9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

A s Alex stepped into the grand foyer of Harrington House, his eyes were immediately drawn to the intricate plasterwork that adorned the walls and the gleaming marble floor beneath his feet. The house buzzed with activity, servants scurrying about to attend to their daily duties, while the faint sound of a piano melody drifted from one of the distant rooms. He held his hat in his hands, turning it around and around by the brim mindlessly before a footman glided forward to take it and his gloves.

Lord Harrington emerged from his study, his expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity as he approached Alex, his hand outstretched in greeting. "Your Grace, what an unexpected pleasure to have you visit our humble abode. To what do we owe the honour of your presence? Were we expecting you? Did Lady Amelia forget to inform me of a visit?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

Alex, his voice steady and confident, met Lord Harrington's gaze with unwavering determination. "Lord Harrington, I have come to formally express my intention to court your daughter, Lady Rosalind. I believe that our union could bring great benefits to both our families, and I wish to further our acquaintance to explore the potential of a future together."

Lord Harrington's eyebrows raised slightly, clearly taken aback by the Duke's declaration. "Rosalind?" he blurted, his eyes flicking down the hall and back to the Duke. "I mean...that is, Your Grace, I must admit that your interest in Rosalind comes as a surprise," Lord Harrington replied, recovering quickly. "She is not the most traditional of young ladies, and I fear that her independent nature may not be well-suited to the expectations of a Duchess. Amelia, on the other hand–"

Alex, undeterred by Lord Harrington's reservations, pressed on, raising a hand. "It is precisely her independent spirit and quick mind that have drawn me to her, Lord Harrington. I believe that a partnership built on mutual respect and understanding could flourish between us, and I am eager to explore that possibility further."

Lord Harrington paused, considering Alex's words. Alex could almost see the arithmetic that Lord Harrington was doing in his head at the announcement: The alliance could bring great prestige and influence to the Harrington family, and he knew that Rosalind's future would be secure with a man of Alex's standing. However, should the Duke find Rosalind's propensity for independent thought not to his taste after all and publicly cut her, her reputation, and likely that of her sisters, would suffer. It was a risk.

"Very well, Your Grace," Lord Harrington conceded, his tone still laced with a hint of scepticism. "I grant you permission to court Rosalind. I trust that you will treat her with the utmost respect and propriety." He paused. "The weather seems to be rather fine today–perhaps you might promenade with her in the park? She needs a reason to be taken from the library," he added.

Alex bowed his head in gratitude, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Of course, Lord Harrington. I would be glad to."

As Lord Harrington nodded his assent, Alex felt a surge of anticipation course through his veins. A footman was dispatched to summon Rosalind and to find her maid so that she might be readied for her outing. The opportunity to spend time with Rosalind, to delve deeper into the fascinating depths of her mind and heart, filled him with a sense of excitement and purpose. He found himself balancing eagerly on the balls of his feet, full of delighted anticipation.

When Rosalind presented herself, Alex found himself fighting to keep a broad smile from his face. She was resplendent in a lavender pelisse and a green cotton day dress that made her red hair seem even redder. Like him, she kept her expression tightly controlled, but there was a glint of eagerness and curiosity in her eyes that followed Alex carefully. Alex bowed to her, unwilling or unable to take his eyes from her for even a moment.

"Good afternoon, Your Grace," she said. "I understand you were concerned about my need for fresh air."

"Lady Rosalind," the Duke replied, not rising to her bait just yet. Rosalind inclined her head, a playful tilt to her mouth.

"My sister has agreed to act as chaperone," she said, nodding to Lady Amelia, who was waiting some steps away. The Duke nodded, and without further ceremony, they were discharged out into the brisk spring air and made their way to St. James' Park.

As they walked in companionable silence, with Amelia trailing a polite distance behind, the beauty of St. James' Park was on full display. The lush green lawns stretched out before them, dotted with vibrant flowers and towering trees that provided a canopy of shade. The gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of blooming roses, and the distant sound of chirping birds filled the air. The ton, too, was out in all their feathers and ruffles, as eager to see as to be seen.

For all the natural beauty, it was Rosalind's presence that truly captivated Alex's attention. There was a sort of natural magnetism to her, even when she wasn't speaking. Still, Alex was determined to know her better, to see what he might tease out of her. She was not inclined to mindless chatter, however, and seemed thoroughly disinclined to speak unless she had something worthy to say.

"I understand from your father that you have been much in the library today," he offered.

Rosalind gave him a sidelong glance, clearly unimpressed with such a banal statement. "I have been," she confirmed politely enough, though. "Much to my father's distress," she added.

Alex felt a corner of his mouth tug upward a little. "What have you been studying for so many hours?"

Her steps slowed and stopped, and Alex, surprised, turned back to face her. Her green eyes boldly swept over him, assessing, and he couldn't help but draw himself up a bit in response. "Do you really wish to know, or are you merely attempting to make polite conversation?"

From behind Rosalind, Alex could see Amelia put her hand on her forehead and sigh. For his part, he appreciated the directness. "It may surprise you to know that I am genuinely interested."

"I've been reading the works of Aphra Behn," Rosalind said, staring directly into Alex's eyes, unflinching. "She was possibly the first British woman to make her living by her pen alone, without the support of a man."

"I know her work," the Duke replied. "I understand your father's distress a little more clearly now."

"Do you?" Rosalind returned, one of her brows arching. "Do you also find her work unsuitable? Morally depraved? Without merit?"

Alex shrugged. "It does seem... a little unseemly for a young lady, I will admit."

"Unseemly," Rosalind huffed. She began walking again, her stride quick and determined, and Alex had to stretch his legs to catch up. "And yet, none of the same condemnation for Wilmot and his bawdy verses."

"That's different," Alex protested.

"Why?" Rosalind demanded. "Is he permitted because he is a man, or because he is a peer?"

"Well, I–"

"Because if a subject is unsuitable for writing about, then it is simply unsuitable, no matter who is writing," Rosalind continued. "The words don't know if they are being written by a man or a woman, so the meaning is the same. If it's because of social status, then I ask, why were nobles created in the first place?"

Alex tilted his head, his brow creasing a little as he thought. He'd never considered such a question in his life. "I imagine because they performed a service for a king, and were duly rewarded."

"Ah! That is it precisely," Rosalind cried, turning toward Alex again. "Ms Behn likewise served the king, acting as a spy in Antwerp for Charles II, at his personal behest. There, she has done a service to the king, and is therefore exactly as worthy as any other peer."

Now it was Alex's turn to stop walking, his boots planted on the gravel path. Rosalind did not seem to notice for a moment and continued on. She stopped several steps ahead of him, and when she turned around, the Duke felt his breath catch in his chest. Her cheeks were flushed from the cool breeze and exercise, but her eyes were shining with the passion of her argument. She stood straight and didn't attempt to diminish her bearing in any way so that she would appear lighter, more delicate. She was, in a word, magnificent.

Alex was aware that he was just staring at her, but he didn't care. Rosalind, too, did not seem to care, the tone of her gaze playful and daring. "Have I shocked and appalled you, Your Grace?" she asked, her tone fairly challenging.

"No," he answered with a slow shake of his head, coming to stand with her again. "I was just imagining the fireworks that would ensue if I took you to court."

Rosalind laughed, fully and without hesitation, her head tilted back, white teeth flashing. "I'm sure that would be my first and only audience with the royals."

"Probably," Alex agreed. "Though the queen is rather a force to be reckoned with herself."

"Well, if you should like to avoid further nasty shocks, I suggest you stick to the approved scripts for these sorts of outings," Rosalind said.

"Which is?"

"We might discuss the weather, how many people are out today, the latest hunt you attended..." She ticked them off on her fingers, her dark purple kid gloves emphasising her points.

"I think I'd far rather ask your opinion on the Prime Minister," Alex said.

"Oh?"

"It will at the least be far more entertaining, and I suspect, a great deal more stimulating," he said with a nod.

Rosalind laughed again, which made Alex grin. Alex found himself increasingly drawn to her, his gaze lingering on the delicate curve of her cheek and the way the sunlight danced in her fiery red hair. There was a depth to Rosalind that he had never encountered before. It was a sense of authenticity and raw honesty that stripped away the pretences of society and left him feeling both exhilarated and exposed. Feeling emboldened, Alex allowed himself to walk a little closer to Rosalind, the back of his hand brushing hers. To his delight, she coloured prettily and bit her lip.

A pointed cough from behind them had Alex folding his hands behind his back. Rosalind tossed a glance over her shoulder to Amelia, which made Alex chuckle to himself. "How are your sisters, if I might risk a foray into more mundane conversation?"

"Well enough, thank you," Rosalind replied automatically, with none of the feeling he expected from her.

Suspicious, Alex lowered his voice. "I'm not looking for gossip, Lady Rosalind," he said quietly. "I think that you know well enough by now my feelings on that point."

"True enough," Rosalind allowed. They walked in silence for a moment, round a corner in the path. Her expression was troubled, her eyes distant as she clearly wrestled with something internally. "In the spirit of the honesty which I promised you, I suppose I might tell you that I am troubled on their behalf...Isabella in particular."

The duke nodded. He had seen the solicitous care that the other Harrington sisters had tended to the youngest, and his heart was all sympathy for them. There was a sad, melancholy air that clung to Isabella, a heaviness in her movements that gave the girl gravity beyond her years. Isabella had been shy and reserved from the first, but over the weeks, she had become so wan and quiet that she seemed in danger of simply disappearing.

"What troubles her so?" Alex inquired.

Rosalind hesitated again, her steps slowing. She glanced over to Alex, searching his face, and he suspected that she was attempting to decide how much to trust him. He evidently passed whatever test she had been mentally putting him through, for she answered with unvarnished plainness.

"I think the reality of her life is bearing down on her. This whole business–" She gestured vaguely between herself and the Duke. "–has brought to light that her future is already written for her, and it's not a story that she wishes to be the main character in."

"Ah," Alex said, nodding. "I can empathise with that well enough." A pause. "Is this why she hasn't been presented at court?"

"Partly," Rosalind admitted. "But I think also she simply doesn't wish to be labelled as on the marriage market."

"Does she not wish to marry?" Alex asked, surprised.

"No, I think she very much does–she has a lot of love to give to the right person. The problem is, who could she marry that would allow her to continue to paint as she does? It's a conundrum," Rosalind said unhappily.

As an older brother himself, Alex couldn't help but feel a measure of sympathy for Rosalind's position. More than that, he did not care one jot for the way her mouth turned down at the corners, her concern and feeling for her sister suffusing her entire expression. He found himself wanting desperately to put things right for her, to restore the bright smile to her face.

"Perhaps I can help," he heard his mouth saying before he knew what was happening.

"You? How?" Rosalind blurted.

"Well," he said slowly, the plan forming as he said it, "why not take her to an exhibition of some sort? Let her see how the other half lives."

Rosalind bit her lip again, her brow furrowed in thought. "It would be good to get her out of the attic for a bit," she allowed. "But I am worried that it will simply discourage her more."

A grin flitted over Alex's face. "I think I know exactly the artist's works she should see," he said, "and afterwards, we can take her to get iced cream–there's a patisserie that sells some over near Bond Street."

"We should surprise her," Rosalind said, her face becoming animated again. "I won't tell her what we're doing, that way there's no expectation; everything will just be a delightful surprise for her. What do you think, Amelia?" Rosalind asked, turning around and walking backwards for a moment to gauge her sister's reaction.

To Alex's relief and pleasure, Amelia's eyes were glistening with emotion, and she nodded enthusiastically. "She'll love it," she agreed softly. "It will take her out of herself."

Delightedly, Rosalind squealed a little and clapped her hands together. In her happy enthusiasm, she pirouetted back around and grasped the Duke's elbow with both hands. Amelia, evidently too pleased to protest, said nothing in objection, which in turn greatly pleased Alex.

As Alex, Rosalind, and Amelia returned to the Harrington manor, they were unified in their plan to help the youngest Harrington. As Alex deposited Lady Rosalind and her sister safely back in their house, he promised that he would send a card over the very moment he had the details settled. Strangely enough, it didn't feel like a chore as other social engagements frequently had.