The Princess & the Pea (13 page)

"With your considerable skills"—Quentin got to his feet and ambled to the fireplace—"I shouldn't think that would be overly difficult." He thrust a long match into the blaze, then touched the flaming end to the cigar clamped between his lips. "Just do what you always do: flowers, expressions of devotion, an expensive, appropriate gift here and there."

Quentin stepped to the desk and offered his partner a light. Jared leaned forward and puffed until the cigar's tip glowed cherry red. "You know, for a man whose finances aren't what they once were, you certainly know how to live well"

"Thank you." Jared blew wobbly rings of pungent smoke and watched them drift lazily upward. "Appearances. Quent: it all comes down to appearances." He dipped the end of his cigar in his brandy and took an appreciative puff. "That and a little bit of credit. It makes all the difference. For example, I noticed in Paris several automobiles that look better than ours. Are their designs more sophisticated? Is their development more advanced? I suspect they simply seemed more impressive by virtue of their appearance."

Quentin dropped back in his chair. "That reminds me: have you noticed that no matter what kind of innovation we come up with, others seem to be no more than a step or two behind?"

Jared nodded and leaned forward, punctuating his words with his cigar and puffs of blue-gray smoke. "I've had thoughts along the same lines myself, although it's been months since I noticed anything specific. No doubt we're a bit more suspicious than is warranted. Since we are all heading in the same general direction, it's inevitable we should all come up with the same general ideas."

Quentin eyed the end of his cigar thoughtfully. "I wonder..."

Silence settled over the room. Jared reluctantly admitted, at least to himself, that it was inordinately difficult these days to concentrate on the automobile. He suspected he would be unable to think of much of anything but Cece until he had resolved their conflicts and finally won her over.

He shook his head slowly. "I don't think traditional methods will sway Cece. She is far too clever to fall for a few pretty phrases, and I doubt even a garden full of flowers will set this right."

Quentin rested his head on the back of the chair and puffed in a contented manner. "I like the girl. You have excellent taste."

"I do, don't I?" Jared smiled smugly.

"I've gotten to know her a bit while her family's been staying with my aunt." Quentin paused for a sip of liquor and a puff on his cigar. "She's quite unique. Very foward-thinking. Remarkably interested in progress—"

"She believes women should work," Jared said confidentially.

"No!" Quentin stared in genuine shock.

"It's true." Jared shook his head in disbelief.

Quentin frowned. "You will have to squash that idea without hesitation. As to her other qualities, aside from her rather questionable taste in hats, I find her unusually intelligent. Witty. Far too impulsive for her own good. Stubborn—"

Jared squinted through the smoky haze. "Are you listing her attributes or her character flaws?"

Quentin ignored the interruption. "What I mean is, even as she seems to spurn tradition, she appears quite well bred. She does know how to behave properly."

"Well, naturally," Jared huffed.

Quentin waved his cigar absently. "Let me put this a different way. Take that unfortunate incident tonight. Another woman would have no doubt thrown a fit: berated the servant and probably the hostess as well. Your Cece handled it like—"

"A princess?" Jared smiled at the memory.

"Well, at least a countess." Quentin said wryly.

Jared puffed on the cigar and gazed thoughtfully at the curls of aromatic mist. "Even my mother noticed. She wants to meet Cece. I believe she was impressed by her behavior."

"My point exactly." Quentin nodded in obvious satisfaction.

"What are you trying to say?" Jared peered at his nearly empty snifter and reached for the decanter.

Quentin sighed in exasperation and pulled himselfto his feet. He stepped the short distance to the desk and held out his glass. Jared obligingly refilled it. Quentin returned to his chair and settled in.

"What I am trying to say, old chap, is Cece has a certain set of values that have nothing to do with any of her beliefs about modern life." Quentin aimed his cigar like a weapon. "And therein lies your answer."

Jared stared in complete bewilderment. "I still haven't the vaguest notion of your point."

"Seduction." Quentin said in a solemn manner.

"Seduction?" Had the brandy muddled his brain? Or Quentin's?

"Seduction." Quentin nodded sagely. "It's perfect. If you seduce her, she'll have to marry you."

Jared glared at his partner in amazement. "I can't casually seduce Cece. This isn't some trollop we're talking about, some doxy off the street. This is the woman I plan to marry. The future Countess of Graystone. The mother of my children." He pulled his brows together in an annoyed frown. "The very idea is absurd. It's insane. It's—"

"It's brilliant." Quentin's grin was wicked. "Think about it for a moment. If indeed you get her in your bed. she'll be obligated to marry you. For the sake of her honor and yours."

"But I love her." Jared protested.

Quentin's eyes glinted in the lamplight. "Some people consider seduction much better when love is involved."

"Still. .." Jared puffed thoughtfully on his cigar. Would it really be so wrong? "It's not as if I plan to abandon her."

"Not at all."

"I do intend to make her my wife," Jared said slowly.

"No question there."

"It might just work ... but only as a last resort." Jared said firmly.

"Indeed." Quentin nodded. "A last resort."

"I must apologize, Quentin. The more I consider this outrageous idea of yours, the more I agree with your original assessment." He lifted his glass in an unsteady salute. "It is indeed brilliant."

"I thought so," Quentin said modestly.

The men drifted into a companionable silence. The thought of seducing Cece was not at all unappealing. In fact, the more he pondered the idea, the more he hoped, for the first time in his life, to have to face ...

... the last resort.

"He's a beast. I tell you. an absolute beast." Cece stepped out of her sodden gown and kicked the ruined garment across the room allocated to her in Lady Millicent's London mansion.

"I thought he was intriguing, interesting." Emily perched on the edge of a satin-covered chaise. "A man destined to make his mark on the world, I believe you said."

Cece glared. "He'll make his mark, all right, but he wishes to do it with Father's money." She grabbed the silk wrapper laid out on the end of the bed. "I simply cannot tolerate a man who marries for money."

"Lots of men marry for money or property or power." Emily shrugged. "History is full of marriages made to cement alliances between countries or to forge new relationships between warring parlies. When you look at it that way, wedding simply for money seems positively minor, especially here in England."

"Well, it does not seem minor to me." Righteous indignation colored her words.

Emily cast her a worried frown. "I thought you loved him?"

Cece waved off the observation with a dismissive flick of her hand. "We have already established that fact."

Confusion furrowed her sister's brow. "But you won't many him?"

"Oh, I shall marry him." Cece said lightly.

"But how—I mean—don't—" Emily's puzzled frown deepened.

"You're confused, aren't you, Em?" Cece said sympathetically. "I must admit I too am a bit perplexed."

She sank down on the bed. "This business of love is most unsettling. I find myself forlorn and wretched without him, yet his presence is nothing less than maddening." She shook her head in amazement. "It defies all logic and sensibility."

"But you do plan to marry him?" Emily said cautiously.

"Of course." Cece shrugged. "I believe I should much rather be infuriated with him than miserable without him."

"I thought the whole idea behind your original scheme was to make Jared—or, rather, the Earl of Graystone—miserable?"

"That was before love entered the picture." She threw her sister a teasing grin. "I rather suspect I can do a far better job of making his life miserable as his wife than as a mere fiancee."

Emily stared, disbelief in her eyes. "Let me see if I understand all this. Even though you find this man irritating—"

"Only when it comes to this business of marrying for wealth." Cece said pointedly, "which I wholeheartedly disagree with."

Emily glared at the interruption. "Very well, I'll amend that. His reasons for marriage go against your own beliefs ..." she quirked a questioning brow at her sister. Cece nodded for her to continue. "However, you are willing to overlook that rather significant conflict in order to spend the rest of your life with him and be ... happily miserable. Is that correct?"

"Very good." Cece cast her sister an approving smile.

"It makes no sense whatsoever. Although ..." Emily eyed her sister thoughtfully. "I suppose love is not supposed to make sense."

"I don't know." Cece said confidentially. "It's my first experience with love. I must say it's somewhat exciting, given the confusion and all."

"I suppose this means you'll give up that ridiculous idea of becoming another Nellie Bly." Emily said, as if her sister's answer was of no interest.

"My goodness, of course not. Whatever would make you think that?"

"Cece," Emily said with exasperation, "no man in his right mind would allow his wife to work for a living. Especially not as a journalist. Especially not a countess. It's simply not done. It would be absurd. Ridiculous. Positively scandalous."

"Why?" Cece's tone was light, and she smothered the impulse to laugh at her sister's expression. She could practically see the panic flitting through the girl's eyes in her struggle to come up with a good argument to sway her older sister.

Cece had already accepted the very real possibility that, with marriage, her dream would die. But that no longer seemed as tragic as it once would have. After all, she would have Jared. and if she'd learned nothing else about love she recognized he might well be enough to satisfy her ambitions—if, of course, she could help him achieve his goals with the automobile. The lure of the motorcar, the attraction of progress, the enticement of the modern world, was every bit as irrestistible as the call of journalism. Why, she and Jared could work hand in hand to build his vision. Together, they could drive into the future on his wire-and-metal noxious-fumed steed. She would be more than a mere wife: she would be a helpmate, a partner—

"Children." Emily said triumphantly.

"What about children?"

"You cannot have children and be a journalist at the same time." Emily tossed Cece a smugly victorious smile. "Nellie Bly has no children."

"You may have a point there." Cece said slowly, resisting the desire to grin. "Children would definitely put a crimp in the life of a girl reporter. But I shall cross that bridge when, and if, I come to it. For now ..."

"For now what?" Apprehension flickered across Emily's face. Cece sighed to herself at the expression. The poor child really needed to learn not to take everything in life quite so seriously.

"For now I need to decide how best to proceed with this courtship." Cece rose and paced the room, furrowing her brow in thought. She barely noticed her sister's anxious gaze following her every step.

"What is there to decide? You love him. You've already said you'll marry him. I don't see that there are any decisions left to make."

"Honestly, Em." Cece tossed her a pitying glance. The dear girl was so young and had so much left to learn. Cece might be new at this game of love, but she was an old hand at the ins and outs of the contest called courtship. "I simply can't fall into his arms just because he quirks his little finger and declares undying devotion. Not that he actually did," she said thoughtfully.

"Quirk his little finger?" Emily said, obviously confused once again.

"Don't be silly. He hasn't declared his undying devotion. Though he has admitted to love, so I suppose it's probably much the same thing." Cece shrugged. "At any rate, anything achieved too easily is valued too lightly. Why do you think emeralds are so terribly expensive?"

"Why, they're beautiful, of course." Emily said confidently.

"Certainly, but beyond that they're exceedingly rare. It is their uniqueness, the difficulty in obtaining them, that gives the jewels their true worth. If one could simply pluck them up off the street, they would be as trivial as pebbles." Cece shook her head. "No, Em, this match requires a great deal of sacrifice on my part. It diminishes any hopes I have of the independent life of a reporter."

Emily sighed her relief.

Cece ignored her. "It also requires my giving up my home and my country."

Emily frowned. "Your country?"

"I can't very well remain an American citizen and be a British countess at the same time. At least I don't think I can. I shall have to look into that." Cece paused to collect her thoughts. The realization of just what marriage to Jared would mean struck her abruptly. "No doubt he will expect to live here in England, rather than in Chicago."

"No doubt," Emily said dryly.

"We shall probably spend a great deal of the time at that drafty old castle of his."

"How do you know it's drafty?"

"Castles are always drafty, Em," Cece said loftily. "It's part of their charm."

Emily smirked. "It's no doubt haunted as well."

"That would be interesting, wouldn't it?" Cece brightened; then her mood fell. "I fear I cannot count on something so exciting as a spirit." Her tone was wistful. "It seems love costs a very great deal. I never even considered how high a price one would have to pay for it."

"Perhaps, " Emily said gently, "because it's so rare."

Cece widened her eyes in appreciation. "How very perceptive." Her momentary twinge of doubt and self-pity vanished. "Loving Jared also requires that I overlook my conviction that a man should not profit by marriage alone. That he should have to work for his fortune. I further believe—"