Twice Tempted (6 page)

“What do you truly think of their chances on the market?” Drake asked.

Alex considered the remaining brandy in his glass. “Well, I’ve only met Fiona, but she is a stunner. Tall, same red hair as her brother, excellent figure. Every inch a lady.”

“Even though she spent her formative years living beneath a bridge?”

Alex glared, not certain why he should feel so defensive. “She was only reduced to that for a few years.” He couldn’t help it. He shared his own sly smile. “Leyburn does say she carries a knife, though. And is quite proficient on pistols.”

The eyebrow rose again. “Something to remember.”

“Her grandfather certainly thought so.” Alex flashed a grin. “I can’t say he was wrong. I truly cannot see her being easily importuned.”

“And the sister?”

Alex shrugged. “I’ll find out tomorrow. The way people talk of her, though, I doubt she’ll be an easy sell. And I don’t see Fiona deserting her.”

“Another challenge, then.” Drake finished his own glass. “Which would be much more difficult if one were to lose objectivity.”

“There’s no need for unsubtle warnings. I have not succumbed.” Finishing the dregs of his drink, he got to his feet. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m off to be surprised that my father is home.”

Chapter 4

H
e saw his father. His stepfather, to be precise. But as Sir Joseph Knight had acted as his parent for twenty of his thirty years, Alex disdained the difference. A distinguished fifty, Sir Joseph was lean, soft-spoken, and blessed with a thick head of pure silver hair marred only by a slice of red over his right eye. Before taking himself off the marriage market, he had been known as the Silver Fox.

Alex walked into the library of the house on Bruton Street to find Sir Joseph sitting at the sleek Chippendale desk working on some files. Alex’s stomach dropped. The changes in his father weren’t great; he was a bit thinner, his color less robust, his hair somehow dulled. But Alex felt the dimming of the steady life force that set his father apart. He had been worried before. Now he was afraid.

“So, left your wife to all those elegant Russian princes, have you?” he said, hoping his voice sounded hearty. He didn’t care if the throne was at risk. He wasn’t going to add to his father’s burdens.

Sir Joseph looked up and smiled. “I told them not to bother you. I’m sorry.”

Alex strolled over to the drinks cabinet and poured himself another brandy. He wasn’t much of a brandy man. Today, he thought, he would excuse the lapse.

“Indeed you should be,” he said, pouring a glass for his father and carrying them back with him. “I was called away from babysitting a friend’s sisters. Before that I was at a crushingly boring house party with Princess Charlotte.”

“The same one your sister Pip is undoubtedly terrorizing?”

He grinned. “The very one. Considering the guest list, I sincerely doubt she can get into too much trouble. Besides, Beau’s there.”

His father smiled. “Poor man. I wonder if he’s realized yet that our Pip is unstoppable.”

“He should. He’s suffered her hero worship since she was three.”

Standing, Sir Joseph waited only long enough for Alex to set the glasses on the desk before pulling him into a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too, sir.” Alex returned the hug, briefly closing his eyes at the familiar scent of vetiver cologne, which immediately resurrected every feeling of safety and comfort he’d known as a boy. The slight rasp in his father’s breathing ruthlessly dispersed it. “I’m surprised you got away without at least mother.”

He is too thin
, Alex thought, his own heart stumbling. He could feel what good tailoring was camouflaging. Thank God Drake had given him time off. He could focus on making sure his father regained his strength.

“Your mother is furious with me for haring off so quickly,” Sir Joseph said, stepping back to retrieve his brandy.

“She and Cissy are well, I hope?”

His father chuckled. “She and Cissy are setting the Russian court on its ear. It is one thing for an Englishwoman to converse in French. But when she also discusses recipes with the cook in Russian and comparative religion with an orthodox priest in Greek, she upsets everyone’s expectations. They aren’t certain whether they should distrust her or adore her.”

Alex nodded. “They chose adore, of course. She is impossible to resist.”

His father’s eyes softened. “That she is.”

Alex stood back and faced his father. “Does she know?”

For the first time, Sir Joseph looked less than sanguine. “You do, then.”

“The government worries when its most vital diplomat feels under the weather.”

Sir Joseph’s smile was tired. Alex thought his shoulders slumped, just a fraction, as if he’d been holding himself up.

Taking his drink, Sir Joseph settled into one of the armchairs before the fireplace and waited for Alex to join him before speaking. “It was undoubtedly stupid of me to make that voyage home, just because of a bit of discomfort.”

“Is that what they call heart seizures now? Discomfort?”

Alex won a faint smile. “I didn’t want your mother to know. She would worry.”

“She will find out, you know. It’s inevitable. And I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when she does. What do the doctors say?”

“What they’ve said since I was twenty-five. I injured my heart with that bout of rheumatic fever, and I must be careful.” A sudden winsome smile lightened the thin face. “But careful is such a dead bore.”

Alex knew he should argue with his father. Make him see some sense. But when Sir Joseph Knight smiled like that, kings and emperors tripped over themselves to please him. It was Sir Joseph’s secret, one Alex wasn’t even certain his father understood. Sir Joseph was such a gentle soul that people around him lived in fear of disappointing him. God knew Alex did. Had from the time Sir Joseph had first introduced himself to a nine-year-old boy to ask his permission as head of the family to marry his mother.

Alex had often wished he had his father’s knack for controlling people with kindness, but he didn’t. He wasn’t patient enough, or nice enough, or capable of seeing good in even the worst person. His father lived to negotiate. The only thing Alex hated more was always being disappointed with the inevitable results.

If Chuffy wanted to see a White Knight, Alex thought, considering the comfortable creases of his father’s face, this was where he’d find him.

“Why come home?” he asked instead. “The travel had to have been grueling.”

His father shrugged. “Not as much as you think. We came mostly by sea, and I like sailing. It’s so peaceful, so free of brangling.”

It was Alex’s turn to smile. “At least diplomatic brangling. I understand the Tzar has a new bee in his bonnet.”

Sir Joseph scowled. “Oh lord, yes. Somehow he’s gotten himself involved with some harebrained female claiming to be a mystic, who has talked him into forming a Holy Alliance that would codify divine right.”

Alex let an eyebrow slide north. Drake had been right. This was right up the Lions’ alley. “Where did the mystic come from?”

“God only knows. She’s nothing but a poseur, but the tzar can’t see that. He is in a fever of religious purpose. He’s already talked Prussia and Austria into joining him. And he’s nipping at my heels like a terrier.” He considered the remaining brandy in his glass. “Another good reason to come home. And one your mother understands. I’ll go back in a few weeks. As soon as I get my brief from Liverpool. And Alexander’s fervor wanes a bit.”

“Are you sure?”

The older man looked up. “I am careful with my health, Alex. I always have been. But I will not be put out in the sunshine in a Bath chair. Your mother understands that.”

Alex wasn’t so sure she did, but now wasn’t the time to have that argument. “Do you have any appointments this evening? What about sharing a beefsteak at Whites?”

His father nodded. “I would enjoy that. You can tell me more about this friend’s sister you’re babysitting.”

“Sisters. They’re named Ferguson,” Alex said. “Sisters of my friend Ian.”

His father’s eyebrows soared. “The one who died shooting at Wellington?”

Ian knew he was breaching a trust, but if his father wasn’t a secure repository for the truth, no one was.

“No one knows yet. I only know because I was allowed to tell the girls. Not only did Ian not die trying to kill the duke, he saved him and helped bring in the people who were the actual perpetrators. For some reason the government doesn’t want that information out yet. More conspirators, probably. So they asked Chuffy and me to notify the marquess and Ian’s sisters.”

“They.”

“Some government drone named Thirsk.”

His father nodded pensively. “I see. How did you become involved?”

Sir Joseph didn’t know of Alex’s clandestine activities. Sir Joseph didn’t understand the need to lie or steal or murder, even for a good cause.

So Alex shrugged. “Ian has been a good friend. When we heard the reports that he’d died, his friends drew lots to see who would inform his family.” Sipping at his second brandy of the day, he let his gaze wander to the fire. “I lost.”

“And?”

“And I rode up to Yorkshire to tell Lady Fiona. I had evidently no more than cleared the property before her grandfather the bloody marquess tossed her and her sister out onto the street.” He had to pause for a moment, the jagged remnants of fury catching his breath. He shook his head. “Who would do such a thing?”

“The Marquess of Leyburn, obviously. I wish it were a surprise. The surprise, actually, is that he took in those girls in the first place, considering his aversion to scandal.”

“Well, it was a surprise to me!”

Alex sought the wisdom of his father’s eyes. Soft brown, wise, just a little saddened by too much knowledge.

“I was the one who delivered the girls to that man,” Alex said. “I never even thought to ask if they would be welcome. I just assumed…”

“Because you have a mother who could never turn anyone away.”

Alex thought of the friends who had camped out at their house during holidays. “And a father who abetted her shamelessly.”

Sir Joseph’s smile was sweet. “How could I possibly turn her down?”

Suddenly Alex’s chest felt as if it would tear in two. He’d forgotten how much his parents loved each other…no, not forgotten. Put away somewhere safe. Able to avoid it when they were gone where he didn’t have to see the proprietary touching and telltale smiles and shared amusement in life. It was what he’d wanted from his own marriage. It was what he’d thought he had.

For about a year.

“What are you going to do?” his father asked.

Alex’s head snapped up. “Pardon?”

“What are you going to do? About the girls? Have you found them yet?”

“I’ve only met the one. Fiona.”

Splendid, sensuous Fiona. As buttoned down as a vicar’s wife now, but the fire was there; he knew it. He just had to give her a place where it was safe to remember.

“And?”

Alex looked up, surprised by his lapse. “She and her sister managed to land on their feet, teaching school for a friend.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“No, it’s not.” Restless and impatient suddenly, he got to his feet and stalked over to the window. He wasn’t sure why. There was nothing really to see. The yellow fog of the last few days lingered, dirtying everything and smelling of sulfur. “Fiona and her sister are daughters of a viscount. Granddaughters of a marquess. They have no business living a threadbare existence working like drudges.”

As quickly as possible, he filled his father in on the tentative plans for the girls. When he finished, there was a long silence, punctuated by the snap of the fire and the steady metronomic ticking of the old clock in the hallway.

For a long moment, the silence held. Alex almost smiled. It was an old tactic and an effective one. Sir Joseph knew Alex would become impatient and return for his father’s reaction. With one last look out at the muted street, he did just that.

“And then when I get them settled with Lady Bea,” he said, reclaiming his seat and his glass, “I think I’ll finally do a bit of travel. I just found out that Lady Kate and Harry Lidge have gone off to Venice. It sounds warm, doesn’t it? And bright.”

His father had the gentlest smile. “You could come to St. Petersburg if you’d like. Your mother would love to see you.”

For a moment Alex was afraid he would give himself away. Of course he couldn’t go to St. Petersburg. He couldn’t go anywhere. Not until he was certain Fiona was finally assured of her birthright. Not until, God help him, he found out just what a blackmailer might have of Amabelle’s that could ruin him. That could ruin his family, which would be so much worse.

So he grinned and finished his brandy. “I said warm, sir. If I want to be cold, I can just stay here and speak my own language.”

“What about the estate your uncle left you with that fancy title? Have you been able to visit yet?”

“Maybe for Christmas. I’m sure the staff would far rather have a bit of a break. I understand Uncle Pharly was a bit of a task master.”

That got a full grin from his father. “Which is exactly how I’d describe you.”

Alex grinned back and got to his feet. “Oh, I think for once I shall be a man of leisure. Hunts and harvest festivals and whacking away at the front lawn with a scythe. The bucolic life for me.”

“You won’t last a month.”

Alex met his father’s gaze and allowed a bit of truth to seep through. He had long suspected that his father was wrong. He was so tired. He thought he’d been tired since long before Amabelle died. But since then, he knew he’d expended far too much energy supporting his cover as one of Drake’s hedonistic rakes. And when he wasn’t showing the world how carefree he was, he was exposing the crawly, nasty things that lurked beneath the rocks. Could a stint in the country really be worse?

His father rose. “And in the meantime…”

Alex followed. “In the meantime, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind my battening down on you for a bit. That mausoleum I inherited on Jermyn is fit for neither man nor beast.”

His father frowned at him. “You aren’t moving just to keep an eye on the invalid?”