Chapter Thirteen
Later that night at dinner
Alexander was in a nasty mood by the time he sat at the table in the dining room that night. Already in a vulnerable state after what happened earlier that afternoon when his emotions had gotten the best of him as well as the intense coupling with Madeline, he simply didn’t wish to encourage or court more of the same at dinner.
Yet he couldn’t wait to be in her company once more.
What the devil ails me?
Before he’d met her, he was perfectly content with being a dark duke, a man who cared about nothing or no one, a man bent only on revenge, in wanting to see Inglehart writhe with rage and gnash his teeth because he’d been thwarted by him. But after the arrival of Madeline, after he’d had her kidnapped and brought to Ravenhurst Hall, after he’d had his way with her a few times and had come to know her better, everything changed.
And especially after he’d claimed her body earlier in the afternoon following her singing. They’d shared a connection, then, something he’d never had with another person before, something that had been missing from his life over the past twenty years, and it was the missing vital something he’d been searching for ever since his parents had died.
That something scared the hell out of him because he didn’t deserve any of it, and even if he did, he had no right to want it let alone hope he might enjoy such a thing for the rest of his life. The hard fact was that she was engaged to Inglehart, would marry him in a few days, and the only reason why she was here at all was as part of his revenge against the marquess.
“I trust your nap was renewing,” Madeline said as she came into the room, and when he glanced up at her, his breath caught, for she wore the same silk gown of peacock green she had a couple of nights prior.
Had she always been so beautiful?
The damned garment hugged her curves everywhere it needed to and put them on candid display while the low bodice showed the tops of her breasts to full advantage. What she really needed to show off that delicious décolletage and creamy skin was a jeweled necklace and matching earbobs. His father used to have a hidden vault on this property that Alexander just remembered where the most valuable estate jewelry was stored. If he could manage to locate it, would there be a treasure there that might suit her?
Then he shoved the idea from his mind, for he was in no position to gift a woman who was essentially a captive jewelry. Yet he’d treated her like a guest, like his lover the whole time she’d been beneath his roof. Because of that, and despite all the warning bells clanging in his head, he’d begun the slow, inexorable fall into soft feelings for her.
Was it love? He hesitated to say, but he knew that he would never be the same again, and he also knew that when he arranged to have her taken back to London tomorrow evening, it would hurt like the devil. His heart would be wrenched right out of his chest, and he would bleed like a nodcock because he’d been tangled up with a woman he could never have.
“Alexander?” Concern rode on that one-word inquiry.
“My apologies.” Clearly, he’d been woolgathering and not paying attention to the only good thing he’d ever had the fortune to find… even if she belonged to another man. “And yes, the nap proved refreshing.” Once he and Madeline had left the music room, they’d retired to their separate rooms where he’d apparently fallen into exhausted slumber, but he suspected that after she’d cleaned up, she’d retreated again to the library. He liked that about her, for far too many ladies of the ton would find themselves bored at this estate with no discernable entertainment.
God, I need to do something to create a rift between us.
Something to separate them and put them on bad terms again so when he sent her away tomorrow, it wouldn’t hurt so damned much and he wouldn’t be brought low.
“Alexander?”
“Hmm?” Thoughts ran through his mind like ponies on a loop. It had been stupid on his part to open up to her, to allow himself to get close when all along he knew it could never last, that she would never be his, that they’d been living on borrowed time.
How the hell can I give her up when she’s perfect… for me?
Of course, once he killed Inglehart, he wouldn’t be long for this world either, and he didn’t have the heart or the courage to leave her in mourning. That was, if she cared for him at all, and why would she? He’d taken her captive, forced her to basically give him sex whenever he wanted it, had kept her shut out of his inner thoughts for most of that time and yet?
He desperately wanted her to look past all of that and somehow redeem him or at the very least, help him do that for himself.
“Where did you go?” The brief touch of her hand to his as a footman came in with the first course which was cream of asparagus soup nearly sent him out of his skin.
“What?” Barely had he been aware of the bowl of soup before him. Then he glanced at her, saw the concern in her moss-green eyes and the feeling of falling once more assailed him. “I, uh… I’m having difficulties concentrating.”
“Have the nightmares returned?”
Of course her mind would go to that. Did she not care about him at all? “They are always there.” Once he took up his spoon, he plunged it into the pale green liquid in the bowl. It wasn’t his favorite dish by far, but it would nourish his body.
“I understand.”
They were silent for the length of time it took to consume the soup. When the second course of roast chicken arrived, familiar anger brewed in his chest. He carved a few slices of the bird and put them upon Madeline’s plate and then did the same for himself, even though if they were in London and hosting a dinner party, etiquette demanded he would serve himself first then his neighbors at the table.
It was time to create the divide between them. Knots of worry pulled in his gut because of it. The bites of chicken he put into his mouth tasted of sawdust for all the attention he’d paid to the food. Then he washed it down with a large gulp of red wine.
“After you wed Inglehart, I want you to tell him, in great detail, everything I did to you while you were here.” Emotion graveled his voice. He tamped on the urge to cast up his accounts right there at the table. “He doesn’t deserve you, and I want him to know that too.”
She chewed on the piece of chicken she’d just put into her mouth. “I will do no such thing. Even if I agree that he doesn’t deserve me. I don’t deserve him as well.”
“Why the devil not?” When that hot tide of anger and annoyance rushed into his chest to fill the holes, it pushed out all the good he’d gleaned from knowing her these past handful of days. “He needs to know you’re no longer the innocent he desired. He should know that he’ll never be the kind of lover to you that I was.”
“You don’t think he already knows that?” One of her eyebrows cocked. “Men like Inglehart who intimidate and rule lesser men by threatening them are, deep down, insecure. It was probably one of the reasons he hated you out of hand before he killed your parents.”
The vegetable course arrived next, with the fish course included, and as Alexander stared at the roasted carrots in a light butter sauce alongside a perfect whitefish filet, he shook his head.
“That man has always been vile, but I had no idea just how much until I’d returned to London and was given the story of my parents, or when I heard what he was doing to you and your brother… even if your brother provoked it.” He speared a carrot with the tines of his fork but then let the utensil fall to his plate. “He won’t value you.”
“I know.” She continued to eat as if none of this bothered her like it did him.
“He’ll never love you.”
“I am aware of that too.”
Would nothing penetrate her armor? Annoyed, Alexander shoved his plate away. “And the fact that he’ll more than likely cause your murder?”
She shrugged and kept her focus on her own plate. “I still have the ruby to fund my freedom.” Finally, she raised her gaze to his. “There are times in a person’s life when one needs to stop being afraid and move forward in courage. Nothing is gained by staying in the same place.”
“You won’t have that choice!” He hadn’t meant to yell at her and certainly not in such a conversation, but there it was.
“Neither will you if you can only see revenge as your future!” It must have caught her by surprise as well, for shock jumped into her rounded eyes. “And what you’re doing now? Don’t think I’m not aware of that little trick.” Mild annoyance wove through her tone.
“What am I doing?” The whole conversation reminded him of their first exchange when she slapped him after finding out he’d violated her body while she was still under the effects of the laudanum.
“You are attempting to make me angry with you so you won’t feel anything tomorrow once I’m back with my brother.” Her voice caught, but she cleared her throat. “Why can you not be honest with yourself and what you’re feeling?”
“What good will that do?” Oddly enough, fear twisted down his spine, for the truth stared him directly in the face—he would lose her tomorrow—and the likelihood of him seeing her again was slim. When she didn’t immediately answer, he stood up from his chair so quickly that it crashed against the wall. “For the past twenty years, my feelings have never mattered. Everyone had their own agendas, and my only part in that was getting the job done, and when that was no longer a cause, I had revenge to fuel me.”
“And you never asked yourself why that was?”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning it was the one thing that fueled your survival. It was the one thing you could control when everything else was in chaos.” With far more elegance, she stood and gently nudged her chair out of the way. “And guess what, Alexander? You have survived, against every odd, against everything that would have practically guaranteed that you wouldn’t, yet you insist on clinging to that idea of revenge, when you should be living for something else, something far more noble.”
As if he could ever be that. “Your first mistake is thinking I’m a good person, when I have told you more than a few times I am not. A good man wouldn’t have had you kidnapped, and he certainly wouldn’t have fucked you when you didn’t want that connection.” His chest tightened so much that it felt as if the walls of the room were closing in on him.
“Your continuing use of vulgarity won’t phase me, and if you’re doing it to shock me, it won’t work.”
He picked up his plate and hurled it against the wall, watching with a bit of satisfaction as the food slowly slid down the green and ivory striped wallpaper. “Why didn’t you try to escape when you had ample opportunity?” If she had, then he wouldn’t have this horrible weight on his shoulders and ache around his heart. He wouldn’t have caught a glimpse of a different future that only served to dangle before him, taunting him with all he couldn’t have.
“I didn’t want to leave you in the state you were in.” Twin spots of color blazed in her pale cheeks. “There was a time when I thought you might have needed me… wanted me for something more than merely a place to put your prick.”
The gutter speak out of her mouth left him at sixes and sevens with pride, but he shoved that aside. So then she felt pity for him. Pity for a damned duke. “There is nothing wrong with me!” Not having vented his spleen as much as he wanted, he grabbed his wine glass and hurled it against the wall, where it smashed into many tiny pieces.
To Madeline’s credit, she remained much calmer than he was acting. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, which only pushed those charms closer to the edge of her bodice. When he happened to meet her gaze, it was only then that he saw the fear in those green depths. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be so upset at either your behavior or our upcoming parting.”
With a sound of frustration, Alexander hurled her wine glass against the wall as well. “You stand there, judging me, while you will undertake a fate worse than death.” He shook his head because he couldn’t fathom that sort of sacrifice. “Am I so horrible then that you can’t wait to get away?”
“Of course not, but if I don’t marry Inglehart, everything changes.” Tears welled in her eyes. “My brother will be destroyed, my father’s legacy will be tarnished, and I’ll be left with nothing.”
“You have nothing now,” he said in a soft, choked voice, and taking the serving platter, he hurled that against the wall as well. “And hasn’t everything changed anyway?” Did she truly care nothing for him? Had no soft feelings for him even after everything? Did their earlier coupling and sharing not affect her as it had him?
Will she forget me after all?
“Life is constantly changing, Ravenhurst. It encourages growth, and that is a good thing.” When she would have closed the distance between them, he retreated from her, putting the dining table between them. The hurt on her face stabbed through his chest, and though he tried to harden his heart against that, it was as if the locks and chains he’d had around that organ were lost and had been smashed the moment she came into his home.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, and it felt as if the words were yanked from a too tight throat. “My life is at its end anyway. I’ve hinted at this to you before.”
Her lips formed an “o” of shock as the reality of his statement sank in. “You intend to end your life.” It wasn’t a question.
“I do. What else is there for me once my revenge is complete?” To his horror, a sob rose in his throat, but he ruthlessly quelled it down. “I have no one in my life to live for, do I? And I certainly have nothing to look forward to.”
“And you think I do, going into Inglehart’s clutches?” Fury reflected in her expression and voice. “I’m facing far more problems than you are, but I’ve managed to straighten my spine and accept my fate. Why? Because if I’m alive, there is hope, and when there is hope, one can accomplish anything… including fighting for a better life.”
Did that mean she would break away from the marquess at the first chance she had? Yet when would that be? And how could he—Alexander—move forward in his life knowing she would be with that man and endure unimaginable abuse?
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I know, but it is the only thing I can do to try and save my family’s name which was good before Richard got hold of it.”
This was naught but a maddening conversation. “Enough, Madeline. Enough.” With a roar of frustration and anger and perhaps hopelessness, he took hold of a curio cabinet that sat in the corner of the room and then quickly brought it crashing down to the floor. Trinkets and knick-knacks fell to the hardwood and some of them broke into pieces. “Leave me alone.”
“Not while you’re in such a state.” Again, she tried to move in his direction, but he eluded her. She dashed at the tears that had fallen to her cheeks. “Talk to me, Alexander. Anger won’t do you any good, and truly I thought you’d been ready to turn over a new leaf so to speak.”
“Clearly, you thought wrong.” He shoved his hands through his hair as his breathing became labored. “Get the hell out of this room or I can’t guarantee your safety.” Then he pointed to the door as a footman hovered just outside in the corridor. “You are not my keeper, Miss Hardesty, and you certainly aren’t the voice of my conscience, so go cower in your room. Tomorrow, you return to London to go meet your fate, since that is all you apparently care about!”
“Why do you insist on acting the arse when that is not who you are?” With a half-stifled sob, she ran from the room, and the sound of her crying drifted to his ears long after she’d fled.
He glowered at the footman, who followed in Madeline’s footsteps. Emotion rose once more through his chest and chest in an ugly wave, and with it came extraordinary pain, the likes of which he hadn’t felt since he lost his parents and his life had changed.
In some dark part of his brain, he knew losing her from his life would be a traumatic event. Dear God, but if he were truly falling for her, would the pain lessen once she wed the marquess? Of course, none of that mattered, for he couldn’t bear to witness that or even let her go through with it as a matter of sacrifice. It wasn’t just the fact that he didn’t want another man to have her; he wanted her to spend the remainder of her life happy.
And once he killed Inglehart, he would go home and drink a bottle of laudanum, for going to sleep and never waking was the more humane way to evict himself from this mortal coil… and he could dream of her while thinking of what might have been if fate were different.