Leaving his charges in the care of the housekeeper, with a brief murmured instruction to his sister to ensure Apple was comfortably housed and under her eye, he went in search of his sire. He ran Lord Luthrie to earth at length in one of his greenhouses, where he was engaged in coaxing a potful of germinating plants to see the light of day.
“Might have guessed I’d find you here, sir. Been searching all over for you.”
Lord Luthrie turned his head, his fingers still pressing into the earth around the tiny green shoot just poking through. “Ah, Alex, my boy, good to see you. Your mother’s been fretting.”
Alex groaned aloud, moving to join his father and casting an eye down at the reluctant plant. “What’s to do? This one of your rarities again?”
“Fuchsia coccinea, my dear boy, one of Banks’s most successful importations from South America. Do you know that when the first one arrived at Kew, he did not choose to entrust it to any other person and carried it to the greenhouse on his head?”
“I didn’t know, sir, no, but it don’t surprise me,” said Alex, inured to this sort of thing and well acquainted with his father’s reverence for the eccentric horticulturist Joseph Banks, who, as he’d heard ad nauseam, accompanied Captain Cook upon his epic voyage of discovery in theEndeavour. Typically, he turned from plants in an instant to his son’s sudden appearance.
“What kept you, my boy? Your mother would have it you’d ignored her claims in favour of your cousin’s.”
“Nothing of the sort,” said Alex, embarking on his prepared explanation. “Thought I’d look in on Georgy and it’s a good thing I did. Rob was off to the coast and might have to sail for Pomerania, and meant to bring Georgy home so my mother could keep an eye on her.”
“Ah, yes. Your mother always says the first is the hardest.”
Thrown for a moment, Alex frowned. “First what?”
“Baby, my dear boy, baby.” His father looked up from the plant and gave his sweet, vague smile. “Rather like my little one here. Needs careful nurturing.”
“Yes, but she ain’t had it yet.”
His father wagged a dirt-covered finger. “It’s all in the preparation, my boy.”
“Well, I don’t see it.”
“Of course you don’t. When you marry, it will all become clear to you.” His sire’s brows drew together. “Your mother is a trifle anxious on that score, my boy. She says it’s high time you settled down and set up your nursery.”
“Know that, sir. She’s told me often enough.” Alex spoke with irritation, but oddly, the usual sense of entrapment he felt at such reminders did not materialise. He wasted no time in wondering why, but reverted to his mission. “Thing is, sir, I told Rob I’d bring Georgy myself so she didn’t delay him. You know what she is. Can’t set off without finding a dozen things she must do before she leaves.”
Lord Luthrie’s gentle laugh sounded. “Has she driven you to thoughts of murder, my boy? I can’t think where she gets it from. Your mother is efficient to excess in these matters. And Charlotte seems to take after her.”
“Good God, yes,” Alex agreed with feeling, recalling some of his elder sister’s more annoying qualities. “In more ways than one.”
The gentle laugh came again. “If you value my advice, Alex, and wish for a comfortable life, when you do come to marry, choose one of these biddable creatures who’ll behave just as she ought and be content to do as you wish.”
Well aware how much his father had to bear from his headstrong and managing lady, Alex threw him an understanding look. For some reason, though, the notion of this fictitious biddable woman was curiously unsatisfying. Comfortable? Perhaps. But far less invigorating than a woman, for example, who could be counted upon to jump left when he told her right.
Realising where his thoughts were tending, he suppressed a wholly unwanted rise of warmth and ruthlessly dragged them back. “There’s a slight complication, sir.”
His father’s mild look altered, and Alex was subjected to a keen glance.
“Oh?”
Alex was conscious of heat riding his cheeks and fumbled. He had a great deal of affection for his father, who was generally mild and good-tempered. But Alex had learned long ago that his insouciant manner concealed an astute mind and a will of steel at need. He would be less easy to fool than Lady Luthrie, if truth be told.
“Georgy had a friend staying with her. Chit of a girl.” He cleared his throat. “Genteel, but the family is all to pieces.”
Lord Luthrie’s piercing regard did not leave his son’s face, and his hands had stilled from kneading earth in the pot. “I see. Am I to understand that we have a guest?”
Alex blew out a breath. “That’s it. She ain’t up to snuff, which is why…”
“You’re concerned your mother will not welcome her.” A faint smile lightened the knife-edged look. “Pippa would never repudiate a guest under her own roof, Alex, you should know that.”
“Yes, I know, but…” He faded out, stopping himself within an ace of confiding in his sire. He could not wholly trust in Lord Luthrie’s engaging to keep the tale from his wife. He would not kick up a dust the way his mother would, but he’d a way of making a fellow devilish uncomfortable when he didn’t approve. Not that he’d ring a peal over Alex, but his withdrawal would be enough to kill any hope of reaching an understanding.
His father’s gentle voice recalled him to the task at hand. “There is something else?”
