Chapter 6

Prospero woke early, his body's natural rhythm pulling him from sleep as the room lightened. He was stiff as he sat up in the chair and stretched. He yawned and glanced at the bed nearby. Sometime during the night, he had stolen a blanket from the bed to keep himself warm, but there had been plenty of blankets to keep Elise comfortable. At the moment she was burrowed deep beneath the covers, only her face peeping out as well as one dainty foot that had somehow become untucked from the blankets.

He stared at that slender, feminine foot and found himself grinning. He should wake her, but he believed in always letting a woman sleep. If there was one thing he knew, it was that a well-rested woman was a happy one. He stood and retrieved his clothes from the night before and donned them again.

They were somewhat wrinkled by now and not at all suitable for wearing the rest of the day. He would have to retrieve his travel case from his townhouse across the street and change. He would also need to visit a tailor to acquire a new wardrobe. He had but a handful of outfits at the moment and would need more if he intended to meet with others about business investments. He had the money Elise had given him after his interview, and he would use part of that to purchase a few outfits.

Prospero quietly slipped from the room and went down the hall to the grand stairs. As he reached the entryway on the floor below, he ran into the butler, Roberts.

"Good morning, my lord." Roberts emerged from the doorway that Prospero assumed led down to the kitchens below.

"Ah, Mr. Roberts, would it be possible to have some breakfast?"

"Certainly, my lord. The dining room is prepared. Please break your fast at your leisure. The morning papers have been pressed and are laid out if you choose to read anything."

"Thank you." He nodded at the butler as the man turned to go, then stopped him. "Er. Mr. Roberts, Miss Hamblin mentioned you might post notices for household positions in my home. The one across the street?"

"Yes, my lord. I've seen to it already."

"You have?"

"Yes, my lord. I sent them off to the papers last evening. They should be in the appropriate places today and tomorrow. Applicants will send their responses here for you, and I will be happy to weed out any unsuitable candidates, if you'd like."

Prospero considered the matter. "Thank you. Leave any qualified applications for me to review. I need staff who will be loyal to my house, given my... unusual circumstances."

"Of course, I completely agree," said Roberts. "I will notify you the moment responses to the postings begin to arrive."

Prospero entered the dining room and halted at the realization that he was not alone. A tall, strongly built man in his early sixties with graying dark hair sat at the far end of the table, a paper unfolded in front of him. He had a slice of toast raised halfway to his mouth as he stared back at Prospero, equally stunned. Why hadn't the butler warned him he was not to dine alone?

"Who the devil are you?" The man's dark mustache twitched as he seemed to hold back a more direct response to someone disturbing his breakfast.

"I am Prospero Harrington. I am participating in a scientific study for Miss Hamblin." There was probably a better way to introduce himself, but that was all he could think of in the moment. He was quite certain this was Elise's father.

The formidable man narrowed his eyes. "Harrington... Harrington. Hold on, you're the Earl of March's son."

Ah. There it was. Prospero waited for Mr. Hamblin to denounce him and demand he vacate the house. But instead, Hamblin only stared at Prospero with a mix of interest and a calculated gleam in his eyes.

"My father died a few months ago," Prospero said, filling the dead air.

"That makes you Lord March, then," Elise's father mused. "You have my condolences on your father."

"Thank you. I presume you are the Hamblin patriarch?" Prospero could see Elise's eyes in the man's face and the stubborn tilt of his chin.

"I am. You may call me John."

He stood and held out a hand to Prospero. Startled by the gesture, Prospero shook his hand.

"Then I must insist you call me Prospero."

"Now then, what's all this about my daughter and some study? What's she gotten herself into this time?" His gaze missed nothing as it swept over Prospero's wrinkled evening suit.

"She is studying gentlemen and has hired me to be the subject of her study. You were not aware of this?"

John's brows lowered dangerously. "That my daughter was inviting strange men into my home to study them? No, I was certainly not aware of that."

"Oh..." Prospero began to wonder if his initial concern of being tossed out of the house might yet come to pass.

"So you've only just arrived this morning, then?" John was once more studying him. Between Elise and her father, Prospero was beginning to feel like one of those insects in a jar at the Society of Rebellious Ladies' headquarters.

"I arrived last evening. We had dinner."

"You dined with my daughter? Alone?" John growled.

"Yes, I was not aware that you would not be present for dinner. She only informed me you had a business dinner at your club after I arrived."

John stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "And you stayed the night here?"

Prospero heard the unspoken question. In a strange way, he felt far more in danger in this moment with this man than when he'd faced Jackson in that blasted duel.

"At her request, as part of the study. You have my word that nothing occurred that would require any kind of announcement between us. Your daughter's interest in me is entirely scientific."

At this, John sighed in disappointment. "Sadly, I believe you. I might be the only man in England who prays his daughter would notice men. Instead of wanting to marry one, she wants to study them. Christ, what's next? We have more skeletons, creatures in jars, and stuffed animals in this house than the new natural history museum that opened last year. Where would I store all the men if she begins collecting you lot next?" Elise's father gave a wry chuckle.

Prospero chuckled as well and took a seat when John motioned for him to sit. A footman brought toast as well as a pot of orange marmalade and set them close to Prospero on the table.

"So, a study of men? What could she possibly want to know? She lives with one. What else could she seek to learn that she cannot ask me?"

Prospero cracked an egg with his spoon. "As I understand it, she wants to know men on an instinctive level. What drives our daily actions, what motivates us, and so forth." He glanced John's way, curious to see how her father would react to that. The older man seemed unruffled by his daughter's odd choice in study.

"She's wasting her time, then, seeking deeper answers. There are only three things that drive men: the love of money, power, and women. I could have told her that," Elise's father snorted.

"I almost said as much last evening, but she still intends to go through with her study."

"I blame that bloody society of hers," John sighed.

"You don't approve?" Prospero asked as he ate his breakfast.

John let out a weary sigh. "I approve of it, but sometimes I wonder if she buries herself in studying to avoid living. Or perhaps it's because her mother was so involved in the society that Elise wants to feel connected to her through it. She was only a wee babe when I lost my Eloise."

"Her mother was named Eloise?"

John's hard face softened. "Yes, when my daughter was born, she looked so much like my darling wife that we named her Elise. Now she's grown up, and damned if she isn't the spitting image of her mother. I suppose I'm grateful at times that she hasn't married. To lose her now would break my heart." John's honesty made Prospero's throat tighten.

"Except for her eyes. I dare say she has your eyes, John," Prospero remarked.

"You think so, eh?" John's brown eyes fixed on Prospero with open curiosity. It was a look so much like Elise's that Prospero could only nod. Yes, Elise had just as much of her father in her as her mother.

"So, Prospero, if my memory serves, your parents used to live in this square." He nodded his head toward the tall dining room windows that faced the street.

"Yes, my mother retired to the country to be with her sister, and now that I've returned from Paris, I plan to update the furnishings and make any needed repairs."

John nodded in approval. "Good man. Property values in the square will benefit from that, of course."

Prospero marveled at how alike Elise and her father were. It made him smile.

"I understand you are in the railroad business?" Prospero asked after they had both eaten in silence for a few minutes.

"I am. Don't tell me you are as well?" John replied. "I admit, I don't follow much of the activities of your lot. Most of them are rotten at business."

Prospero knew what he meant. The titled lot. Often, titled lords did not engage in business unless they absolutely had to—at least not the older set—but as farmlands were giving way to buildings and sales of ancestral homes were frequent, the titled lot were forced to look to alternative ways to support their families and those grand estates that remained.

"I am not involved yet, but I would be interested to know if you believe it's worth investing in. For a man new to the industry, such as me."

"It would take a bit of coin to get you in unless you have connections. Most of the decent railways are tightly held by small but powerful groups of investors. But I suppose I can ask around. Do you know anything about steel production or railways?"

Prospero felt a quickening of excitement at the thought of doing something of value. But he had to temper that excitement with the reality that he had little to offer in the way of knowledge or experience. "Very little, but I am a quick study."

"You will need to be, if you expect to keep any investments not only afloat but profitable. The technology changes every day, it seems."

Taking a chance, Prospero leaned toward John a little. "Would you be willing to point me in the direction of how best to learn about it?"

John paused. "Are you serious?"

"Absolutely. I mean to rebuild my family's fortunes, and I have no intention of sitting back on my title. If work is required, I am as able-bodied and able-minded as any man. I'd like to be of use to myself and to others. Getting into a growing business seems the smart thing." Prospero hoped John would never hear about the means by which he'd gotten by in Paris. It wasn't easy to see the difference between a disgraced son of an earl and a disgraced earl. The former had little to trade except his own body; the latter had a title and prestige to barter with. The unfortunate truth was that his father's death had opened up a few doors that had been shut for the last twelve years.

John studied him for a moment with the same cool, calculating, but not unkind sort of look that his daughter had given him during the initial interview at the society. Prospero saw that the other man's gaze held no judgment for his past, only what his future might be. John pushed back his chair and stood.

"Wait here," he said, and left the dining room. When he returned, John handed Prospero a thick volume entitled A History of the English Railway and a second slimmer edition titled Propulsion Systems and Railway Engineering.

"If you can still stomach the business after reading these, I can take you to a meeting with me."

Prospero was stunned at the man's willingness to help. "Thank you, truly."

John shrugged. "I can respect a man who won't let the past hold power over him. You are here now, demanding to be given a fair shot in life, not lording over a dead title and looking for things to be handed to you. Only a fool would stand in your way, and a good man would lend a hand. Someone once did the same for me, and I believe in paying forward such acts of goodness."

Something tightened in Prospero's chest at the man's generosity. Elise might share her father's kindness too. All because she had compassion, not pity, for his circumstances. He was grateful and wise enough to recognize the difference.

* * *

Elise rolled over and stretched, enjoying the warmth of the blankets a long moment before she bolted upright. This wasn't her bedchamber. It was the guest room she'd had prepared for Prospero Harrington last evening. Only he wasn't here with her. She was completely alone. And in the bed. She distinctly remembered being in the chair, not the bed. Had he moved her in the night? He must have. Her brows drew together. Why would he do that? Give up a cozy bed for her? Was it something the laws of gentlemen demanded, or was it something more... primal, more ancient in the way a male could care for a female? She needed to make a note to ask him about that later.

Her notebook and pen were neatly sitting on a table, and Prospero's clothing that had been strewn about the floor last night was gone. For a moment she considered the possibility that she had dreamed everything that happened last night. But no, it hadn't been some fantasy. She had watched the infamous Earl of March undress for her—for scientific purposes, of course—and the act had seemed to charge the room with an electricity she didn't know how to explain.

She felt like the sixth-century Greek philosopher Thales of Miletus as he rubbed amber rods together to demonstrate what was now called the triboelectric effect. When she'd stumbled and fallen into Prospero's arms, that electric charge had pulled her into him, keeping her attached to him. When his face had been close to hers in a near kiss, she'd half expected their bodies to generate sparks.

That was certainly worth studying. Was this electric connection of a male to a female limited to looks alone, or could this attraction occur between any man and any woman at any time under the right circumstances? It would explain quite a bit about human nature if she could find out.

It would explain why so many women allowed themselves to be compromised by men and why rakes and rogues in particular proved so fatal to a woman's reputation. For the first time, she felt she could understand why women sometimes acted so silly around certain men. She'd always looked down her nose at those silly, giggling creatures, but after what she'd experienced last night, she wasn't quite sure there were words to describe how she felt, only that she'd been close to giggling herself at how he'd made her feel.

Prospero's body had been firm, rigid, and strong, yet she had enjoyed leaning into him, feeling the warmth of his bare skin and his natural male scent that held a hint of musk. It made her think of amber and evergreen trees. Being held by him had felt like she was straying into a dark, quiet wood where the trees spoke a language of soft cracks and pops as the roots moved beneath the rich soil and leaves above whispered secrets that mankind was still too young to understand.

The imagery was all so unscientific, and yet it made perfect sense. Her mother had read her fairy tales as a child, and she recalled a story of a girl wearing a red cloak fleeing a wolf, but she'd always wondered why any young woman would go into the deep, dark forest at all. Now she understood the allure. It was the mystery of the dark forest, not the wolf, that drew the girl into its depths.

Elise climbed out of the bed and shivered.

She hastily collected her notebook and rushed back to her own bedchamber. It was almost eight o'clock in the morning. She had slept later than she usually did, yet she felt incredibly rested.

Her maid was in a fine fury when Elise stepped inside her chamber.

"Just where have you been, milady? I was about to have Mr. Roberts tear the place apart looking for you!" Mary grasped Elise's hand and pulled her toward the changing screen. "We must get you dressed and ready for breakfast. Your father and Lord March are down there alone. Heavens knows what they're talking about without you there to explain yourself."

Elise nearly tore her tea gown off her shoulders trying to get it off. "Oh goodness, I forgot about Papa!"

Mary had a light-blue walking dress ready for her that had a slender bustle in the back and military frog braiding on the upper jacket that looked quite smart. She pulled her hair up into a loose coiffure and secured it with a mother-of-pearl clasp.

Mary sighed. "It will have to do. I expect you to be on time for dinner."

"It's possible we will be dining out."

Her maid frowned. "Either way, you will not leave this house unless I fix you up proper."

Elise bussed Mary's cheek in a light kiss and then dashed down the stairs in time to see her father and Prospero leaving the dining room together.

"Ah, there she is," her father chuckled, and shared a secretive smile with Prospero as though they were old friends. She was relieved, but also suspicious. She hadn't warned Papa of her intent to bring a man into the house, and certainly not one with Lord March's reputation. She couldn't blame him if he was upset with her for such a breach in propriety.

"May I have a word with you before you and Lord March begin your day?" Her father's voice was still calm, with no hint of displeasure.

"Yes, Papa." Elise shot Prospero a quick glance, who answered only with a shrug. She followed her father into his private study, where he closed the door, and sat down in his chair at his desk, facing her. She had a feeling she was about to be lectured. It didn't happen often, but when it did, she never enjoyed it.

"March seems like a decent fellow," her father said.

"Yes, he is."

"You could do worse."

That was a comment she didn't understand. He was rather perfect for her study, of course, not to mention that Mr. Holmes had quite insisted she should conduct her research on Lord March.

"Financially, he is poor as a church mouse, but I imagine not for long. He seems like a capable man, willing to build his own future. I would not mind having him as a son-in-law."

Elise's lips parted in shock, but she didn't speak. Her father thought she and Prospero were courting?

When he saw her reaction, her father sighed. "He told me a little about this study of yours, about the study of men. I assume that's the only reason he's here?"

"Yes, of course. We've only just met. There isn't anything else?—"

Her father raised a hand. "I ask very little of you these days," he said, "so please consider my next words carefully. That man would be a decent choice. I like him. More importantly, I don't think he has any issues with your studies at the society."

He was talking about marriage with Prospero.

"Papa, I have known him less than a day, and you know that I have no interest in marrying." It was a discussion they had from time to time. Marriage wouldn't work for her. She was busy, and she was not about to let a man rule her life by agreeing to marry him.

"I understand how you feel, my dear. But remember, your mother had me and a life full of adventure and freedom. Not every man would seek to rule you. The right one chooses to partner with you. I believe March is such a man."

She arched her brow, challenging her father. "You've learned all of this over breakfast, have you?"

He leaned back in his chair and smiled. "You'd be simply amazed at what one can learn by talking to someone rather than peering at them through a magnifying lens."

She was tempted to say that seeing people through a lens was far safer than talking to them.

"Just tell me you will consider it. I'm not getting any younger, and someday, when I am nothing more than dust, I want to have left this life with the comfort of knowing you are safe."

"I am safe," Elise protested. "Don't you trust me to take care of myself?"

"I trust you," her father replied solemnly. "More than you'll ever know. But I don't trust the world we live in. Even the most capable people can be trapped by the evil in this world."

"I'm not some damsel in need of saving by a knight," she reminded him.

"No, you aren't. You've always been a Joan of Arc, your armor sparkling in the sun as you charge into the fray." Pride shone clearly in his eyes. "But I should like to see Saint Michael by your side, ready to slay the occasional dragon and guard your back if you need it."

Elise relaxed a little. "I will consider it, Papa."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. "Now, what is really behind this study of yours? You've never shown an interest in men before now, not even academically."

"Oh, well... I may have gotten into a wager with Mr. Holmes."

Her father's brows rose. "That detective fellow? He always struck me as a bit of a loose cannon, that one. What on earth made you tangle with that man?"

"He was disrupting my meetings with that blasted violin of his. So I demanded he stop, and he claimed our studies at the society were incomplete without first understanding the human condition. I pointed out that I understood it quite well and that men as a whole were quite boring. That led him to challenge me to understand men, and specifically Lord March because of his background being, well... not so black-and-white, but rather because he lives in a gray area. If I prove I understand men, he will surrender that blasted instrument over to me so we may have our meetings in peace."

Her father chuckled. "So it took London's most famous detective to get you interested in men? I may have to send Holmes my best bottle of Madeira."

"Oh, Papa," Ellie gasped in irritation. "It's only a scientific study."

Her father's eyes still twinkled. "Very well, my dear, off you go, then. I'm sure you have much to study. Just stay out of trouble. Well, on second thought, perhaps a little trouble would be good for you." Other men might have sounded patronizing when saying this, but Elise knew her father was teasing her.

"We won't get into any trouble. I thought we might tour the Natural History Museum for a few hours. I'm curious as to his thoughts on nature and history." The British Museum had grown over time, and just last year in 1881 they'd moved much of the original collection to a new museum built to house the natural history collections.

"Will you be home for dinner this evening?"

"I'm not entirely sure."

"Well, be careful and try to enjoy yourself, Elise. He seems like an intelligent and interesting fellow. I get the sense that he is unused to talking about himself, but when he does, the man is honest. You might be interested in what you learn about him."

Elise left her father's study, more than a little muddled over her father's request that she think of marriage to a man she'd only just met. He'd never done that before. It was so out of character for him to push her like that.

Prospero was waiting outside the dining room door. He escorted her inside, where he had prepared a plate of food for her, and then sat down to quietly go through a pair of books on the table.

"Since you were late for breakfast, I thought you might be hungry." He nodded at the plate.

"Thank you. That was quite thoughtful."

"You're most welcome." His soft blue eyes seemed to caress her before he turned his focus back to his texts.

"What are you studying?" she inquired.

He flashed her a bashful look and displayed the spines of the books. "A History of the English Railway and a book on train engineering and engine propulsion systems."

She giggled. "Oh dear. You have been talking to my father, haven't you?" It was just like her father to hand over textbooks on railways to someone. "You don't have to read them. I promise I won't tell him."

"Actually, I asked him about how to enter the railway business. He gave me some sound advice that I should study the history and science of the industry before I attempt to enter it."

That definitely sounded like her father. She ate her breakfast hastily as he read in silence, but it was a nice silence. She had so many thoughts that ran through her head on any given day that she dreaded being alone with a man when she knew they would expect sparkling conversation and wit.

Here she was, having a moment to just think, or even not to think, and it was peaceful in a way she'd never imagined. She caught herself stealing glances at Prospero as he read his books. She mentally traced the line of his jaw, his straight nose, the slightly fuller than average lips, and those impossibly long lashes that were currently downcast as he studied the texts before him. His dark hair fell into his eyes, and he would occasionally brush it away absentmindedly with his fingers.

Fascinating... Elise wanted to know every thought in his mind, peer deep into the well of this man's soul. But that was silly, wasn't it?

When she finished, he closed the books and watched her patiently.

"So, what would you like to see your male specimen do today?" He asked the question so seriously that she found herself remembering last night when he'd stripped his clothes off in that tantalizing way. The sudden sharp pang in her womb so utterly startled her that she wriggled in her chair. Elise clenched her thighs together.

"Well, I thought we might visit the Natural History Museum, and then perhaps you could tell me how you would normally spend your afternoons if I were not accompanying you?"

"I would probably visit my club for dinner, since I currently have no cook at home. After that, I might investigate the gaming tables. Not to gamble, but to see if I can renew any old acquaintances who could help me find a way into the railroad business. Many men can be more relaxed while playing games of chance, and be more willing to talk. Unless they are losing great hordes of money, in which case they will want to talk to no one."

"Interesting... I shall look forward to learning more about that. I thought we could start with the Natural History Museum this morning. I could show you a part of my world and my interests so you will understand why I am called to be a naturalist."

"I would find that fascinating," Prospero said with honesty.

She called for a footman to bring her a pale-blue cloak, and then they headed for the door. It had been ages since she had seen the British Museum and she wanted to see the new Natural History Museum. She wanted to show Prospero some of her favorite exhibits.

* * *

John Hamblin stood in the doorway of his study and watched his daughter and Lord March speaking in the entryway. March put on his hat. It was a worn old thing that had seen better days. The earl's suit, while finely made, was a bit faded and had been discreetly patched in a few places. The man was in dire straits and no doubt desperate enough to escape the situation that he had agreed to play a specimen for his daughter to study. When his butler, Roberts, joined him to watch the young pair leave the house, John leaned toward his butler a little.

"What do you think of March?"

The butler kept his gaze on Elise and the earl until a footman closed the door behind them.

"I heard he was sent to France after he was connected to a man's death in a duel twelve years ago, but my sources tell me that he's kept out of trouble since then. He was shunned by most of Parisian society when it came to matters of business. He was able to get by through providing... companionship to wealthy widows."

John wondered if the young man had brought any complications back to England with him. He didn't want his daughter's heart or her fortune at risk, if that was the case.

"Blast. Did he marry any of those widows or father any children?"

"Not that I'm aware of. I could inquire further."

"Do so." John stroked his chin. "And keep your eye on him."

"You suspect he will be trouble?" Roberts asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. That alone betrayed that Roberts seemed to like the earl.

"Not exactly. I think he seems like a decent fellow. But there is only so much baggage one can tolerate. I wish to know if anyone will have a problem with him now that he's returned. I imagine the family of the man who died could make trouble for him if they felt he escaped justice. Best if we keep an eye on things. I don't want Elise drawn into a fight she doesn't belong in."

"I am currently assisting Lord March in posting notices for his staff and will be able to keep my eye on things, should he agree with the choices I offer him."

"Excellent." John returned to his study, and as he sat down, his chest tightened a little and he felt a flash of pain and then numbness go down his arm. He cursed softly. Pains like these were becoming more frequent, and he didn't like what his body was telling him. He called for Roberts and asked him to send for his solicitor saying that it was urgent. Then he leaned back in his chair and tried to relax.

Everything would be fine. He would make certain of it. He had to see Elise married to a good man soon. He prayed his instincts about March were right, because he was about to hang his hopes for his daughter's future upon a reputed rogue.