Duke of Darkness (20 page)

“No, this is the man you wish was your son. There is a huge difference.” She fought her emotions with every ounce of strength. She would not allow her father to break her spirit or bend her will. She would run away again if necessary.

“Alexandra.” Henry addressed her with an assertive tone. “You should not speak to your father in that manner. He has your best interest in mind.”

He certainly wasn’t considering her happiness, her dreams and desire to marry someone she loved, but Alexandra was too angry to readily form words in return.

And then Devlin was standing and she wondered at the twinkle in his eye as he swept the room with a cursory glance.

“It would appear Alexandra does not wish to leave with you and therefore I cannot allow it. She has been happy in residence at Kenley Manor.” Devlin had contributed little to their conversation. Now he strode towards them as if with every step he calculated his next words.

His defence piqued her father’s attention. “Do you mean to imply you would have my daughter reside here without a chaperone?”

Her father possessed a shrewd eye. He assessed the situation to discern his advantage and how he’d gain the outcome he desired.

“You are mistaken. Your daughter, my ward, has just arrived to Kenley Manor. Was it not explained amply in the letter?”

His question confirmed her worst suspicion and she backed away from him as a dull pain seized her heart. Devlin had summoned her father; he had written the letter. How had he known? It made little sense, but now as he manipulated her future in as cold and uncaring manner as her father, she abhorred him.

“Two weeks, two months, two years, if she has dwelled under this roof without a chaperone, there is a problem. I can solve it with ease. Henry will marry her regardless of what improprieties have occurred.”

“Father, please stop. Nothing untoward has happened.” She spun and her skirts swirled around her ankles in a tangle, much like the mess of decisions being made about her future. She launched at him with angered words, the only defence in her control. “I don’t want to marry Henry. I’m sorry.” Alexandra gestured in his direction, her emotions high. “Please take your leave.”

“Alexandra has a fine chaperone.” Devlin aimed his words at Reeston. “Have you located Lady Lenore? Introductions are in order.”

Alexandra’s brows lowered in confusion, but Devlin spared her not a glance.

Her father remained undeterred. “There’s no good reason why you shouldn’t marry Henry. This disagreeable attitude is so unlike you.” Her father moved beside her and captured her arm in a firm grasp. “Now gather your things. We leave within the hour.”

“No good reason? I feel nothing for him.” She strained against his hold and wrenched her arm free. Her eyes shot to Henry’s in apology of her blunt statement. “I refuse to marry without love. That is the reason I left two years ago. Do you think I would forsake you and my home if I wasn’t forced to my last resort? How can you give me away without a thought for my feelings?”

An interminable silence blanketed the room. Reeston cleared his throat and replied without missing a beat. “If I may be so bold, have you forgotten about Lord Bickerstaffe?”

“Bickerstaffe, Reeston?”

Alexandra detected a trace of humour in Devlin’s response. He may view it all as a game, but her future hung in the balance with every decision made and ugly word muttered.

“Yes, Your Grace. Lord Bickerstaffe entered the hall amongst the chaos earlier. Have you forgotten he asked your permission to court Lady Alexandra? How he expressed his desire for her hand in marriage? He waits in your study now anxious to speak to you. Perhaps you should join him there.”

It was the most she’d heard Reeston speak at one interval and she thought she understood, or at least partly comprehended, the butler’s good intentions, but Devlin would have to play the part. Good thing, his wit proved as sharp as his temper.

“Bickerstaffe, yes. Let me see to him. If you will excuse me, Gentlemen, I’ll return shortly.” Devlin left the parlour behind Reeston.

“Does he always take counsel from his butler?” Her father exhaled in frustration and dropped into a chair.

“He is a very unconventional duke, Father.” Weary of the argument, Alexandra also sat. Henry remained standing, and with the fear he might again approach in a bid to gain her favour, she popped from her chair and strode to a far window. Her mind whirled in a desperate attempt to keep her emotions at bay and sort out the chaos of events unfolding at lightning’s pace. Would Devlin understand her plea? Her father had every right to take her against her will. He would return her to Brentwood and see her married to Henry in less than twenty-four hours if an effective plan did not extricate her from the mess. A sharp stab of disappointment punctuated the realization. How could her father behave with such callous insensitivity? Appealing to his affection or good sense made no difference.

Henry’s shadow across the window glass announced his approach, her father at his heels. Her heart leapt in her chest and spurred her decision. She would pack her meagre things and flee under the cover of nightfall. Devlin and Phineas entered the room before the conclusion took root.

“Gentlemen.” Devlin’s tone was all business. “May I present Lord Bickerstaffe.” With an amazing economy of words he explained how Bickerstaffe offered for Alexandra’s hand and he approved the marriage. “Now that you have arrived, Addington, Alexandra has two suitors. How fortunate she possesses the opportunity to decide her own future.”

“My daughter’s future is already decided.” Her father grumbled his discontent. “I see no reason to continue this nonsense.”

“Regard the fine sample Henry presents, and the congenial circumstances were Alexandra given the chance to consider both gentleman. An amendable daughter is much preferred over a disputatious one.”

Every aspect of her father’s countenance warmed with the compliment given Henry. He agreed to a short courtship and the men shook hands as an understanding was met.

“Agreed.” Devlin’s strong voice rang across the silent room. “Addington will court Alexandra, as will Lord Bickerstaffe. By the end of the week your daughter will make her choice. Does this arrangement meet with your approval?”

Everyone, with the exception of Alexandra, nodded in agreement. But no one spared a glance in her direction anyway.

The door swung open and Reeston entered with Cook, except she no longer wore her usual service clothing and wide grey apron. Instead she dressed in a fine muslin dress of pale green that hung a bit off kilter as if it didn’t belong to her. A forgotten silver spoon kept her lopsided bun in place.

Reeston introduced her as Lady Lenore Bisket, Alexandra’s chaperone, and the entire scene proved laughable although her heart ached with the singular thought that one way or the other, whether it be Henry or Phineas, she’d be engaged by the end of the week. And no matter who managed to win the contest of her hand, neither man was the one she wanted.

The man she did want, who lived in her heart and burned in her soul, stood a scant distance from her, yet still disconnected. She watched him as he escorted the guests to the door. The she closed her eyes in exhaustion and fought the growing trepidation that the afternoon’s events left her no choice but to flee once again.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The clock chimed midnight when Reeston found him in the study. The room smelled of brandy and anger and his clothes were disassembled. He paid no heed, occupied with darker thoughts than decorum and appearance.

“Your Grace?” The butler entered on brisk strides, closed the double doors, and allowed his reserved demeanour to fall away.

Devlin poured another brandy and swallowed it in two gulps. The amber liquor burned a numbing path and he relished the sensation before he lifted the decanter to repeat the process.

“Drinking yourself into tomorrow will not pass this evening faster.”

The words were spoken with sincerity, but as he turned towards his butler he offered only a forbidding scowl. “I’m in no mood for company or conversation. A wise man would take his leave.” His derisive growl sounded menacing, but he cared little.

Reeston advanced and his eyes assessed the room’s condition. A question lifted his brow, his expression grim, as he took in the broken golf balls, their leather cases ripped and feathers spilled. A huff of distress followed. Reeston touched the discarded waistcoat thrown in haphazard disarray across the chess table, several ivory pieces knocked to the floor as a result.

Devlin reached for the half-empty brandy decanter and Reeston cleared his throat.

“The liquor, Your Grace , will it trigger another of your episodes?”

“No. The liquor, Reeston,” Devlin scoffed in a mocking tone, “will make me forget. Exactly the prescription I need for this evening.” He swallowed the contents, replaced the glass and walked towards the open terrace doors. He picked up his golf club and aligned for the shot. He swung with more anger than skill and his club hit the carpet not the ball. He sliced the air again and the ball took flight, a shot into the midnight darkness.

“She will return soon. Would you like me to inform you when Lady Alexandra arrives home?”

“This isn’t her home, Reeston,” Oh, but he could be glib when he set his mind. “You’d be smarter not to think of Kenley Manor as her home. Lexi will leave and then you will be disappointed.” He swatted at the golf ball near his boots, hitting it so hard the small orb broke apart; the white feathers floating softly to the carpet.

“I doubt golf is the answer, Devlin.”

He made no reply. His butler was allowed the informality. In truth, he served as the only father he’d ever known, but it made his counsel no easier to hear. He wanted to forget this night had happened. He wanted to distract himself and force the replaying of Lexi’s angered rail from his mind. How she condemned him for sending a letter he did not send. And how, with tears overflowing, she’d accused him of never caring for her, cut from the same cloth as her father, anxious to force her into a marriage she did not desire.

Derwent had summoned the visitors, but ultimately he accepted blame. He’d insisted the solicitor act on any clue of Lexi’s past, so he could not condemn the man’s actions even if their result caused tumultuous chaos and conflicted emotions. Lexi would not accept his explanation and reasons for pursuing her past. She was so overcome with emotion during their argument, he all but forced her to listen, speaking over her objections, for little good it did him. Still Devlin remained confident once her had anger subsided and she’d reflected on their discussion, she would understand his motivation for engaging the solicitor.

If only she knew the truth. His desire to see the situation resolved stemmed from something opposed to lack of feelings. He could no longer look at her beautiful face, her lovely smile, that sweet tempting dimple, without the heat of desire flooding his soul. Every word from her rose lips, every motion, conjured images of him over her, stripping her bare and making her his for ever. Damnation, he’d barely stopped himself a few nights past in her bedchamber. She looked so breathtakingly beautiful and willing to offer all of what he dreamed and craved with every breath he took. Worse still, he now expected her company, and looked forward to her walking through his estate her little pup in tow. He yearned for the sound of her voice or the touch of her hand.

The estate would seem darker and colder than ever, once she was gone.

He pressed his eyes closed and the image of Lexi’s despair after her father and Addington departed twisted his heart. How he wanted to go to her with reassurance, to wrap her in his arms and solve all her problems, yet what future would that offer? The bleak world he inhabited was not one to be shared. She deserved so much more than a semi-reclusive existence with a repudiated madman.

He lifted his club and swung. The ball vaulted forward and struck the corner of the doorframe, dropping flat on the terrace landing.

“Perhaps you should put the club down and talk to me.”

The request was soft spoken and met its mark. He took a last idle swing, walked out to the terrace, and threw the club into the wood below.

“There.” He turned and speared Reeston with defiance. “Now leave me alone.”

“That was not what I intended, but at least I have your attention.” They were no longer servant and employer, but two men in a room.

“Don’t trouble yourself. King will fetch it in the morning.” Devlin strode to the chessboard and pushed his coat aside. A few pieces slid to the floor, but the white queen remained upright and he picked it up, rolling it in his fingers before he clenched it in his palm.

“I beg you not to throw that out of the window. You will regret the loss of the piece come morning.”

Damned butler. Wasn’t this evening hard enough without the voice of Reeston intruding?

“Regret? My whole life is regret.” He let out a raw laugh. “Do you know what Addington said as we discussed his escort of Lexi this evening?”

“No, I have no idea.” The clock ticked a patient cadence across the room.

“I informed him if he did anything to hurt Lexi or bring her unhappiness, I would hunt him down and beat him senseless.” Another chuckle escaped, a raw sound in the silent room. “He reassured me against the possibility, as ever since he looked into Alexandra’s green eyes he’d known he was falling in love.” He paced the room with furious strides. “She has blue eyes, Reeston. Captivating, entrancing blue eyes that light with every smile she offers. Addington is an idiot. He knows nothing about her aside from her father’s desire to see him wed. How could he possibly be in Lexi’s company and not remember every nuance? Not know her favourite dessert, or which hand she favours, or that she … ?”

“If I may say so, as I can see you’ve given this a considerable amount of thought …” Reeston paused in his interruption, surely realizing Devlin worked towards a rage. “Are you doubting your decision to allow Mr. Addington to escort Lady Alexandra to the opera tonight?”

“Doubting it?” His quick retort startled the butler. “No. The house is quieter without her …”
Footsteps? Voice? Laughter?
His mind completed the sentence one hundred different ways, all of them woefully true, still his mouth refused to voice one aloud. He let the question drop in the same manner as his emotions. “The entire situation is a complicated mess and I’ll be well off when the matter is over.”