I will give her my love and pray that if she learns but one thing from me, it will be how to love.
Without reason.
Without condition.
Without end.
Sweet Alexandra, grow to love.
— From the Diary of Mary Elizabeth Best
* * *
CHAPTER ONE
May 1815
London, England
Alexandra Smith looked at the men and women who sat around her, keeping her gaze low so as to not draw attention. She sat stiffly in her chair and listened to the countess, who’d been asked to make a speech about a woman she'd likely never met.
There was much weeping from the ton. The very best of Society had come out in grand numbers, the likes of which Alex had never seen.
It was a rare day of clear skies, and the air was warm with the smell of heavy perfumes and grass.
Everyone from the king and princes to the lowest of the lower class were present, the latter, of course, standing far back by the trees. Only the wealthy and titled sat in the chairs that faced the stage, with less than twenty people like Alex, who was from the lowest order of the world, taking the final row.
A thought came to mind.
“She would have loathed this,” Alex whispered.
Nash, who was sitting on her left, grunted, jousting her slightly when he did so. Nash had a few grunts. Alex knew this one meant she should be silent, but she simply could not.
They were sitting close—Nash was practically sitting on her. She was sharing her space with him because he’d be bumping the woman on his other side if she hadn't.
Nash was a big man, brutishly built like a Viking. Muscular, tall, fit, and needing more space than the common gentleman, thus she gave up some of hers.
But if she was going to share her chair, she would also share her mind.
“I feel as though they made a committee, because you know how much they love their committees, and asked themselves what the thing Mary Elizabeth Best would have loathed more than anything in the world was and then decided,” she snapped her fingers, “…that’s what we’ll do.”
“Be silent,” Nash hissed without looking at her.
“Why?” Alex looked up and over at his stony face. “It’s not as if anyone up front can hear me from the farthest row in the park. I mean, really, I only knew Ms. Best for the first five years of my life, no one in the entire first row ever even met her, much less cared about her.”
But it was the way of London. Ms. Best had done something worth recognizing, and the Anglican Church had decided to acknowledge it. The Beau Monde were simply there to make a show out of being good followers of the faith.
If only the world knew the truth.
Rose, who was sitting on Alex’s right, reached out and grabbed Alex’s hand, drawing her attention. “These people supported Ms. Best’s homes.”
“No,” Alex whispered. “These men and women are the reason the homes exist.”
Rose closed her mouth and looked away because she knew Alex was right.
Another woman in the next row turned around to glare at her. Alex simply stared until the woman turned back around. Alex turned back to the front just as another person went to the podium, a woman dressed in enough red silk to feed an entire schoolroom in one of Mary Best’s homes. She was a duchess. Alex fought not to roll her eyes.
She turned to Nash. “Why are we here? We should have our own celebration. We should all go down to the main house and have dinner tonight. What say you?”
“I like that idea,” Rose whispered on her right.
Nash moved swiftly, turning and leaning toward them both. His blue eyes settled on Rose first. “Do not help her, Rose.”
Rose leaned away, her shoulders hunched after being properly chastened.
Then Nash’s eyes turned to Alex, hard. “We’re here because England has decided to honor a very special woman who helped the poor, took in the needy, and on one special occasion saved the king’s life. This is her commemoration. We are fortunate to have been given seats at all, considering we’re a pack of orphans.”
Alex opened her mouth to speak, but at seeing the flicker of heat in Nash’s gaze she shut her mouth once more.
Nash went on, “You’re deflecting your feelings, Alex. You’re not upset that there are so many people here that didn’t know Ms. Best, and you’re not angry that they placed us in the last row.”
Actually, Alex was quite vexed about the former.
Nash’s expression changed as though he could read her mind. In a blink, Alex corrected her own expression so that it was blank.
Nash continued, “You’re upset because Ms. Best is gone, and her commemoration reminds you of that, but she’s been gone for twenty years, Alex. Let it be.” Then he turned away.
Alex said quickly. “Well, I still say we should get the Smiths back together and have dinner.”
“Me, too,” Rose whispered with a giggle.
Nash shook his head. “If I agree, will you be silent?”
“Yes.” Alex smiled. “And you have to get Chris to come as well.”
Nash moved his mouth in thought then nodded. “If he is here, I will ask. Now be silent.”
Alex clung to her silence through the rest of the commemoration and admitted that it was, indeed, a beautiful ceremony.
* * *
“No, we can’t start yet. We have to wait,” Alex said for the third time as she looked around at the assembled group. So far, only Rose, Alicia Best, Mary Francis Best, and Nash had appeared, but one seat was empty.
The dining room was large and shared with the kitchen to accommodate the many hungry and youthful mouths that were fed meals here. Alex recalled how dark the walls had once been. In recent years, the walls had been painted a light color, and art from the children took up much of the wall space. There was nothing grand about Best Home, yet Alex couldn’t recall a place where she’d ever felt warmer and more at home.
There were three Best Homes in the city. The current home, which was the one Alex had grown up in, was in Paddington on the edge of Hyde Park, and the closest home to Mayfair. Alex lived in the same area, visiting the orphanage every so often and walking to and from the shop on Bond Street where she worked.
The table had been set beautifully, but it was nowhere near the style that the wealthy were used to. The plates and cups were clean but not porcelain or glass. Still, the metal shined brilliantly with the glow of the candles that had been scattered about.
“Alex.” Mary Francis lifted her chin, though it shook slightly from age. “You will not make me wait another second for those boys. I only agreed to come because I heard you were cooking.” Her brown eyes settled on Alex sternly. “I have starved long enough in my lifetime.”
Alex smiled. “And exactly how old are you again, Ms. Best?”
The woman’s mouth shut tightly, and everyone around the table began to laugh. It was a game everyone played with Mary Francis. It had been her little sister, Mary Elizabeth, who’d been commemorated that morning, but no one knew exactly how many years apart the women actually were.
Alicia Best grinned. “Come now, Alex. Do let us eat. The food smells divine.” Alicia’s eyes were blue, unlike her great-aunt’s. Alicia was Mary Elizabeth’s and Mary Francis’ grand-niece and currently saw to the day-to-day business of Best Homes.
Nash reached for the tray cover, and Alex slapped his hand before turning to meet his eyes. “Did you tell them to come?”
“I did,” he said tightly, “but no one can force them to come.”
“Did you see them at the ceremony?” Francis asked. She was the only person at the table who’d been allotted a seat in the first row, which had surprised Alex even though she was Mary Elizabeth’s sister.
Alicia said, “I believe I saw Chris, but I’m not sure. He stood amongst the people in the back.”
“That sounds like Chris,” Nash said. “I’m sure he wouldn’t miss it.”
“As am I,” a deep voice
said as he emerged from the dark hall.
The room went silent, and Alex fought back the tears that threatened to slip down her cheeks.
Mary Francis got up her on her cane and took a deep breath. “Come here and let me look at you.”
Reuben’s steps made the floors creak as he made his way to Mary Francis. When he approached, he took her face and kissed her cheek before pulling away.
Alex let her tears fall and then stood with Alicia and Rose to get their own kiss and hugs. The only person who didn’t approach Reuben was Nash.
Alex turned to him and glared. “You knew he was here?”
Nash stood with the women before resuming his seat and grinned. “I believe you suggested we bring the Smiths together, did you not?”
She turned back to the newest person in the room.
Reuben had always been a handsome young boy with dark hair and green eyes, but at the age of thirty and one, he looked even grander in his red coat and high boots. He’d come dressed in his uniform, as though he were eating with the king. Alex hadn’t known he’d made it home at all. After the war with France, he’d been stationed there so long it had seemed unlikely he’d ever return home.
Rose made a quick sobbing sound, and Reuben wrapped his arms around her, not caring that she was likely wetting his red coat. Reuben touched Rose’s blond head and said, “I wouldn't have missed this for the world.”
Rose looked up and smiled at him. She was the youngest and the last chosen to join the small family they’d made in the orphanage. She was only eighteen but had been twelve when Reuben paid the commission to join the army. Six years had come and gone, and they all showed on Reuben’s face. He wore the expression of a man who’d seen the world as well as the pain men could cause, yet he smiled at Rose.
“Am I late?” asked another voice.
Alex gasped then ran around the table to embrace Chris. “I thought you would never come.”
Chris murmured, “Alex, you see me every day.”
She pulled away and noted his mouth was flat, but she saw the warmth in his hazel eyes.
And his words were true. Of everyone in the room, Alex saw Chris the most. She not only managed his store in town but lived with him as well, though she'd never seen him under these circumstances… to celebrate, eat, and laugh. She rather doubted that Chris recalled how to laugh, but she was glad he’d come.
Rose came over next. Chris wrapped his arm around her and then patted her head with the other as though she were still a child. Rose didn’t seem to mind and watched him with eyes full of worship as he walked over to Mary Francis.
Chris kissed her cheek. “How are you?”
“Why don’t you ever come visit me?” she snapped before stomping her cane into the well-worn floor.
Chris’ eyes grew warm. If there was anyone he loved in the world, it was Mary Francis. She’d taken over her sister’s business once Mary Elizabeth died, a business she’d known nothing about before that, and though she’d not been as warm a woman as her sister, Francis had managed to allow those who’d gathered at the table close to her.
And that was all because of Chris, for there was no one Francis loved better than Alicia and Chris.
“I’m very busy,” Chris told her with more patience than he ever gave Alex. It almost made her envious, but then again, she was simply happy that there was someone who Chris was patient with.
Francis pursed her lips. “You own a toy store, Christmas. It’s hardly reason to stay away for so long.”
Chris’ eyes flickered at being called by his full name. No one called him Christmas. “I’m very busy,” he repeated before taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. “But it’s very good to see you, Francis.” He was the only one who called her anything but 'Ms. Best.'
Francis opened her mouth to chasten him for not visiting, but Alex cut in before she could.
“You knew Reuben was here?” She noticed that Chris had hardly acknowledged either man in the room.
Chris rounded the table where Reuben and Rose were busy setting another place for him. “I picked him up from the docks this morning. He’s staying with us.”
Alex gasped, feeling more than slightly betrayed. She’d have loved to accompany him to the docks, but Chris was forever elusive about his comings and goings.
Reuben took his chair and said, “That’s not an invitation for you to come calling every day.” His dark gray eyes were smiling when he said it.
Alex's lips split wide, for they both knew she would come calling. If not every day then very frequently.
Nash cut into all conversation just as Chris settled in between Alex and Rose. “Can we eat now?”
“Do say grace first, Nash.” Alex bowed her head, as did everyone else around the table, except for Chris.
Once the blessing was said, the food was served and conversation went on.
“Does this mean you’re staying, Reuben?” Alicia asked. Alex had always liked her voice. It was soothing. Since caring for children was a large part of her life, that was a boon. She’d heard many say that Alicia was very much like Mary Elizabeth—humble and kind, never allowing her fatigue to rule her actions. Alicia also had a grace in the way she moved. She’d turn her head just so when listening to someone speak and rose and sat with a decorum that few butcher’s daughters had. With her beauty, blond hair, and small features, Alex was sure Alicia could be the belle of a ball.
Alex had always tried to emulate her but failed miserably. Her features were much larger than Alicia’s. Her eyes were a startling gray that she’d been told became unsettling if she stared into someone’s eyes for too long. Her hair was the color of ink, a black so pure that against her pale skin she looked like a ghost.
“I believe I’ll be in the city for a while, yes,” Reuben answered as he dug into his stew. After a bite, his eyes became hot with excitement. “This is excellent.” He looked around the table. “Tell me if I’m wrong. It could simply be that I’ve partaken of the military's offerings for far too long.”
Nash was nearly done with his first bowl when he responded. “No, brother. Alex is the best cook in London.”
Reuben lifted a dark brow, and his gaze fell on Alex. “You made this?” He used his spoon to point to his bowl.
Alex nodded with an immodest grin. She knew she cooked just as well as she ran Chris’ shop.
Reuben turned back to his meal and said, “I’ve changed my mind. You’re allowed to call whenever you please.”
“Excellent.” Alex took a sip of her stew then reached for bread as everyone else gave their own compliments to her. Chris’ was not verbal, but when he gazed at her there was no annoyance. That was good.
“Were you at the service?” Francis asked Chris.
“I was.” Chris was on his second bowl as well but paused before his next bite. “The commemoration was well deserved.”
“Indeed,” Alicia said. “I’m surprised it took this long to recognize her.”
The heads at the table nodded.
Reuben asked, “Do you supposed this will have any effect on the ton?”
Francis grunted. “It’s not likely. Our halls will still be overrun with their brood, perhaps even more so now that everyone knows Best Homes' reputation for ensuring their children become working citizens and not just beggars who’d pick their pockets in the blink of an eye.”
This was true. There had been a part of the ceremony that spoke highly of Best Homes. Though Alicia had grown to love the people at the table, her stomach turned at the thought of more children being dumped at the orphanage’s doors.
She glanced around and noticed the somber looks on everyone’s faces. Chris looked disgusted. Alicia looked thoughtful before she straightened in her chair. “Well, whatever happens, I will always welcome any child who comes our way.” She smiled. “And you’ll never believe how many donations have come in since the commemoration was announced! I’ll be able to hire more teachers for the children and pay for better sponsorships for the girls who
wish to learn how to cook or become maids.”
“I didn’t know the home was lacking teachers.” Chris’ expression was blank, but Alex saw the glimmer in his eyes. He was upset.
Alicia beamed at him. “I didn’t want you to worry. You already give more than I think you should. You’ve paid for the boys to have new shoes and chemises for the girls.”
Mary Francis grunted, interrupting whatever Chris had planned to say. “The new donors are probably parents, for all we know, giving to their own out of guilt.”
“They never cared that much about us,” Nash said as he started on yet another bowl. He was a large man, fit with muscular arms. Alex knew he was a hearty eater and had prepared for it.
Nash went on, “And let us be honest. No one at this table has an ounce of nobility in them, no matter what Ms. Best used to say.”
Reuben chuckled, and his eyes took on a far-off look. “Lords and ladies, she’d call us.” He glanced around the table.
Mary Elizabeth Best hadn’t called everyone ladies and lords, just a certain few. A few had been called sirs and misses, while others were princes and princesses, which always made the children laugh. Alex remembered laughing and practicing her curtsey in one of the handed-down dresses.
Reuben shook his head. “I’m sure my parents were nothing more than a pair of paupers who created me in the heat of an alley one night.”
“Reuben.” Alicia pulled in a tight breath. “Not in front of the women.”
Reuben looked surprised. “Oh, I thought I was being polite. That was as chaste as I could make that statement.”
Alex laughed, and the others did the same. All except Chris, of course.
“She called us lords and ladies to make us feel better,” Chris said as he leaned back in his chair, properly stuffed. “She never actually meant it.”
“Oh, well, I don’t know,” Alicia said with a small smile. “You always had the tendency to walk around as though you were a little lord.”
There was more laughter at the memory. Chris had indeed roamed the orphanage as though it were his domain. Alex recalled watching him as a young child and wanting nothing more than to be recognized by him. It had taken her a while, but eventually he’d given in to her demands. He’d allowed her to stand in his shadow, following where he went. She still did it now.
The Games the Earl Plays Page 31