An Unreasonable Match

by Sylvia Andrew

  Dungarran put his hand on his aunt's arm. "Don't go any further!" he said quietly. Picking up a fine volume of Ackermann's Views of London from a table by the door, he added, "We'll look at this for a moment or two." After a while Hester Perceval turned and made her way back towards the entrance. She was carrying a small parcel. He intercepted her.

  "Why, Miss Perceval!" he said. "What a surprise to find you here!"

  "Lord Dungarran! Lady Martindale! How... how pleasant to see you." She didn't look as if she was pleased. In fact, she had turned a little paler. But she rallied and said, "What a splendid shop this is! I could spend hours looking at it all."

  "You appear to have bought something."

  She looked at the parcel in her hand as if she had forgotten it. "This? Oh, yes! P...poems."

  "I thought you didn't like poetry?"

  She looked blank for a moment. "Oh yes! No! I mean, since coming to London I have decided that I should find out more about it, Lord Dungarran."

  "A great deal of nonsense is talked about poetry, Miss Perceval," said Lady Martindale, smiling. "There are some excellent poets, of course— but some very bad ones, as well. I find Lord Byron's effusions quite ridiculously overvalued. Do you?"

  "I... I haven't read any. Yet. Whom do you admire, Lady Martindale?"

  They talked for some minutes, at the end of which Dungarran said, "My aunt's carriage is outside. May we offer you a lift back to Bruton Street, Miss Perceval? Or would you prefer to walk?"

  "Thank you, but I would prefer to walk. The...the exercise is good for me."

  He looked at her sardonically. "Then I'll call your footman, shall I? Or is your maid with you?"

  Lady Martindale took pity on Miss Perceval's dilemma. "I have a better idea, Robert. I should like to take Miss Perceval back to Grosvenor Street with me. I should like to show her the picture of her grandmother painted by one of my aunts when they were both young. A watercolour. Hugo says he can still trace a likeness, even after all these years. I would dearly like you to see it, too, Miss Perceval. Can you spare the time?"

  Hester hesitated. She was strongly tempted. Lady Martindale had a most attractive manner.

  "Do come," said Lady Martindale persuasively. "Robert can walk back. We'll look at the picture and chat until he arrives, and then we shall all have tea together. Would that not be charming?"

  Robert Dungarran saw with amusement that, like many another before her, Hester was slightly dazed, but unable to refuse Lady Martindale. His aunt had a way of making it impossible. He handed the ladies into the carriage and watched them drive off. Then he went back into the shop. The assistant, who knew him well, was very ready to oblige.

  "The young lady has made several purchases in the last week or two, my lord. But I'm afraid I was unable to oblige her today in her chief request. She wished to purchase, on her brother's behalf, I understand, something on the recent researches into calculus. I suggested he might more likely find such a work in Cambridge. The subject is somewhat remote for our London clientele."

  "Were you able to help her with anything else, Behring?"

  "Yes! We had a volume of Mr Lagrange's dissertations on number theory and algebraic equations, which she bought. In French, naturally. But she assures me that her brother is fluent in French."

  "An erudite young man."

  "Oh, very. If I remember correctly, you have such a volume yourself, my lord."

  "I believe I have. Thank you, Behring."

  Dungarran walked along Piccadilly and through Berkeley Square towards Grosvenor Street so deep in thought that he completely ignored the greetings of several passers-by. Such discourtesy was so unlike him that his friends were quite worried. They would have been even more concerned if they had seen his behaviour a few minutes later. On the far side of Berkeley Square he stopped abruptly, paused, then turned round and strode swiftly back to his own house in Curzon Street. He reappeared a few minutes later carrying a small parcel and resumed his progress to his aunt's house.

  Here he found his aunt and Hester Perceval in animated conversation over the teacups. A water-colour of a young lady lay on the table.

  "Where have you been, Robert? As you see, we found we couldn't wait any longer—we have started without you."

  Dungarran helped himself to tea, and settled himself comfortably in a chair opposite his aunt's visitor. He had already placed his parcel on a small table beside the chair.

  "What do you have there, my dear?'' asked Lady Martindale. "It looks like a book. From Hatchard's? Did you return there? Is that what kept you?"

  "Which question would you like me to answer first, Godmama? Yes, it is a book. Yes, I did go back into Hatchard's. No, the book is not from there. It is one of my own, which I propose to lend to Miss Perceval. I understand she would be interested in it."

  Hester shifted uneasily under Dungarran's steady gaze. His last words had surprised her, and she made an effort to smile gratefully. "Thank you, but if it is poetry, Lord Dungarran, I cannot promise to read it with great understanding—more as a willing beginner."

  "That may well fit the case exactly, Miss Perceval, though I'm afraid it isn't poetry." With these words he got up and handed the parcel to Hester. She hesitated. He seemed to tower over her, and there was something in his manner which was not reassuring. She threw a look of appeal at Lady Martindale, who said, "Pray open it, Miss Perceval! I am most intrigued. I cannot imagine what it is. Do tell me."

  Reluctantly Hester undid the string and unwrapped the book. She looked at it in silence for a moment while she felt a wave of scarlet colour her cheeks.

  "It...it is a book on calculus," she said in strangled tones.

  "I understand from Behring that you were asking about such a work." Then he added sardonically, "For your brother, of course."

  Lady Martindale, looking concerned, came over and sat by Hester. "Robert, I am not certain I approve—"

  "Please, Aunt Martindale. I surely do not have to remind you, of all people, how urgent the matter is."

  Hester had not heard this exchange. After the initial shock she concentrated on rallying her forces. This detestable man with his spying ways had nearly reached the end of his search for Euclid. But she was not about to give in without a fight.

  She stood up and said coldly, "Am I to understand, Lord Dungarran, that you questioned a tradesman about my activities? A shop assistant? You must allow me to tell you that even in Northamptonshire we would not consider that to be the action of a gentleman!"

  "You are right, of course, and I apologise—I am only sorry that it was necessary."

  "Necessary! To whom? To you? To satisfy your own idle curiosity?" The scorn in Hester's voice was devastating.

  Lady Martindale, who had been prepared to intervene on Miss Perceval's behalf, sat back and decided to wait. Life in London was often rather dull, but this tea party promised to be much more interesting than the usual insipid exchange of gossip. It looked as if the unmasking of Euclid was imminent—which in itself was exciting. Meanwhile, she would enjoy watching Hester Perceval attempting to hold her own, even against her masterful nephew—and, all things considered, she was doing rather well, too.

  "But then I should have learned," Hester continued with equal contempt. "Necessity has a habit of causing you to forget you were born a gentleman! Prying into my affairs today is no worse than hitting me, defenceless as I was, six years ago. You claimed necessity then, if I remember."

  "Robert! You didn't!"

  Dungarran smiled grimly at his aunt's startled protest. "It is, sadly enough, perfectly true, Godmama. I ought to tell you in my own defence that Miss Perceval was in the grip of raging hysteria at the time. Nothing else would have got through to her."

  Lady Martindale looked quite fascinated. "I never realised that your earlier acquaintance with Miss Perceval was so...eventful," she said.

  Dungarran ignored his aunt's curious gaze. He turned to Hester and smiled disarmingly. "But I assure you, I have regretted that, and wh
at I said afterwards, ever since. Can you forgive me?"

  Hester was not to be placated. "Fine words! But your 'regret' does not seem to have inhibited your ungentlemanly conduct today!"

  With delight Lady Martindale noted that her nephew, unaccustomed as he was to having his charm ignored, was disconcerted. He said sharply, "If we are talking of ungentlemanly conduct, ma'am, may I remind you of your own present behaviour?"

  "What do you mean? I don't know what you mean! Explain yourself, sir!"

  "I should have thought my meaning was obvious to the poorest intelligence—and we both now know that yours is far from that, my dear Miss Perceval. Since coming to London you and your scapegrace of a brother have done your best to deceive me. Evasions, half-truths, lies, even—"

  "We did not lie!"

  "Oh? I suppose you really do have one or two books of poetry in your possession? The first one was ballads, was it not? Lent to you by brother Lowell?"

  Hester turned away suddenly. "The first one," she said in a low voice. "The first one... It...it wasn't mathematics, I promise you."

  "And the rest?"

  When Hester remained silent he said, "It would not have been necessary to question servants and shop assistants if you had been more forthcoming with the truth."

  Hester recovered her voice. "But why on earth should we? What is it to you?"

  "We shall come to that later. Meanwhile, Miss Perceval, will you finally admit that you were Lowell's companion at that lecture? I should tell you that there can be no other explanation."

  Hester glanced at Lady Martindale, then sighed. "Yes. Yes, I was. Is it not shocking? Dressing up as a man, and braving a masculine preserve? Does that satisfy you? You can surely condemn my behaviour now, Lord Dungarran."

  "On the contrary—if it was the only way you could hear such an excellent lecture then I admire you for your enterprise. I expect your brother had a hand in it, too. But this is unimportant—"

  "Unimportant? Do you realise what it would mean if society got to know of it? I should have to retire once again in disgrace. My parents would be devastated."

  "There is no reason at all why the world should hear anything at all of the matter. I have far more important things on my mind than tattling to society, and my aunt's discretion is world-famous. But tell me—does this mean that you are prepared to admit that you are indeed Euclid?''

  Hester paused. Her mind was racing, but she was forced to discard one evasive explanation after another. Dungarran would never now believe that either Hugo or Lowell could cope with the work she had been doing. There was no one else. Finally, she said simply, "Yes."

  Lady Martindale got up and kissed her. "Brave girl! Wonderful girl!"

  Dungarran was shaking his head. "Incredible girl! What a dance you have led me! My aunt was the first to suggest it, but I refused to believe her." He gazed at her bemused. Then, still shaking his head in amazement, he said, "My dear Miss Perceval, let me tell you at once what a delight my correspondence with Euclid has been."

  "I... I cannot tell you how much I have gained from my association with Zeno," Hester said shyly.

  "Give me your hand." Hester slowly raised her hand and Dungarran took it in his own and kissed it. Hester looked at his bent head. This man holding her in his own strong, warm hands, his lips on her fingers, was Zeno, her friend, her mentor, her inspiration... She had never imagined anything like this... A feeling of purest delight, unlike anything she had ever experienced before, ran through her veins like fire. It frightened her and she snatched her hand from him and turned away, trembling. After a moment she added, "I shall miss our work together."

  Chapter Seven

  "Miss it? What do you mean?"

  "I shall have to give it up. You must see that I cannot continue, not now that we both know the truth."

  Disappointment made Dungarran's tone sharp. "Why the devil not?"

  "Isn't it obvious? Zeno was a friend—but you...? Oh no!"

  "This is nonsense! I know you dislike me—you have made that very clear. But you can surely forget Robert Dungarran. I'm still Zeno!" He took her firmly by the shoulders and turned her back to face him. "And I need you more than ever! You must not give up! I won't let you!"

  Hester shook herself free. "Who do you think you are—to tell me what I must do or not do! You cannot force me to work with you! Indeed, I would find it impossible! I am astonished, Lord Dungarran, that you still wish to do so, now that you know Euclid is such an ill-educated, ignorant, conceited fool of a girl!"

  "Damn it, why do you have to throw in my face words uttered six years ago in the direst circumstances. I've told you I regret saying them—though they were true enough at the time—"

  "Ha! And I suppose you haven't considered me stupid and dull since?"

  "Well, yes— But that was before—'

  Lady Martindale, who had been sitting forgotten, decided it was time to intervene.

  "Children, children," she said. "This discussion is clearly going nowhere. Sit down, Miss Perceval. Robert has something to explain to you. It is important. Please, sit down."

  Hester, looking mulish, sat down again on the sofa. Dungarran, with a nod of thanks at his aunt, took a deep breath and began to explain the situation he faced in the matter of deciphering the French papers.

  He spoke well and clearly, but Hester was hardly listening. Six years of regaining confidence, of learning to be tolerant, of developing a sense of humour, had vanished like the wind. She was filled with the old fury against the young men who had so humiliated her six years before, chief among them this man. Stupid and dull, indeed—that's what he thought her! It did not occur to her that, since returning to London, she had done her best to convince society in general, and Dungarran in particular, that she was both. She quite forgot that she had enjoyed deceiving him, persuading him that she was the ninny he thought her. The logic and balance so superbly evident in Euclid's work were notably absent for the moment—swamped under Hester Perceval's purely feminine sense of insult. No! It was impossible to think of Zeno as separate from Robert Dungarran. She would not even try. When he had finished she shook her head and stood up.

  "I am sorry. The trust and confidence I had in Zeno have gone—I only see Lord Dungarran. I do not think I would be able to work with you. Besides, what would society say about the amount of time we should have to spend in each other's company? How could I explain that? No, I am honoured, of course, Lord Dungarran, but there must be others—"

  "Dammit, there is no one else! Why the devil do you think I've spent so much time and energy seeking you out? Oh, ye gods! Why did Euclid have to turn out to be a woman?"

  Hester turned triumphantly to Lady Martindale. "You see, ma'am? It is exactly as I have always said. Men are incapable, completely incapable, of doing justice to a woman's intelligence! Now that your nephew knows Euclid is female, look how his attitude has changed! If I were idiotic enough to agree to work with him my efforts would soon be dismissed as irrational and foolish, and he would, in no time at all, cease to have any confidence in what I did. And he expects—no! He demands that I should help him! Ha!"

  Lady Martindale said gently, "You are doing my nephew an injustice, Miss Perceval. But I think that neither of you is in a state at the moment to discuss this very important subject sensibly and without prejudice. May I suggest that he calls on you tomorrow morning, when you have both had time to reflect?" She turned to her nephew. "Meanwhile, Robert, I should like you to escort Miss Perceval back to Bruton Street," adding with a smile, "but may I advise you not to mention Zeno, or Euclid, or ciphers on the way? Talk about the weather, or the latest fashions—or even poetry!" She took Hester's hand. "My dear, I congratulate you. Whatever Robert may have said, no one's work in ciphers has impressed him more than yours. Remember that when you are considering what to do. I shall see you very soon, I hope."

  The walk back to Bruton Street was accomplished almost in silence. Hester's thoughts were in turmoil, and her companion seemed preoccupi
ed. At her door he bowed and handed her the two books which had precipitated the scenes at Lady Martindale's.

  "At what time may I call tomorrow?" he said calmly.

  "I keep early hours—country hours, you might say. I am usually available from ten o'clock. But it will do you no good—"

  "Please! We promised my aunt we would not discuss the matter today." He pointed to the book on calculus. "Start reading this one. You will be fascinated, I assure you."

  She looked at him suspiciously, but he was completely serious. "Thank you," she said. He took her hand, and kissed it. The gesture was a conventional one—not at all like the kiss he had pressed on her fingers at Lady Martindale's. But even so, she experienced a faint echo of the same tingling sensation. This would not do! She moved somewhat jerkily away, bowed her head briefly and, avoiding his eyes, went in.

  "Hester! Hester! Was that Lord Dungarran with you?" Her mother's voice greeted her as she entered the salon. "Where have you been, child? I've been expecting you this age."

  "Lady Martindale invited me to tea, Mama, and Lord Dungarran kindly escorted me home." Hester was unable to suppress an ironic smile at this tame description of a somewhat fraught afternoon. Her mother, seeing the smile, drew her own conclusions.

  "How kind! I have always admired Dungarran. He has such style—and such an eligible young man, too!"

  "Mama, believe me, for I mean it very sincerely, I will not change my mind about men and marriage—least of all in favour of Lord Dungarran. Indeed, if anything, I have become more than ever convinced that I would prefer to remain a spinster. Can we not return to Northamptonshire quite soon? Surely I have satisfied your conditions?"

  "But Hester! It is far too soon to leave London! Why, we are only in the second week of June."

  "But Robina has left London, and the Cleeves as well. Can't we go too?"

  "Be patient, Hester. We shall stay a little longer. Your father and I are enjoying London life, and it is so delightful to see Hugo again."