Chapter Twenty-One #2
She glanced around. “Jackson?”
His chambers were empty.
So were hers.
After a quick change into one of her dressing gowns, she raced down the stairs and poked her head in the library, the study.
All empty.
She went to the parlor and threw her hands up at the likewise empty space. “Where the hell is he?” She couldn’t very well tell him he was an idiot, and she loved him for it, until she found him.
The door opened behind her, and she whirled around, heart flying.
To see the butler with a sour expression on his face.
“Yes, Lancaster?”
“A guest to see you, Your Grace.”
She frowned and glanced at the clock on the mantel. “At this hour?”
“The man is quite insistent.”
‘Man’? Anna couldn’t imagine any man who would call on her. Except—
“Describe the guest, Lancaster.”
Her butler blinked. “Young, dark hair, smartly dressed in the latest fashion.”
A seed of hope sprouted. That sounded like—
Heart in her throat, Anna ordered, “Show him in.”
An eternity passed as Lancaster quit the room, presumably to fetch her guest from one of the other parlors.
She paced as she waited, sure her ribs wouldn’t stand the pounding of her heart.
The door opened, and she swung around.
A figure. Tall. Lean. Familiar.
Her hands flew to her mouth.
William!
The man stepped over the threshold and into the firelight, and Anna’s heart stopped.
Not William.
“Alexander,” she whispered, cold dread snaking down her spine.
Alexander smiled, his dark eyes on her face. “Hello, cousin.”
Anna gripped the back of the couch beside her, her nails scraping the fine embroidery of the cushion. “Why are you here?”
Her voice sounded thin even to her ears.
He heard it too. Satisfaction flashed in his eyes. “Can a man not visit his own family?” He arched a brow at the butler. “Without the help hovering like gray ghosts?”
Lancaster stood in the doorway, his normal stoic gaze sharp and rudely meeting her cousin’s. “Shall I remain, ma’am?”
Yes!
Alexander sent her a knowing look. “But we have so much to discuss.”
That tone. The cold glint in his eye.
Anna had been at the receiving end of that look too many times to not know its meaning: You don’t want an audience for what is coming.
Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she gave Lancaster a reassuring smile and said, “You may return to your duties. I will ring if we are in need of refreshments.”
“No need, ma’am. I will see a tray of biscuits and tea brought up.” Lancaster’s gaze cut to Alexander before returning. “It will not take ten minutes.”
Anna’s frozen limbs thawed at the servant’s audacity.
The staff had been cordial but distant since her arrival—her lack of pedigree something even upper servants would find a mockery.
But there was no mistaking the protective note in the butler’s gaze.
Clearly, a disrespectful baronet brought out the loyalty in the Grandfellow household.
“Ten minutes.”
A verbal warning to her cousin that they would not be alone for long. The smile Anna gave the butler this time was filled with gratitude. “Thank you, Lancaster.”
Lancaster bowed his head and closed the door.
Leaving her to face the monster in cream breeches and a Scheele’s green waistcoat. The vibrant colors a perfect complement to the fevered glaze in his eyes.
“Thanking the help?” Alexander sighed. “You never learn.”
The slight was too common an occurrence with her cousin to rattle her. “Why are you here?”
He waved her question away and circled the room, his gloved fingers trailing across the marble mantel, a pearl inlaid side table, and the strings of the harp in the corner.
Anna winced at the clashing chords and rotated her body, knowing better than to ever give him her back.
Finished with his perusal, Alexander plopped down on the cream damask divan and crossed one ankle over his knee. Sitting while she stood.
“How it stung that I was not invited to the wedding,” he said.
She didn’t hide her smugness. “You weren’t invited.”
Alexander didn’t seem to hear her. “Too bad dear old William wasn’t around to wish you well, either. Missing over three weeks. How you must be overcome with worry.”
Anna stilled. He knew. “Who told you William is missing?” The news hadn’t been printed in any of the papers. At the request and far-reaching power of the Duke of Grandfellow.
One side of his mouth curled upward. “A man of my position is informed of such things. And you forget; we are family. Who else should be informed than the man’s heir apparent?”
Fingernails of unease raked down the back of her neck. But she fixed her attention on the most concerning of his statements. “‘Position’?”
His smile widened. “You aren’t the only one with a new title these days, cousin.”
‘New title’? Anna’s gut twisted. “Then Uncle is—”
“Dead? I’m afraid so.”
Anna sat back heavily in the chair by the fire, her body no longer able to hold herself up.
Uncle was dead. And Alexander was now Sir Alexander.
Her uncle had always had an affinity for drink, a measurable inciter to the man’s aggressive spirit.
A touch of regret rested heavily on her heart beside immeasurable relief. Uncle Daniel had been a selfish man, and too reliant on his own skewed ideals to carry an ounce of compassion, but he had still been kin.
And every life was precious.
Anna looked up at her cousin. “My condolences.”
Alexander sneered. “You almost sound sincere.”
“I am.”
“My father was a brute and a lecher. The world is better off without him.”
Anna’s lingering fear gave way to understanding and an unwelcome sense of comradery. She hadn’t been the only victim of her uncle’s brutal attentions.
But the son had clearly taken after the father as Alexander’s gaze turned reptilian. “Of course, my rise to fortune is nothing compared to yours. You’ve done well for yourself.”
She said nothing.
“All those years, I wondered where the money came from every month.”
Anna blinked at the sudden change of topic, then frowned. “What money?”
“No need to play coy.” He shook his head.
“Who knew you had it in you to be a lord’s mistress?
And now, duchess.” His appreciative gaze swept over the lush fabrics and intricate scroll columns around the room.
“Truly, cousin, I am impressed. It takes a great deal for these puffed-up pricks to lower themselves by mingling with the raff.” A slow clap.
“I honestly believed your righteous masquerade as some prim maiden. How delighted I am to learn I was wrong.”
His gaze raked down her figure.
Anna shuddered, wishing she could tighten the sash around her waist, but she wouldn’t cower.
She learned early that men like her cousin enjoyed when a woman was made small.
Square-shouldered, she raised her chin and enunciated, “I am not, and have never been a man’s mistress.
Whatever reasons led you here to insult me are unfounded.
Except one.” She held herself straighter still, using the flimsy soles of her slippers to dig her heels into the rug underfoot.
“I am indeed a duchess, the Duchess of Grandfellow. A position far superior to yours and one demanding respect.”
His lip curled, his expression turning to unmasked disgust. Then it wavered, replaced with a slimy smile. “What would your precious duke think if I told him how you begged and pleaded to share my bed? How generous would you be to keep me quiet?”
Anna recoiled at such a ruthless attempt at extortion. No matter what ugliness still lingered between her and Jackson, she knew he would never be taken in by such baseless lies. “Jackson would never believe you.”
His smile widened. “Are you sure?”
She raised her chin further. “Yes.”
His mouth pressed into a tight line. Her uncle’s gambling and love of drink had never been a lucrative combination. Even before she’d escaped to London with William, Rochester Manor had begun falling into disrepair.
She would not be the one to see that evil house restored.
Standing, she stared her cousin down, letting him see her resolve. “You will not see a penny from me or my husband. Financial security—and failings—are the joy and torment of every heir.”
Alexander stood as well, his height far greater than hers. “How unchristian of you.” He stepped closer, crowding her. “What would your dear father think of your lack of charity toward your only remaining family?”
“Leave,” she said sharply. “You are unwelcome.”
He only smiled at her show of temper. “We’ll see.”
He bowed with an exaggerated flourish as he turned on his heel . . . and stopped.
Anna followed his frozen expression to the dark figure taking up the entire frame of the door.
Her heart squeezed.
Jack.
He was here and listening. And had been for some time, judging by the murderous gleam in his eyes.
That squeezing turned crushing.
He’d heard Alexander’s threats—must have realized the torment went far deeper.
She stepped forward, and those sea-washed eyes locked with hers.
A second of weightlessness, of letting the waves take her under.
“Duchess,” he said, his voice low, inhuman.
“Duke,” she whispered.
A softening around his eyes. Not so much a flicked glance at Alexander. A twitch of his hand. Not a twitch.
Are you all right? he signed.
Anna’s hands were still shaking. Her response took three tries: I am unharmed.
Shall I rid the stash?
Her heart pounded. Rid the stash. More of their secret code. But she knew he hadn’t meant to ask if he should hide something that would get them in deep trouble with the housekeeper or his father.
Rid the stash—or—should I throw the trash out?
He’d heard everything, and he hadn’t stepped in once.
Letting her fight her own battle without interruption.
Fighting every protective instinct he had.
He’d heard her. Truly listened to her when she’d said she needed to fight for herself.
Feral need sank deep in her belly. To reach out. To touch him. To show him all the ways his trust eclipsed her anger, her resentment.
Two emotions that had faded with every passing hour.