Passion's Song (A Georgian Historical Romance) (16 page)

“
Nothing.” He shrugged, looking as
though he were having trouble keeping a smile from his face. “But
he was a Tory, you know.”

“
Even a Tory may write a book.”
She picked up his pen and chewed on the feathers of the tip before
posing it on the page to enter a figure in the ledger. “Have you
another pen? This one seems to be cut down rather too far,” she
said with perfect innocence, thanking him without the slightest
change in expression when he opened a drawer and handed her
another.

He watched her for a few minutes before his temper
got the better of him. “This has gone quite far enough.” He put a
hand on the page. “It isn’t necessary to pretend any further. I
apologize for my rudeness. So be it if I am forced to change my
habits in my own home. I promise I shall no longer do the accounts
in my study. From now on, I shall do them in the scullery, where, I
pray it, you are least likely to disturb me.”

“
I assure you, sir, I know what I
am doing. I am quite good at mathematics. When I lived in New York,
I always did the accounts for my cousin Samuels.”

“
I’ve no doubt you Americans excel
at sums,” he said.

Isobel regarded Alexander coolly.
“Perhaps you’d care to wager?”
Really
, she said to herself,
he is infuriating! Does he think me some
empty-headed young thing?
It did not occur
to her he might think her offer an obvious attempt to get his
attention. All things considered, it was well for him that it did
not.

He was about to refuse the wager but thought the
better of it; it might be amusing to humor her. “What have you in
mind?” Imagine her insisting she could do accounts! He smiled when
he heard the amount she was willing to give up on his behalf.

“
A hundred pounds that I finish
without an error.”

“
Done.” He took the hand she held
out for him. “On your honor as a gentleman, Miss St.
James?”

“
Indeed, sir.” She turned back to
the ledgers and took up the pen. She worked quietly, only rarely
using paper to do a figure. Alexander pulled up another chair and
sat down to watch her work. She wrote a fine hand, filling the page
with neat columns of figures. It vexed him as he watched her that
he should notice how she chewed on her bottom hp, which only called
attention to the soft curve of her mouth. From where he was
sitting, her skin looked perfectly smooth and her waist impossibly
small, though, he thought, perhaps ‘twas only because she appeared
to have a tantalizingly well-shaped bosom.

She put down the quill and leaned back to stretch.
“Julia was right. Ashdown Grey pays a tidy income.” She was
disconcerted to see him staring at the floor with an amused
expression, and she followed his gaze to see what he found so
humorous. She had stretched out her legs and her bare feet were
sticking out from under the hem of her dress. Their eyes met when
she said, “Don’t tell me a worldly man such as yourself is overcome
by the sight of two bare feet?”

“
And pretty feet they are, Miss
St. James,” he remarked.

“’
Tis fortunate I did not expose
my ankles, or you should even now be my slave!” She flicked her
skirts over her feet as she spoke, trying to hide her embarrassment
behind light words.

“
Do tell me, Miss St. James, how
came you to lose your slippers?”

“
I took them off to walk on the
rug.”

“
It would have been quite all
right to walk on it with your shoes.” He smiled at the flush rising
to her cheeks.

“
I know that”—she gave him a stern
glance—“but it reminded me so much of home and my father and how I
used to walk barefoot in his study. It made me want to feel the…it
looked just as soft as I remembered the rug in Boston,” she
finished in a low voice, feeling completely ridiculous.

“
And was it?”

“
Yes.” She cursed herself for
letting him fluster her and she directed her attention to the
papers on the desk. “I’m finished.” She stood up. “Do you mind if I
take the book with me?”

“
By all means, Miss St. James,
do.” He watched her go over to the sofa to pick up her slippers and
stockings.

“
I shall expect prompt payment on
our wager as soon as you determine you have lost,” she said tardy
as she walked out, draping her stockings over the crook of her
elbow and wondering if there was even the most remote chance she
might appear dignified.

Alexander stared at the door after she had gone out.
Miss St. James was exceedingly unladylike, and if she acted that
way with her father it was a wonder he did not take her to task for
such forwardness. The infuriating little thing was apparently
incapable of dissimulation, for most women possessing even half her
wit were at great pains to hide the fact. He looked down at the
neat columns of figures filling the pages of the ledger. He
suspected it would be a waste of time to check her work. He shook
his head. Ned Ward, indeed! If he wasn’t careful, he thought, he
would end by liking her a great deal more than was good for
him.

IV

“
Well,” Julia said with a radiant
smile, while she and Isobel waited for Alexander to come down and
escort them to supper, “what do you think of it?”

Isobel handed back the letter Julia had given her to
read. “I think Lord Burke is very much in love with you, Julia. But
it tells me nothing I did not already know.”

“
He spoke to Hartforde the very
day we left London! Charles was absolutely certain I was going to
marry Allryn. Can you imagine?” She laughed gaily at the thought of
being in love with Allryn. “Charles asked permission to write to
me, and Hartforde came to Ashdown Grey to deliver the letter
personally. And such a letter! He is ten times more romantic than I
ever thought possible!”

Alexander appeared just as Julia finished speaking,
without apology for having kept them waiting. Isobel looked at him
expectantly, but he gave her only the briefest glance before
offering his arm to his sister and leading her into the dining
room. Some people, she thought, were too enamored of themselves to
admit their errors graciously. She stuck her tongue out at the back
of his broad shoulders as he went through the door in front of her.
At precisely the instant she was demonstrating her pique, Alexander
turned to look over his shoulder at her. He arched one eyebrow and
shook his head in the manner of one severely put upon.

“
Is everything all right?” he
asked softly when he saw her to her seat. “I feared for a moment
you must have been taken ill. I can send for a doctor, if you think
it necessary.”

“
I am as well as possible, given
the company, sir,” she retorted, feeling herself go scarlet. What
an insufferable man!

“
So, Hartforde, I have asked Miss
St. James to help me plan my engagement ball when we return to
London,” Julia said when he had taken his seat. She looked at
Isobel and wondered at the high color on her cheeks.

“
I’ve no doubt she is quite clever
enough to make it a success,” he said sourly.

“
Hartforde!”

“
I believe, Julia, your brother is
in a bad humor because he found he seriously misjudged me today.”
She smiled a little smugly.

“
Will you tell us, Miss St. James,
how you learned the accountant’s trade?” He moved his head to one
side as a footman placed a bowl of soup in front of him and glanced
at Isobel before picking up his spoon.

“
Is your memory so short that
you’ve already forgotten I told you I did the accounts for my
cousin Samuels?” Certain his voice held a note of amusement, she
made an effort not to lose her temper. “Or did you think I told an
untruth?”

He lifted one eyebrow, quite definitely suggesting
she took herself far too seriously. “I believe I recall every word
you uttered. If I seem incredulous, ‘tis only because one rarely
finds a woman of such masculine accomplishment as yourself, Miss
St. James.”

“
Tell me, sir, is it your habit to
be so insufferable when you lose a wager?”

Julia could only look on in amazement. She had never
seen her brother in such a peculiar mood. He was always unfailingly
polite to women, but here he was acting as though his fondest wish
was to send Isobel into a rage. “Hartforde,” she cut in as he was
preparing a retort, “what is Isobel talking about? Is it true you
lost a wager to her?”

Isobel glared at him before looking back at Julia.
“We wagered I could finish his accounts without error. And I have
won, have I not, Lord Hartforde?”

“
I have not yet finished checking
your work, Miss St. James,” he said stiffly.

Julia decided it would be prudent to change the
subject.

V

“
Tell me about your brother’s
wife,” Isobel said suddenly the next day when she and Julia were
walking in the gardens before dinner.

“
She’s dead.” Julia shrugged her
shoulders.

“
Yes, I know, but what was she
like?” she persisted.

“
She was blond, like you. And she
had blue eyes, very light, not as dark as yours.”

“
I saw her portrait. She was
beautiful.”

“
She was very beautiful.” Isobel’s
heart dropped at Julia’s words. “Every man she wanted fell in love
with her. I remember she had a lovely smile.”

“
He must have loved her very
much.”

“
No. He didn’t. He might have at
first. I was quite young when he married, so he might have loved
her then; I don’t know. Lady Hartforde was a selfish and cruel
woman who did her best to make Alexander miserable. She never loved
anyone in her life except herself, and she certainly never loved
Hartforde! I hated her! I was glad when she died!” There was a
brief uncomfortable silence. Then Julia continued. “There’s nothing
to be sorry for, Isobel,” she said kindly. “What Hartforde needs is
a woman who loves him. He was married to that witch for five years.
What he needs is you.”

“
Julia, your brother doesn’t even
like me. Believe me!”

Julia only smiled in return.

VI

Three days passed without Isobel’s seeing Alexander,
except during dinner, when he was infuriatingly polite while he
tried, generally with great success, to bait her on one subject or
another. She finally mentioned to Julia that it was high time her
friend return to Lord Burke before he despaired of her acceptance,
but Julia merely gave a satisfied smile and refused to leave while
things were going so splendidly.

On the fourth day, Isobel awoke well before seven.
She lay in bed for several minutes staring at the canopy, annoyed
that she was unable to fall back to sleep. She threw the covers
back and dressed quietly. A ride in the fresh air was what she
needed. After leaving word for Julia on the chance she was out of
bed before she got back, she headed toward the stable, and while
the groom saddled Boots for her, she played with the puppies. Her
heart had gone out to the black-and-white one; it was by far the
cutest of the litter. She liked it best because it was the biggest.
She had a time convincing the groom to let her go out alone, but
what she needed was the peace of solitude. Another groom helped her
to mount and under a foggy gray sky she trotted sedately until she
was well out of sight of the stable. The sidesaddle was
uncomfortable and she was positive she would never get over the
fear of losing her balance. “I’ll be dashed if I continue to use
this thing!” she said crossly to herself. When she reached a low
fence of piled-up rocks, she pulled Boots to a stop. It was but the
work of a moment to dismount and unfasten the hated contraption.
Once she had the saddle off, it remained only to get back on the
horse. But the voluminous skirt of her riding habit made remounting
the patient animal impossible. She did the only thing she could do,
short of taking off the habit (a solution to which she gave only
the briefest of consideration); she pulled the back of the skirt
between her legs and drew it up under the front of her belt. She
managed to remount by climbing on a fence of piled-up rocks. The
sensation of having her legs exposed to the air made her
uncomfortable; she could well appreciate the practicality of a pair
of breeches and she wished she’d thought to bring a pair with her.
The thought that still someone might come along worried her until a
good twenty minutes had passed, during which she did not see so
much as a squirrel.

She kicked Boots into a gallop and whooped with
exhilaration as the horse responded. When she finally drew up, both
she and the horse were breathing hard. She reached down to pat his
neck. “Do you need a rest, old boy?” she asked breathlessly. She
slid off his back and stood looking at the fields. The rolling land
stretching out as far as she could see was an intense verdant green
lost at the horizon in a misty fog, and the flowers dotting the
fields made patches of color in an otherwise solid green carpet.
The sky was a gray dome above her and it gave her the eerie
sensation she was the only person in the world, and that the world
existed solely of these fields and the low gray sky. She let her
skirt down and, because she wanted to feel the grass under her
feet, she pulled off her boots. After stuffing her stockings inside
the toes, she threw them down to walk down to a meadow where
bluebells stood out from the green. The grass was cold but only a
little damp between her toes. It tickled her ankles as she walked.
She sat down in the middle of the meadow and at last began to
understand why her mother had so loved the flower and why the man
she would always think of as her father had wanted to cultivate it.
She lay on her back, knees bent to face the cool sky, and stared at
the flowers around her. Her life had changed so much since she had
left New York, and she shuddered to think what might have happened
if she were still slaving away for Samuels. Philip would have
accosted her again, and she doubted there would have been anyone to
stop him a second time. Now, she had a father who, even if he
didn’t exactly love her, was at least unabashedly spoiling her. And
all she had to do to secure her future was marry some nobleman who
was sure to measure the depth of his love by the size of her
fortune. She sighed and closed her eyes, forcing herself to think
of something else, anything else, besides being married to someone
who didn’t love her and whom she didn’t love either. She began
humming a tune, adding instruments as, in her mind, the refrain
developed. She began waving her hands in the air, conducting the
orchestra that was even now performing her symphony. Just when the
music had reached a crescendo and she was exulting at her
triumphant symphonic debut, she was startled to hear someone
calling her name.