Chapter Twenty-One
Xander stood at the window staring out at the morning light.
He still couldn’t quite believe he’d told her about London.
Just saying the words again had brought back a rush of humiliation and anger.
The same feelings he experienced every time thoughts of titled nobles entered his brain.
Yet, irony of ironies, here he was, a duke.
Walking back to sit at his desk, he again performed a rough calculation of when he could expect Cranbrook.
Normally, living on the north edge of England had many advantages.
Namely few visitors from outside the region, and even fewer from London.
However, frustration at the time it took to travel anywhere or even send correspondence ate at him.
Waiting for the Wayward Dukes Alliance to receive his missive and arrive was agony.
He picked up his pen, but after a few taps that scattered ink across the documents in front of him, he threw it down and leaned back, looking out the library window once again.
Evie did not seem overly concerned with the inequities in their status, but he was.
She should feel like an equal in all aspects of their relationship.
The betrothal contract request did not feel real, but it bothered him almost as much as his title versus her employment did.
It was one more puzzle he had to solve before he could marry the woman he chose.
The one who was patient with him, who laughed with him, and who gave everything of herself to him.
He needed Evie in his life forever. London and Lords could go hang.
They could do what they wished up here, and no one would care that she’d once been a maid and he’d once been a barkeeper.
However, until he knew what it would take to politely decline the damned betrothal request, silence had to prevail so she wouldn’t be hurt.
Every night as they stripped to their skin and were intimate in almost every way two people could be, he bit his tongue.
The words “I love you” were in his mouth, gaze, and every caress.
Hopefully, she saw what he couldn’t say.
In addition, he was eager to empower Banks to thank him for his unwavering acceptance and support as the man ran a business that Xander owned.
Bringing up London and Luke reminded him of his stepfather.
The Earl of Northumberland hadn’t worried about marrying a commoner when Xander’s mother became his wife.
Of course, that was a second marriage after his heir came of age, so the Ton might be more forgiving.
North, however, did not care whether or not they forgave him; he did what he wanted.
Xander jotted a note to his mother and North, telling them he was thinking of a visit, and put it in the pile to be posted.
Evie entered, singing out, “Good morning.”
Her voice reminded him of his questions about her speech. “Evie, come have tea before you begin your duties.”
“Whatever you desire, my lord.” She winked at him.
He would not be distracted, however much that phrase made him want to put her on her knees under his desk to serve him from there all day. “You told me you grew up in London. But your elocution and choice of words are quite different than any of the blokes I met there. How is that?”
Her face shuttered, her gaze going to her lap for a moment before she inhaled and re-engaged.
“I think people learn much of their speech and expressions from their parents. Mine were careful to keep me from slang or other regional jargon. And of course the household I spent time in most recently was quite refined.”
“I see.” He’d picked up some vernacular from the pub that he hadn’t learned at home, so he understood. “Thank you.”
“Why did you ask? Do I talk funny?” she asked with a nervous expression.
“No, not at all. But nor do you sound like anyone local or most of the people I encountered in London.”
She took a last sip of tea and stood. “Well, then. I should get back to polishing chair legs. Unless there’s something else you’d like me to polish?”
He shook his head, chuckling. “Get to work with you. I’m amazed I can get anything done around here with you tempting me. Next thing I know, you’ll be wiggling those delicious buttocks at me as you work.”
She did exactly that until it was time to work through more correspondence together.