his reasons for pushing Alexandra into matrimony seemed even more valid. At first he had only wrestled with his sense of honor, and being a gentleman (and in no little awe of Sir Alexander’s power to make his life a living hell if he refused to do the honorable thing), he had quickly seen the good sense of offering Alexandra the protection of his name.
Also weighing in favor of the match was Jeremy’s nerve-shredding, mother-hen protectiveness ever since Helene’s defection—clearly the boy wouldn’t rest until his big brother was, in Jeremy’s mind at least, happily ensnared in parson’s mousetrap. If it came to a choice between wedding Alexandra or putting up with Cuffy and Billy forevermore underfoot, besides having Jeremy hanging around him as if he were about to put a period to his existence as a result of his sad disappointment, Alexandra won hands down.
Of course—the Earl was honest enough to admit to himself at least—marrying a beauty like Alexandra, rich or poor, wasn’t exactly a hardship. Bedding her, in fact, should prove to be a true joy.
Nicholas looked down the staircase and sighed. Alexandra herself was proving the one real fly in the ointment—stubborn little baggage that she was showing herself to be.
If only he had already sent the notice of their engagement to the Gazette . But no, he had thought it might look more than a shade havey-cavey—the girl having only arrived in England a sennight earlier. A quiet wedding right after the New Year, that was the ticket, with a vaguely worded announcement inserted in the papers after the fact. Besides, Alexandra was proving difficult with her oft-repeated refusals to behave like a sensible puss and accept his offer gracefully. Two retractions in the Gazette in less than a year just might serve to really send him into a sad decline.
He had thought he was wearing down her resistance—he and Sir Alexander—but even earlier today in the morning room (and in front of the Anselms, no less) she had repudiated him yet again.
Helene’s presence at Linton Hall did make things deuced awkward, but her visit just might be worked to advantage by a man clever enough to correctly play the cards dealt him, Nicholas mused as he continued to watch Alexandra. Before giving himself any time to reflect overmuch on what he was about to do, he descended the staircase to have a few words with his recalcitrant fiancée.
“You’ll be happy to hear that all seems to be under control upstairs. Helene is resting comfortably with a cloth dampened in eau de cologne bathing her forehead whilst her dear mother has requisitioned three chambers for herself and her offspring and is at this very moment giving my poor staff fits with her orders,” he told them.
“By Jupiter, you’re in for it now, my boy,” Sir Alexander warned, stabbing a pudgy finger at Linton’s chest. “Mark my words—you’ll not budge that one ’til spring now she’s got her carcass upstairs. A conniving, devious woman if ever one was made, that Matilda, as was her mother before her. German, you know,” he added as if this explained everything. “Came over from Hanover with the first George, took one gander at our fair island, and never looked back. Greedy buggers too, all of ’em—went back to Hanover for their brides just to keep the money in the family.
“Matilda’s father-in-law liked the cards though, and nearly ran them all aground with his gaming debts. It’s my guess Matilda used up the last of the blunt to try and marry herself a new fortune with that widget of a daughter. Her own kind don’t seem to want her, now that she’s pockets to let.” The old man shook his head in disgust. “Looks like you’re it, lad, since the gel couldn’t bring down any bigger game. But Matilda’s been outfoxed this time, by Jupiter, because it’s my granddaughter you’ll be wedding, not Widow Anselm’s die-away daughter.”
Seeing a militant look registering again on Alexandra’s face,
Also weighing in favor of the match was Jeremy’s nerve-shredding, mother-hen protectiveness ever since Helene’s defection—clearly the boy wouldn’t rest until his big brother was, in Jeremy’s mind at least, happily ensnared in parson’s mousetrap. If it came to a choice between wedding Alexandra or putting up with Cuffy and Billy forevermore underfoot, besides having Jeremy hanging around him as if he were about to put a period to his existence as a result of his sad disappointment, Alexandra won hands down.
Of course—the Earl was honest enough to admit to himself at least—marrying a beauty like Alexandra, rich or poor, wasn’t exactly a hardship. Bedding her, in fact, should prove to be a true joy.
Nicholas looked down the staircase and sighed. Alexandra herself was proving the one real fly in the ointment—stubborn little baggage that she was showing herself to be.
If only he had already sent the notice of their engagement to the Gazette . But no, he had thought it might look more than a shade havey-cavey—the girl having only arrived in England a sennight earlier. A quiet wedding right after the New Year, that was the ticket, with a vaguely worded announcement inserted in the papers after the fact. Besides, Alexandra was proving difficult with her oft-repeated refusals to behave like a sensible puss and accept his offer gracefully. Two retractions in the Gazette in less than a year just might serve to really send him into a sad decline.
He had thought he was wearing down her resistance—he and Sir Alexander—but even earlier today in the morning room (and in front of the Anselms, no less) she had repudiated him yet again.
Helene’s presence at Linton Hall did make things deuced awkward, but her visit just might be worked to advantage by a man clever enough to correctly play the cards dealt him, Nicholas mused as he continued to watch Alexandra. Before giving himself any time to reflect overmuch on what he was about to do, he descended the staircase to have a few words with his recalcitrant fiancée.
“You’ll be happy to hear that all seems to be under control upstairs. Helene is resting comfortably with a cloth dampened in eau de cologne bathing her forehead whilst her dear mother has requisitioned three chambers for herself and her offspring and is at this very moment giving my poor staff fits with her orders,” he told them.
“By Jupiter, you’re in for it now, my boy,” Sir Alexander warned, stabbing a pudgy finger at Linton’s chest. “Mark my words—you’ll not budge that one ’til spring now she’s got her carcass upstairs. A conniving, devious woman if ever one was made, that Matilda, as was her mother before her. German, you know,” he added as if this explained everything. “Came over from Hanover with the first George, took one gander at our fair island, and never looked back. Greedy buggers too, all of ’em—went back to Hanover for their brides just to keep the money in the family.
“Matilda’s father-in-law liked the cards though, and nearly ran them all aground with his gaming debts. It’s my guess Matilda used up the last of the blunt to try and marry herself a new fortune with that widget of a daughter. Her own kind don’t seem to want her, now that she’s pockets to let.” The old man shook his head in disgust. “Looks like you’re it, lad, since the gel couldn’t bring down any bigger game. But Matilda’s been outfoxed this time, by Jupiter, because it’s my granddaughter you’ll be wedding, not Widow Anselm’s die-away daughter.”
Seeing a militant look registering again on Alexandra’s face,
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