Part 12 (1/2)
”Pah!” she said. ”Do not try to cozen me. I caught you trying to sneak away; do not deny it.” She pointed to his riding boots.
He laughed. ”Sneak? Through the front door in broad daylight? If I truly wished to slip away, you would not catch me.”
”Ha!” She turned away, gesturing for him to follow her. ”Come. Sir Henry has given over his Green Salon for my use while I am here. We will speak there.”
This would be a good time to begin hinting to his grandmother that he was willing to change his ways and look for a wife. Then, of course, he'd admit to his intended target. He'd have to tread carefully and not give in too suddenly, though, or she'd know something was up. Tata Natasha was well versed in treachery. She would recognize it in another without even trying.
As they approached the salon, a footman hurried to hold open the door.
She paused beside the young man. ”Papillon?”
”She has had a bath, as you requested, and is now being dried by one of the maids, Your Grace.”
”Excellent. Once she's dry, put a blue riband on her neck and bring her here.”
The footman bowed and the d.u.c.h.ess swept into the parlor, Alexsey following behind.
As soon as the door closed, he said, ”Poor Papillon, to be forced into a bath and then made to wear a riband.”
”She would not have needed a bath at all if you and Strathmoor would stop taking her out to visit every mud puddle in Scotland,” she sniffed, settling onto an overstuffed settee.
He came to stand beside the fireplace, looking with approval around the small, elegant salon. ”It was very thoughtful of Sir Henry to set aside a room for you.” Decorated in gold and green, it was both cozy and imposing. Sir Henry knows my grandmother well. Very well.
She glanced about her with indifference. ”I prefer red, but this will do.” She gestured to the chair across from her. ”Sit. We will talk.”
She spoke in Romany, her eyes locked on him as if she wished to pin him in place. ”Where were you yesterday after tea? You were there, speaking with the Murdochs, and then poof! You disappeared like a ghost.”
Alexsey made himself comfortable in the chair. ”After tea, I went riding with Viscount Strathmoor. We returned while dinner was being served, so we ate in the breakfast room.” And drank a good bit of Sir Henry's best scotch, too.
All in all, yesterday had been a very satisfying day. In addition to developing a most brilliant plan to gain some freedom from Tata Natasha's incessant complaints, he'd also found a way to spend time with his Roza. After tea, he and Strathmoor had ridden to Ackinnoull Manor, scouting the least-used roads around the house. They had ridden near the house, close enough to see the rambling manor through the trees, but they hadn't visited. Not yet.
Alexsey wanted to give Bronwyn some time to think about their conversation and, hopefully, of him. He'd found himself thinking about her, too. Wondering what she was doing, what she was thinking. He almost laughed at himself. He rarely bothered with such idle speculation, and yet this time he was awash in it. Such is the price of being so bored-I am overly excited by every amus.e.m.e.nt.
”You should not have been late for dinner.” Tata shot him an impatient look. ”That was rude.”
”Sir Henry didn't even notice. I know, for I spoke to him this morning and he asked what I thought of the lamb at dinner.”
”I noticed.” She shook her head, her black eyes dour. ”You should find a good wife and have some children. That will cool this hot blood of yours.”
”It would chill my soul, that's for certain.”
”Pah! You do not know what it would do. But”-she eyed him narrowly-”what did you think of our tea yesterday?”
”I wasn't fond of the small sandwiches, but the tarts were excel-”
”Khvah tet! If you cannot be serious, then be silent.” She waited for a second, her fingers tapping a rapid beat upon the arm of the settee. ”You know exactly what I mean; what did you think of the Murdochs?”
”They seem like a fine family.”
”They are more than fine. Though not wealthy, they are of exemplary birth. Lady Malvinea is the daughter of an earl, and Mr. Murdoch's family line can be traced back to William the Conqueror.”
”You found out all of that at tea?”
She frowned. ”No. Sir Henry explained their lineage to me. And you have not answered my question. What did you think of the Murdochs?”
”The mother seems frightening. She didn't stop smiling the entire time she was here. I began to wonder if she was frozen that way.”
”She is a bit high-strung,” Tata said grudgingly. ”But a woman of sense where her daughters are concerned. What about the daughters?”
”The youngest told a very funny story about a ride she went on. She fell in the mud, and a pig-”
”Da, da. I heard it. What about the other?”
”The oldest daughter? She has a lovely laugh.” He would bet his best dueling pistols that she had lovely b.r.e.a.s.t.s, too. ”She was charming.” And he was charmed.
”Yes, yes, but-” Tata leaned forward. ”What about Miss Sorcha?”
He returned her look.
Tata raised her brows.
He lifted one shoulder. ”She's very pretty, of course.”
”Pretty? She's krysivyj.” Tata Natasha glared at him as if daring him to say otherwise.
”Fine. She's beautiful. But she also seemed . . . rather predictable.”
Tata Natasha muttered a Gypsy curse. ”Oh! I would that you had given the poor girl a chance. Talked to her. Gotten to know her, at least, before you d.a.m.ned her with your words.”
That was almost humorous, when he thought of how she'd done the same to Bronwyn. ”Tata, I'm afraid Miss Sorcha's not-” He spread his hands wide. ”She's not the one.”
”How do you know?”
”I've met this woman. I've observed her. I've spoken to her. I even danced with her. And now I've had tea with her. And she's not for me.”
Tata's frown deepened. ”She's beautiful, young, well-born, intelligent-everything a prince would wish for in a bride and more.”
”Except interesting.”
”I can't believe you do not find her appealing.”
”I find very few women appealing.” He leaned back in his chair. ”Father said it was the same for him until he met Mother. Then, he said, it was like a lightning bolt.” Alexsey thought about how they looked at one another, how he often caught them holding hands or kissing as if they were newly married. And after so many years. That is pa.s.sion. ”I don't believe I'll ever have that.”
Her expression softened. ”Oh, Lexsey. Who has hurt you so badly that you believe that?”
Surprised, he laughed. ”No one has hurt me.”
She regarded him closely. ”Never? Not even once?”
”Not even a little. Am I not blessed?”