Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Alistair stumbled inside, caught completely by surprise by what had just happened. To the common observer, it might have looked like nothing. Indeed, Alistair tried to confirm within himself that it was nothing and that it did not require any extra thought.
If that is the case, then why do I feel this way? Why is my body… my mind… what was that?
He had only meant to scold Miss Norleigh over the way that she had decided to conduct her lesson for today.
It was her first day with Hugh, and she had chosen to play games.
Absurd! The woman was hired as a governess; she was meant to be teaching him, but there they were, in the garden, playing hide and seek.
What followed his attempt at correcting her actions was the cause of his current confusion. He could not explain it. He did not understand it. All he knew was that it was wrong.
His mind flashed back to the moment when Miss Norleigh had tripped and fallen.
On instinct, he grabbed her, pulled her back to her feet, and held her to his body as she regained her balance.
Nothing strange or inappropriate… but if that was the case, why were his hands shaking?
Why did he sweat? And why could he not stop thinking about the way that she looked at him, how it made him feel, and why her body could still be felt in his arms?
Alistair stopped outside his office and took a deep breath. And then another.
There could be no denying that Miss Norleigh was attractive. She had thick, dark brown hair that fell in curls, bright green eyes that were as determined as they were stubborn. A dusting of freckles across her button nose, full lips, and a womanly body.
That she was attractive should not have mattered. What did Alistair care about the looks of a mere vicar’s daughter? He did not!
What happened must have been a reaction to how much the woman frustrated him.
That’s all it could be. Yesterday, she had spoken down to him.
Today, she had disobeyed a direct order.
She was cantankerous. She was argumentative.
And not being used to such things was likely why she elicited these feelings in Alistair.
Not the best explanation I have ever come up with, but it will have to do.
He forced the woman from his mind, convincing himself that she was not important. And then, he walked into his office, figuring a few hours of work was the best way to regain focus and forget about the troublesome governess.
“It’s about time.” Theodore Merrick, the Duke of Carrowell, sat behind Alistair’s desk. He had his feet up, his arms behind his back, and he wore an amused smirk that smacked of mockery. “I was just about to start trashing the place, to alleviate my boredom. It is lucky you came when you did.”
“Carrowell!” Alistair started at the sight of his best friend. “What are you doing here?”
“Do I need an excuse?”
“Better question…” Alistair narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing in my seat?”
Carrowell threw back his head and laughed. “Trying to upset you, of course. And from the look on your face, it is a job well done.”
“Out.” Alistair strode across the room and indicated for Carrowell to remove himself. “Now.”
Carrowell sighed deeply and dropped his legs, then he rose from behind the seat and sulked around the desk. “Yes, yes, no need to bite my head off.”
“I was thinking more that I would take you by the scruff of the neck and toss you onto the street.”
“All right, someone is in a mood.” Carrowell fell onto the seat across from Alistair. “More than usual, anyhow. I don’t know why I bother.”
Carrowell was one of two men in the world who could talk to Alistair the way that he was. Like Alistair, he was a duke, which gave him the confidence to do so. Unlike Alistair, he was possessed of infinite charm and humor, a complete contrast to Alistair’s more moody and serious presence.
It is a wonder we get along at all. Although ‘getting along’ is a stretch most of the time. Really, we tolerate one another.
The reason that they were such good friends was on account of the third member of their party, Christopher Kingswell, the Duke of Thornwall. He acted as a medium between the extreme personalities of the two men, and rarely did they spend time together unless all three were present.
Frustratingly, Thornwall had found his attention occupied recently by his new bride, a marriage that was contentious, unexpected, and ripe with drama. Perfect proof, as Alistair saw it, against marriage and all things related to love and romance.
Not that he needed the proof…
“I wasn’t planning on visiting you, if that makes you feel better,” Carrowell sighed as he got comfortable. “But I was in the area and thought I would pop in and see how things are going.”
“In the area?”
“Visiting Thornwall and his new bride…” Carrowell shook his head with amusement. “Which itself was an exercise in self-pity. Remind me never to wed. And if I ever look as if I might, you have permission to take me outside and shoot me.”
“Why wait?”
Carrowell blew through his lips. “Feel free to give me permission to do the same to you.” He flashed his eyes with humor. “From what I have heard, I might not have to wait nearly so long.”
Alistair’s face dropped. And then his stomach followed.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Ah, so it’s true then.” Carrowell sat up and leaned forward.
“I had heard that you were…” He pressed his lips together to keep his smile at bay.
“… courting Lady Emily Pierce. But I refused to believe it. Not Alistair Locke, I said! Not my dear friend, a man who I know would rather have his toenails ripped out than –”
“I told you that I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Perhaps we should,” Carrowell said. “If what I have heard is true, you are not so much courting her as you are wasting her time and your own. You do know that in order to court a woman, you are expected to spend time with her? To get to know one another. The entire concept of courtship is based on finding someone whom you can stomach for longer than one evening, so that when marriage is proposed –”
“And what do you know about such things?” Alistair snapped, his anger rising.
Carrowell flashed his eyes. “Marriage? About as much as you, I dare say. But women…” He winked and shrugged before falling back in his chair. “Enough to fill a library. Perhaps two, depending on the size.”
If Alistair had known that Carrowell was waiting to see him in his office, he might have walked outside, jumped on his horse, kicked it into action, and never looked back. Such was how he loathed this conversation and what it implied.
The rumors about Alistair and Lady Emily Pierce were true, as were those concerning Alistair’s efforts.
While he was courting the young woman with an eye toward marriage, he also reviled the concept to such extreme heights that every time he thought of reaching out and asking to spend more time with her, his stomach rose, and he thought he might be sick.
This had nothing to do with Lady Emily, as she was a lovely young woman whom any lord would be thrilled to be seen with. Rather, it had everything to do with Alistair’s feelings about marriage.
Just the thought of it… his hand moved subconsciously to the scar on his neck, and his mind returned to his childhood, his father, the pain and suffering of his youth at the hands of a madman. And that was to say nothing about how his mother was treated.
“Is that why you are here?” Alistair glared at his friend across the desk. “To mock me? To make fun? Believe me, nothing you say will change how I feel. If anything, it will only confirm it.”
Carrowell said nothing at first. The humor left him, and he studied Alistair in a state of deafening silence as he sized up the situation. For once, without the tendency to make a joke.
“So, it’s true then,” he said, finally.
“What’s true?”
“I wondered why you, of all people, had suddenly turned your eye toward courtship. And then I heard a rumor that explained it well, while raising even more questions than were answered. All of which are titillating to say the least.”
“I am warning you, Carrowell…”
Theodore smirked. “Tell me true, my good friend, and please do not lie. How on earth is it that you have a secret son? And how on earth have you managed to keep it from me for all this time?”
“Where did you hear that?” he barked.
“Does it matter?”
“It does if it’s a lie.”
“Ah, but it’s not a lie, is it? That’s why you are so intent on finding a wife. Not because you want to, but because you think that you should. Admirable,” he said with a deep sigh and a hint of humor. “If not a little misguided.”
“And what do you know about anything?” Alistair sneered.
“About as much as you,” Carrowell said with a wicked grin. “But unlike you, I don’t have a secret son whom I have been hiding for… what is it? Eight years? That’s quite the secret to be kept. You ought to be commended.”
“I think you mean condemned.”
“Funny how closely those two often align.”
Alistair was not surprised that Carrowell knew about Hugh. A part of him was relieved, because it meant that the secret was out, which would save him from having to reveal it to shock and horror and severe judgement. But that was where the relief stopped and then died.
The situation concerning Hugh was… nowhere near as simple as it seemed, and even Carrowell knew less than half the truth of it.
Alistair wanted to reveal everything, if for no other reason to have it confirmed that he was doing the right thing.
Of course, there was just no way that he could tell his friend everything. Some secrets were best left as they were, and considering the breadth of secrecy surrounding Hugh’s birth and upbringing… even my best friend, as Carrowell is, might judge me more than I am prepared to be judged.
For now, Hugh was his son, he had decided to take the boy in and raise him as his heir, and that was as much as he was willing to admit.
“Yes, Hugh is my son,” Alistair sighed.
“Oh, I know that. What I want to know is where the boy came from.”
Alistair shrugged. “His mother has been raising him. Sadly, she passed away recently, which is why I have chosen to take him in. He is my son, and as my heir, it is only right that he be raised under my roof.”
“And this mother. Do I know her?”
“You do not.”
“Are you going to tell me who she is?”
“I am not.”
Carrowell scoffed. “Suspicious, suspicious. How I love a mystery.”
“Is there anything else?” Alistair straightened and folded his hands on the desk. Carrowell was the type who would not drop a topic unless he was forced to do so, and the last thing that Alistair needed was him prying and poking his nose into business that had nothing to do with him.
“Gosh, you are touchy. If I did not know any better, I would swear that you want me to leave.”
“Need I say it more directly?”
Carrowell smirked. “Fine, I’ll leave. Right after you answer one more question.” Alistair looked flatly at his friend. “Who was that gorgeous creature I saw you sparring with in the garden just now?”
Alistair’s face dropped. “Nobody.”
“It did not look like nobody.”
Alistair’s stomach began to flutter. “She is nobody – my son’s governess, hired recently.”
“Why does she look so familiar?”
“She is the Vicar’s daughter…” Alistair shifted as his pulse began to quicken. “That is why. No doubt you have seen her before.”
“Perhaps…” Carrowell continued to eye his friend in a way that was knowing, as if he could see what was on Alistair’s mind. “It certainly looked as if you knew her. A little too well, if you catch my drift.”
Alistair’s heart raced, and he refused to consider why.
Again, his mind retreated to his earlier interaction with Miss Norleigh, what had started as a tense exchange and ended in a way that left him confused and not sure why he felt as much.
He should have thought little of Miss Norleigh. He hired her because the Vicar had told him how close she was to Hugh, and that was enough for Alistair to decide on her role in his home, figuring it would make the transition for Hugh easier to bear.
But she was not the quiet, obedient woman he expected her to be. She was argumentative. She was headstrong. And that said nothing about her beauty…
“She… we were merely discussing my son’s education.” Alistair cleared his throat. “Outside of that, I have little to do with her.”
There could be no doubt that Carrowell saw through Alistair’s lies. And the smirk he wore on his lips, not to mention the glimmer in his eyes, was proof of this.
“You best be careful. We don’t want Lady Emily getting jealous.”
Alistair’s laughter was forced and awkward. “Don’t be absurd.”
“Perhaps I should be the one who is jealous,” he continued with glee. “Ordinarily, it is my job to bring you to such obvious discomfort. I ought to speak to this governess and ask her what her secret is.”
Alistair exhaled deeply and forced calm upon himself. Then he looked at his friend, making sure to hold his gaze, while adding a hint of warning to both his stare and the growl in his voice. “I have work to do, Carrowell. So, if there is nothing else you need…”
“So be it,” Carrowell exhaled. “I can take a hint.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “Just remember, you have friends here, Pembourne. You are not alone in this, even if you are insistent on acting like you are. If you need anything at all…”
“You are the last person I would think to ask.”
Carrowell laughed as if it were a joke, but Alistair did not mean for it to be. His situation with Hugh was precarious, his feelings surrounding Miss Norleigh were just as much, and as was always his way, Alistair would go it alone because he had never been much for relying on others.
Perhaps that was the reason he constantly felt so alone? One of the many reasons, to be fair…