All Men of Genius

XVIII.



SUNDAYS had become Ashton’s favorite day of the week. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the rest of the week: supper parties at Lady MonCrieff’s house, poetry readings, plays, art exhibits, drinking at taverns with various liberal-minded young men, evenings with Antony. He enjoyed it all. But Sundays were some strange new breed now. His sister and her friends were a delightful bunch of rogues. He hadn’t really expected his sister to become a rogue, but it wasn’t too much of a surprise. After all, she had always had the qualities of a lady adventuress—she was forthright and clever, and seldom let things get in her way. But to actually see her laughing and drinking with a group of blokes was both funny and sweet. Ashton would often find himself looking at his sister as she slapped her knee in laughter at some joke Toby had told, and his eyes would grow a little damp with pride and happiness.

He liked her friends, too. Miriam, especially. She had a dry continental wit, the morality of a Frenchwoman—which was to say, not very much at all—and she always laughed at his jokes, even when no one else did. And she had a gift with words. While the others played cards, they would go over Volio’s last letter together, laughing at his poor metaphors and boorish expression of feeling, then respond in florid, girlish prose that Miriam said would be quite mortifying to Cecily if someone thought she had written it.

When the doorbell rang, a gentle snow was falling outside, and Ashton opened the door to the scoundrels with a grin. The tops of their heads were white, and Jack had an eyebrow raised, as though Ashton had been doing something scandalous instead of opening the door promptly.

“Come in out of the cold,” Ashton said.

“Merci,” Miriam said, stepping in first, and handing Ashton the latest sealed note from Volio. “I am unaccustomed to cold weather.”

“You’ve lived here since you were sixteen,” Toby said, following her in. “How can you not be used to it yet?”

“Silence!” Miriam said. “Cousin Ashton doesn’t know my age yet.”

“Not a day over seventeen, surely,” Ashton said.

“Such a charmer,” Miriam said, sitting by the already set up card table. The others joined her.

“There’s drinks at the bar,” Ashton said, popping the seal on Volio’s note, “if you need further warming.”

He took the note out of its envelope, read it over quickly, and felt his heart stop. He read it over again, slowly this time. But it still said the same thing. This was very bad.

“What is it, Cousin Ashton?” Miriam asked. “You look terrified. What did Volio say?”

“Oh, nothing,” Ashton said, forcing a laugh. “I had merely forgotten how mortifying Volio’s poetry could be.”

“I wish I had forgotten as well, but it still haunts me,” Miriam said. The others had poured themselves drinks, and Toby was dealing cards.

“Come play a round, Cousin Ashton,” Toby said. “You can write your fake love note later. For now, let’s relax a bit.”

“Actually,” Ashton said, narrowing his eyes at his sister, “my cousin and I have a little family business to discuss, if you don’t mind. And, Miriam, as you’re so sick of Volio’s writing, why don’t I handle this note alone?”

“Are you sure?” Miriam asked. “Of course, I would be grateful, but—”

“No bother. I’ll have it done in a nick, and then we can all play cards and drink until we’ve forgotten not only Volio’s poetry, but even his name.”

“Suits me,” Drew said.

Ashton nodded at Violet, who rose with a confused look but followed him to the study, the rest going back to their cards. Ashton tried not to slam the door, but as soon as it was shut, he spun on his sister. “You kissed the duke?” he hissed.

Violet turned bright red, and then very pale, and looked at the floor. “He kissed me, too,” she said softly.

“Violet,” Ashton said in a somewhat higher voice, “perhaps this was a bad idea. Perhaps you should just drop out of school, and no one will know a thing about this scheme.”

“No,” Violet said, “I can’t now. I will just avoid him.”

“Oh, Violet, I did hope one day you would fall in love, but your timing is … less than pragmatic.”

“I am not in love! Why does everyone insist that a kiss must signify love?” She threw her hands up in the air, and then, seeing how ridiculous she looked, crossed her arms. “It was just an experiment.”

“An experiment?”

“I had never been kissed before. I wanted to try it. Experiential learning.”

Ashton smiled at this ridiculous excuse. “And what were the results of your experiment?”

“It was quite nice,” Violet said softly, “but I don’t need to do it again.”

“Of course not,” Ashton said, nodding. He plotted what he would tell their father when this scheme exploded, as it was now clear to him it would. Maybe they could just move away for a while. America, perhaps. Scandal wouldn’t follow them there. He hoped.

“How did you know?” Violet asked. Ashton handed her Volio’s letter.

My Dearest Cecily,

I fear I must disclose to you some disturbing news. I wish to write to you of nothing else save how beautiful you are, with your hair, yellow like the sun, and your skin, as pale as milk, but I fear I bore witness to a most scandalous encounter between two men who are close to you—one whom you call friend, and the other whom you call cousin. Yes. I saw your cousin, the duke, and Mr. Ashton Adams in a most perverted embrace in the mechanical laboratory. I was going that way to pick up something I had left when I heard an argument from within. I crept quietly to the door, not wanting to involve myself in anything, and as I looked in, I saw the duke and Mr. Adams kissing most passionately.

Such perverts should not be keeping company with a young lady of good moral upbringing such as yourself. Of course, you cannot avoid your cousin—perhaps you can help him to cure himself of this vice—but Adams you should remove from your life. Such a disgusting creature does not deserve to be pulped beneath your glorious foot.


I tell you this because I love you, and want to protect you, as I shall when we are married. I shall spend my days and nights building for you a great castle where you and our children will be safe, and the outside world will not intrude. But I cannot build it yet, and so I must protect you via our letters. Until next we write, know that I adore you, I love you, and I long to bury myself in you.

Your Devoted Malcolm.


“He really is a very terrible poet,” Violet said, closing the note.

“Loath as I am to admit there is such a time, now is not when you should be witty. You should be worried.”

“It’s simple,” Violet said with a wave of her hand. “We tell him the duke confessed the kiss to Cecily—said Ashton threw himself at him.” Ashton crossed his arms. “And so Cecily, being that font of goodness that she is, is trying to cure Ashton of his perversions. And that Ashton wants to be saved. And then whatever other nonsense you throw in there about how Cecily yearns for his arms.”

“I cannot decide,” Ashton said, looking unimpressed, “if you were always so arrogant, or if it’s just that in the guise of a man, such arrogance is less appealing.”

“What arrogance?” Violet asked, throwing up her arms and speaking in her normal voice. “It will work, won’t it? Hasn’t this whole scheme worked so far? Doesn’t Volio believe everything you tell him?”

“Yes, but this lie is more ridiculous. And we shouldn’t need to tell it. Nor should I need to hide it from Miriam. You’re very lucky she waits to read them with me. This was a risk you took, which you should not have.”

“I suppose,” Violet said, looking down again, which Ashton was glad to see. She was at least a little ashamed. “Had I known Volio was there, I would have postponed my experiment.”

“Does the duke know you’re a woman?”

“No!” Violet said. “I don’t see how he could. We kissed. It was not this passionate embrace Volio speaks of. It was a kiss. I can think of no way he could suspect my gender.”

“So the duke is an invert?” Ashton said, scratching his chin. This would make good gossip at certain alehouses.

“I don’t know,” Violet shrugged. “I’ve made it this far,” she whispered. “Surely I can finish this without mishap.”

“Let’s hope,” Ashton said. He rested his hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Does Jack know?”

“Yes.”

“Good. He’ll keep a closer eye on you from now on, I hope.”

“Most likely.”

“No more experiments.”

“Only of the usual variety,” Violet said with a smile.

Ashton sighed. There was nothing to be done now. He might as well let his sister make the most of her time at Illyria. He would begin inquiries about town houses in New York, for their inevitable move there.

“May I go now?” Violet asked. “I think I can beat Toby at cards this week. I theorize he has a habit of blinking more often when he is lying—I’m not sure, but I want to test it.”

“No. You will wait here with me as I pen our false missive. It is your punishment for poor judgment.”

Violet pushed her lips out into a pout, waiting as Ashton wrote a note to Volio begging him not to tell anyone what he saw, explaining how the duke was an unwilling participant of the kiss, and how Ashton was seeking help in curing his perversion. Ashton felt sick after writing it, but folded it up and put it in an envelope.

“Thank you,” Violet said, and kissed her brother on the cheek.

Violet was wrong about Toby blinking more when he lied during cards. Toby won half the hands, Miriam most of the others, with Jack winning once.

“I’m quite terrible at this game,” Violet said, throwing the cards down.

“Heureux au jeu, malheureux en amour,” Miriam said with a sly grin.

“What does that mean?” Jack asked.

“Unlucky in cards,” Ashton said, beginning to laugh, “lucky in love.” His laughter rang through the house. Jack chuckled, too, and Violet glared at them both, until everyone was laughing. The laughter couldn’t dislodge the cold chills from Ashton’s chest, though, as he thought of the sinister Volio, what he had seen, and what he might do.