Castles (8 page)

She raised one hand for silence, unconsciously mimicking the mother superior's behavior.

Colin obeyed without even realizing it. “You misunderstand, sir. Your father didn't promise me anything. I promised him. He wouldn't accept my bargain, however, and was in fact appalled I even suggested paying for a husband.”

Colin laughed again. He was certain she was jesting with him.

“This isn't at all humorous, Colin. I must get married in three weeks' time, and your father is simply helping me. He's my guardian, after all.”

Colin needed to sit down. He walked over to the leather chair facing the settee and sprawled out.

“You're going to get married in three weeks?”

“Yes,” she replied. “And that is why I asked your father's assistance.”

“Alesandra . . .”

She waved the notecard in the air. “I asked for assistance in preparing a list.”

“A list of what?”

“Suitable candidates.”

“And?” he prodded.

“He told me to marry you.”

Colin leaned forward, braced his elbows on his knees, and frowned at her. “Listen carefully,” he ordered. “I'm not marrying you.”

She immediately reached for the pen. She dipped it into the inkwell, then drew a line across the top of her notecard.

“What did you just do?”

“I crossed you off.”

“Off what?”

She looked exasperated. “My list. Do you happen to know the Earl of Templeton?”

“Yes.”

“Is he a good man?”

“Hell, no,” he muttered. “He's a rake. He used his sister's dowry to pay off a few of his gambling debts, but he still haunts the tables every night.”

Alesandra immediately dipped the pen into the inkwell again and scratched through the second name on her list. “It's peculiar your father didn't know about the earl's gambling vice.”

“Father doesn't go to the clubs anymore.”

“That would explain it,” she replied. “Heavens, this is turning out to be more difficult than I anticipated.”

“Alesandra, why are you in such a hurry to get married?”

Her pen was poised in the air. “I beg your pardon?” she asked, her concentration directed on her notecard.

He repeated his question. “You told me you had to get married in three weeks' time. I wondered why.”

“The church,” she explained with a quick nod. “Colin, do you know the Marquess of Townsend perchance? Does he have any horrible vices?”

His patience was gone. “Put the list down, Alesandra, and start answering my questions. What in God's name does the church have to do with . . .”

She interrupted him. “Your mother already reserved it. She made all the other arrangements, too. She's the most wonderful lady, and heavens, she's so organized. It's going to be a beautiful wedding. I do hope you can attend. I've decided against a large wedding, much to your parents' frustration, and settled instead on small and intimate.”

Colin wondered if his father realized his ward was out of her mind. “Let me get this straight,” he began. “You've taken care of all the arrangements without a man to . . .”

“I can't take the credit,” she interrupted. “As I just explained, your mother did all the work.”

“Aren't you approaching this from the wrong angle? It's usual to find a groom first, Alesandra.”

“I agree with you, but this isn't a usual circumstance. I simply must get married right away.”

“Why?”

“Please don't think me rude, but since you've decided against marrying me, I think it's best you not know anything more. I would still appreciate your help, however, if you're inclined to give it.”

Colin didn't have any intention of letting the matter drop. He would find out the real reason why she needed to get married, and he'd find out before the day was over. He decided to use a little trickery now and ease back to his question later.

“I would be happy to assist you,” he said. “What is it you need?”

“Would you please give me the names of five—no, make that six—suitable men? I'll interview them this week. By Monday next, I should have settled on someone.”

God, she was exasperating. “What are your requirements?” he inquired mildly.

“First, he must be honorable,” she began. “Second, he must be titled. My father would twist in his grave if I married a commoner.”

“I'm not titled,” he reminded her.

“You were knighted. That qualifies.”

He laughed. “You've left out the most important requirement, haven't you? He'll have to be wealthy.”

She frowned at him. “I believe you've just insulted me,” she announced. “Still, you don't know me at all well and for that reason I'll forgive you your cynicism.”

“Alesandra, most women looking for husbands want to live a comfortable life,” he countered.

“Rich isn't important to me,” she replied. “You're as poor as a serf and I was willing to marry you, remember?”

He chafed over her bit of honesty. “How would you know if I'm rich or poor?”

“Your father told me. Do you know, Colin, when you frown, you remind me of a dragon. I used to call Sister Mary Felicity a dragon, though I was too cowardly to say it to her face. Your frown is every bit as fierce, and I do believe the nickname is more appropriate for you.”

Colin refused to let her bait him. He wasn't going to let her switch topics either. “What else do you require in a husband?”

“He'll have to leave me alone,” she replied after a moment's consideration. “I don't want a man who . . . hovers.”

He laughed again. He immediately regretted that action when he saw her expression. Hell, he'd hurt her feelings. Her eyes got all teary, too.

“I don't particularly want a wife who would hover either,” he admitted, thinking his agreement would ease her hurt.

She wouldn't look at him. “Would a rich woman appeal to you?” she asked.

“No,” he answered. “I determined a long time ago to make my own fortune without any outside help, and I mean to keep that promise to myself. My brother has offered to lend my partner and me funds and of course my father has also offered to help.”

“But you refused them,” she countered. “Your father believes you're too independent.”

Colin decided to change the subject. “Will your husband share your bed?”

She refused to answer him. She lifted her pen again. “Begin your list, please.”

“No.”

“But you said you would help me.”

“That was before I realized you were out of your mind.”

She put the pen back on the table and stood up. “Please excuse me.”

“Where are you going?”

“To pack.”

He chased her to the door. He took hold of her arm and turned her around to face him. Damn, he really had upset her. He hated to see the tears in her eyes, especially since he knew he was the cause of her distress.

“You're going to stay here until I decide what to do with you,” he said, his voice gruff.

“I decide my future, Colin, not you. Let go of me. I won't stay where I'm not wanted.”

“You're staying here.”

He added a glare to his order so she would back down. It didn't work. She wouldn't be intimidated. In truth, she glared back. “You don't want me, remember?” she challenged.

He smiled. “Oh, I want you all right. I'm just not willing to marry you. I'm being completely honest with you and I can see from your blush I've embarrassed you. You're too damn young and innocent for this ridiculous game you've taken on. Let my father . . .”

“Your father is too ill to help me,” she interrupted. She jerked her arm away from his hold. “But there are others who will come to my aid. You needn't be concerned.”

He couldn't explain why he felt insulted, but he did. “Since my father is too ill to see to his duty of looking out for you, the task falls on my shoulders.”

“No, it doesn't,” she argued. “Your brother, Caine, will act as my guardian. He's next in line.”

“But Caine's conveniently ill too, isn't he?”

“I don't believe there is anything convenient about his illness, Colin.”

He didn't argue the point with her, and in fact pretended he hadn't heard her. “And as your guardian during this period of family illness, I will decide where you go and when. Don't give me that defiant look, young lady,” he ordered. “I always get my way. By nightfall I'll know why you think you have to get married so quickly.”

She shook her head. He grabbed hold of her chin and held her steady. “God, but you're stubborn.” He tweaked her nose, then let go of her. “I'll be back in a few hours. Stay put, Alesandra. If you leave, I'll come after you.”

Raymond and Stefan were both waiting in the foyer. Colin walked past the two guards, then stopped. “Don't let her leave,” he ordered.

Raymond immediately nodded. Alesandra's eyes widened. “They're my guards, Colin,” she called out. Damn, he'd treated her like a child when he'd tweaked her nose and talked so condescendingly to her, and now she was behaving like one.

“Yes, they are your guards,” Colin agreed. He opened the front door, then turned back to her. “But they answer to me. Isn't that right, boys?”

Both Raymond and Stefan immediately nodded. She was a bit piqued, and almost blurted out her opinion of his high-handed methods.

Dignity and decorum. The words echoed in her mind. She could feel the mother superior standing behind her, looking over her shoulder. It was a ridiculous feeling, of course, for the nun was an ocean away. Still, her lectures had taken root. Alesandra forced a serene expression and simply nodded agreement.

“Will you be gone long, Colin?” she inquired, her voice quite calm.

He thought she sounded hoarse. She looked like she wanted to shout at him. Colin smiled. “Probably,” he answered. “Will you miss me?”

She matched his smile. “Probably not.”

The door closed on his laughter.

S
he didn't miss him at all. Colin didn't come home until well after the dinner hour. Alesandra was thankful he stayed away because she didn't want his interference, and the man certainly did seem to interfere.

She was kept busy with her appointments. She spent the remainder of the morning and all afternoon entertaining her father's old friends. They called, one after another, to pay their respects and to offer her assistance while she was in London. Most of the visitors were titled members of the ton, but there were also artists and laborers as well. Alesandra's father had had a wide range of friends. He had been an excellent judge of character, a trait she believed she had inherited, and she found she liked every one of his friends.

Matthew Andrew Dreyson was her last appointment. The elderly, potbellied man had been her father's trusted agent in England, and he still handled some of Alesandra's assets. Dreyson had held the coveted position of subscriber on the rolls of Lloyd's of London for over twenty-three years. His standards as a broker were of the very highest. He wasn't just ethical; he was also clever. Alesandra's father had instructed his wife, who in turn had instructed his daughter, that in the event of his death Dreyson should be leaned upon for financial advice.

Alesandra invited him to stay for dinner. Flannaghan and Valena served the meal. The lady's maid did most of the work, however, as Flannaghan was busy listening to the financial discussion at the table. He was astonished that a woman would have extensive knowledge of the marketplace, and made a mental note to tell his employer what he had overheard.

Dreyson spent a good two hours going over various recommendations. Alesandra added one of her own, then completed her transactions. The broker used only her initials when placing his slips before the underwriters at Lloyd's, because it was simply unthinkable for a woman to invest in any venture. Even Dreyson would have been appalled if he'd known the suggestions she gave him actually came from her, but she understood the man's prejudice against women. She'd gotten around that obstacle by inventing an old friend of the family she called her Uncle Albert. She told Dreyson the man wasn't really related to her, but she held such great affection for him she'd begun to think of him as her relative years ago. To ensure Dreyson wouldn't try to investigate the man, she added the mention that Albert had been a close personal friend of her father's.

Dreyson's curiosity had been appeased by her explanation. He didn't have any qualms about taking stock orders from a man, although he did comment more than once how odd it was that Albert allowed her to sign her initials as his ambassador. He wanted to meet her adviser and honorary relative, but Alesandra quickly explained that Albert was a recluse these days and wouldn't allow company. Since he'd moved to England, he found visitors a distraction to his peaceful daily routine, she lied. Because Dreyson was making a handsome commission on each order he placed with the underwriters, and because Uncle Albert's advice to date had been quite on the mark, he didn't argue with the princess. If Albert didn't wish to meet him, so be it. The last thing he wanted to do was alienate his client. Albert, he decided, was simply eccentric.