Love & War (Alex & Eliza #2)(72)

Alex shook his head. Here he had meant to focus on his wife, and once again his work had taken over. Caroline’s demands on his attention had grown as the weeks passed. At the beginning, her talk was of her dead husband and her dire financial situation, but as time went by, she spoke about her loneliness, about her future and children’s. Though she had never said or done anything improper after he had made it clear her advances were unwelcome, she found excuses to clasp his hand or arm or knee, to confess her absolute, utter dependence upon him, not just for her family’s security, but for her future happiness.

Alex wasn’t sure what she wanted from him. Which is to say, he was pretty sure he knew exactly what she wanted from him, she had made it all too clear during their meetings. The sooner the case was settled, the better. He was a married man, with a beloved and much-missed wife at home, and he made it clear to his client that, while he was sensitive to her plight and her children’s, his heart was loyal to his own, and what she was intimating was impossible.

But enough of business. Alex was going home to said darling wife, and though he may have (once again) missed the chance to dine with her at a civilized hour, they could hopefully spend a pleasant hour or two together before bedtime. Then there would be a quiet weekend, just the two of them. He would lose the keys to his office and devote all his attention to Eliza.

But even before he entered his house, he sensed that his plans were not going to come to fruition. As he walked up Wall Street, he saw that the windows of the front parlor were blazing with light, as if a dozen lamps were burning within. So bright was the glow that for a moment Alex was afraid the house was on fire, but the gleam was steady rather than wavering, and the only smoke he smelled was the regular tang of the neighborhood chimneys. The lower shutters were drawn, though, so he couldn’t see in to find out why all the lights had been lit.

As he pushed the door open, a din of voices greeted his ears.

“No, no, closer together. Mrs. Hamilton, do please try to look as if your brother-in-law had not had an unfortunate encounter with a skunk. That’s better!”

Brother-in-law? Had Stephen and Peggy returned to the city? Funny that they hadn’t written to announce their arrival.

Alex poked his head around the corner. Clustered on the sofa sat Eliza and Angelica, with John Church sitting between them. The sisters were attired in elegant if loosely fastened gowns, uncorsetted and unlaced, and bedecked haphazardly with gaudy costume jewelry and wigs that sat on their heads as if they had fallen there off a tree branch. John was wearing a jacket that, besides being a rather shocking shade of gold, was also far too large for him. It was as though they had gotten dressed in the dark, or after they’d had several drinks.

Well, it certainly wasn’t dark.

“Alex!” Eliza called out gaily. “Look who’s home!” She lurched off the sofa unsteadily, and her wig fell in John’s lap.

“Alex!” another voice sang out. “Just in time!”

Alex turned, and suddenly everything fell into place. Ralph Earl stood at an easel. He was jacketless, his white shirt stained with sweat and his face flushed with drink. There was a paintbrush in one hand. With the other he snatched up a bright heap of gold fabric and came toward Alex with it.

“Here, here, put this on! You must join the picture!”

“Mr. Earl, I—”

“No, no,” Eliza said, coming up behind him. “Mr. Earl wants you in the picture, so into the picture you go!” She took what turned out to be a twin to the jacket John was wearing and, pulling at the buttons of his overcoat, began simultaneously trying to slip the new garment on him before the first was even off. Alex could smell the sweet scent of honey wine on her breath, and her uncovered locks were in a state of shocking, if humorous, disarray.

“Eliza, darling, please, I haven’t even—”

But Eliza continued to pull on his overcoat. She had it open now, and was sliding it off him, but since she’d also slipped the gold jacket over it, the latter garment now fell to the floor.

“Hello?” she said in confusion. “How did that happen?”

On the sofa John Church was stroking Eliza’s fallen wig as though it were a sleeping cat. Angelica, on the other hand, seemed to be asleep, her head resting on her husband’s shoulder, her wig threatening to join her sister’s in John’s lap.

Eliza retrieved the fallen gold jacket, meanwhile, and was once again attempting to slip it on Alex, who was still wearing the gray jacket he’d gone to work in.

“Darling, please.” Alex caught the jacket and took a step back. “What in the world is going on?”

Eliza smiled at him a little crookedly. “Why, whatever do you mean, darling?” There was just the slightest stress on the word darling, but Alex didn’t heed the warning.

“I mean all this.” He waved a hand at the chaotic parlor. “Houseguests and pantomime and what seems to have been a significant consumption of alcohol.”

“But, darling,” Eliza said, laying still more stress on the word, “surely you know all about it, since you arranged for Mr. Earl to come stay with us after his release from prison, and you received John’s letter announcing his and Angelica’s arrival. As for the rest, well.” Eliza shrugged. “Since we have a houseful of guests, we might as well have some fun.”

Alex shook his head in confusion. “In the first place, I never received any such communication from John, or I would have told you about it. And in the second, it seems to me that it is you who forgot that Mr. Earl was coming to stay with us.”