verbal war. Two against one. Meaning his mother and sister against him.
“Actually,” he offered as politely as he knew how, “you look a little pale. Run off and pinch your cheeks or something. Or better yet, why not hunt down that lucky sovereign of yours. That should take an hour or two, shouldn’t it?”
Caroline snapped her sharp gaze to him as the color of her cheeks heightened. “Don’t be an ass and a bastard, Alex. I have every right to be involved in this conversation. Mary is my sister, too, and unlike the others, I cannot be ordered back to the nursery.”
Alexander’s lips parted in response to her boldness. She’d never sworn at him before. Ever. “I won’t have you talking to me like that.”
Lady Hawksford lifted a hand toward him from where she sat. “Help me up, dear.”
“Yes. Of course.” Alexander turned to his mother and helped her to her feet, waiting for her to impart some common sense into Caroline.
Lady Hawksford smoothed out her riding gown and sighed. “Alexander. Caroline is no longer a child. I ask that you stop treating her as such.”
He knew it. He bloody knew they’d both start siding with one another. They always did. “Fine, fine. Let us talk about Mary instead, shall we? Am I the only one in this house that believes our family is officially mad with indecency? I ask you, who the devil goes off and buys their child a casket to play with? Who? She’s damn well morbid enough.”
Caroline rolled her eyes. “Perhaps you need to be more worried about the example you set. Why, not that long ago, Mother and I had to turn away yet another delusional woman who dared to call upon this home asking for the Lord of Pleasure. Lord of Pleasure, indeed. Yes, and I am the Catholic Virgin Mary.”
Alexander froze, his brows coming together. “What do you mean by that?” he demanded, stepping toward her. “Do you mean to say that you’re not…”
Caroline’s face visibly flushed. She threw her hands up into the air before letting them drop in exasperation. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! Do not even try to change the subject. How can you begin to judge our behavior when you yourself cannot lead this family by example? I happened to witness all of that business between you and Lady Waverly. It seems you have no qualms about frolicking with a woman who is nigh unto her deathbed, and yet you have the audacity to stand there and talk about the inappropriateness of buying a stupid casket?”
Alexander inwardly cringed though he dared not show it. This is exactly what he was afraid of. A guilty reprimand that proved him incapable of being the head of this household. “I did not bloody frolic with Lady Waverly! She ambushed me. And Caldwell helped her do it!”
She crossed her arms over her chest and studied him for a long moment. “And yet you continue to associate with him”
“If I cease associating with Caldwell,” he growled, “that leaves me to only associate with this family. You damn well know I have no real friends outside of Caldwell, and a man needs some sort of reprieve from six overzealous women.”
Caroline’s lips slid into a cynical smile. “And whose fault is it that you have no other friends aside from Caldwell?”
Yes, yes. His. He knew that. But he simply didn’t relate to any of the other men. What with all their talk of marriage and children and estates. Caldwell, on the other hand, was still a rake. Albeit misguided, but still solid in his standing.
“Caroline, really,” Lady Hawksford finally interjected. “It is no business of ours what friends, be they male or female, Alex chooses to associate with.”
Alexander jerked toward his mother. “Pardon me while I momentarily touch upon the subject of my female friends. I have none. Truth be told, I haven’t even entertained a single woman since father passed. Why? Because I’m trying to set a good, moral example for this family. Though little good it does me. If you ask me, I should be admitted into sainthood for all my continued efforts.”
“Is that so?” Caroline cocked her head to one side. “And where have you been this past week? Hmm? Did you treat yourself to a brothel or two to celebrate the anniversary of your sainthood?”
Caroline paused and tapped a finger to her lips as if pondering something. “No. Wait. I think I know.” She lowered her hand and stared at him. “You were busy enrolling in Madame de Maitenon’s school and hoped that the rest of us savages would never find out.”
Damn her, but that mouth of hers knew no bounds!
He swung toward his mother and pinned her with an accusatory gaze. “Do you see what your complete lack of discipline has created in this household? I can’t even express a single opinion without it being viciously mangled and stuffed back at me.”
Lady Hawksford’s emerald eyes sharply met his as she set her chin. “If you feel that I am so inadequate in my duties, perhaps I should retire and allow you to oversee all of their activities. Especially Caroline’s.”
Alexander’s eyes widened. Oh, no. He was not about to engage in endless female activities. After having escorted Caroline to the Whittle ball at the beginning of the Season, he was well and done trying to seriously coordinate anything anymore. Besides. He needed a small amount of peace and quiet. And a chance to bed Lady Charlotte. At least once!
Alexander shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. I’ll see to them in other ways.”
“What other ways?” Lady Hawksford presented him with a pointed stare. “You’re the one that wants to marry off Caroline to a certain sort of man. If that is still your duty and your calling, then I suggest you accompany her to all those wonderful breakfasts and balls and dinner parties you’ve been missing out on. I certainly don’t need to attend any more. I have other things I could be doing.”
“Mother!” Caroline exclaimed. The look of horror on her face reflected his own.
Caroline turned frantically to their mother, grabbed her arm, and shook it. “You know what he’s been like. And after what I went through at the Whittle ball, I am not stepping out into public with him ever again.”
Alexander laughed. “Funny, that.”
“Yes, only you seem to think so.” Caroline released their mother’s arm and glared at him. “Setting aside Lord Spittle, perhaps you should have attended Lady Newborough’s dinner party. The one you insisted I attend due to all the nice bon ton that always gathers around her. Do you know that during my table conversation with Mother and one of the guests, Lord Humphrey up and stabbed a poor lady’s hand with his dinner fork, thinking it was his bread, and didn’t even bother to apologize! Clearly your definition of nice differs greatly from mine.”
Alexander smirked, unable to resist an opportunity to prove to her that he was still very much a Hawksford. “Are you calling Lord Humphrey a prick? That’s not very nice.”
She narrowed her gaze. “If you’ll excuse me, Alex, I have far more important matters to tend to. The chamber pot, for one. Mother, I’ve made my point.” With that, Caroline gathered up the end of her riding gown, then turned and promenaded straight out of the room.
Alexander burst into laughter. “Did you see that look on her face? The best one yet!”
“How old are you? Six?” Lady Hawksfo
rd shook her head. “I suggest you try and spend a bit more time with this family before taking up the endeavor of trying to run it. It isn’t as easy as it appears.”
Alexander sighed. Maybe he did need to get more involved in their lives, instead of expecting miracles to take place on their own. It would certainly ensure a sense of stability. Maybe not for him, but certainly for them. Which is all that mattered. He’d also be able to ensure that all the caskets stayed where they belonged. In the cemetery. As for the school…
His stomach dropped. He knew what needed to be done, and truth be told, he hated the idea of passing on such a beautiful, beautiful opportunity.
But as Caroline had well pointed out, he couldn’t demand that his sisters and mother behave a certain way if he himself couldn’t behave a certain way. And if he continued on with Charlotte and the school, it would only be a matter of time before it complicated their lives.
Hell. He always thought that being a Hawksford meant the ultimate seal of freedom. But he was beginning to realize that it only applied if there weren’t any women in the family that needed to be married off.
Lesson Ten
Lust can be quite a terrible predicament. My advice is that you simply live with it. Or, if you prefer, die from it. The choice is entirely yours.
—The School of Gallantry
11 Berwick Street
The following day
It was exactly four o’clock in the afternoon when Alexander was ushered into Lady Charlotte’s Grecian-inspired parlor by none other than the bribe-prone Mr. Hudson. Apparently, the mercenary rotter hadn’t been shucked of his position. Which meant Charlotte was either overly softhearted or downright careless about the people she involved in her life.
Not that it was any of his business from this day forth. He was here to bring things to an end between them and had strategically planned his call so that he arrived at the best time to make a respectable visit. And respectable is exactly what he had in mind. Absolutely nothing else.
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