Despite the lateness of his return to Pearson Close the night before, Cam was awake and dressed at a relatively early hour.
“I may be driving to Beauchamp House later this morning,” he told his valet, Sims, who was arranging Cam’s shaving things on the dressing table while Cam tied his cravat himself. “Ask James to be ready with the curricle.”
“Yes, my lord,” Sims said with a nod. The man had been with Cam since he was a youth, and though he may have wished for an employer who preferred a more flamboyant—or at the very least more fastidious—mode of dress, they rubbed along well together.
“Ask for some hot bricks,” Cam added, remembering how cold it had been last night without them. Instead of bothering with the curricle he’d chosen to ride out to the cliff and had arrived back at Pearson Close shivering. “I don’t think the cold will let up anytime soon.”
Leaving the valet to finish tidying his bedchamber, Cam made his way downstairs toward the breakfast room.
Before he set out for Beauchamp House, he’d first question Sir Everard a bit to see if he could learn anything more about why the man had been trespassing on Beauchamp House land last night.
So far the gathering of fossil hunters at the home of Mr. Lancelot Pearson, a fossil collector known for his reclusive nature, had been less intellectually stimulating than he’d hoped it would be.
For one thing, though there were a few collectors of note among the guests, like Mr. Roderick Templeton, Viscount Paley, and Sir Andrew Reynolds, the rest were enthusiastic but not particularly knowledgeable about the theories and science that tried to make sense of the origins and development of the creatures whose fossilized remains they collected.
It would have been far more enjoyable if his own friends in the collecting world, like Joshua Darnley, a physician who lived with his wife and children in Leaming, or Adrian Freemantle, a Cambridge don, had been able to make the journey. But both men were restricted from such gatherings by the demands of their respective professions. He’d met both men through their membership in the Royal Society and counted them among his closest friends, aside from his brothers, of course. Adrian would have made quick work of the worst offenses against logic and sense at the current gathering. Sir Everard Healy, whom Cam had at first thought was one of the more thoughtful men at the meeting, would have infuriated his scholarly friend. Not only was the baronet rather fond of the sound of his own voice, but he also managed not to take in anyone else’s arguments. Just banged on with his own ill-informed opinions like a discordant drum.
It was, perhaps, dislike which had prompted Cam to follow him the evening before, but he’d learned long ago to trust his instincts about people and their motives. And something about Sir Everard made him suspicious. That he’d been unable to catch the man in anything more nefarious than a midnight trip to the shore didn’t mean Cam had given up his instinct to find out what the other man was up to.
He entered the breakfast room to find Sir Everard himself holding forth on his theories relating to the proteosaurus, a marine lizard that had been found just down the coast in Lyme Regis by the celebrated fossil collector Mary Anning.
Like her father before her, Mary made her living by selling the fossils and bones and oddities she found embedded in the chalk cliffs and sand near her home. It was dangerous work, and often required the help of local laborers and even tethering herself to the shore to keep from being swept out to sea by the powerful waves.
No doubt Gemma would have something to say about that despite the fact Mary had taught herself French so that she could read the work of Cuvier, and could likely more knowledgeably discuss a fossil’s origins than most men, she was effectively ignored so that men like Sir Everard could pontificate about the fossils she’d discovered.
Gemma wasn’t wrong, he thought as he listened to Sir Everard posit—wrongly in Cam’s opinion—that the fossil in question was related far more closely to the crocodile than Cuvier had theorized. The world of geology, and fossil hunting in particular, were male-dominated. And when he saw men like Sir Everard gaining acclaim while Gemma and women like Mary Anning were denied entry into the Royal Society, it rather made Gemma’s point for her.
When Cam had filled his plate from the sideboard he turned toward the table.
“Ah, Lord Cameron,” said Pearson, a plate of kippers and eggs before him, as Cam took a seat on the other side of the table. “You must tell us what you think of this proteosaurus Sir Everard is discussing. I must say, I had thought Cuvier had the right of it, but Sir Everard makes a good argument.”
Indicating to the footman behind him that he’d like coffee, Cam made himself busy with his cutlery to give himself time to avoid the question. He had no wish to insult his host, but nor did he wish to give Sir Everard the idea that Cam agreed with his assessment.
Fortunately, Lord Paley, seated on his other side, chose that moment to speak up. “I rather think Lord Cameron might be one of those fellows who is better able to articulate himself after he’s had coffee or tea.”
To Cam’s relief, Pearson laughed. “Fair enough, old fellow. Fair enough.”
When their host turned his attention back to the other men, Cam spoke to Paley in a low voice. “I appreciate the help, there. I was afraid I’d be forced to give my true opinion of Sir Everard and that would be a bad thing for all of us, I think.”
“I merely thought that if I found the fellow tedious,” said Paley in an equally low voice, “someone of your stature in the collecting world must find him insufferable.”
Cam wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or wary at the compliment. It was true he was well known in the collecting world, in part because of his role as editor of the Annals. But he was hardly of stature. “I rather think tedium is evident to most people whether they are well regarded or not.”
“Fair enough,” said the other man, raising his cup of tea. “Though our host seems to hang on his every word, doesn’t he?”
Cam took a bite of his eggs before speaking. “I suspect he’s just trying to be a good host. Given his usual preference for solitude I’d imagine a gathering like this would be a bit challenging.”
Paley laughed. “You are determined to be kind when I am determined to be quite the opposite, Lord Cameron.”
Cam laughed too. “I did sound a bit priggish, didn’t I? Let’s just say I am trying to be agreeable in the face of some challenges.”
By the time Cam finished his breakfast, both Pearson and Templeton had left to look at something in Pearson’s collection, leaving Cam and Paley with Sir Everard, who for some reason, seemed keen to speak to them.
Or rather, keen to speak to Cam.
Pushing his plate forward, the large man got up from his chair and came to sit across from the two men.
“You’re related to one of the Beauchamp House heiresses by marriage, aren’t you, Lord Cameron?” he asked without preamble.
“I am,” said Cam, careful not to let on his interest at Sir Everard’s question. He’d thought he would have to be the one to broach the topic of Beauchamp House. Clearly he’d underestimated the other man’s boldness. “My brother, the vicar hereabouts, married Miss Sophia Hastings a couple of months ago.”
“There’s another, though, isn’t there?” Sir Everard pressed. “Another Hastings sister at Beauchamp, I mean. Calls herself a geologist, I believe?”
Cam felt himself bristle on Gemma’s behalf at the other man’s dismissive tone. “Miss Gemma Hastings is a geologist, yes,” he said in a deceptively calm tone. He was rather surprised at his reaction to the man’s condescension, but there was something particularly vile about such a dullard belittling Gemma’s place in their field of study.
“You are acquainted with the chit, then?” the older man pressed. “Able to wrangle an invitation to the house, I mean?”
Cam blinked. Was this man actually attempting to garner an invitation to Beauchamp House after effectively calling one of its mistresses a pretender? He’d known the baronet was bold given his attempt to search the shore last night, but he hadn’t thought him presumptuous enough to inveigle an invitation through Cam’s familial connection.
“I believe I could arrange something, yes,” Cam said after a minute. “You’ll wish to see the Beauchamp House collection, I suppose?”
Sir Everard nodded. “Yes, of course. It would be foolish to come this close to such a renowned collection and miss out on seeing it for myself. Despite her lack of any true understanding of the science behind it, I’ve heard Lady Celeste had a rare knack for choosing important items to keep for herself.”
“I say,” Lord Paley interjected before Cam could reply, “you wouldn’t mind if I were to tag along, would you? I’ve long wished to see Lady Celeste Beauchamp’s artifacts. What a spot of luck that you’re connected to the house, Lord Cameron.”
Not bothering to comment on Sir Everard’s dismissal of Lady Celeste’s intellect, Cam nodded to both men. “I should be able to garner invitations for you both. I know Miss Gemma will be quite pleased to show us the finer points of Lady Celeste’s collection.”
In a fit of pique, he added, “She’s quite knowledgeable about the study of fossils and their origins herself, you know. I’ve read some of her work and it’s sound analysis.”
He’d rejected it for the Annals, but they didn’t need to know that. It wasn’t because her analysis was flawed but because he’d seen a similar argument in a different publication not long before he read hers. It wasn’t her fault that she’d arrived at the logical conclusion.
But if he expected Sir Everard to look chastened and apologize, he was doomed to disappointment.
Ignoring the mention of Gemma completely, the baronet grinned. “Excellent. Excellent.”
And to both Cam and Paley’s astonishment, his task complete, Sir Everard left the breakfast room.
“I thought you two would come to blows,” Lord Paley said with a laugh once Sir Everard was gone. “You’re not involved with the Hastings chit, are you?”
“What?” To his embarrassment, Cam’s voice went unnaturally high. “Why would you ask that?”
“Calm yourself, man,” said Paley with a laugh. “I simply noted your defense of the lady. But if you tell me it was only annoyance at Sir Everard’s snide tone, I will believe you, of course.”
“Of course that’s all it was,” Cam echoed him. “And I dislike hearing anyone I consider a friend disparaged in such a way. Lady Celeste was said to be one of the great minds of her generation, lady or no. And Miss Gemma was handpicked by Lady Celeste to oversee her collection and use it for her studies. It’s infuriating to hear someone as foolish as Sir Everard demean them, that’s all.”
Lord Paley nodded, looking thoughtful.
“I’ll just go write a note to send round to Beauchamp inquiring whether the three of us, or anyone else who might wish to join us, might come view the collection tomorrow.”
He stood and gave a slight bow.
Cam wasn’t sure if it was the viscount’s watchful eye he was trying to escape or his own reaction to hearing Gemma’s intellect dismissed. Either way, he needed a moment to himself.
* * *
The skies above Beauchamp House were gray with clouds and the wind had Gemma’s hair, unruly at the best of times, flying around her face as she and Sophia stood on the drive bidding Aunt Dahlia goodbye.
“You’re sure you won’t just stay through the holidays?” she asked her aunt for what must have been the hundredth time. “There’s no need for you to go back north. Especially in this weather. Travel will be must better in the spring.”
“When the rain will make the roads impassable?” her aunt asked with a raised brow. “Don’t fuss, Gemma. I wish to go back to Manchester. I have responsibilities with the Ladies’ Lecture Society and I’ve neglected them for a month already.”
“Perhaps we could help you form something similar here,” Sophia, hugging her cloak more tightly around her, offered. “I could suggest any number of ladies in the neighborhood who might be interested. In fact, Benedick might also—”
Aunt Dahlia pounded her heavy walking stick into the shell drive. “Enough! I must go and that’s that. I’ve loved this time with you girls, but my life is there.”
She hugged each of the sisters, taking the sting from her words. “I can’t begin to tell you how proud I am of you both. Sophia, I had hoped you would devote yourself exclusively to your painting, but if you must marry, then Lord Benedick is as fine a choice as you can have made.”
Turning to Gemma, she smiled. “And Gemma, your work here, cataloging and studying the collection Celeste left for you, will be of the greatest scientific importance. If Celeste did leave you something, then you must find it and make your mark. It will be in the analysis of fossils that you distinguish yourself. Poor Mary Anning’s analysis is ignored because men have taken her finds and imposed their own theories on them. Celeste has left you an opportunity to be the first to study her fossils. Do not squander it.”
She didn’t mention their conversation the night before about the importance of remaining unmarried, but Gemma heard the warning anyway.
“Yes, aunt,” she said obediently.
And then the sisters were watching their aunt and her maid climb into the large and comfortable traveling carriage that had come with the house. Gemma had seen to it that they were supplied with a basket of food, hot bricks for their feet, and heavy carriage blankets.
To her surprise, Gemma felt tears spring to her eyes as she watched the horses take off at the signal from the coachman and begin the journey.
“Come,” Sophia said, slipping her arm through hers. “Let’s get inside before we both turn into icicles.”
She must have sensed her sister’s distress because she didn’t comment when Gemma surreptitiously wiped her eyes.
Inside, after removing their coats, scarves, and gloves, they repaired to the breakfast room, where Serena was sipping a cup of tea.
“I take it Miss Hastings has departed?” she asked, no doubt taking in the sisters’ glum expressions.
“She has,” Gemma said as she spooned eggs onto her plate at the sideboard. Despite her mood, she was ravenous. Cold weather always left her hungry. For good measure she added two pieces of toast to her meal before taking a seat beside Serena.
“I know you’ll miss her,” said the widow, who, as the niece of Lady Celeste, had been chosen to act as chaperone for the four heiresses over the course of their year in the manor house. “But, I’ve had a letter this morning that might cheer you up.”
“Do tell,” Sophia said as she took a seat opposite them. “We could use a bit of good news.”
“Ivy and Daphne have decided to return to Beauchamp House for the rest of the year,” Serena said, handing Gemma the letter that had been folded on the table beside her teacup. “Ivy wrote that she and Daphne crossed paths at a dinner party in town and that they’d both lamented what Daphne called ‘the hair-witted conversation to be had at ton entertainments.’”
Sophia stifled a giggle while Gemma scanned the note. “It would seem that Maitland’s slang has begun to influence her.”
The letter was penned in Ivy’s tidy penmanship, and was dated a week previously. “They’ll be here soon, according to this. She says they’re leaving tomorrow.”
Sophia clapped her hands. “Just the thing we needed to distract us from Aunt Dahlia’s departure. I hadn’t realized how much I missed them while they’d been in London, but I can’t help but feel their absence every time I come to the house now.”
“Gemma and I rub along together well enough,” Serena said with a nod, “but we’ve felt the loss of all three of you since your marriages have taken you away from the house.”
“Things have changed so much since we first arrived,” Gemma said. “There have been so many dangers and adventures. And weddings. It’s hard to believe it’s been under a year.”
“There’s still time for more adventures,” Sophia said with a grin. “And weddings for that matter. Are there any gentlemen on your dance card, sister?”
“You know me better than that,” Gemma said firmly. “I intend to remain unwed, like Aunt Dahlia and Lady Celeste.”
“You won’t hear any argument from me,” Serena said. Her late husband had been an unpleasant, sometimes brutish man. “I fully support your decision. Though of course I am happy for Sophia and Ivy and Daphne. It simply isn’t for everyone.”
“I cannot afford to let anything distract me from my studies,” Gemma said with a shrug. “I have a responsibility to the women who came before me. I cannot let them down.”
Sophia tilted her head. “I hope you won’t let Aunt’s views on the matter pressure you too much. It is possible to have both a loving relationship and a fulfilling career in your chosen field of interest. Men do it often enough, certainly.”
“But men are able to ignore the mundane tasks of running the household and caring for children,” Gemma retorted.
“Our own Mama should show you that not all ladies are tasked with those duties either,” Sophia said with a raised brow.
Their parents had been largely absent from both Gemma and Sophia’s lives, so wrapped up in one another that they were uninterested in their children except insofar as they could be held up as reflections of themselves. The raising of the sisters, and much of their education, had been left to Dahlia, who had seen to it that they were educated far better than the daughters of their parents’ middle class peers.
“Yes,” Gemma responded, “and look how she imposed on Aunt Dahlia to afford herself that luxury.”
“I won’t argue with you,” Sophia said after a moment. “But I do wish you wouldn’t close the door on marriage before you’ve even had a chance to see if you might find a man who would suit you. It will sound silly to you, I fear, but I didn’t know life could be so content until I met Benedick.”
“It doesn’t sound silly,” Gemma said softly. It actually sounded wonderful. Gemma couldn’t remember a time before she felt this nagging in her gut. That said she had more to do. More to see. More to learn. Thus far she’d found nothing and no one who’d managed to quiet that sense of hunger. And she wasn’t sure she ever would.
Aloud, she continued. “It sounds wonderful. I’m happy for you. Truly.”
That kind of fulfillment might not be intended for her, but she was happy beyond words that her sister—and Ivy and Daphne—had found it.
They’d moved on to less fraught conversation when the footman, Edward, appeared with a note. “This came for Miss Gemma from Pearson Close.”
As Gemma took it from him, she felt the scrutiny of her sister and chaperone.
“Why are you receiving clandestine letters from the mysterious master of Pearson Close, I wonder?” Sophia said thoughtfully.
“It’s hardly clandestine when it’s delivered in full sight of the two of you,” Gemma said tartly as she unfolded the missive. Scanning the words, she continued. “It’s from Lord Cameron. He asks if he might bring Viscount Paley and Sir Everard Healey round tomorrow to see the collection.”
“Of course,” Sophia nodded. “I’d forgotten he was staying at the Close this week for Mr. Pearson’s gathering of fossil collectors.”
“You could have told me, you know,” Gemma chided her sister. “I wouldn’t have been angry. Not very angry, at any rate.”
Serena, however, was focused on something else. “I know I’ve supported you in your decision not to marry, but I do think you should take this opportunity to put your best foot forward among these men, your scholarly peers.”
Gemma felt a prickle of unease. “I wasn’t intending to put my worst foot forward.”
“Of course you’re intelligent and can hold a conversation with them,” Serena said kindly. “But perhaps we can take this opportunity to ensure that your attire is as confident as your knowledge of geology.”
Gemma looked down at her gown, a practical gray woolen that was warm and didn’t show dirt when she was cleaning artifacts in the collection. “What’s wrong with my attire?”
“Nothing is wrong with it, dearest,” said Sophia in the tone Gemma recognized as her managing voice. “But men are shallow creatures and I fear they will take you more seriously if you take a bit of time to make yourself pleasing to the eye. And I must admit I’ve been longing to see you in some colors.”
“That’s just because you’re an artist,” Gemma said with a scowl. But she had to admit, though she’d never say so aloud, there was a certain appeal to the notion of making a certain fossil-hunting gentleman of her acquaintance look at her in a different way. Not that she intended to let anything come of it, but it would give her a certain satisfaction to see something in his eyes when he looked at her besides exasperation.
“Fine,” she told the other ladies. “I will allow you to dress me tomorrow. But I will not allow you to have Tilly curl my hair. The last time you convinced me to try it, Sophia, I had the stench of burning hair in my nostrils for weeks.”
The incident had happened when the heiresses embarked on one of their first social outings not long after their arrival at Beauchamp House. Against her better judgment, Gemma had allowed her sister to talk her into trying something new with her coiffure. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience.
Her hair was fine and straight and frankly, the time and effort it took to coax curls out of it was not worth it to her.
“She’s gotten much better since then,” Serena said with a laugh.
“We promise,” Sophia said, placing her hand over her heart. “This is going to be fun.”
“I’m glad you’re amused,” Gemma said with a roll of her eyes. Though inside, she was looking forward to tomorrow.
And not just the discussion of geology, either.