The Heart of a Duke
Page 26
“Yes, well . . .” A moment of stiff silence passed between them, which seemed to last an eternity, then he glanced toward the end of the table where Valera sat. “Er, you have vast grounds here. The gardens are rather attractively landscaped.”
During the long and drawn out conversation in which she tried to find common ground with the almost too handsome, far too perfect, and somewhat arrogant duke, she found her eyes defying her to gaze down the table at Mr. Foster again and again. His rather intense discussion with Papa must certainly be about science. Alison wondered what study he might be contemplating. Electricity? Magnetic force? Perhaps the effects of various gasses upon the body? And she was discussing geography.
As the footmen cleared the last course, Mama sent the party to the music room. Alison excused herself from the duke, who seemed almost as relieved as she to be done with the awkward conversation, which had never seemed to smooth itself out. She followed the group with her head down and her gaze on the pendant.
Then she ran into a wall. “Oof, oh me, I’m sorry.”
Mr. Foster faced her, a paper clutched in his hand. He cleared his throat and smoothed his rumpled cravat. “Oh, forgive me Lady Alison. I was engrossed in my calculations.”
She shouldn’t ask about his work. Then again, perhaps a short conversation wouldn’t be entirely inappropriate. “What are you working on? Erm, not that I completely understand all the things you talk about, when it comes to scientific study.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve seen the way your eyes light up with understanding when I speak of my experiments.” His gaze met hers and pleasant tingles spread over her chest and arms. “You’re not like the others who view me as an interesting eccentric. You really listen and understand my theories.”
Her face went warm and she brought a finger up to her lips, but couldn’t stop herself from saying, “I do enjoy thinking of the world in a certain way, and you help me see things anew.”
“Yes, science has that ability. Why, until recently, I’ve been studying the energy creating effects of friction to create a safe lamp for men in environments prone to explosion. I still believe it can be harnessed and enhanced.” His smile warmed and he held a hand toward the music room down the corridor, where most of the stragglers were moving inside. As they walked, he said, “Perhaps then I can find myself a wife, assured I can offer her more than two hands and a strong back.”
Her heart fluttered at the word wife, as if by simply hearing the word, she could somehow influence him to find her for a wife. Or had he already chosen someone else? “You’ve chosen a bride then?”
“Oh.” His ears reddened a little in a way she’d never seen before. “Oh no. Not until I’ve distinguished myself in some grand way.”
“You’ve done great things.” She smiled, excitement flooding through her, and she could feel her movements becoming more frantic, but she couldn’t stop them. “Why, I still recall when you recreated the voltaic pile to show us how it creates electricity, you’ve demonstrated how magnets could be used to attract and repel, and you’ve performed so many other fascinating scientific demonstrations during your visits. How could you believe you haven’t done anything grand?”
She wanted to tell him how much she enjoyed his company, but instead she held her breath, afraid to break the spell by releasing it.
“Imitation is not greatness.” His smile faded and he slowed his step. “Most experiments I’ve attempted have failed.”
“I’d imagine that is the case with most scientists. Science is a slow process, otherwise we would already know everything.”
“You have a point.”
“Besides, failure leads to success, and I know you’ve had successes.”
“Yes, but the ones which did work, that damn . . . “ He cleared his throat. “Davy has discovered first.”
“Oh, you mean Humphry Davy. I’d heard he used a voltaic pile, a few wires, and a bit of charcoal to create an electric lamp.”
“Yes. I was experimenting with similar items.” His frown deepened. “It seems our minds work similarly. We both studied the effects of nitrous oxide at the beginning of the century, but he published his findings before I did.”
Alison fought to keep her jaw closed, but couldn’t. “Dalton’s Law! He stole your work?”
At her exclamation, he chuckled, his features smoothing a bit. “No. He just seems to be one step ahead of me at all times. I begin researching electrical properties and how they might be used to create light, and he successfully researches and tests it before I’ve completed my research. The man is a curse on my head. And until I am able to be successful inventing or discovering anything before he does, I don’t see how I can be worthy of”—he eyed her for a moment—”I’m nothing until I’ve made myself something.”
“Not so,” she said as they reached the music room door. “You’re something as soon as you see yourself as something.”
Chapter Three
Jonathan gaped at Lady Alison as she walked through the doorway as if she hadn’t said anything unusual. She couldn’t possibly be serious. Women, all women, wanted a powerful husband. She couldn’t believe that simply trying would be enough, that being intelligent was the same thing as being a leader. She’d proven it wasn’t true by hanging on the Duke of Langley’s every word throughout the meal. Each time he’d stolen a glance in her direction, she’d been staring at Langley. He clenched his fists, trying not to recall how many times he’d turned to see her speaking to the man, their heads together.
Still, she might say a man was something when he thought he was something, but clearly she was interested in the most powerful man in the room. Why would she settle for less than the best?
He held out a hand to a set of chairs.
“Thank you, Mr. Foster.”
“Please, call me Jonathan.” He kept his voice low. It probably would be more appropriate for her to continue calling him Mr. Foster, but he had the irrational need to hear his name on her lips.
“Thank you, Jonathan.” Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. “Then you must call me Alison.”
“I would like that,” he said as Lady Charlotte stood before them all.
Langley glanced at Alison and Jonathan found himself, for the second time in one day, in the odd position of wanting to pummel a man he barely knew. Instead, he widened his shoulders and sat. He’d been planning to continue his research this evening, but he’d be damned if he would allow Langley to sit beside her and whisper flatteries into her ear the entire evening.
“Do you sing or play?” he asked, though he’d never heard her do either in the years he’d been visiting with her family.
“Dalton’s law!” she said, then her cheeks turned rosier and her dimple deepened as her expression settled somewhere between a wince and a smile. “I, uh, no, I never had those sorts of talents or interests. I was always more interested in . . .”
She glanced away toward where her sister stood near the sunlit window, pretending to be watching her sister sing, but he could see her attention wasn’t on the music. Her shoulders were tense and her smile had frozen.
“Science? Books?” he asked. “You seem the type. I’d be willing to wager you’ve read nearly every book in the library. What is your favorite?”
The tightness in her muscles dissipated. “I love to read the scientific digests my father receives. They have so much information and ponderous thought on the properties of the world around us.”
“Yes, they are rather educational.” He grinned at her comment, which seemed to come more from nerves than anything else. “I must admit, however, I find myself interested in fantastical stories, such as Captain Gulliver and his adventures.”
“Do you truly?” She shifted in her seat, almost face to face with him, and her hands moved wildly as she spoke in none too soft tones. “I loved that book since I was a girl. The adventures he had were astounding. I used to dream of . . .” She pressed a hand to the pendant that hung between the round, white skin o
f her breasts. His loins tightened, and he forced his eyes back to her face. He could almost see her rethinking her words. “It was highly unrealistic, but enjoyable.”
He smiled. She was very similar to him, and nothing whatever like the Duke of Langley. He doubted the uptight duke had ever read the story, let alone appreciated it. The man would never truly appreciate the unique value of Lady Alison either.
Jonathan couldn’t fight his frown. If only he could do something to prove he was worthy of her, then perhaps he could ask her to choose him over such an important peer of the realm. He’d been working hard to do just that for years now, but he’d never been so close.
She cleared her throat. “Well, I mean to say, I found them enjoyable as a girl.”
“As a boy, I believe, my love of science came from imagining what might hide within the world around me—what things hid behind the mundane.”
“Oh, for me too! I often wondered where such ideas came from, and I would imagine there were things I couldn’t see with my eye alone, and as I grew, I determined I was right, and there are so many things we’ve discovered that can’t be seen, and many more we have yet to discover, I’m sure.” Her words came out in one rushing breath, as if simply uttering the words might encourage some unseen observer to reprimand her.
“I often imagined the things I would invent, if I were in the land of the Lilliputians.”
“That would be a lovely occupation. Our simplest inventions could be used to do complex things in such a tiny society. Basic items could make a difference too. Why, a reticule could hold years of food stores. Could you imagine it? Your lamp would be bright as the sun.”
As she continued her ponderings, he studied her excited face. For years he’d known she hid her intellect, but now something had changed. She had opened herself to him instead of hiding in the corner. When she’d called his rivalry into question, his jaw had nearly dropped. He had always known she was the woman who fit him, but he’d never seen this fire in her.
He only hoped he could make himself worthy of her, before she reverted . . . or was snatched away by the bloody duke.
He frowned. Perhaps a tube might be inserted into the glass to introduce enough air to keep the flame alive while . . . No. There would still be a chance of explosion.
Damn.
At this rate, even if Lady Alison didn’t choose Langley, they might both be long into their doddering age before Jonathan made himself worthy of her.
Alison’s cheeks tingled with hot prickles. He’d quieted some time earlier, and it had only served to make her speak more in her nervous desire to return to the easy and enjoyable conversation before she’d run on about Lilliputians. How did one stop rambling when one’s skin was surely bright as the roses beyond the window without appearing even more foolish than when one had begun speaking?
“Might I excuse myself?” His eyes searched the room. “I find myself in need of a quill.”
“Sorry. I do go on sometimes. I never seem to know when to stop.” She winced. Where had that admission come from? What was she doing?
Then his gaze met hers, direct and intense in a way his gaze had never been before. The look made her insides turn to warm pudding. “Do not mistake me. I have enjoyed this conversation immensely. Immensely. I would very much like to continue it at a later time. It’s only, as I said earlier, I must work on this invention with all haste. But I wish to continue our conversation this evening. During the games your father has arranged?”
He was enjoying the conversation? His intense eyes and straightforward words did nothing to cool her blistering cheeks, and she smiled so wide the muscles ached again. “I look forward to it.”
Alison watched him leave, then glanced toward the front of the room to see her father frowning in her direction. The fairies and sunshine floating in her chest fled. What was she doing? She’d promised to choose a husband, and Father was forcing her to select a lord within days. Now here she was spending her time with the one man who not only was not a lord but, what’s more, had openly stated he wouldn’t marry until he met some uncertain goal within his own mind. What constituted fame to one man would not come close, in the mind of another. Would an invention be enough? A discovery? Would he have to be world-renowned to consider himself ready? Even then, would he choose her over all the other women he could have? His glowing compliments and the easy conversation might mean nothing more than politeness. Even if they did mean more, it would come to nothing if he weren’t ready to marry for another ten years, especially since she only had until her birthday to get a proposal.
The Duke of Langley walked along the wall as if inspecting the paintings. A moment later, he came to stand beside Alison.
“Might I sit here?”
“Please do.” Alison nodded, but her spine stiffened. She had to relax with the duke as she had with Jonathan. She’d never wanted to marry the stuffy and arrogant duke, but her father would likely choose him for her, so she should get used to the idea. Either that, or marry the baron who sat in a seat far to her right, head lolled back and snoring rather loudly. At least the baron seemed to have impeccable taste. His clothing never left anything for reproach. Even deep asleep, he hadn’t the slightest wrinkle.
Mama had certainly planned the gathering well. Married couples, no eligible ladies except her daughters, and only two eligible lords, one old enough to need an ear horn.
She pressed a hand to the pendant, then pulled it away when the duke sat stiffly beside her. The last thing she wanted was to win a duke. Despite the ridiculous notion that a necklace could have power over her future, she suddenly wanted to rip it off and toss it away.
Alison glanced toward Valera, who smiled up at her husband. Alison’s heart gave a hard thump and she fought not to look back toward the door Jonathan had just left through. Vallie, as if sensing her gaze, glanced to where Alison sat. Her dear friend smiled, but when her eyes moved to the duke, her brow furrowed with something that seemed far too close to pity. Alison gave her a soft smile and looked away.
“Are you enjoying the music?” she asked the duke.
“This musicale is enjoyable, if one has an ear for the stuff.”
Alison glanced toward the front of the room where a lady she’d only met twice sang something Alison didn’t recognize. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
He cleared his throat softly and tugged at his cravat. “Do you sing?”
“I do not have much musical talent.”
“What talents do you possess?”
Unable to think of one appropriate talent, Alison stared ahead. “Such a lovely voice, don’t you think?”
“Rather.”
His rigid posture screamed that he was as uncomfortable as she. The man couldn’t even relax around a potential bride. The thought caught in her gut like a heavy stone and began to fester. The gnawing discomfort increased with every heavy moment between them, and all she could do was long for Jonathan.
Chapter Four
Alison sneaked down the corridor, clutching her magnifying spectacles, her only invention thus far. The guests wouldn’t remain abed much longer, so she had to hurry if she wanted to avoid seeing them. The old baron had tried to speak with her, his eyebrows twitching and his lips wet, before the evening meal on the previous night. She’d breathed a sigh of relief to discover he’d fallen asleep in a high-backed chair in the corner of the library while several other guests played whist. Jonathan and the duke both had excused themselves early, which had allowed her a reprieve from the tensions of husband hunting.
Though her choice was almost certainly selfish, she couldn’t go back into that tense world just yet. Instead, she would steal out onto the grounds and search for interesting specimens of plants or insects before the festivities began. In those days before her friends had all married, she could have slipped into Vallie’s room—or perhaps into the rooms of her friends, Ellie and Aldora—and asked them to accompany her. But now it was just her, tiptoeing along the front hall and out the door, alone.
Two peculiar beetles, each nearly as wide as her thumb, faced each other on a long branch. She pulled the spectacles down her nose, then flipped the quizzing glasses down, magnifying the insects. The beetles’ horns locked and they grappled about, lifting each other in turn.
A loud oof startled her from her inspection. She jumped back, the world a blur. A groan came from beyond the trees.
“If you continue with such vigor, I might have to refuse to accompany you on your morning exercise in future.” A man’s voice carried through the trees, still thick with the groan. “If not for my own health, than for yours. You’re getting closer and closer to murdering an old man with every swing. That’s a hanging offense, so it is my duty to protect you from such an end.”
She adjusted the spectacles and blinked as the larger world came into view again. With a single sidestep, she peeked around the tree to see Jonathan and a man only a few years older standing together holding thin swords with what looked like balled cloth on the tips.
“You’re no old man, Franklin, and you love our morning exertions, now en garde.” Jonathan lifted his weapon.
“Not since you’ve decided to take your rivalry out on my poor flesh. You should see me when I ready for bed, I’m a solid bruise beneath my clothes.”