“I suppose she can be quite a handful, but I wouldn’t say that she is difficult to handle . . . it makes her sound like a spoiled child.”
“And you don’t think she’s spoiled? It sounds to me as if she’s been allowed to run wild for far too long. Indeed, she’s not a child. She’s a young lady who ought to be dressed in fine muslin gowns and—”
“Go for strolls in the park or sit about painting water color pictures and such?” Ryan interrupted. “Good luck convincing her of that.”
“You don’t agree?” Michael asked with much surprise.
“I think I might have a different perspective because of my closeness to her.” Ryan told him. “You see, I admire Alexandra tremendously. She’s not only thwarted the stringent rules of society but she’s done it so remarkably well. In truth, I don’t understand how you can fail to respect her for that.”
“It’s not that I am not impressed by her. Indeed, it’s rather difficult not to be, but surely you must admit that sending a woman into harm’s way like this is irresponsible.”
“I am certain that you must have attended your fair share of balls where you were introduced to hordes of young ladies—very eligible ones with a proper upbringing. Ladies who could sing for your amusement while playing the pianoforte, as if they’d never done anything else but that their entire lives. Ladies in exquisitely cut gowns, bonnets tied with bright ribbons, and hands that have never done anything more strenuous than write a letter in perfectly lined calligraphy. Ladies who will never argue your point, but always nod their heads in agreement because their sole purpose in life is to please you.”
Michael frowned. Yes, he knew precisely the sort of women Ryan referred to, for he had met them all. It was one of the reasons why he kept his mistresses and refused to marry.
“To put it plainly,” Ryan continued. “They are all exceedingly dull. Not a single one has an adventurous spirit like Alex, not one dares to speak her mind; and whenever one of them laughs, her heart is not in it—it’s rather a trained sort of sound that they must have practiced at for hours in order to perfect.
“I for one have scoured the ballrooms of Mayfair in search of a lady who does not fit the description I have just given you. After all, where is the fun in having the same wife as everyone else? Is it not better to find a woman who is unique? Who stands out?” Ryan asked. “I do believe that I would find myself lucky to meet a woman with as much spirit as my sister. After all, life might become a touch unbearable with a dull wife to see to every day for the remainder of my days.”
Michael couldn’t help but see the truth in what Ryan was telling him. “And how does William feel about this?” he asked. “Being the eldest, he has a duty to fulfill. Or does he plan to shirk it as I do?”
“Not at all, but he does share my opinion of the ladies we have met thus far. He too hopes to marry someone with a bit more character than those women whose only ambition in life is to marry well. Growing up with Alex has made us realize women have much more to offer than society trains them to express.”
“I must admit you have a point,” Michael muttered, though it did very little in strengthening his resolve to stay away from Alexandra. “Although I would never have thought to consider it, I must agree that your sister would certainly make for a more interesting companion than most. However, it does seem to be beside the point.”
“Perhaps,” Ryan mused.
“Besides, she’s by far the most unruly woman I have ever met,” Michael said.
Ryan chuckled. “I am sure she is. However, given the circumstances, I would still like to know what your intentions are.”
Michael stiffened. “My intentions? What the devil are you talking about, Summersby?”
“Well,” Ryan began, “judging by the way the two of you went at each other’s throats, I suspect you’ll either wind up killing each other or getting married. I would like to know which it is going to be in case I need to make arrangements,” he added casually.
“I’m afraid to disappoint you, but with even the littlest bit of luck, it won’t be either,” Michael told him rather adamantly.
“Oh?”
“I have no intention of marrying anybody and most certainly not a woman I’ve only just met. Hell, you know my reputation, Summersby. I am quite content with my life as it is. I have no desire to find myself leg shackled—least of all to a boisterous hoyden like your sister. No offense.”
“None taken, though I must admit that I rather thought a man such as yourself might find her . . . refreshing.”
Michael scowled at Ryan. The man apparently knew his mind better than he would have thought. Still, he loved his freedom. He enjoyed having whichever one of his mistresses struck his fancy, visiting his club, and whiling away the hours of the night with gambling and drink whenever he felt like it. The last thing he needed was to tie himself down to an opinionated woman. He shuddered as he thought of all the men he’d known . . . how they’d been reformed the minute they’d said “yes” at the altar. It would be a cold day in hell before he wandered down that path.
“And if my presumption is correct”—Ryan continued in an even tone, bringing Michael out of his reverie—“then I merely wish to inform you that whatever it was you were thinking when you looked at her—yes, Ashford, I do have eyes in my head—you’d best stop it right away unless the word matrimony is on your mind as well.”
Well, I’ll be damned. The pup has teeth.
“I won’t see Alexandra ruined,” Ryan told him brusquely. “I hope you understand that. I know she’s not the conventional sort of woman, but she’s my sister all the same, and I love her. I have her best interests at heart, so if your intentions toward her are noble, then I shall be happy to discuss them with you.”
Michael drew a deep breath as he handed Ryan a new glass of claret. Taking a large gulp of his own, he considered Ryan’s words.
Marriage.
Not in this lifetime.
Yet he’d also come to realize that Alexandra Summersby was beyond anything he’d ever encountered before. “She’s getting to me,” he said suddenly, surprising even himself.
Ryan nodded. “That is understandable. She does leave a lasting impression.” He got to his feet and walked over to the large windows. “I think you ought to give her a chance, Ashford. I think you would be well suited for each other, though if you tell her I said that, I will most assuredly deny it,” he said, giving Michael a sidelong glance.
Michael grinned before taking another sip of his whiskey. “What you are implying is complete lunacy. She and I barely know each other. Hell, we’ve only just met, and you are suggesting that—”
“That you get to know her,” Ryan said, cutting him off. “That is all I am saying for now. But my promise still holds. If you as much as lay a finger on her without the right intentions in mind, I will personally string you up by your ballocks. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“Perfectly,” Michael conceded as his eyes met Ryan’s. The pup wasn’t kidding he realized. Not by a long shot.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Three days went by without the slightest hint of where they might find William. They’d each scouted the parts of the city that were frequented the most by Napoleon’s men, but there was simply no sign of him anywhere. On top of that, the tension between Alexandra and Michael had stretched the air thin. She refused to so much as be in the same room as him, and whenever Ryan confronted her about it, she’d cross her arms and proceed to recite a long list of all the things that were wrong with him. It was steadily growing and currently affirmed that Michael was the most arrogant of all men, the most despicable, the vilest, a scourge on the aristocracy, a scraggy nick-ninny. He was also bracket-faced, a jackanapes, a numskull, and, most recent, too much of a Friday-faced twiddle-poop.
It was exasperating.
Michael, however, seemed to take it in stride. “The best I can do is to let her get it out of her system. She obviously resents me, so chasing after her is hardly likely to help.”
“She’s being unusually stubborn about this, even for her,” Ryan stated.
“I’ve wounded her pride. And in all fairness, I would be greatly annoyed too, if I were in her place. But she really is more vulnerable than you and I. I wish she would only realize that.”
“What do you plan to do?” Ryan asked.
“Wait. For now, that is all I can do.”
“Well, don’t wait too long before you make your peace with her—this place has practically become uninhabitable thanks to you two.”
It was true, Michael knew. Besides, he missed the way he’d bantered with Alexandra when he’d thought her to be Alex. Indeed, he’d liked the lad a great deal. Why shouldn’t he like the woman as well? If only she’d give him the chance to make it up to her. They could be friends, though anything more was out of the question, clearly. He valued his freedom, and to have a woman as boisterous as Alexandra as his wife . . . but heaven help him—he’d never find a moment of peace again. Still, she was unique, and that in itself was enough to make him want to fix this.
On the fourth day, Ryan was feeling a bit under the weather, or so he claimed. In truth, he’d simply had enough of Alexandra’s constant bickering and decided to stay in bed.
Michael on the other hand, had no intention of remaining indoors. It was a beautiful spring day, the sun was shining—no sense in remaining cooped up.
Grabbing his jacket, he headed out into the hallway, only to spot Alexandra, who was just now opening the front door. “Heading out?” Michael asked in an authoritative voice as if he expected her to tell him exactly where she was going.
“As a matter of fact, I am,” she replied as she turned toward him. She appeared to be doing her best to hide not only her annoyance but also the blush that was quickly creeping into her cheeks, turning her a delightful shade of pink. “Mind if I join you?”
Oh yes, this is precisely what I need, he imagined her thinking as he studied the frown that presently creased her forehead. Why won’t he leave me alone?
A valid question, he supposed, his eyes still fixed on Alexandra who seemed to be growing more and more distressed by the second. She was probably trying to decide how rude she could allow herself to be without feeling too guilty. Was the prospect of an afternoon spent in his company really so terrible then? He clenched his teeth in an attempt not to laugh, realizing that he really did find a rather unusual pleasure in tormenting her.
“If you must,” she finally replied in a resigned tone as she walked out of the door without waiting to see if he might follow.
He grinned and shook his head in open amusement. “Are you always this charming?”
“Oh no, not always,” she said while she hurried down the stairs, not bothering to hold the door open for him. He barely managed to dodge out of the way before it slammed back into place. “You get special treatment, my lord.”