Improper English

by Katie MacAlister

  I drew up a list of steps I would take to make that desire a reality, then sat at the table with my list in front of me until shadows lengthened and stretched their inky hands across the flat, changing it from a sanctuary to a prison.

  I glanced at my list, then went to the phone and dialed Daniel’s phone number.

  “Alix! I’m delighted you’ve forgiven me my trespasses and have allowed me to apologize again for my comments.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Daniel,” I said with a faint smile. I was surprised a bit by that. I hadn’t expected that the new, serious, driven Alix would smile a whole lot. Not until she worked her way through the list. “Everything you said had merit. No, don’t try to apologize, I don’t want to hear it. I do want to take you up on your offer of help, though. I’d like to ask you a question.”

  “I would be delighted, my dear. You want the name of a good freelance editor? I know one who—”

  “No, thank you, that’s sweet, but I don’t want an editor. I want to ask you a question about my manuscript.”

  A note of caution crept into his voice. Poor man, he probably thought I was going to pin him down and ask him to help me rewrite it. A warm sense of purpose filled me as I smiled at my list.

  “Ask your question, dear lady, and I will answer it to the best of my abilities.”

  “When you mentioned that the story lacked consistency, were you referring to the storyline or to the writing style?”

  Daniel cleared his throat. I listened to him fidget on the other end of the phone before he finally spoke up. “I would have to say the latter was the more grievous flaw, although I hasten to point out that both could be overcome with serious revision.”

  The warm glow inside me spread to the far reaches of my body, filling me with hope. Still, I needed clarification. “Would I be wrong to say that the bulk of the coherence problem lies in the fact that each chapter changed the tone of the story?”

  “No.” Daniel’s voice warmed with relief. “You wouldn’t be wrong to say that. You’ve pinpointed the problem exactly. With regard to coherence and clarity, each chapter on its own would have been fine, but when they were placed together, the seams were evident.”

  I nodded my head even though I knew he couldn’t see me. So about that, at least, Alex had been right. What he had hinted at earlier, what he had tried to make me understand, was true. By seeking advice on the story as it was being written and applying that advice without thought as to how it was affecting the writing as a whole, I had done more damage than good. “A painful lesson, but an important one,” I mused to myself.

  “Writing is never easy,” Daniel agreed. I thanked him for his time, reassured him I was suffering no undue effects from the opinions he had offered, and hung up the phone with a firm sense of accomplishment.

  I crossed off the first item on my list, then dug the manuscript for Ravening Raptures out of my wicker wastebasket. I tossed away the printout of the chapters I’d finished for A Harlot’s Love, and scratched two more items off my list.

  Armed with a bouquet of flowers I picked up at Kamil’s grocery, I knocked on Isabella’s door the following morning. I held them out to her when she opened the door, healthy and glowing in a peach gauze blouse and matching trousers. Her face, however, was guarded. I noticed tiny lines around her eyes that I was sure hadn’t been there before.

  “I’ve come to apologize.” Her mouth relaxed into a smile as she accepted the flowers. “I’m very sorry for jumping all over you the other day when you were just trying to help me. If you can see your way clear to forgiving me, I’d like to ask for your assistance.”

  Her smile widened as she stepped back and waved me into her flat. “Alix, of course I will help you, but there’s no need to apologize for your behavior. If anything, it is I who should apologize for stepping in where I wasn’t wanted. I do hope you understand that I was only motivated by my affection for both you and Alexander, and that I wasn’t trying to tell you what to do or how to live your life.”

  I nodded and followed her into the sunny sitting room. “I know, and I appreciate it, although it’s a moot point now.”

  Isabella slowly sat in an antique rocker with handembroidered cushions. I had admired the rocker ever since I had first spotted it, but had thought it was too fragile for use. Certainly it was too fragile for my Amazonian bones, but Isabella curled one foot under her and looked perfectly at home in the chair. I pushed aside the little pinprick of envy at her seeming perfectness. The new Alix wasn’t going to be distracted by petty jealousies and unworthy emotions. The new Alix had a job to do, and do it she would!

  “What is a moot point?”

  I waved a hand and tried to steer her away from rocky shoals. “Alex and me. We’re moot. But that’s not what I needed your help with. I’d like some advice, and a big favor.”

  Isabella rocked in silence for a few minutes, then clasped her hands on her knee and tipped her head to one side. “I should tell you that I had a long talk with Alexander last evening. No, you needn’t worry, I’m not about to lecture you or offer unwanted advice, I just want you to know that I spent the evening with him. We went to dinner, as a matter of fact.”

  There are some benefits to being reborn. The old Alix would have seethed with jealousy at that fact, her teeth gnashing and her eyes shooting sparks. The old Alix would have been hurt and felt betrayed by this news, but the new Alix, the phoenix Alix, took it all in stride.

  I unlocked my jaw. “Really?” The word came out a little rasping and grating. I cleared my throat, refocused my thoughts, and tried again. “How lovely for you both. I hope you enjoyed yourself. Now, as to my problem, I’d like two things from you, if you are willing to help me.”

  She blinked in confusion, but nodded her head and indicated for me to continue.

  I took a deep breath. This new path wasn’t easy, but then, as some wise man once told me, anything worth having is worth fighting for. “I’d like you to release me from the lease you arranged with my mother, and refund me the balance of the money.”

  She stopped rocking, her face smooth, showing no expression.

  My heart was beating like a jackhammer, but I had to get the worst of it said. “I’d also like your help in finding a new place, somewhere cheap where I could live for a few months on the remaining rent money.”

  That made her raise her brows. I smoothed my damp palms over the skirt of my summer dress and tried not to gnaw on my lip.

  “You want to leave here?” Isabella finally asked.

  I nodded. “I need to leave. I can’t stay here anymore, not with…” I gestured in the direction of Alex’s flat. “I need distance from the situation. From Alex. I have a new life to make, and I just can’t get started on it if I stay here. I realize I’m asking a lot of you to release me from the lease and hand back the money for this month’s rent, but I’m desperate. I’ve only got a couple of hundred pounds left, even if my ex-agent sends me back my editing fee, and I’ve maxed out my credit card.”

  Isabella’s face remained smooth, although I thought I saw a flash of dismay in those bright blue eyes before they returned to their normal calm, collected appearance. “I’m not sure I understand your intent, Alix. I will, of course, allow you out of the lease, and will return the money for this month’s rent, but I don’t understand your need to move. It’s not necessary for you to leave the house just to avoid seeing Alexander.” She hesitated for a moment, her fingers fretting a bit of material covering her knee. “From what he said last evening, I assume you are quite serious in not maintaining your relationship with him?”

  “Yes. That’s in the past. I can’t go back to that. It was doomed from the start. But I’m moving on, Isabella. Like the phoenix, I’m rising from adversity and starting fresh, and I need your help to make sure I don’t plummet and fall to earth before I’ve even had a chance to try my wings.”

  A gentle smile curved her lips. “That was beautifully spoken, Alix. I can see why you want to write novels. I sti
ll don’t understand the necessity of leaving the house, but I will do everything I can to help you fly away from your nest.”

  I answered her smile with one of my own. “Thank you. For both the warm fuzzies and the willingness to help. Most of all, what I need is advice on how to find a cheap flat.”

  She pursed her lips in a little moue of consideration. “I believe you’d have better luck finding a bedsitter than a flat. That’s a room with a bed but without a private bath,” she explained to my look of confusion. “They’re much less expensive—although really, Alix, anything you look at in town is going to be much more expensive than if you went to one of the smaller cities. Are you determined to stay in London?”

  I nodded. I didn’t want to go too far from the object of all my goals.

  “Very well. If you are looking for cheap digs, I would suggest you look at student housing.”

  “Student housing?” I mulled the thought over. “But you have students living here, and—no offense intended, Isabella, but your flats aren’t even remotely in the cheap range.”

  Her madonna-smooth face took on the faintest of smug expressions. “It’s true that Miss Goolies and Mr. Skive are students, but Miss Goolies is also the only child of the British Ambassador to China.”

  “Ah. Big money, eh?”

  “Quite.”

  “Well, OK, I understand that most students live pretty cheaply, but there’s one problem—I’m not a student.”

  “I believe you’ll find that most student houses aren’t too strict on attendance at university.”

  “Ah,” I said again, thinking about it. I could live without my own bathroom and kitchen if it meant I could stay in London and write. “OK, so where’s the best place to look?”

  She mentioned a few areas that were likely to have economical housing, and even offered to help me move my things.

  “Thanks, Isabella, you’re a gem. I appreciate your doing all this after I was so nasty to you.”

  She waved away my thanks and walked me to the door. “Think nothing more about it. I understand how hurt you felt.” One rose-tipped finger tapped on her chin for a moment as we stood before her front door. “If you have truly broken with Alexander, what will you do about Friday?”

  “Friday?”

  “Alexander’s birthday.”

  Oh, God, I’d forgotten all about his birthday! In a rush, it all came back to me—the plans Isabella and I had made the week before, the money I had squeezed out of my budget to buy tickets for six to an opera I was sure Alex would like, the dinner out at a swanky restaurant that Isabella had arranged as her present to him, and…my eyes closed in horror as I remembered the little surprise I had arranged for afterwards. What was I going to do about that? Heedless of my audience, I gnawed on my lower lip. “I don’t suppose I could get my money back, do you?”

  “For the tickets to Madame Butterfly? I’m sure you could. They are very much in demand now, as you know from the trouble it took you to get them.”

  “It wasn’t trouble that was taken, just a sizeable bribe to the scalper. I wasn’t talking about the show, though. You and Karl and Bert and Ray and Daniel and his date can have the tickets and take Alex. No, I was talking about whether or not I’d be able to get my money back for…you know. The entertainment.”

  Enlightenment dawned. “The dancers, you mean? Hmmm. I rather doubt that you would be able to have your payment refunded. Those sorts of businesses tend to frown on cancellations of that nature.”

  “Rats, that’s kind of what I figured.” I sucked on my lip while I considered and discarded several ideas.

  “I have a suggestion,” Isabella offered in a mild tone that immediately made me suspicious.

  I gave her a quelling glare. It had no effect on her. I made a mental note to hone my quell before I trotted it out again, and gave in to the inevitable. “You think I should just leave things as I planned?”

  She smiled and patted my shoulder. “I did say you were an intelligent woman.”

  I frowned at the door as I thought about the one option I had been avoiding. “It would mean I have to spend the whole evening with Alex.”

  “But with six other people who will effectively act as a buffer. If you wanted us to, that is. Perhaps…” She let the sentence trail off suggestively.

  “None of that, missy,” I chastised, waving my finger in front of her before reaching for the door. “Next thing I know, you’ll turn into a matchmaker.”

  Her smile deepened until it burst out of her on the breath of silvery laughter. “Oh, Alix, you’re closer to the truth than you know.”

  I stiffened. “I am?”

  She laughed again, then reached around and gave me a hug. “Do you remember when you first moved in and I told you I had the perfect man for you?”

  How could I forget? Karl was anything but perfect, but he still had turned out to be a nice guy who I enjoyed spending time with, even if I didn’t want to get into his pants like I did…the blood drained from my face. She didn’t mean…“You don’t…not…Alex?”

  She laughed even harder at the look of horror on my face.

  “But of course Alexander! You two are perfect for each other.” Her smile dimmed a little. “Perhaps I was wrong, but I thought you were.”

  “But…Karl…”

  “I decided to bring Karl in as a—what do they call it?—red herring to keep you from realizing that Alexander was the man I had intended for you. You didn’t have too many kind things to say about him then, if you recall, and you weren’t interested in a serious relationship, while I knew Alexander wouldn’t be happy with anything less…”

  Once again her voice trailed off, but this time there was no coyness or pleasure in her face. I opened my mouth to say things I had no business saying—not anymore, that is, not since the New Alix had buried the old. Instead I closed my mouth and gave her hand a little squeeze before slipping out the door. I couldn’t help but sliding a quick glance to Alex’s door. It was as dark and emotionless as the huge, empty hole that lived inside my heart. I dragged my eyes from the sight of it and remembered my list. Today was Monday. Would I be able to gird my loins, harden my heart, and tighten my belt enough to survive an evening in Alex’s presence in four days? My chin went up. Of course I would. It was just an evening. The new Alix could do anything she wanted. Alex himself had pointed that out.

  “About Friday…we’ll leave things as they are. I don’t know how I’m going to get through the evening, but that’s my problem.” I turned back to give my now ex-landlady a tepid smile. “Thanks again, Isabella. I appreciate your help.” My eyes wandered back to Alex’s door. “With everything.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lady Rowena gasped as Lord Raoul slowly undid the buttons to his waistcoat. The soft woolen fabric slid down the long length of his muscled arms. Her eyes widened as the duke’s son, with a heated look that promised untold delights, unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it over his head slowly, giving her time to accustom herself to his bared flesh.

  Her breath caught in her throat, Rowena thought she might swoon as he slowly moved forward. She fought the rising sense of panic that accompanied the sight of his muscled strength.

  “Mercy!” she all but begged. “Please, my lord, it is too much. It is impossible. I cannot—”

  “Nothing is impossible, beloved,” Raoul growled, cradling the softness of her slender body to the hard planes of his. She expected roughness, for how could such a strong man have a touch that was anything but heavy, but his fingers were the merest whispers upon her skin as he teased the hair at her nape.

  “If you are not ready for this, beloved wife, we shall wait until you are. You have nothing to fear from me. Ever. Of that I swear.” His breath was hot against her mouth.

  She sighed with the pleasure of his touch and the promise in his eyes, and leaned into the hardened steel of his chest, offering up her lips. At last she had found a man she could trust with her life.

  “Where do you want this, Fr
eemar?”

  I looked up from the manuscript to see what Ray was holding. The box said “stuff” on the side. Helpful, that. I peered into the carton.

  “Oh, that’s my souvenirs from the tourist sites. Just stick it over there next to the bed if you please, Ray.”

  She grunted an acknowledgment and skirted her way around a three-foot-high stuffed Beefeater I had somehow mysteriously acquired.

  I frowned, setting the manuscript on top of the box of books at my feet, wondering where I was going to put the books. There wasn’t much choice, since my new digs were a little on the small side. The minuscule side of small, that is. There was enough room for a spartan single bed, a battered wardrobe, an even more battered desk with backless chair, and a window seat beneath a window that looked out over the busy street below. I designated a corner as a holding area and dumped my box of books there just as Bert came into the room brushing her hands off on a kerchief, which she folded and tucked in her trouser pocket.

  “I left your box of food in the kitchen, Alix. I would suggest you go down and claim it fairly quickly. There were several hungry-looking young men hanging about.”

  I made a face. “They’re welcome to everything but the chocolate, and that I packed with my clothes. And speaking of my clothes…” I did a complete 360-degree turn. “Has anyone seen a box labeled ‘clothing’?”

  “I have it,” a muffled reply came from behind Bert.

  “Thanks, Isabella. You can set it there on the chair. Well!” Not nearly so dainty as Bert, I wiped my grubby hands on my jeans. “I guess that’s everything, then. I can’t believe I’ve bought so much stuff in just a month’s time!”

  “You’re in London, dear; shopping is inevitable,” Isabella chided gently as she surveyed my new domain. I looked around with her, grimaced, and warmed up a smile. The new Alix didn’t whine or complain.

  “I can’t thank you all enough for helping me get settled here. I appreciate your support more than you know.”

  Ray pounded on the frame of the window in order to get it to open more than six inches. “Painted,” she tossed over her shoulder, then turned back to the street. She waved Bert forward while I turned to Isabella.