Page 29 of Keeping Kate
Chapter 9
Reaching out, Alec tipped the girl’s head to a more comfortable angle as she slept. She must be truly exhausted, he thought, when she did not react. For a moment, he touched her cheek, her skin soft, the moonlight graceful on her face. Once again, he felt the pull of strong attraction, but that would only cause trouble for both of them. Even beyond the complications of the situation, it was his habit to steer clear of ties and feelings whenever he could.
He had lost his heart once, and never again. Only betrayal and tragedy had come of it. The chance of that happening again was remote—he had lost his brother and his fiancée in one fell swoop—but he was resolved to never feel such hurt again.
This girl was a temptation, but he could not risk developing feelings for her. Not because she was his prisoner and likely a spy—but because he realized he could truly care about her. He could love her, fairy queen or laundress, and it frightened him.
He closed his eyes but could not rest, his thoughts in turmoil. Reaching into a pocket, he retrieved the small, thick envelope Jack had given him earlier. Another letter from his aunt. He had not found time to read it, but he could guess at its content.
The envelope had a sweet odor, which Kate had detected when she had leaned against him.You smell good,she had said. It was hardly a good thing, he told himself, for a man to walk about smelling of chocolate.
He untied the string and opened layers of brown paper. Inside was a letter folded around a little packet wrapped in waxed paper. He set aside the letter and peeled away the wax covering. The sweet, rich scent that wafted outward made his mouth water, but the dark, amorphous glob that fell into his hand would equally kill appetite.
He rolled the glob between his fingers, and tucked it back into the waxy paper, and set it aside. The letter also reeked of raw cocoa as he unfolded the pages to scan his Aunt Euphemia’s formal, heavily flourished handwriting.
My dear Alexander,
Enclosed is Walter’s latest Eating Chocolate, which he insists you must sample. Taste the wretched thing if you dare. Your uncle says it is his best effort yet.
Your compliments over the last batch only encouraged him. Had you told him it was vile and tasted of rotten eggs, as I did, he might have ceased his silly experiments and we would be safe now. Please entertain the notion of telling him frankly what you think of this latest example of his work, and I pray that you agree.
Dear Rosie thinks this effort is not so bad, but Lily had to be confined to bed for a day with the headache after the merest taste. She and I share a sensitive constitution. Daisy was not allowed to try it though Walter would have given her some had I not intervened. Chocolate is not for bairns to consume, I told him.
Alec smiled.He did not doubt Lily’s delicate nature, but his aunt was robust despite claims to the contrary. She competently managed the household belonging to Alec’s late brother Edward and fostered Edward’s three orphaned daughters with bustling efficiency. Aunt Effie and her husband, Alec’s uncle, Walter Fraser, had moved to Edinburgh and the townhouse called Hopefield House in order to take care of the girls. Edward and Amy had preferred their Edinburgh home to Kilburnie, the family estate in the Highlands, though Alec had always been partial to the Highland property. After Edward’s death, Alec had inherited both the town and country properties along with the family business.
As the younger son, Alec had inherited from his father a modest house on the Kilburnie estate and a share in the business. He had been content, pursuing the law and a military career at the time. But Edward’s death and the specific terms of his will had left the lot to Alec, including Kilburnie and the enterprise called Fraser’s Fancies. Generous trusts had been arranged for Edward’s three daughters once they reached adulthood, and Alec became their guardian. He would not have protested had all of it been left to the girls—he would not begrudge them the property or the fortune. He had little use for luxury, and less use for the chocolate business. But Fate had removed his preferences, leaving him with responsibilities he would honor no matter what. Although, busy as he was, he did not often visit Hopefield House or Kilburnie. But military matters sometimes sent him to the city, and holidays required that he visit the family. His circumstances might be the envy of many—a considerable fortune, a thriving business, a Highland estate, a handsome townhouse, and a family who loved him a great deal.
Yet, he kept himself distant from it. Somewhere within, he always felt alone, without a real home, one of his choosing; always felt outside that loving family. He could not explain it, as most of the components of happiness were there. All but a partner of his own, a home that felt like this. And a heart that, over the last several years, he had closed off to save himself from feeling the pain of what was gone.
Frowning, he took his gaze from the darkness flying past the coach, and returned to Aunt Effie’s letter.
My Walter is sure that his Chocolate Confections will invigorate Fraser’s Fancies, but he is not a practical man, I fear. Your brother Edward had such a gift for business. Tea is a reliable commodity, he used to say, and chocolate is a luxury, and we should set our sights on what is reliable and practical. Yet Walter dreams of his Confections becoming household fare in Britain and the Continent too, and concentrates on that.
Please come home as soon as you can, and try to talk Walter out of his mad scheme. Other matters require your attention as well, too complicated to describe here.
May this note find you in good health, which I pray Walter’s Nasty Concoction will not interrupt overmuch, should you be so brave as to consume it.
The lasses send their love.
Yrs affectionately, Euphemia
Postscript: Rosie is working on mastering penmanship and would like you to see it.
At the bottom of the page, in a childish and ink-spotted scrawl, was a second signature.
Rose Alexandra Fraser
Feeling a tug in his heart but not ready to admit how much that little signature affected him, Alec folded the letter, wrapped it with the chocolate, and tucked the packet away. He sighed, shifting on the bench seat. That single line of blobbed ink truly had wrenched his heart.
He was guardian to his three orphaned nieces, but they were in better hands with Effie and Walter. The business was in better hands too. Uncle Walter was devoted to the success of Fraser’s Fancies and had been since his father and grandfather had begun it in his youth. Alec served as a silent partner, issuing bank drafts as needed, acting as legal advisor, and giving the occasional opinion. But Walter and Effie were aging now, and would not be able to raise the girls and tend the business indefinitely.
The time was fast approaching when Alec would have to return to Edinburgh, resign his commission, and take a larger hand in running the Fancies. But each time he saw Amy’s daughters, he felt such longing and loneliness that he put off the day when he would have to take over their upbringing and the family enterprise.
He considered the letter and the fragrant, unattractive chunk of cacao in his pocket. As for creating an ‘eating chocolate,’ Alec believed Walter’s dream had merit, but so far, a good recipe had eluded his uncle. But Effie, in so many other ways a helpmate, thought her husband’s idea just nonsense.
Peering through the darkness as the coach swept along the road, Alec realized he had not visited the Edinburgh townhouse since midsummer. Edward had died months ago of a wound taken in a swordfight—though a skilled swordsman, his brother had lacked a level head. Edward’s quick temper, combined with a love of whisky and late nights in oyster bars following Amy’s death in childbirth, had put him in one predicament after another, and the last was a sword duel he had not survived. Alec did not know what he would have done without the help of his uncle and aunt to manage the household, the children, and the business.
He could hardly nursemaid a pack of tiny females on his own, nor did he want to be a chocolatier, though his father had trained both of his sons in the business. But the children, and the business, required more than he could provide. And he knew that Aunt Euphemia, despite her outward bristly quality, would raise the girls with warmth and security. Amy and Edward would have wanted that.
