Rose beamed, then glanced at Fern with a smile. “He’s wonderful, Papa. You’ll adore him. Everyone does.”
By Tuesday morning, Alex’s eyes were itchy from lack of sleep as he settled into his seat in the examination hall on High Street. Time was slipping away like sand through an hourglass, the future rapidly becoming the present, and hours spent sleeping were few and even farther between.
Working with Fern had consumed his previous evening, as their conversations drifted from mathematics to poetry, from poetry to art, and from art to their futures. He lost track of time completely, enjoying the companionable moments and a welcome respite from the rigors of studying.
He did not want to admit how much Fern had occupied his thoughts of late. Despite ruining a perfectly good pair of trousers and embarrassing himself in front of half of Oxford, he had enjoyed himself immensely during their misadventures on the Thames, laughing harder than he had in quite some time. He could not forget the look of pain in Fern’s eyes when she admitted Rose had abandoned her, then the reluctant levity as they stood in the water together.
Nor could he ignore the heat rushing through him when he took her hand, the longing in her expression when she saw him drenched to the bone. The heat in her eyes when she had caught him admiring her form beneath her sodden dress. His body collided with hers for only a moment, but he felt her slender curves pressed against him. He remembered it well enough to dream of his hands and mouth on those curves, caressing her smooth skin until he awoke in the early hours of the morning, panting and desperately uncomfortable.
And two nights ago, when they lay next to each other like fools underneath the table… He had come perilously close to kissing her. A moment more, an inch further, and his lips would have been on hers. Something about the ridiculous moment had feltrightin a way he couldn’t describe. With her, he was lighter, freer than he had been in years.
But Fern was, well,Fern, his study partner and the sister of the woman he courted. She was awkward and funny and had no interest in him beyond what happened in the library. Anything more was simply a product of his sleep-deprived imagination and her physical resemblance to Rose. It was simply inconceivable to look at Fern like she was…more.
“Mr. Carroway?” Professor Whitehurst’s deep baritone disrupted Alex’s musings. With a start, Alex got to his feet and descended the stairs to the lectern, his anxiety climbing as he approached his professor and two gentlemen he did not immediately recognize. “I’d like to introduce you to two of our program’s top benefactors.” He motioned to a slim man with a straight posture carrying his nearly bald head to an obscene height. “This is Lord Alistair Strathmore, head of the political science program at the London School of Economics and former Fleet Commander in the Royal Navy,” Whitehurst intoned proudly.
Alex’s thrust out his hand. “It’s a pleasure, my lord, an absolute pleasure,” he stammered.
“And the voice of Oxford in Parliament, the Honorable Benedict Waverly, Viscount Redborne.” The short, slightly rotund gentleman passed his gaze over Alex, examining him from head to toe. When Alex met his eyes, he was taken aback—they were identical to Fern’s in every way, enough to make his knees tremble in recognition. Immediately he was taken back to the ballroom of Boar’s Hill, the man clasping his hand and absently welcoming him inside, where he met—
“A-a pleasure, my lord.” He stumbled over his words, watching his two worlds collide in terrifying slow motion. Did Redborne know—
“We were all mates at school, and I had dinner with these gentlemen yesterday, informing them of the impressive work you were doing,” Whitehurst informed Alex. “They too were quite impressed, and hope to attend your presentation next week.”
“It would be an honor, sir.” To have his presentation witnessed by two gentlemen of this caliber could change everything for him.
“I understand that your future is of interest to my daughter,” Whitehurst said, his eyes narrowed. “If all goes well, I may see fit to find a space for you in Strathmore’s program, with my recommendation, of course.”
For a moment he gaped, staring agog at the gentlemen. Whitehurst chuckled. “I am going to assume Mr. Carroway is enthused about this opportunity.”
“Yes, of course, yes, thank you!” Alex gushed, shaking each hand again eagerly. “I promise I will impress you.”
“I’ve no doubt of that,” Strathmore was far more stoic in his tone than the professor. “Until next week then.”
Alex could only nod dumbly as Whitehurst led the gentlemen to seats of honor at the front of the room and then winked at Alex as he returned to the podium to deliver the lecture. Alex stumbled back to his desk, flipping open his notebook to a blank page, a page he filled with not a single word over the ninety minutes of instruction.
Everything was falling into place, even more perfectly than he could have hoped. He could not possibly ruin this now.
Alex’s entry into the library was foretold by a large crash, then a muffled curse as he picked up the books he had knocked from the table.
“You will not believe what has happened,” he said, his tone flat as he fell into the chair beside her.
Her stomach clenched in worry. “Then you must tell me, immediately.”
“I’ve met your father,” he replied, his gaze catatonic.
Well, that was certainly something she could not believe.
“Professor Whitehurst, he and your father are old friends. Your father is going to recommend me for a place at the School of Economics, assuming my defense goes well.”
“But what about Sylvester, and teaching?” she asked, leaning forward into his line of vision as her pulse raced. “Is this what you wanted?”
He nodded, finally meeting her eyes. “Yes, I suppose so. Yes. A government post is far more lucrative potentially, and more respected than an assistant professorship.” There was less certainty in his tone than Fern would have expected, and it concerned her.
“Then this is wonderful news,” she said, unable to shake the unpleasant nerves in her stomach. “Your presentation will certainly impress him, and you will secure your space in London. Your future is set, Alex.”
He nodded again, his eyes still dimly focused on a space somewhere in the distance.
“Alex!” she said, her voice sharp enough to cause him to start. “What’s wrong?”
