Page 6 of The Rumpled Gentleman
Chapter
Six
A knock at their chamber door the next morning brought Elara to her feet, away from her study of her father’s notes as she desperately hoped for something that would help them out of their situation. She opened the door with her heart in her throat, fearing every moment that the duke would discover the truth about her father’s promises.
Mr. Fitzmartin stood there, looking as discombobulated as she felt. His spectacles alone remained tidy. Everything else was something of a mess. His jacket had streaks of dust on the sleeves and shoulders. His cravat looked like it was strangling him. His dark curls stuck out from his head in odd waves. And when she looked down, even his fine shoes were scuffed.
He was quite rumpled.
The man cleared his throat and tucked his upraised hand hastily behind him. Then he bowed. “Good morning, Miss Millstone.”
Elara clutched the door handle and didn’t budge. “I wouldn’t call it that, Mr. Fitzmartin.”
He winced. “Might I come in? I would like a word with you. Please.”
She stared at him, uncomprehending the question. As the duke’s son, seemingly as one of the duke’s messengers, he had every right to brush right by her. To do and say what he wished. “My father isn’t available for conversation, sir. He is at work and shouldn’t be disturbed.”
His eyes softened, and her heart fluttered at the look of compassion within them. A disconcerting response, given the circumstances.
“I wish to speak to you , Miss Millstone. Not your father.”
He wouldn’t push his way in, either. Or make demands. He still waited on her permission to enter. That intrigued her.
“Very well.” She stepped aside, allowing him in. The remaining footman didn’t so much as bat an eye as she closed the door.
She turned and pressed her back to the wood. In a lowered voice, her unexpected visitor said, “I read through your father’s notebook before having it delivered to you. There are brilliant conjectures and formulas within them. Your father has a keen intellect.” Then he looked down at her, his eyes soft behind his spectacles. “But none of it can really be proven.”
“I know.” Elara pressed her hands against the wood. “No amount of magic or alchemy can create gold from nothing.”
“What will you do?” he asked, eyeing her with care.
Slowly, she shook her head, the mysterious stranger still in her mind. “Delay as long as I can, until I think of something.”
He nodded slightly. “I may be able to help with a delay. I have something to show you.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I think I’m supposed to stay here.”
For the first time since meeting him, she saw Orion’s smile. It was slight, but it made his handsome face even more attractive. “I have secured you a workroom, Miss Millstone.” A spark appeared in his eyes. “And putting it to rights to make it usable will take at least a couple of days.”
Elara rang for Bess to come and sit with her father. The maid had been assigned to her after the ball, thank goodness. After Orion asked to borrow a specific notebook from Papa, he led her through the duke’s house.
“I have a plan to help you. My father will want everything done precisely.” He spoke with rapidity as they walked through the corridors, deeper into the household. “I agreed this morning to oversee the process myself.”
“I cannot understand why,” she whispered.
He didn’t seem to hear. “A few of your father’s notes provided an idea, the process by which we can buy time.”
“What use is more time if the feat is impossible?”
“I have something else I’m working on. Something that will give me a better position from which to help you.” He paused at a turn in the corridors and met her gaze. “This part of the house is old. Ancient, in fact. All of Mayfair was built atop the ruins of a druid settlement. Did you know that?” He wore a look of grim determination, making him seem older than she guessed him to be. “When the first duke, my great-grandfather, commissioned his house on the property, he demanded the builders keep as much of the older structures as possible. Shored up. Surrounded by new wood and bricks. But still…” He lifted the edge of the thick rug on which they stood, revealing the naked gray stone underneath. “Much of the stonework remains.”
He started walking again.
Her brow wrinkled. “Why is this important?”
“In your father’s notes, he suggests that working on land steeped in magic will aid the process.” He stopped before a door that curved at the top, following a stone archway.
Elara stared at where wood brushed ancient stone. “So he will let me work here.” She still wasn’t convinced by his idea.
“Yes. Now, I present to you, your workroom.” Orion pushed the door open.
She stepped inside with a quiet gasp. Someone, likely Orion given the dust on his clothes, had thrown open the heavy velvet drapes at the window, flooding the room with light while dust motes danced in the air.
Heavy old tables lined the wall beneath the window. And bookcases made of thick, dark wood lined one wall. A tapestry featuring a stag and a unicorn bowing to one another covered the opposite wall.
Elara stepped into the room, her eyes widening at the sight. The thick stone walls, remnants of the druid settlement, stood in stark contrast to the Georgian architectural elements that had been added later.
On closer inspection, the light from the windows revealed intricate carvings on the exposed stone walls—symbols and patterns that hinted at the room’s mystical past.
She went to the tables to run her hands across the boards. They were crafted from dark, aged wood. They bore the marks and scratches of many years. These tables, coupled with the various shelves and cabinets filled with forgotten artifacts and books, gave the room the air of a long-abandoned laboratory.
The room felt alive, as if the stones held memories of the magic once practiced within the walls.
She turned slowly, taking in every detail—the way the modern additions to the room were carefully designed to complement rather than overshadow its ancient features. Alabaster columns in each corner, a ceiling of white tiles with delicate carvings of birds and fruits. It was clear the duke’s grandfather had harbored a deep respect for the magic of old.
“This room…it’s like stepping back in time,” Elara murmured, her earlier skepticism giving way to a sense of awe.
She turned to see Orion watching her reaction closely. “It’s the perfect place for your work. A room where the old magic still lingers.”
Elara couldn’t deny the strange energy that pulsed through the room. It was as if the stones themselves were waiting, ready to lend their strength to her. The room itself, with its blend of eras and energies, felt like an ally.
She turned to the gentleman with his messy hair, dust-streaked clothing, and generally untidy appearance. “Thank you, Mr. Fitzmartin. That you’re willing to help me at all is more than I could have hoped for.”
His shoulders relaxed, and one corner of his mouth went upward in a bitter smile. “I am weary of the duke’s hold on my life, Miss Millstone. I will help you avoid any ill fate I can, for as long as I can, and hopefully find a way to free you from his power. Now. Why don’t we make a show of tidying the place? When the duke sends someone to check up on us—as I promise you, he will—there will be a measure of progress to appease him.”
Elara’s mind spun. “I must insist no one enters the room itself except for us. No maids to tidy, lest they disturb something essential. And we will need many, many items. To distill the oils from the flowers. A burner. Glass jars, full of every elixir my father has ever listed in his notes.”
His expression warmed and turned slowly into a most charming grin. “It sounds dreadfully complicated, Miss Millstone.” He handed her the book he had carried. “You had better make more lists.”
She grinned back at him as she hugged the book to her chest. “Thank you,” she said again, softer. “Why…why are you helping me like this? Really? You could tell the duke it’s a waste of time.”
The gentleman regarded her silently, head slightly tilted. “Because it’s the right thing to do, Miss Millstone.”
Her heart skipped a beat, rather unexpectedly. “You may call me Elara. We are in this together, now. May as well be friends.”
He gave her a bow, the same one that had made her feel like a lady the day before. “Then I am Orion.” His smile reappeared, though somewhat crooked. “I will go in search of cleaning supplies. We have work to do.” He left the room.
Elara turned slowly at its center, then drug a chair from one corner across to the tables. She sat down and paged through the notebook, where she found her father’s scribbles about coaxing natural elements to become something else. Something better.
She snorted. “As though a daisy doesn’t already feel contentment being a daisy.” Only humans thought a flower would improve upon turning to a lifeless piece of metal.