An Unsuitable Bride (39 page)

She didn’t miss the flash of distaste that crossed his face as he hardened his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, putting a hand on his arm. “But I must do this. I am playing your game; allow me to play my own, too.”

For a moment, Peregrine stood at the head of the stairs, his nostrils flaring, his eyes closing with his frustration. Why couldn’t she see that her own charade was now unnecessary? And yet he had to admit that it was Alexandra’s skill at performing that was going to ensure the successful completion of his own obligation to his brothers.

“We’ll be in Stratton Street in a quarter of an hour,” he said. “You can change out of those breeches and be in Berkeley Square by two-thirty.”

“Thank you,” she responded. What else was there to say?

In the quiet of her bedchamber in Berkeley Square, Alexandra assembled her disguise. She fastened the pad between her shoulder blades and was surprised to find
how quickly her body resumed its hunch. After so many months of wearing the pad, it seemed that her body adapted instantly. She donned the dull gray gown and sat at the wavery mirror to paint her face. She decided against graying her hair. The lace cap would cover the rich chestnut, and there was no Peregrine to snatch it from her head.

The memory brought a tiny smile of reminiscence. At least, he wouldn’t see her like this again. When she returned to Combe Abbey, he would not be there. She would complete her task, concentrating only on Sylvia’s portion, and within a few months, she would be free and able to assume her own identity as the wife of the Honorable Peregrine Sullivan.

It was a prospect she hugged tightly to her as she made her way down to the breakfast parlor, trying to ignore the fact that her entire being now quailed at the prospect of returning to that existence. So much so that she was beginning to doubt her ability to assume that identity with the same utter conviction as before. And that struck terror into her heart.

She laid out the precious volumes on the table in the breakfast parlor, and the feel of the books, the simple business of ordering them, restored her to Mistress Hathaway’s self. When the door knocker sounded precisely at three o’clock, she was ready to receive her first potential buyer.

Andrew Langham was a young man of serious mien. He was dressed in somber hues and wore his mouse-brown
hair in a severe queue pinned at the nape of his neck. He bowed to the librarian, who rose to greet him when Billings showed him somewhat unceremoniously into the breakfast parlor.

“Mistress Hathaway. This is a pleasure.”

“I trust you will find it so, Master Langham.” She gave him her hand as she dropped a responding curtsy. “Let me show you what I have.” She indicated the volumes laid out upon the table and took her place alongside them.

Master Langham took a magnifying glass from the inside pocket of his jacket and with a murmured “May I?” bent to examine the first book.

His air of reverence reassured Alexandra, who came closer. “You see the binding on this volume?” She ran a finger down the gilded spine. “I understand the engraving originated in a monastery in Perugia in the fourteenth century.”

Master Langham lifted the book and held it to the light, examining the spine through his glass. “ ’Tis exquisite,” he murmured. “I have never seen its like, ma’am.”

“ ’Tis one of a kind, sir. Which I believe is true of every volume in the collection. Lord Dewforth will be purchasing a priceless library.”

“But I daresay, ma’am, you have a price in mind,” he observed drily, raising his head to look at her.

“That, sir, is a matter for the market,” she responded
with a cool smile. “There are other interested buyers. I would be doing a disservice to my employer by taking a first offer.”

“Mmm. Indeed,” he muttered, returning to his examination of the remainder of the volumes.

When the door knocker sounded at four o’clock, she said, “Forgive me, Master Langham, but I have another interested purchaser.” Smiling, she moved to the door to the library. “Perhaps you would let me know your decision at your earliest convenience.”

He moved with her to the door. “May I ask who my rival might be?”

“I believe Mr. Murdock is interested, sir.”

He grimaced a little but then said, “I suppose that was only to be expected. I will consult with Lord Dewforth immediately.”

“I will wait to hear from you most eagerly, sir.” She bobbed a curtsy in response to his bow and hid a smile of satisfaction. She was doing Stephen a great service, but at the same time, she was going to ensure that her father’s precious library went to a worthy owner. She was going to keep just one volume for herself: the Chaucer, which her father had long ago promised to her. Yet another promise that he had forgotten to keep. She had it at the bottom of her portmanteau in her chamber abovestairs and had already decided to leave it with Peregrine for safekeeping when she returned to Combe Abbey. Stephen would never notice its absence,
if indeed he had ever remarked its presence. She had no intention of selling it, but simply to possess it filled her with a sublime pleasure.

“A Mr. Murdock, ma’am,” Billings intoned from the doorway.

Alexandra turned with a smile and an extended hand. “Welcome, sir.”

Silence reigned in the library while the prospective purchaser examined the books. Finally, he straightened, letting his quizzing glass fall to his chest. “Your employer is Sir Stephen Douglas, is that so?”

“It is.”

“Why the devil’s he want to sell the library? Any man would be honored to own it. Sir Arthur would be spinning in his grave.”

Alexandra concealed her expression by turning away for a moment. When she spoke, she said softly, “That’s as may be, sir. But ’tis not relevant to the sale of his library. Sir Stephen has instructed me to sell it, and I am obeying instruction.”

“Hmm.” He stroked his chin, regarding her with a frown. “There was a Chaucer in the library, as I recall. Beautiful piece. ’Tis still there, I trust.”

“No, sir. Sir Arthur left the Chaucer to his daughter on his death. But ’tis the only volume missing.”

“Pity,” he muttered. “It was the gem of the collection.”

“There are many gems, sir.”

He said nothing, continuing to stroke his chin,
frowning at the volumes on the table. “Well, ma’am, I will think about a bid, and I will let you know.”

“Thank you, Mr. Murdock.” She curtsied and moved to show him to the door. He left without a backwards glance, and Alex stood for a moment in the hall, wondering if she’d overplayed her hand. But then she shook her head, dispelling the notion. The library was her hand, and it was impossible to overplay it with hungry bibliophiles such as Lord Dewforth and Adam Murdock.

Chapter Eighteen

Peregrine was sitting beside the fire, staring morosely into the flames, a glass of claret in his hand. He couldn’t imagine what Alexandra was doing at the moment. He knew her when she was playing the diffident Mistress Hathaway with her employers, and he knew her when she was flamboyantly displaying her talents as Mistress Player. He knew her as a passionate lover, eager to learn, and he knew her as a learned scholar, demon chess player, and outrageous manipulator.

Which of these roles was she playing that afternoon as she played one prospective buyer off against another? A mélange of several roles, he decided. But she would be in control. Of that he was confident. He was about to abandon his fireside and go in search of some outside stimulation when he heard a carriage draw up outside the house. Curious, he went to the window.

The carriage was a hired post chaise, and the postilion was letting down the footstep. Peregrine knew who its passengers were the instant before his twin stepped down to the street. Sebastian stood for a moment,
straightening his coat, looking up at the house, before he turned and lifted a young woman with hair the color of jet down to the street beside him.

Peregrine felt a surge of delight. He and Sebastian had spent so little time apart over their lives that the last months of separation had been a sore trial. He hurried from the parlor and wrenched open the front door. “Seb, I’d almost despaired of hearing from you.” He flung his arms around his twin, who hugged him in a close, wordless embrace. Only then did they break apart as Perry turned to greet his twin’s companion, who was standing placidly to one side, watching the brothers’ reunion with an understanding smile.

“Serena . . .” He bowed over her hand and then laughed and kissed her warmly. “Why didn’t you warn me? We have nothing prepared.”

“And we need nothing prepared, Perry,” Serena reassured him. “As long as there’s still a bedchamber and Bart to bring up hot water—”

“And as long as there’s claret in the decanter, m’boy,” Sebastian declared. He turned to direct the postilion and the coachman to untie their luggage from the chaise. “So, Perry, what have you been up to?”

“Oh, rather a lot,” his twin said with a chuckle. “Come in out of the cold.” He ushered his sister-in-law into the house with an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sure Mistress Croft could rustle up something.”

“I only need to get out of my travel dirt,” Serena said. “We’ve come from Dover this morning, and the
crossing from Calais was brutal. I feel as if I have salt encrusted on my eyelids.”

The housekeeper appeared in the hall as they came in from the street. “Why, Lord love us. Master Sebastian and Lady Serena. I wish you’d given a bit of warning, sir.”

“We need very little, Mistress Croft,” Serena said swiftly, shaking the housekeeper’s hand. “ ’Tis so good to see you again. May I ask for some hot water and maybe a cup of your spiced wine? I’ve been dreaming of it since we left Calais.” Her warm smile brought a beam to the housekeeper’s countenance.

“Aye, that you can, my lady. I’ll have it up to you in a trice. You go on into the parlor, Master Sebastian. I daresay Master Peregrine will take care of you.”

“Ah, me, relegated to the tender mercies of my brother,” Sebastian said with a mock sigh. “While my darling bride has the undivided attention of the admirable Mistress Croft.” He blew Serena a kiss as she hurried up the narrow staircase, laughing over her shoulder at him.

The brothers went into the parlor. Peregrine filled a wine glass for his twin. “All is very well, I gather.”

“Couldn’t be better,” Sebastian said, standing with his back to the fire. “And with you, Perry?” His gaze was sharp and knowing as it rested on his brother’s countenance. “Something is afoot, I’ll lay odds. I know that look in your eye, brother.” He raised his glass in a toast.

“I can’t deny it,” Perry said placidly, raising his own glass in response. “But tell me, are you home for good now?”

“Yes, I think we’ve satisfied our wanderlust. Serena wishes to rent a house in town—”

“Whatever for?” his twin interrupted. “There’s room to spare in this house, and why waste money when ’tis in such short supply?”

Sebastian shrugged. “If it were up to me, we would certainly make this our home, but Serena has some notion of being mistress of her own household. And besides, we don’t wish to cramp your style.”

Perry shook his head in swift demurral. “You won’t be doing that.” But even as he denied it, he wondered how Alexandra would feel after their marriage about sharing a house with her in-laws.

“Ah-ha,” Sebastian said with a triumphant chuckle. “You’ve just thought better of that, haven’t you?”

His twin grinned ruefully. “I have missed you, Seb.”

“And I you,” Sebastian said warmly. “But come, tell all.”

“In a nutshell, I have found my unsuitable bride.”

“Congratulations.” Sebastian’s smile was a little twisted. “I hate to say it, but ’tis a considerable relief, Perry.”

“Oh, I know it,” Peregrine said without rancor. “But it took me rather longer than you and Jasper to reach an epiphany.”

“So, who is she? Or, rather,
what
is she?”

“A bastard, an embezzler, a fraud, an actor of some considerable skill, and an out-and-out bluestocking. To put it simply, Alexandra has a brilliant mind and happens to be a gross manipulator.”

Sebastian whistled. “Well, that is a catalogue, indeed. She certainly sounds as if she fits Bradley’s stipulation. What does Jasper say?”