Leigh Sparrow

by In Pursuit of the Black Swan

  Ire burned and twisted in his belly. His fingers tightened around his crystal goblet of red wine and he imagined instead that he was gripping her slender white throat.

  She continued, “By the bye, Ian mentioned you owed him ten shillings. Why is that so, Edward? Did you lose all your money at the gaming tables and need a loan, or were you too broke to pay for your whores?”

  The goblet shattered in Edward’s hand, spattering burgundy liquid across the pristine white tablecloth. Droplets of blood trickled from his fingers, mingling with the wine. His face grew taut with rage. He estimated it would take only a few quick seconds to snap her neck.

  “Alexandra Weston!” Ashford bellowed. “That is quite enough out of you, young lady. Why cannot the two of you simply be bloody civil to each other? I thought you both would have outgrown this damned childish business by now.” He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes in an obvious effort to collect his patience.

  Alexandra gave a delicate huff. “At any rate, I am quite finished dining, Uncle Ash. My carriage waits. Thank you once again for a lovely evening.” Sarcasm dripped from her pink lips as she aimed her haughty stare at Edward.

  Rising from the table, she reached into the neckline of her gown. Slowly she tugged out one of the handkerchiefs, like a magician’s trick. A broad smile tightened her face, but it did not reach her eyes. “Oh dear, I daresay you caught me in my little ruse, Edward.” Then the other handkerchief was languidly, deliberately pulled out. With her gaze locked on Edward’s, she pressed her hands to her breasts and readjusted the bodice of her gown.

  Edward’s mouth went dry. The little imp was innocence and vixen in one.

  Flinging the handkerchief on the table in front of Edward, she marched away.

  Edward couldn’t take his eyes off her slender hips, gently swaying as she exited. He reached for her discarded handkerchief to wrap his injured hand. Horror seeped through him as he realized he was aroused. The handkerchief held her scent. He drew in a deep breath. His cock grew to full mast, pressing painfully against his trousers. He didn’t like her. In fact, he loathed her. He was a pathetic lecher.

  His father’s silent judgment hung in the air. The weight of his own guilt stifled and confused him. Not able to look at his father, Edward drew in a deep breath. “Father, I apologize. When it comes to Alexandra, the very devil possesses me.” Finally, he dared a glance at his sire’s face.

  Instead of the condemnation he expected to see, his father’s eyes were filled with empathy. “You know, Edward,” he said, leaning thoughtfully back in his chair, “one of these days you are going to have to forgive her.”

  Edward stared across at Alexandra’s plate of barely touched food. “I have tried, but...” He shook his head. “She is a constant reminder.”

  The duke straightened. He reached for his wine and took a contemplative sip. “I must tell you this. Your mother would truly abhor being the source of this juvenile squabbling.”

  Chapter 4

  Ian Weston glanced up through his spectacles when Alexandra knocked on his bedchamber door and entered. He was reclined on the bed, propped up with pillows, thumbing through a book. His legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His face was pale and his frame was lean from too many days of illness.

  He eyed her and raised a blonde brow. “Nice dress. Blue always was your best color. Heading out to Northlander’s to sell your virginity?”

  She gazed into the face so identical to her own and flopped down with a huff at the foot of his bed. “We missed you again at dinner tonight. Are you feeling any better?” She toed off her silk slippers and dangled her feet off the edge.

  Ian removed his spectacles and looked at her warmly, seeming much older than his youthful years. Purple shadows streaked below his eyes. “The wheezing goes away if I stay quiet. Higgins brought up a tray.”

  “What are you reading? More books on investments?”

  “Alex, are you aware that pirates are absconding our profits from many of our shipments in the West Indies? There is quite a sizeable bounty for anyone who captures them,” Ian coughed and took a sip of water from the glass on his nightstand. “But ironically, some pirates are looting ships here in our own North Sea as well. Taking advantage of the spoils of war, so to speak.”

  “Indeed?” She forced a smile, knowing he hated when she worried about him. “Well, we shan’t be pirate hunting tonight. You must get well first.”

  He gave a careless wave of his hand. “Oh, I’ll be fine. I’ve been through this so often before. Unfortunately now is the horrid time of the year, with all the pollen. Doctor said I must stay inside another sodding sennight.” He scowled, raking his hand in frustration through his white-blonde hair which hung free almost to his shoulders. “At least Higgins brought some new explorer books from London today. I must say, I’m rather excited to crack into them.”

  His eyes perused her face. “So what’s up with you? The other doxies didn’t wish to play?”

  Alexandra sighed and pulled the itchy pins out of her hair. Her curls tumbled down around her shoulders. “Oh, Ian. I am a complete and utter henwit. I tried to appear more mature and appealing to Edward, and I daresay I overdid a bit.”

  “Mrs. Banks allowed you to go to Ashford’s house dressed like this?”

  “Mrs. Banks is visiting her mother for a fortnight.” She rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. Ashford’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull when I walked in. Of course, Edward tried to ignore me at first.”

  “Oh, no. That was the worst thing he could do.” He shook his head and coughed.

  Alexandra reached to the nightstand and poured him more water. “Here. Drink,” she said, passing him the glass.

  Ian gulped it down. Then he remained quiet, waiting for his sister to speak.

  She plopped back on the foot of the bed and let out a frustrated growl. “Oh, I could just scratch his eyes out sometimes, the arrogant beast. He had the audacity to accuse me of stuffing my bosom with handkerchiefs.”

  Ian arched his brows. “Hell. Shall I be forced to call him out?”

  Alexandra closed her eyes and shook her head. “Oh, don’t bother. It was true. I did indeed stuff my bosom. But the idiot didn’t need to make a royal edict of it.” She sighed and pressed her fingers to her brow. “I admit I…misbehaved. Rather, it was one of my more stellar performances.”

  Closing his book, Ian placed it on the nightstand. “Alex, we spoke of how you must make an effort to win Edward’s respect. If you ever expect to overcome your differences with him, you must try to earn just a bit of his esteem.”

  Her shoulders dropped and her lips quivered. “I did try that tonight! I thought if I appeared like a more mature woman, perhaps he would stop treating me like such a child.” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh bother, just take a gun and shoot me. I am such an utter fool.”

  “You are not a fool.”

  She sniffled and looked at him. Tears burned at the back of her eyes. “I don’t know who or what I am anymore. It doesn’t matter now anyhow. Edward is going to war. He’s leaving tomorrow. He would rather die in battle just to avoid me. He’s never going to forgive me.”

  Ian sat up straight and his face lit with interest. “He is truly going to war?”

  “I know, I know.” She exhaled in a loud huff. “I’m as jealous as hell, and I daresay you must be as well. We must both bear our shackles, me being a female, and you with your illness.” She lay on her side facing him her head propped up on her arm. “I suppose it is one of many reasons I behaved so abominably at dinner.”

  His knowing gaze leveled at her. “For God’s sake, Alex, this has gone far enough. You must expunge this inane obsession for Edward. You have allowed him to dominate your entire childhood. Edward’s opinion of you should not matter so much at the cost of your own esteem. Your regard of yourself is what is most important.”

  Alexandra nodded and rubbed her eyes. “I know. You are entirely correct. I must stop caring for Ed
ward. Oh, why is it so easy for you? Edward adores you.”

  “Come, now. Edward does not even know me.”

  Alexandra grabbed one of the pillows, stuffing it beneath her head. “Read to me.” Sniffling softly, her lips curved into a smile and her eyes closed.

  From his nightstand, Ian retrieved a book and read aloud about high crimes at sea.

  Neither of them could remember their real parents, the Earl and Countess of Chesbury. But every night it was their habit to share this time before retiring, just the two of them, usually with Ian reading, and Alexandra raptly listening.

  Once the story ended, Ian thumbed back through his book and murmured, “By the bye, I forgot to ask. How was your day?”

  She looked at him and smirked.

  Shaking his head, he chuckled. “You look like the cat in the cream. What have I done now?”

  She raised herself to sit and grinned. “Well, Ian.” Her voice filled with devilish delight. “Edward noticed you’ve indeed been practicing. He actually commented that your fencing has improved, and remarked on those new maneuvers Higgins taught me. I also faked a good coughing spell afterward since you couldn’t make it for dinner.”

  Ian snapped his book shut and snorted. “I’m vastly relieved to know he doesn’t think I fence like a milksop.”

  “Oh, quite the contrary!” She couldn’t resist gloating. “Edward gave you the ultimate compliment, at least coming from him, it was.” A playful snicker burst from her throat. “Edward actually said you’re not shabby by half—for a brat.”

  Alexandra skipped down the corridor to her own bedchamber after kissing Ian on the forehead goodnight. She worried about him when he was having his episodes. It was so unfair that he was forced to remain indoors all the time, hardly ever seeing the light of day, except through a window. The slightest chill was often all it required to set off his lungs. Flowering foliage imprisoned him in his bed for weeks.

  But Ian was resigned that he would never be an outdoorsman. Thankfully, he found enjoyment in his reading. Chesbury Manor boasted a wonderful library, and it was always a special treat for him when Higgins brought new books back from London.

  Once inside her bedchamber, Alexandra strolled over to her wardrobe closet and located the small heap of clothing she had hurriedly pushed to the back of the cupboard. It was Ian’s borrowed coat, trousers and white shirt. She didn’t want her maid, Henrietta, to find them and start whispering to the rest of the staff again. It had been a busy day, finally at an end. But now she shook them out and folded them properly, returning them back to the cupboard, next to Ian’s boots hidden under a shawl.

  She tugged off her offensive blue gown and slipped into a night rail. Then she sat down at her dressing table to brush out her curls. Extracting a little dagger she kept stowed in the drawer, she trimmed off the ends of her hair, saving them to create false sideburns. She never allowed her hair to get much longer than her shoulders, but simply pretended that her hair would not grow, much to her maid Henrietta’s dismay. Hence, she could pull it back in a queue and become Ian.

  Of course, now she had to bind her bosom so it wouldn’t stick out. Breasts were such a nuisance. She had feared she would suffocate during her fencing match this afternoon with Edward.

  Yet, tonight when she had wanted to accentuate her breasts, still they caused her havoc.

  For years she had pretended to be Ian. The girls in the area were so boring and prissy. She had persuaded their butler Higgins to give Ian fencing lessons in the ballroom, since that particular room was not in use for anything else lately. Higgins was a grand master trained in Italy. He also knew how to use pistols, and she convinced him to teach Ian that as well.

  Charles, their head groom, gave Ian riding lessons. She found Ian was skilled enough to adequately amuse Edward.

  It was ever so much more freeing to be a lad. With Ian unable to play outdoors at all, Alexandra had taken it upon herself to act on his behalf.

  Then after the tragedy, being Ian was the only way she could receive any attention from Edward at all.

  She climbed into her canopied bed and peered out a small window on the wall next to her. She loved to look out at the starry night sky. She had missed Edward terribly while he was away. But now he was a grown man. And he was going to war.

  A part of her was so jealous of him she could spit. She longed to become a soldier and fight the French. Oh, how she wished she were born a boy!

  And after her humiliating performance at dinner tonight…well, Ian was right. She should forget Edward. If only she could.

  The following week, Alexandra strolled into the large dreary library in search of Ian. She spotted him sprawled in a winged-back chair positioned by the window. As she crossed the room, she eyed the large wall used to display ancient Chesbury coats of arms, with hooks holding pistols, sabers, and other family weaponry collectibles passed on through the generations. She stopped to examine the display as she had done several times before. Today the swords were especially mesmerizing. Slowly, she lifted the hilt of a long shiny steel blade, removing it from its hook. Extending it out in front of her, she tested its weight and balance.

  “Ian, set down your book and come over here,” she called out.

  He peered up at her through his spectacles. “Whatever are you doing?”

  “Just come here at once!”

  Reluctantly, he placed a small ribbon over the page and put the book down. He rubbed his forehead with the base of his palm and sighed. “I was just at an interesting chapter, Alex.”

  “Move your lazy arse over here.”

  With a frown, he removed his spectacles and rose, crossing to her.

  Alexandra held the sword out to him. “Here, take the hilt.”

  “Deuce take it, we’re not supposed to touch these relics. They are heirlooms from all the dead Chesburys.”

  “They are indeed dead, Ian. I am quite sure they won’t object. And you are the earl. Nobody will countermand you. Heaven knows, you could use the exercise.”

  He leveled a bored glare at her.

  “Come on. Grip the hilt firmly.” She passed the sword to him and he warily held the decorative handle. She lifted the other matching sword off the wall. “Swish the blade around and get used to its weight. Then I’ll teach you a maneuver.”

  He eyed the blade with suspicion, then awkwardly waved it in front of him. “Have you actually used one of these before? They appear rather barbaric.”

  “Well, no. Not swords as fine as these. But Higgins did study fencing under an Italian master, you know.”

  “It does lead me to wonder why then he is our butler?”

  “Probably because he was Ashford’s butler before taking a position with us. I’ll wager Uncle Ash paid for his instruction, especially after the tragedy. Also I think Higgins enjoys fencing.”

  “Are you not afraid of slashing yourself?”

  “You must be careful, mind you. Here, grasp it like this.” She showed Ian how she held hers. “Now let’s hear you say ‘en garde!’”

  He looked at her and rolled his eyes. “En garde,” he said drolly.

  “Not like that. Louder. With feeling. En garde!’” she shouted.

  He cleared his throat. “En garde.” His voice was somewhat bolder.

  “That’ll do for now. Now aim your sword straight towards me.”

  Mrs. Stokes entered the library and quickly jerked to a halt as she took in the scene. The furniture had been pushed to the walls. The twins circled one another in the middle of the room swinging swords at each other.

  “What in dear heavens is going on?” She stormed up to them. “As if my job isn’t difficult enough, now I must worry about you skewering each other like Christmas geese on a spit!”

  Ian dropped his sword to the floor with a loud clang.

  Alexandra looked over and smiled brightly. “Mrs. Stokes! You’re back! How is your mother? Is she faring well?”

  Mrs. Stokes eyed the blades and blanched. “Are those the heir
loom swords?” She turned back to the door and shouted down the hall, “Higgins, come here posthaste!”

  A moment later, Higgins rushed in with an alarmed expression. “Is something awry, Madame?”

  Grabbing Higgin’s elbow, she pulled him back into the hall. “The twins have discovered the ancestral swords. You are in charge of ensuring they don’t bloody skewer one another”

  Higgins broke his dignified demeanor with a twitching smile. “Madame, I don’t believe I have ever heard you use such language before.”

  Mrs. Stokes threw up her hands. “And that itself is an utter miracle. Ashford should be overseeing these twins himself, I say, rather than sluffing the job off to me. I daresay he doesn’t pay me nearly enough. These twins are going to be the utter death of me.”

  She let out a long sigh. “‘Tis a shame the duke does not simply sell them off for child labor somewhere for a small profit,” she muttered and rubbed her brow with her hand. “The next thing you know they’ll be into the pistols, shooting each other —if not me —by bloody accident.”

  “Yes, of course, Madame, I shall see to them at once. I daresay it will be rather interesting instructing them both with pistols. Master Ian will need to be caught up to Miss Alexandra.”

  Miss Stokes slapped him on the shoulder. “Mr. Higgins, I did not imply that you should instruct them!” Then she arched her brows. “Is she truly that skilled?”

  Higgins’s face brightened. “You know, Madame, it would be most advisable to bring Master Ian up to chase with his sister at shooting pistols, since you have indeed mentioned it. It never hurts to know how to protect oneself.”

  Mrs. Stokes sighed. “With Alexandra constantly gadding about in those boy-clothes on such a large estate, it does ease my mind to know that she can properly handle a sword and a pistol too. I suppose I can credit it to her being fully educated, since there is really no stopping her anyhow.”

  “Madame, you have done a fine job educating them.” Higgins straightened and puffed out his chest. “Allow me to add that Miss Alexandra is predominately a crack shot.”