The Forgiven Duke (A Forgotten Castles Novel) (27 page)

He blinked. Looked again . . . Could it be?

Was that the regent? What was going on?

He hurried from his carriage and looked for Meade. There he was, standing close to Jane and saying something in her ear. Jane nodded and stared long at him, her face held a look that was something new. A look that took Gabriel aback. She looked happy again, happy and hesitant, like a fledgling flower, questioning her security but rising, growing under the bright light of his secretary’s regard.

And Meade! He didn’t appear to stutter so terribly now, though he still appeared overly flushed and pleased as he leaned toward her and listened to her thoughts. They nodded toward Alexandria and raised their brows in a laughing, happy manner.

Alexandria. His gaze took in the dress that moved like wisps of clouds around her. She looked up the moment he entered the room. She stopped everything she was doing, turned toward him, and lifted her gaze to lock on to his.

God help him, he couldn’t take his eyes from her. And yet he must.

She had sensed him the moment he walked through the door. It had been like this every day. Whenever they accidentally ran into each other in the vast house, he’d bowed and tried to leave, ignoring the electric current between them, ignoring her imploring and confused eyes. Always that jolt of happiness in her eyes and then confusion and sadness as he turned to flee. Now she stared into his eyes, silently beckoning him, ignoring the small group of people in the circle around her.

He wanted nothing more than to go to her, place his hand at the small of her back and claim her as his, but then what? Pretend he could make out what was going on? Pretend he knew what they were saying? Their mouths moving unintelligible around vowels and consonants he’d learned as a child. No! Now was most certainly not the time to reveal his “condition.”

Where was the regent?

Gabriel took a shattered breath and turned away from her, turned toward Meade instead, and motioned for his secretary to follow him. They walked down the hall in silence, Meade behind him. The feeling that he was
behind
him, no matter what occurred, bolstered Gabriel’s stride.

Once in the library, Gabriel snatched up the speaking book from his desk and thrust it at his secretary. “What’s going on here? I don’t remember there being a gathering scheduled for tonight. And was that the regent I saw walking through my front door? What is he doing here?”

Meade kept his head down as he made his way to the desk and sat down to write. Must be a lengthy answer since Gabriel could read his lips well enough for a short conversation. Gabriel read over his shoulder.

Sorry, Your Grace. We sent word to you at the opera. The prince regent sent a note that he would like an audience and that a dinner party would be appropriate, as he was bringing some of his court to meet Alexandria. He seems to have taken a liking to her. We have been in a flurry of activity preparing for it these last hours. He also mentioned that he needs to tell you something. I believe he said, “He has news of great import for you.”

Gabriel looked toward the dark window of his inner room, his brows coming together as he considered what that might be. News of great import. Could it have something to do with the missing manuscript? Had they found it at last?

“Please ask His Majesty if it would please him to come here to the library for privacy. I would like to hear this news before dinner, if he is so inclined.”

Meade bowed his way from the room, making Gabriel frown. Could Jane be falling in love with him? Everyone knew Meade loved her, had since the moment he first met her. Gabriel couldn’t allow it, could he? Meade wasn’t nobility; he was only a duke’s secretary.

And one of the best friends Gabriel had.

He would have to devise a way for Meade to become knighted. Mayhap the regent would need a favor soon. A barony would be enough. With Jane’s fortune from her marriage, it would be more than enough. But what would he do without Meade helping him navigate this silent world?

Gabriel shook his head. He’d never thought his life would come down to needing his secretary to get by in day-to-day living. He leaned a hand against the mantel and chuckled at himself. He’d never imagined needing anyone like he depended on Meade.

Jane couldn’t ask for a better man.

He prowled about the room while the man who might someday be his brother-in-law delivered his message to the regent.

Finally the prince regent came through the door. Gabriel bowed low, counted to three, and then rose.

“Please, Your Majesty, won’t you sit down.” Gabriel indicated the best seat in the room. He waited while the copious man sat and adjusted his clothing for better comfort. Once the regent was comfortably settled, Gabriel motioned Meade toward the seat and speaking book beside him and sat across from the most powerful man in the realm.

“Meade says you have news, Your Majesty,” Gabriel began, brows raised over slanted green eyes.

The prince regent smiled, his full cheeks florid, his eyes alight with mischief. “I do.” He nodded and waved Meade and the book away as if unneeded.

He leaned in and said with clear lips, “The Featherstones have been spotted in Italy.”

“You’ve heard from them?” He wanted it to be true, with everything in him, except that one part that said if they were alive she wouldn’t need him . . . she wouldn’t be his ward . . . or his anything.

The regent nodded again. “One of my spies saw them a few weeks ago. They said they were very close to finding the manuscript.” He motioned that Meade write it down but Gabriel understood.

“Where in Italy?”

He shook his head. “I have sent trained investigators and some of the best Bow Street Runners after them. You will stay here with Alexandria. She is not to know of this. We will keep her occupied with social events.” He rose to go.

“Your Majesty, please. Where are they?”

He pulled a paper from an inner pocket and flicked it on Gabriel’s desk, laughing. “Don’t disappoint me, St. Easton.” He turned suddenly and glared at Gabriel with a dark look. “I want that manuscript at any cost, and I won’t have the girl ruining everything by getting in the middle of things. Get her married off—soon—to someone who can handle her.” He paused with an intent look. “Someone like you.”

Shock spiraled through Gabriel as he watched the regent lumber from the room. He had just been given permission to marry Alexandria, not just permission, a veiled order. He picked up the note and opened it. A letter addressed to the regent, the words
Florence, Italy,
flowing from the spy’s pen. So, it must be true. It matched the location of the cryptic note the librarian had given him.

A plan began to form in the corners of Gabriel’s mind.

A wedding plan.

A honeymoon trip.

A plan she would not be able to say no to.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

L
atimere, come back here.” Alex laughed in terrified glee as her white Great Pyrenees, recently sent for and delivered to her without the duke’s knowledge, pounded down the hall, tail waving wildly and knocking over everything in his path. He rounded a corner with an enormous crash.

Alex hurried after him to discover a delicate table with a vase full of fresh flowers smashed into glittering pieces on the floor. She shrieked in horror. That vase must have cost a fortune! Oh no! “Latimere, stop this instant! Come back here!” She ran after him in a flurry of green-and-white-striped skirts and rounded another corner, sliding in her stocking feet along the marble floors.

Bam!
She plowed into something very solid, came to a sudden stop, and then went down to land on her backside with a squeal. She looked up, brushing her long hair out of her face, to see the duke’s scowl. Of course it would have to be him. She hadn’t seen him in days and had even taken to haunting the halls around his suite of rooms to try to catch a glimpse of him, always looking her best at the time, with rehearsed lines of wit to make him smile.

She couldn’t remember a single word of those lines as his deep green eyes impaled her. Oh, dear—he looked angry. He reached for her before she could say a word and hauled her up to stand, blinking in horror, in front of him.

“I’m so—” She started to say
sorry
, but he put a finger to her lips and cracked a half smile that was so devastatingly attractive, she felt her stomach slide and forgot to take the next breath.

“So you’ve managed to bring the beast to London.” When she opened her mouth to explain, he shook his head in such a stern way she snapped her jaw closed. “Just nod
yes
or
no
.”

She nodded yes.

“I suppose Meade had something to do with this.”

She opened her mouth to explain that Meade had assured her the duke liked dogs and that Meade had been so kind, seeing how lonely she was, and had sent the duke’s coach on a speedy weeks-long journey to Northumberland and back to fetch him for her. She didn’t plan on mentioning the letter she had given the coachman for Ann and Henry, her aged servants on Holy Island, begging them to send any news they might hear of her parents to London. The duke needn’t know she was looking for clues.

But the duke didn’t let her say any of that! He narrowed his eyes at her open mouth and interrupted. “Uh-uh. Yes or no.”

She sighed in frustration and nodded.

“Just as I thought.” He looked up and down the hall at the damage as Latimere turned around and padded back toward them as if asking where his playmate had gone. Her pet squeezed around the duke as if he was just another inconvenient piece of furniture and buried his nose in Alex’s skirts.

The duke glared at her giant pet, his lips in a grim line. “Keep that beast in your wing of the house. And see that he doesn’t destroy everything.”

Alex nodded “yes,” wishing he would talk to her, or rather that she was allowed to talk to him. He seemed so formal now, so out of reach. Nothing like he’d been in his letters. He’d claimed to enjoy her banter and wanted to get to know her better. But if that were the case, then why did he avoid her as if she carried the plague?

She wasn’t sure what she had expected living with her guardian to be like, but she hadn’t imagined that she would feel like a pampered pariah. It was all so confusing. And, when she lay in bed at night and let tears of loneliness and despair drip into her pillow, disappointing. She had allowed her imagination to get away with her again and had imagined him half in love with her. Or at least
in like
with her. Especially after what he had said when he rescued her in Iceland. But he didn’t seem to want anything to do with her and it hurt.

She looked up at him now, drinking in his beauty. She even swayed a little toward him, her eyes, she knew, too full of longing. The green of his eyes changed for a second, deepened, and looked searchingly into hers, but it only lasted a moment and then they hardened like emeralds. “Good day, Alexandria.”

He gave her a short bow, patted Latimere on the head, who growled at him but he didn’t seem to notice, and walked away.

As he turned the corner out of sight, she let out her breath, squatted down, and buried her face in Latimere’s neck. “You must be good,” she whispered at him. “I won’t be able to bear it if they send you back.”

Latimere nuzzled into the crook of her arm as if to say he would try. Standing, she grasped his collar and beckoned him toward the front door. “Let’s get you outside for a while. I think a long walk would do us both some good.”

GABRIEL BURST INTO HIS STUDY
and shut the door with barely restrained force. That had been close. He had almost let that look in her pale blue eyes take over his sanity. He’d almost hauled her into his arms and kissed her silent instead of demanding on head shaking. He’d almost pressed his forehead against hers and told her everything.

But what if she recoiled from him? There was John’s death on his hands. Could she forgive him for that? And his “affliction.” He just couldn’t risk her knowing the awful fact that he couldn’t hear anything. What if she couldn’t love him after knowing he would probably never be able to hear her voice . . . their children’s voices . . . have a normal life, something she expected . . .
deserved
? He should marry her off to a normal bloke, the typical life of a lady of the ton.

The thought reminded him of the night before at a play. He sat in his box, as far from her as possible with ten guests in between them, and watched her from the corner of his eye. It had been her first real play on London’s scale, and seeing her face soften and lighten, sadden and teary, the emotions of the performance registering on her face, well, he’d fallen deeper into this pit of love that had taken hold of his insides like a spreading infection.

Then Lord Basham leaned over and said something in her ear that caused her face to break into the sweetest smile. “Hush,” she’d said while she tapped Basham with her fan as the tutors
he
had hired had taught her to do.

His heart pounded with the urge to pad over, pounce on the young hothead, and land a carefully aimed fist to his face. He wouldn’t be so pretty when Gabriel was done with him. But then, Basham had proved only one of many suitors eager to find out what was so enthralling and original about Alexandria Featherstone. Gabriel had wanted to find her a husband. At least give her a good glimpse of what she could have. God help him, it was going entirely too well.

What if she did find someone else? The good Lord knew his behavior toward her hadn’t encouraged any feelings toward him. What if despite the regent’s sanction and his own desire to make her his wife, she fell in love with one of the youngbloods of the ton? He couldn’t leave it to fate, and yet he was too terrified to do the one thing that would give his suit a chance—tell her everything.

The plan. He had to remember the plan. He prowled around the library for about an hour and then, when that didn’t help, went to his fencing lesson with Roberé for the remainder of the afternoon. After exhausting his body, he went back to his bedchamber to dress for dinner.