by Nancy Yeager
She rolled her eyes. “You poetic types, always quick with a romantic turn of phrase.”
He laughed as he took her arm again. “I’m glad it moved you.”
“I admitted no such thing.” She sniffed her flower again and smiled. “It’s nice to pretend sometimes, isn’t it?”
He tightened his arm around hers and dropped his voice, although no one was near enough to overhear them. “To pretend what, Lady Tessa?”
Heat flushed her face. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. She could hardly admit she wanted to pretend, just for the afternoon, that he was truly courting her. This was a game to him, a kind ruse he’d agreed to undertake because he was a fine sort of gentleman, despite his attempts to deceive and distract her. He was competitive and driven, but probably not as diabolical as she’d previously thought. She hesitated, then settled upon a truth she could share with him.
“To pretend our lives, our futures, are our own.”
He stopped along the path and turned to face her. She was acutely aware of how alone they were, obscured from her mother and the baroness by the barely contained wildness of the garden. He laid his hand on her cheek again. “I’m sorry.”
Tears pricked her eyes, although she couldn’t say why. “Sorry for what, Mr. Alcott? For such a lovely day? For my beautiful flower? For protecting my secret from my parents?”
He laid his other hand on her other cheek, holding her face gently in place. “No. I’m sorry the world refuses to acknowledge your brilliance.”
He leaned a scant inch closer to her. She remembered this feeling, this surge of heat and need rushing through her veins. Last time, the shock of it had made her recoil, and he’d abandoned his plan. This time, she pushed herself up onto her toes, gripping his shoulders, and pressed her lips against his.
He was still and stiff for the briefest second. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his palms flat against the small of her back. Tessa sighed into the kiss, parting her lips, tasting his mouth, melding her body to his heat. Yes, this. This was the truth she couldn’t speak.
After what seemed like hours yet no time at all, he pulled slightly away from her without releasing her from his arms. He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry again, this time because I’m afraid we must return before Louisa sends my brother and your father to find us.”
His words jarred her back to reality. She reluctantly pulled away from the solid heat of his body and immediately craved the feeling of him pressed to her. She took slow breaths to recover her wits. They linked arms and continued along the circuitous path, catching a glimpse of her mother and the baroness much too soon. Acting on an impulse that shocked her, she turned toward James and took his hand in hers.
“No matter what happens, there’s something I…” She reached into her dress pocket and touched the reassuringly soft leather of her journal. “Do you remember I told you about the journal I started when I lost my tutor? With my favorite quotes and snippets of poetry?”
He furrowed his brow. “Yes, but what does—”
“I want you to have it.” How could she explain it to him, to wipe the confusion from his brow, when she couldn’t say herself what compelled her to give it to him? “Just for a time.” She shook her head, searching for an explanation that wouldn’t come.
“I understand,” he said, and she knew it was the truth. He received the journal from her even more reverently than he had the book of Blake’s poetry and pressed it to his breast, then tucked it into his coat waistcoat pocket. “I’ll keep it next to my heart.”
They joined the other ladies and returned to the house for their luncheon. Tessa placed the rose in her lap, touching the petals and catching James’s eye each time her father and his brother took over the conversation for some purpose or other, and she finally understood what he had comprehended earlier and why he had placed the journal next to his heart. In the garden, alone together, they had gone beyond pretending and had, for a moment, believed their lives were truly their own.
And in remembering that moment of pure joy, inspiration finally struck.
Tessa knew exactly what her final proposal for the competition needed. It took all of her willpower to maintain a smile and fight the urge to fidget through lunch, until her family finally took their leave of the Alcott’s hospitality. Once home, she slipped into her private sanctum, pulled out her ink and quill, and set to work on her masterpiece.
Chapter 6
James nearly skipped up the steps to the entryway of Viscount Fairbank’s home. The first step of his spurious courting of Tessa had been a wild success. So much so that he hoped when this whole competition was behind them, she might accept him as a real suitor. Then he’d submitted a stellar final proposal to the Trust board, outlining the specifics of how he and his own foundation would choose worthy young men of limited means for full scholarships to Harrow, and in doing so, had set the plan firmly in his own mind. And now he stood on Fairbank’s doorstep and at the precipice of learning the truth about the mysterious Mr. Pettibone. It was truly a fine morning to be a gentleman in London.
Fairbank’s butler pulled open the front door before James could pull the bell, which caused the slightest bit of unease to cloud his sunny disposition. Putting it out of his mind, he handed over his top hat and walking stick, then followed the butler to Fairbank’s study in the farthest left-hand corner of the ground floor of the house. It seemed an interminably long walk, longer than it had been when Percy had accompanied him. For the first time all morning, he wished Percy hadn’t been bound by the duties of the shipping company he co-owned. But he straightened his shoulders and reminded himself that no matter the nefarious details Fairbank had uncovered about Pettibone, it was best James found out now, before the man could harm Tessa.
Mercer sat in one of the comfortable leather chairs in front of the large walnut desk. Fairbank stood looking out the window. Both of them could have been statues, they stayed so still.
“Please have a seat, Mr. Alcott.” Fairbank still hadn’t looked at him.
James complied. “Thank you, sir.”
After another moment of silence, Fairbank glided to his chair behind the desk. His noiseless grace was unsettling. James was unsure whether that was for effect or was just second nature to the man. As Percy had said, a dangerous man, and one who did not look pleased with James at the moment.
James cleared his throat. “Your message said you have news of Mr. Pettibone.”
Fairbank motioned to Mercer, who began speaking without glancing at the sheaf of papers in his lap. “I’ve done a thorough investigation, Mr. Alcott, so there can be no doubt about my findings.”
James glanced at Fairbank, then at Mercer.
“I’ve spoken to the solicitors, to their associates, to my own trusted contacts.”
“He believes you, Mercer.” Fairbank straightened the papers on his desk. “I take no pleasure in telling you this, Mr. Alcott, and would take even less pleasure in telling Wrexham.”
James swallowed the lump in his throat. “Whatever news there is of Mr. Pettibone, I’ll take it to Wrexham myself.”
“Very good.” Fairbank focused his gaze on James. “Because there is no Pettibone, Mr. Alcott.”
James blinked hard once, twice, thrice. “No Pettibone? I don’t understand.”
It was Mercer who explained. “It’s all a deception, and an elaborate one at that. It appears Miss Wagner’s friend is quite clever.”
Blood rushed in James’s ears. “Lady Tessa. Yes, quite intelligent. A worthy opponent.”
“And an accomplished liar.” There seemed to be a hint of admiration in Fairbank’s voice. “She fabricated Pettibone’s sponsorship and misrepresented the material submitted to the Trust. Knowing the young lady’s love of learning, I don’t doubt she’d set up the university program for ladies, but knowing Brooking, it seems unlikely he’d approve of his daughter’s scheme. Since he wouldn’t support her cause, she invented a man who w
ould.”
James struggled to find words. He’d been ready to learn any number of nefarious things about Pettibone, but nothing had prepared him for the man’s utter nonexistence. “But that’s...”
“Scandalous.” Fairbank murmured. “Still, I doubt the duke or any of the trustees will want to ruin her reputation.”
“I agree.” James furrowed his brow. Despite their best hopes for Tessa, the moment James exposed her deception, her proposal would be eliminated from the competition. Even if the stodgy old trustees could have brought themselves to award the prize to a woman over a man, the fact that she’d misled all this time would be grounds to deny her. It was his moment of victory. Now nothing stood between him and the next chapter of his life at Harrow.
The hollowness of his conquest made him catch his breath.
He’d read through the journal she’d entrusted to him twice last night. Words copied over from both poetry and prose, full of angst and need. Tessa’s dream of a university program for women with keen minds was born of a driving need to feed and sustain her own deep intellect. And now he, who so completely understood being the unseen sibling, the crutch for one whose fortunes would forever outshine his own, would be the one to crush her soul’s aspiration.
“I’ll handle it quietly, sir,” he promised Fairbank. “The duke is an old friend, and he’s also acquainted with Lady Tessa. I think the duchess dotes on her.”
Fairbank frowned at the mention of Swimmer’s mother. “Yes, and on my daughter as well. The curse of only having sons, I suppose.” His sigh carried an air of dismissal.
James stood. “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’d like to see to this task immediately.”
Fairbank stood and shook his hand. “You’re a fine man, Mr. Alcott, just what I’d expect from a Harrow man. I’m confident I’m leaving this in capable hands.”
James nodded to him, then to Mercer, and quickly took his leave. Back on the sidewalk in front of Fairbank’s house, top hat and walking stick clutched in his hands, he took a moment to gather his wits about him. All of this was his fault for acting on his insatiable curiosity about all things to do with Tessa. Well, his and Tessa’s fault, hers for devising this cunning ruse in the first place.
“Clever, beautiful woman,” he muttered as he set off in the direction of Swimmer’s club. Even now, with the burden of her deception placed squarely on his shoulders, he couldn’t think of her without smiling. That could not portend well. And it did nothing to dispel the nagging concern that it fell to him to somehow salvage her dream.
Tessa arrived home on her brother’s arm with a spring in her step. His oral argument on natural selection had gone even better than she’d hoped as she’d prepared him over these past weeks. And that came after yesterday evening, when her brother had so kindly delivered her inspired proposal to the offices of the solicitor collecting the final documents for the award. Which had come on the heels of a delightful afternoon with a man who had well and thoroughly kissed her, or more precisely, kissed her back. A man who might someday wish to truly court her.
At least, that was part of Tessa’s plan. It was a part she couldn’t control, which didn’t sit well with her, but she’d do as much as she could to persuade James to her thinking, using all her best debate skills, the ones she’d so successfully taught to Thomas. It might sting, at first, to realize she’d won the prize – and she had no doubt the treatise she’d penned yesterday would indeed win. But in the weeks and months ahead, while her parents thought them to be embarking on a long, slow courtship, James and she would be working side by side to build a unisex scholarship program. She’d already named it the Pettibone Fund, after her late, great, and beloved tutor. Surely James would come around to the brilliance of her plans for both their work and their romance.
And the kisses they had yet to share…Fantasies about those and so much more flushed her cheeks with heat as she scampered off to her private sanctum, where she picked up a tome about the dynamical theory of heat, but couldn’t even concentrate on the words in front of her. Just minutes later, Thomas came to fetch her.
“It’s Miss Wagner,” he said with a blush. Pretty girls always made his ears turn pink, poor Thomas. “She’s in the parlor and she told the butler it’s a matter of grave importance.”
“Oh.”
Tessa pressed her lips together. Luci was adventurous and forthright, but not unnecessarily dramatic. She placed the physics book gently on top of the pile of science books and headed for the parlor while Thomas disappeared to parts of the house far away from her attractive friend.
Tessa entered the parlor, arms outstretched in greeting, to find Luci pacing. “Luci, what is it?”
At least Luci smiled when she saw Tessa, taking her hands and kissing her cheek.
“Let’s sit so you can tell me what has you in such a state. Should we have a cup of tea?”
Luci shook her head as they took seats across from each other, with Luci occupying the chair where James had sat and laughed and flirted with Tessa just days earlier. That meeting, too, had started with trepidation, and ended with a shock, but there’d been pleasant moments in between. Perhaps there was still hope for this afternoon’s visit.
“I couldn’t take tea on top of my nerves right now.” Luci laid her hands over her belly, which Tessa thought she heard grumble. “Anxiety does make me peckish though. Perhaps some scones, with cream? And jam. And maybe—”
Tessa jumped to her feet and pulled the bell cord. “I’ll have Cook lay out a light lunch for us in the dining room.” A maid appeared, took Tessa’s order, and disappeared, closing the parlor door behind her. “All right,” Tessa said, taking her seat again, “that will take about ten minutes, so…”
Luci wrung her hands in her lap and took a deep breath. “They know about Mr. Pettibone,” she said on her exhalation.
Tessa shifted to the edge of her seat, trying to make sense of the words. “Who knows what about Mr. Pettibone?”
“My father and his manservant know Mr. Pettibone doesn’t exist.”
The world tilted and Tessa gripped the chair arms to hold herself upright. “That’s not possible.” She’d been so careful, had gone through solicitors reporting to solicitors. Had carefully created papers to endow Lady Tessa with the directive to carry out Mr. Pettibone’s wishes. Had used Thomas as the go-between for every transaction. If he’d ever been followed or suspected, her highly-sensitive brother would have reported his unease to her.
Luci shrugged one shoulder. “It’s my father.”
“Of course.” Tessa had never quite believed the rumors that Fairbank was the Crown’s top spy against Spain and France, but the man had a keen intellect, a near-perfect recall, and an ability to collect information that made her envious, truth be told. “Did he tell you he knows?” She took her friend’s hand. “You’re not in trouble for keeping my secret, are you?”
Luci shook her head. “He hasn’t mentioned it to me.”
“Luci, you were eavesdropping?”
Luci snatched away her hand. “I overheard, and it’s a good thing I did. Now you can be prepared. And don’t be so judgmental. Overhearing is the only way I ever learn anything in my house. You don’t know what that’s like.”
That much was true. Not that Tessa’s family was any more willing than Luci’s to share information with their only daughter, but Tessa could sometimes wheedle news out of her mother, and she could always count on Thomas. Having lost her mother at a young age and grown up with a mysterious father and two mysterious brothers rumored to have followed in his spying footsteps, poor Luci had been shut out of all the best secrets her entire life.
“I’m sorry.” Tessa’s mind was already recalculating the task in front of her and a way to salvage this problematic turn of events. “Your father would never do me harm. If he hasn’t even mentioned it to you, he’ll probably keep this news to himself. After I win – I mean, assuming I win – I’ll approach him and explain everything. I can make him understand.”
> Tessa didn’t like the way Luci shook her head more vigorously with every word.
“He would never harm you, but he would protect you.” Luci’s eyes were wide and round. She swallowed hard. “He might think the duke finding out later could upset him, possibly lead to a scandal.”
Tessa’s tongue turned to dust in her mouth. “He’s told Wrexham?” She struggled to squeeze out the words.
“Worse. He’s assigned the task to Mr. Alcott.”
“To James?”
Luci’s eyes went even wider at the intimacy of Tessa using his given name. “Yes, Mr. James Alcott. Your competitor. Is there something you need to tell me about him?”
The heat blooming in Tessa’s face betrayed her, and Luci quirked an eyebrow.
“Just that we’ve become...friendly.” Tessa licked her dry lips. “He’s kind. And charming, as you’ll recall.”
“Charming?” Luci furrowed her brow. “Well, I suppose, in a scholarly, poetic sort of way. But Tessa, he’s your competitor! And from what I overheard, he’s the one who set my father on Pettibone’s trail.”
“No.” Tessa shook her head. There had to be some mistake. The way James had looked at her, the way he’d kissed her, the way he’d understood her, it couldn’t have all been a lie. “James – Mr. Alcott – wouldn’t betray me like that.”
Luci took her hand. “Tessa, I’m sorry. I only know what I heard. Maybe there’s some explanation.”
Yes, there had to be an explanation. But Tessa’s mind, usually full of theories, failed to come up with a single one. It did, however, quickly recall the number of times he’d undercut, interrupted, and distracted her.
“Or perhaps it won’t even matter to Wrexham,” Luci said with a forced smile.
For all her wonderful qualities, Luci was a truly terrible liar.