Page 9

Violet and Catherine entered the Crystal Palace arm and arm. The multi-story glass building was remarkable, built just over a year ago to hold the Great Exhibition.

“It’s gorgeous!” Catherine said and clapped her hands. “I’m so glad we can visit. The exhibits I saw before were just marvelous.”

“It is,” Violet agreed and then stopped. “You saw the exhibits? Weren’t you in mourning?”

“No,” Catherine said as the two women began to meander the long hallways. “Mother and I were here the morning of Father’s carriage accident. It’s where we were when it happened.”

“Catherine!” Violet exclaimed. “I had no idea. Will you be alright, coming here again? I wouldn’t have suggested it if I’d known.”

Catherine smiled at her and patted her hand. “It’s okay, Violet,” she said. “I’m glad to see the medical exhibitions with you. My father was not to me what James was to you. His death was unexpected and in many ways unfortunate, but I wasn’t devastated. Merely sad. And now I’m angry.”

“Why angry?” Violet asked as she caught sight of the rooms with the medical exhibits and steered Catherine toward them.

“Did Aunt Nora not tell you? We are to lose the estate. It’s all entailed and goes to my father’s cousin, other than what was set aside for Mother in her marriage contracts and a portion for me at the earl’s discretion.

Hence the rush to the marriage mart. Chester has dictated that I am to be married by the end of the season before he returns from France.

He’ll move into Chester House, and we’ll move somewhere else. ”

“Oh, cousin! How could this happen?”

Catherine only shrugged. “Father didn’t see the need to plan much for me, I suppose.

His death was an accident, but I’m not convinced he’d have done anything differently had he more time.

He married my mother for two reasons: first, he wanted an heiress to keep the Earldom solvent, and secondly, he wanted a son and heir.

He ended up with only one of those things, and I don’t think he ever got over not having them both.

At least Chester has given me a dowry and access to funds once my marriage contracts are signed. It certainly could be worse.”

Violet saw the sadness brim in Catherine’s eyes before her cousin pushed it away and produced her brightest smile. “It’s not for you to worry about, Violet. I don’t mind. I’m older now than I was during my first season. It’s time to be serious about the matter and choose a husband.”

“How many offers did you refuse during your first season?”

“Six, I believe. Or seven?” Catherine grinned wickedly. “I was having too much fun to count. But I’m twenty now, and it’s expected of me. Perhaps I’ll meet someone wonderful.”

Violet squeezed her hand. “Perhaps you will. If a marriage is what you want, I’ll support you seeing it done.”

They entered the first of the cavernous rooms that held the medical exhibits. Large charts and illustrations graced the walls, each depicting one of the body’s four humors and advising which airs ought to be taken to cure imbalances.

Violet groaned. “Not this room. Let’s see what’s in the next.”

“I take it you don’t believe in the humors?” Catherine asked as she allowed herself to be tugged into a room that showed the newest advances in medical technology.

“Not in the least. All of the new writings point to disease theory as the cause of illness, not humor imbalances. But this room!” Violet’s face lit up as she looked around at the exhibit of the latest in medical gadgetry.

“This room is amazing, Catherine! There’s a microscope and an ophthalmoscope. And look, a stethoscope!”

“I see them,” Catherine said. “I also see an exhibit of rare jewels just down that hallway. Would you mind terribly if I leave you here to examine the stethoscope at your leisure? I promise to remain where you can see me. Unless you’d like to see the Koh-I-Noor, in which case I will wait.”

“What is the Koh-I-Noor?”

“It’s the world’s largest diamond, Violet. Everyone is talking about it.”

Violet glanced down the long hallway to the jewels exhibit that was already a crush of people. “I’ll remain here,” she said, “although I’m certain this makes me a terrible chaperone.”

“I won’t tell a soul,” Catherine murmured and made her way out of the room and down the hallway to the jewels. Violet watched to ensure her cousin did indeed keep her promise to remain in sight and once satisfied happily lost herself to the minutiae of explanations in the medical technology room.

“Miss Goodwin,” a deep voice broke into her study. “I should have supposed you’d prefer a microscope to a diamond.”

She jolted upright, startled. She’d been so absorbed in her reading she hadn’t heard him approach. But she knew exactly who it was that had spoken to her; the reaction of her body to his presence was more than enough to tell her.

“Lord Alistair,” she said, feeling a tingle somewhere low in her belly that she wished wasn’t there.

“At your service,” Alistair said with a short bow.

Violet looked up at him, with his dark eyes and chestnut curls, and wished he wasn’t quite so handsome. “What brings you here?” she asked. “I didn’t know you were interested in medicine.”

“I’m not,” he said shortly, making Violet scowl. The least the man could do was pretend to be congenial.

“Don’t let me delay you, then.”

Alistair cleared his throat. “What I mean to say is that I have escorted my mother to the exhibits this morning, and she is right now in the room where your cousin just headed, agog at the Indian diamond. And I, like you, would prefer to be here rather than there.”

Violet felt a small twinge in her heart at the notion that he’d been watching her. But then she realized it was Catherine whose movements he’d tracked, not hers.

Of course, he noted Catherine . She’s the beautiful daughter of an earl. And I’m… me.

The thought bothered her, even though she knew it shouldn’t.

“So, you dislike diamonds,” she said. “Is there anything you do like, Lord Alistair?”

“A great many things, Miss Goodwin. And I don’t dislike diamonds in general. Only that diamond.”

“I see.”

“It’s likely you do not.”

Violet glared at him for a moment, ready to retort, but there was something flinty and hard in his eyes that made her swallow her reply. She changed the subject instead.

“Do you see that,” she asked, pointing to a cylindrical machine on display. “It’s a kymograph. Invented just a few years ago, it can measure the pressure of your blood and the contractions of your body. Isn’t that fascinating?”

“What would one do with such information?” Alistair asked.

“The measurements are important during treatment. That cannula,” she showed him the small, hollow tube, “is connected to a drum filled with mercury. One end of the tube is placed in the artery and the other floats on top of the mercury, recording the movement of the blood.”

“And what does that tell you?”

“How fast the blood is moving, and so likely the heart as well. It would tell you about a patient’s level of pain perhaps or of excitement. It peaks, you see,” she pointed at the pen, “when there is excitement.”

Alistair coughed into his hand, and Violet glanced up at him, seeing a familiar twinkle of humor pass through his eyes.

“What did I say?” she asked.

Alistair shook his head. “Nothing of importance.”

“It was something. I saw your reaction.” She stared at him for another moment and then narrowed her eyes. “Lord Alistair Crawford, are you laughing at me?”

“I am not, Miss Goodwin. I give you my word.”

She looked at him again warily, but his face was sincere.

“Go on,” he said. “Please. Tell me more.”

“I should check on Catherine.” Violet glanced down the long hallway to where the diamond exhibit was. “I am her companion, after all.”

“There is no need. My mother is there. Nothing untoward will happen with the Marchioness in attendance, I promise. Stay with me.”

Violet felt her heart lurch at his request. But then she ruthlessly pushed away any foolish thoughts that it was her company he desired. He didn’t really want to spend time with her. He just didn’t want to be in the room with that diamond.

“What is it about the diamond that bothers you so?” she asked.

“Nothing.” Alistair said and straightened his cravat.

She knew he was lying. His brow had furrowed before he spoke, and his jaw clenched.

“Did you know that your blood pressure also increases when you’re untruthful?” Violet asked. “I wonder what the kymograph would say about you now?”

Alistair turned away from Violet’s eyes.

“It would say that I do not wish to speak of the East India Company,” he said softly.

“That I regret the time I spent in their employ with every iota of my being, and that when I see something like that,” he gestured down the hallway, “a priceless gem coerced from its rightful owners and displayed with such hubris and arrogance, I am reminded of the part I played in that history. And I loathe it.”

Violet was stunned into silence. So, when Alistair next asked, “Could we speak of something else?” she only nodded her acquiescence and stepped closer to him. Her thumb twitched, wanting to press the furrow she’d seen between his eyes and soothe him.

She clenched her fist at her side to keep it still, but her hand rose of its own accord despite her efforts, and her fingertips briefly stroked his arm.

At least it isn’t his face.

She wasn’t sure what he would have done had she touched his face, because the gesture meant to soothe made Alistair growl instead. He looked down at her hand on his arm—and then at Violet—before he stepped resolutely away from her touch.

“Perhaps you could tell me about your home, Miss Goodwin,” he said from his newfound distance.

Violet noted the sudden plummet in temperature of the room. How his shoulders were set tense and straight, and his voice became clipped and formal.

The pendulum of Alistair Crawford swings again. When will I learn that he does not suffer my touch?