Lord of Pleasure (10 page)

Within moments he was surrounded by the clapping of hands and the rush of excited voices. His sisters plopped down around him, fanning out their colorful gowns, except for Mary’s black one, and arranging them about their legs.

The only soul who didn’t join them on the floor was Caroline, who merely peered down at them from where she stood, looking skeptical about the whole thing, as always.

One by one, Alexander tossed the letters up in the air, letting them fall like large flakes of snow. “The first one to garner ten invitations for Caroline’s coming-out wins a quid and a ride through the park. Only be sure to do your sister a favor and burn anything from Lady Lansworth.”

Alexander glanced up and winked at Caroline. She grinned down at him, causing her smooth left cheek to dimple.

The ripping and rustling of paper filled the room as everyone attempted a mad scramble toward ten invitations.

“I have one for tea!” Mary cried out first, setting it hurriedly aside and grabbing hold of another one.

“And I have one for dinner!” Elizabeth, though newly fifteen and therefore typically calmer and refined, dove rather viciously for another letter and tore into it.

“Look! Look! A ball!” Anne scrambled to turn toward Caroline and waved the invitation for her to see. “Do you see? A ball!”

Caroline leaned closer to the invitation and squinted down at it. “Yes. And it’s from Lady Lansworth. You’d best toss it.”

Anne glared at it and tossed it over her shoulder.

“Alex?” Victoria held up a letter into the air, giving him an odd look while crinkling her freckled nose. “What is this? It says something about you being accepted into some school.”

Alexander snapped straight up, his heart nearly leaping out of his nose. Mostly because his sister was holding on to a letter not meant for her innocent eyes. He scrambled toward her through the sea of letters and snatched the parchment out of her hand.

Jumping up to his feet, he moved far back out of their circle. Impossible. Bloody impossible. Madame de Maitenon hadn’t even responded to any of his letters. And yet there it was addressed:
To the Right Honorable, the Earl of Hawksford
.

He snapped the parchment open and stared at the neatly scribed words he quickly recognized to be none other than Miss Charlotte’s. And sure enough, just as his sister had said, it read:

Alexander blinked in disbelief at not only having been accepted into the school, but at what it actually meant. He grinned at the unexpected turn of events. Imagine. Lady Charlotte was officially his. Perhaps there was such a thing as luck after all.

Someone within the study cleared her throat.

Alexander looked up from his letter, still delightfully dazed. But his grin faded at the sight of his sisters intently staring up at him from the floor. Even Caroline was suspiciously eyeing him.

“A joke.” He folded the parchment, stuffed it into his inner waistcoat pocket, and forced out a laugh, hoping it sounded genuine. “Probably Caldwell.” He laughed again, knowing he wasn’t entirely misleading them.

Caroline suspiciously eyed him again but eventually returned to her pacing. The rest of the girls must have found him convincing enough, as well, for they all returned to their frantic hunt.

How the
hell
was he going to keep this all a secret? He was supposed to be setting a good example for his sisters. Not to mention his mother.

Rules. He needed to establish some rules with Charlotte. It was the only way it was going to work. That is, if she would even follow them.

He lowered himself down again onto the carpet, watching his sisters as they continued to tear into invitation after invitation. He really didn’t know if being admitted into the school was a blessing or a curse.

“Are we having a picnic?” their mother cheerfully chimed from the doorway. “And why in heavens wasn’t I invited?”

Alexander glanced up and waved his mother into the study. “We’re going through Caroline’s latest set of invitations.”

“How splendid! Are there any good ones?” Lady Hawksford swept into the room, dressed in a stiff, cornflower-hued riding habit.

Her golden brown hair, which showed vast gray, was neatly tucked up into a top hat that had been fashionably wrapped with a long, white silk veil that trailed behind her. Her full skirts rustled as she moved toward them, her riding boots clicking rhythmically against the wood floor. Though a widow of one and fifty, as of late she was beginning to dress and act like a woman of twenty.

Which was disturbing. Because he still had five sisters to marry off, and he didn’t know if his mother had it in her to keep her bedchamber door closed long enough for all of them to find respectable husbands.

Lord Hughes had already made three calls since the opening of the Season. One call from the man meant he was hoping to get familiar. Two calls meant the man was making arrangements with his mother that involved far more than tea. And three calls meant the arrangements were done.

Lady Hawksford stood before the pile of letters scattered across the carpet, smiled, and lowered herself onto the floor next to him, arranging her riding habit around her feet. She glanced at everyone in the room then caught Alexander’s gaze with those devilish green eyes that twinkled far too much for her age. “Are there any invitations from Lord Hughes? He promised to send Caroline a few during the course of the Season.”

Alexander stiffened. So they
were
involved. He knew it. He bloody knew it. He’d have to talk to Caldwell about fending the bastard off. Immediately. At the very least, he wanted his family to
try
to be like everyone else. That was the whole point of even involving them in the Season and having a coming-out for Caroline.

Lady Hawksford leaned toward him and enthusiastically patted his leg. “I absolutely
adore
his parties. Everyone does.”

Considering Lord Hughes had the memory of a boulder and was unpopular with the
ton
due to the company he kept, Alexander highly doubted that
everyone
adored them. “Do try and remember that Caroline is only the first of five girls we have to marry off. I’m doing my best to ensure a sense of respectability, and I ask that you do the same. After his public overture toward Caroline at the Whittle ball, I don’t want him calling on this house anymore. He’ll only complicate matters for us.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Alex,” Caroline scoffed from outside their circle. “Lord Hughes has never made a public overture toward me. Why must you continue to treat him with such disrespect? Unlike us, he doesn’t imprison himself in an artificial life when he steps out into public and could not care less about what the
bon ton
thinks. He involves himself with fascinating people. Do you know that he’s involved with a French courtesan who plans on opening a school? A school that will educate men on the topic of women. Brilliant, if you ask me. All men ought to attend.” She stared him down as if she knew something he didn’t. “Yourself included.”

Alexander lowered his gaze and picked up a piece of lint from the upper knee of his trousers, feeling
very
uncomfortable. For the obvious reasons. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she knew about his application to the school.

“Madame de Maitenon
is
brilliant,” Lady Hawksford agreed. “As well as delightfully lovely.”

Caroline stepped toward them, her face beaming with newfound excitement. “You’ve actually met Madame de Maitenon?”

Lady Hawksford offered a naughty little smile. “When your father and I had a fancy or two several years ago. She was wildly entertaining.”

Alexander cringed. The last thing his sisters needed intimated was his mother and father’s bizarre sexual escapades. “Ladies, please. Need I remind you that there are individuals here under the age of eighteen.”

He flashed a quick smile over at his four youngest sisters, who had all ceased rifling through their invitations.

Alexander pointed toward the forgotten pile of letters around them. “I see a lot more invitations that need opening. There’s still that quid and a ride to the park for the first one to gather ten.”

Victoria smoothed out her green muslin morning gown and challenged him by arching a brow. “A quid isn’t nearly enough to buy me the sort of books that I want.” She then turned her gaze back to their mother. “Do go on. You were saying?”

Alexander quirked a challenging brow back at her. “Try to remember you turned sixteen last month, not forty.”

Victoria glared at him. “I can assure you, Alex, that I know much more than most of the forty-year-old women in this town.”

Alexander choked. “And what is
that
supposed to mean?”

Lady Hawksford held up a hand, then lowered it and sighed. “There’s no need to puff out feathers, Alexander. The more my girls know about these matters, the less likely a man is going to take advantage of them. You know how they are, being one yourself. Forever trying to throw up a skirt.”

Alexander felt his entire face bloom with heat as all his sisters openly smirked at him. Though, yes, he’d been born unto the wild and wicked ways of a Hawksford, and had led his life according to those ways, he was a man. It was acceptable for him. But when it came to his sisters, he simply didn’t feel comfortable with the notion that respectability was but a façade one imparted for the
ton
. And that the moment no one was looking, everything and anything was permissible for them.

Sometimes, only sometimes, Alexander wondered what life would have been like if he had been born into a normal family. A family that wouldn’t discuss inappropriate things in front of twelve-, thirteen-, fifteen-, sixteen-, and nineteen-year-olds.

Mary scooted closer to their mother from the opposite side and tapped her arm. “What exactly
is
a courtesan, Mother?”

He glared at his mother. “
Don’t
.”

“Have a bit more faith, Alex. You’ve become unusually uptight.” Lady Hawksford patted Mary’s hand and cheerfully offered, “’Tis something you never want to be, dear. That is all you need to know for now.” She smiled down at her, then shifted toward Mary as if about to impart a conversation fit for tea. “Oh, and by the by. I ordered that casket for you. The one lined and ruffled with black lace and silk. It should arrive sometime in the next two weeks.”

Mary clapped her hands together, a rare smile bursting forth onto her small lips. “Can I keep it in my room?
Please?
”

Alexander’s heart skid from its usual rhythm. He jumped to his feet and pointed sternly at his mother. “Mother, I’ll not accept you feeding into Mary’s delusions like this. Hell, with all this ongoing encouragement, she’s likely to start digging up bodies from the cemetery. And setting them about the house like oversized dolls!”

He paused, then eyed Mary, suddenly concerned with the notion that he might have given her an idea.

Lady Hawksford pulled in her chin, causing the ivory veil of her riding hat to quiver. “Really, now. There’s no need for dramatics. She’ll outgrow it. What else would you have me do? Lock her in her room so that she may despise us all? I think not. Here in our own home, we are free to make our own rules and worry not about society. We only ever worry when we step outside that door.”

To be sure, ever since his father’s death, the woman had grown nothing short of intolerable. Free to make their own rules, indeed. There
weren’t
any rules. And that was part of the damn problem. That was why Caroline hated the Season, why Mary wanted caskets, why Victoria, Anne, and Elizabeth acted like they were all forty, and why
he
wanted to attend a sex school and bed Lady Charlotte.

It was obvious the Hawksford household was long overdue for a solid set of rules. He was, after all, the head of the household and would be until he died. Which hopefully wouldn’t be anytime soon.

“Victoria, Mary, Anne, Elizabeth.” He turned to his sisters, who were all quietly and intently sitting about. They all blinked up at him, invitations still in their hands. “Return to your studies at once. Mrs. Peterson has been left waiting long enough.”

“
Must we?
” the girls all whined in disappointed unison, their faces sagging.

What did a man have to do to earn some respect within his own household? “Yes, you bloody must.” He pointed toward the doorway. “Off with you now. Or I’ll see to it Mrs. Peterson permanently binds a quill to each of your hands.”

He swiveled at Mary and narrowed his gaze. “As for you. We shall discuss this casket business later on in the afternoon. I think it high time we bring you back to the ways of the living. Now go.”

“Yes, Alex,” Mary muttered, lowering her eyes. She slowly rose to her feet and tossed an invitation onto the floor. She watched it float down with solemn remorse.

“Now all of you.” He snapped his forefinger toward the direction of the ceiling. “Upstairs. And be quick about it.”

Grumbling, one by one, all of his sisters, save Caroline, scrambled to their feet, turned, and hurried out of the room. Even Mary, who wasn’t prone to running due to her
condition
, hurried out without a single complaint.

Alexander lowered his hand back to his side, feeling more at ease. As though he could breathe again. “Caroline, I need a few moments alone with Mother. If you please.”

Caroline moved toward their mother, who still sat on the floor, and settled herself elegantly beside her. “If this is about Mary, I intend to stay.”

Stay? Oh, no. Absolutely not. He’d already played this little game of hers many times before. And it was anything but fun. With her and Mother in the room, it always turned into a verbal war. Two against one. Meaning his mother and sister against him.

“Actually,” he offered as politely as he knew how, “you look a little pale. Run off and pinch your cheeks or something. Or better yet, why not hunt down that lucky sovereign of yours. That should take an hour or two, shouldn’t it?”

Caroline snapped her sharp gaze to him as the color of her cheeks heightened. “Don’t be an ass
and
a bastard, Alex. I have every right to be involved in this conversation. Mary is my sister, too, and unlike the others, I cannot be ordered back to the nursery.”

Alexander’s lips parted in response to her boldness. She’d never sworn at him before.
Ever
. “I won’t have you talking to me like that.”

Lady Hawksford lifted a hand toward him from where she sat. “Help me up, dear.”

“Yes. Of course.” Alexander turned to his mother and helped her to her feet, waiting for her to impart some common sense into Caroline.

Lady Hawksford smoothed out her riding gown and sighed. “Alexander. Caroline is no longer a child. I ask that you stop treating her as such.”

He knew it. He bloody knew they’d both start siding with one another. They always did. “Fine, fine. Let us talk about Mary instead, shall we? Am I the only one in this house that believes our family is officially mad with indecency? I ask you, who the devil goes off and buys their child a casket to play with?
Who?
She’s damn well morbid enough.”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Perhaps you need to be more worried about the example
you
set. Why, not that long ago, Mother and I had to turn away yet another delusional woman who dared to call upon this home asking for the Lord of Pleasure. Lord of Pleasure, indeed. Yes, and I am the Catholic Virgin Mary.”

Alexander froze, his brows coming together. “What do you mean by that?” he demanded, stepping toward her. “Do you mean to say that you’re not…”

Caroline’s face visibly flushed. She threw her hands up into the air before letting them drop in exasperation. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! Do not even try to change the subject. How can you begin to judge our behavior when you yourself cannot lead this family by example? I happened to witness all of that business between you and Lady Waverly. It seems you have no qualms about frolicking with a woman who is nigh unto her deathbed, and yet you have the audacity to stand there and talk about the inappropriateness of buying a stupid casket?”

Alexander inwardly cringed though he dared not show it. This is exactly what he was afraid of. A guilty reprimand that proved him incapable of being the head of this household. “I did not bloody frolic with Lady Waverly! She ambushed me. And Caldwell helped her do it!”

She crossed her arms over her chest and studied him for a long moment. “And yet you continue to associate with him”

“If I cease associating with Caldwell,” he growled, “that leaves me to only associate with
this
family. You damn well know I have no real friends outside of Caldwell, and a man needs some sort of reprieve from six overzealous women.”