“The problem is everywhere here.”I wave my arms around sadly.Encompassing the museum, the city, the country.“At least one of your ancestors must have been part of the problem.My lord.”The title drips with sarcasm.
He inclines his head.“I cannot deny that.Probably more than a few of them were problems to a great quantity of people.But we didgetthe title without any bloodshed or exploitation, when a particularly…enthusiastic king made us marquesses.”
“Please explain.”I turn away from the art and other tourists for the first time in the hours we’ve already been here.
Leo looks mischievous, so I know this is going to be a great story.I get my notebook ready as he shifts so we’re a little further and no longer facing Anne, and he lowers his voice.
“Great-great-some more greats-grandfather Cecil Clifford, a country squire who owned a very modest amount of land, met Henry VIII while on a trip into London.Cecil was charming and got invited by a duke to a hunt in Hyde Park, which was Henry VIII’s private hunting grounds at the time.That’s when he saw Henry on a horse, doing things with a lady that are unacceptable to mention in a lady’s presence.He directed the rest of the party away tactfully, and Henry saw the heroic deed.From then on, Cecil caroused with the young monarch around London, becoming one of his closest friends and advisors.”
“Those things are fine todoto a lady but not tosayto one?”I raise my eyebrows.
“Yes.”Leo nods gravely, just a hint of a smile on his lips.“It is the talking about them that’s the real danger to young ladies.”
“Makes complete sense.So your ancestor was on unacceptable actions watch once, and then the king made him a marquess?”
“Yes.There was some bit about making him Treasurer or something government related, but he knew what his real job was—to carouse with the king and get paid for it.”
Head fuckboy in charge of a good time, apparently.Leo comes by his raking legitimately.“That is a fascinating story.”That is going in a book one day, when I get back home.I make note of it now so I don’t forget.
“I think the official line is the title was granted for heroic actions that imply a military bent and some paintings that outright lie about him being a military hero, but if you look closely, Cecil never fought in any of Henry’s wars.I usually do not tell it to ladies, on account of it being so unacceptable, but I did think you would enjoy it.”His eyes are sparkling, and yes, I enjoy both the lascivious story and the bright brown eyes.
“Because I’m so curious,” I finish for him.
“Curious is a good thing.”He’s looking at me too intently again.“An interesting, unique thing.”
I clear my throat at the intensity in those eyes.Aren’t rakes supposed to be purely surface?How is he able to command that much focus on one thing?Although I guess if that one thing is a woman…
But still, there are a lot of women in London who are easier to deal with than me and my baggage.Women who don’t have to lie about almost every facet of their life.Women who can solve his money problems.Women who are actually interesting and not just in the wrong time period.
And none of that is me.
He can’t mean to flirt.It’s probably a reflex whenever there are breasts near him.And I can’t get drawn in, or I could end up in a Victorian jail.
I clear my throat and get back to his personal history.“Victoria mentioned that you were half-Indian.Can you tell me about that?”Since he’s so ready to share.And because as a scholar in this field, I should know about him.But I don’t, and that’s bugging me.
Leo shrugs.“If you’d like.It is less interesting than the title story, though.Dear Father was visiting a friend from university who was posted in India.He met a local woman from Mysore who came from a family that was quite important in the time before the British Raj.He fell in love, he said.Or lust, the gossips said.Or saw the perfect opportunity to irritate Grandfather, my mother said.Whatever the reason, he proposed.Her father agreed, because he hoped the British would give them back status they had before, which didn’t happen.But the new couple moved to England and had me.”
“What was it like?Growing up half-Indian here.”
“A lot easier for me than it would be for a half-Indian servant.Class is everything, so aside from the snide comments from some people that never really went away, I was mostly treated like any other young lord.Eton, Cambridge, London, hunting parties, the balls and the country estate.”
“Interesting.What about your mother?What was her life like?”
“I think it was harder for her, since it was more obvious that she was from India.There was always talk but she had the family money and then when Father inherited, she had the title too.But the women of her circle never really accepted her like their children did me.I do think it was easier at the country estate because she outranked everyone there, and harder in London because there are so many aristocrats here.She learned English and I think she eventually got more comfortable at parties.And then it got worse again after Father left, especially the way he did.She moved to the country permanently after that.”
“That must have been hard, to move and make a new life here then have her life upended again.”
“Yes.I think most people ignored that we were Indian.Mother, whose name is Eshika, became Eliza.”
Maybe that’s why I hadn’t heard about them.Some people were hidden to history because they changed names and no one wrote down what the gossips were saying about them or the places where they were written about were destroyed, so the information was lost.Or no one looked at that particular newspaper that held the information, and it’s still hidden somewhere, waiting for a historian to find it.
“Thank you for sharing,” I say.
“But I am not allowed to ask about your life, correct?”
“Um.You know my parents were immigrants, and very supportive, and loving.”I don’t think I can add any more details.Time for a subject change.“Do you want to know one of the many tragedies in this room?”
“You do know how I feel about sad things…”
