Chapter 21
It was a relatively quiet morning for once.
Allegra’s family had returned to Norfolk, Mr. Lake had been installed in one of the back bedrooms, and Max had time for a leisurely breakfast with his wife before he needed to attend to anything important.
Allegra handed him a pile of correspondence, and he sifted through it as he drank his coffee and surreptitiously observed her.
Something wasn’t right.
She was trying too hard to be her normal self, but she couldn’t fool him.
He’d seen her in every mood from cold fury to heated passion, and something was off.
As if aware of his scrutiny, she looked over at him.
He had no idea when her plain features had become beautiful to him, but he never wanted to stop looking at her.
“Anything interesting in your correspondence?” Allegra asked.
“There’s a letter from my father.”
“And what does he have to say for himself?”
“He wants me to go up to London.” Max found the letter and handed it over to Allegra. “He says there are matters concerning my inheritance that need attention and I have to be in his presence to sign documents to make them legal.”
“Then when do you intend to leave?”
He frowned. “I’m not sure if I want to go at this moment.”
“Why ever not? The Season is in full swing, and you can see all your friends and revisit all your old haunts.”
“Why are you constantly encouraging me to leave?” Max said. “It is rather tiresome.”
“Because you are the heir to a dukedom, and you need to listen to your father when he asks you to attend him.”
“I write to him every week.”
“But he has asked you to come and visit him,” Allegra pointed out. “I merely suggested that you should go, and now you’re making everything awkward.”
“You could come with me.”
Even though she tried hard to hide it, Max couldn’t miss Allegra’s appalled expression.
“You are the Marchioness of Blanchard,” Max said. “No one with any sense is going to refuse to acknowledge you now.”
“Doesn’t that rather depend on what your friend Landon has told everyone?”
“This has nothing to do with Landon,” Max said evenly. “If you don’t wish to accompany me, just say so.”
She regarded him carefully. “Then you will go?”
Max threw his napkin onto the table and stood up. “Seeing as you’re so keen to be rid of me, I damn well will.”
He stalked off in the direction of his study, only slowing his steps when his butler asked if everything was all right. He went into the study and found Mr. Lake awaiting him.
“Good morning,” Max said.
“My lord.” Mr. Lake bowed. “Do you have time to talk about the repair schedule for the cottages in the village?”
“Yes, of course.” Max went to sit behind his desk. “By the way, I’ll be going up to London for a few days. I’m sure you’ll be able to carry on the good work while I’m gone.”
Allegra left the breakfast table in some haste, retreated to her bedroom, and yet again fought the desire to cry.
In her heart, she knew she was doing the right thing by letting Max return to London, but she didn’t really want him to go.
She wanted to tell him she was with child and that she never wanted him to leave her ever again.
Her stubbornness, as her mother would no doubt tell her, had got her into a bit of a pickle.
If she accompanied Max to London, he wouldn’t be able to behave as he probably wished.
He’d have to squire her about town, and everyone who saw them would believe Landon’s insinuations that he was under her thumb.
Except she didn’t want him to be free, and if he came back to her after a night of debauchery, she might just brain him with the poker.
She’d never considered herself a violent person, but Max seemed to bring out the best and the worst in her.
She also wasn’t sure if her delicate stomach would survive the long carriage journey.
If she constantly had to stop, Max would become suspicious.
But what if he left and something happened to her while he was away? What if she died? Allegra immediately pictured her deathbed with only Mrs. Smith and Anne in attendance while she fought to tell them to let Max know that she loved him. …
The door opened, and Max came in. He stopped to look at her.
“Why the tragic face? We will argue occasionally; it doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world.”
“Perhaps I wasn’t thinking about you at all.” Allegra rose to her feet. “There are other things that upset me, you know.”
“Like what?” Max walked through into the dressing room as he took off his coat and Allegra followed him.
“The current state of the world.”
He raised an eyebrow. “If you say so.”
“You don’t consume my every thought, Max Devereux.”
“I am well aware of that.” Max flung open one of the doors and took out a warmer coat. “In truth, you can’t wait to get rid of me.”
“I am trying to ensure that you continue to have all the opportunities your marriage to me might have curtailed.”
“Such as?” Max buttoned his coat.
“The ability to act as a free man.”
“But I’m not free, am I? I’m married to you.”
“And I promised you I’d not interfere when you … resumed that single life.”
He went still. “Do you realize how damned insulting that is?”
“It’s the truth.”
“You want me to go to London and pretend you don’t exist?” He strode toward the door. “Fine, that’s exactly what I’ll do, and I’ll make sure to write so that you can live vicariously through my no-doubt extensive and sordid experiences. Will you excuse me? I’m going out with Mr. Lake.”
Max left the next day after an almost silent dinner and a night spent in his own bed.
Allegra only knew he’d gone when Anne came to wake her.
A sense of awfulness engulfed her. She’d done what she’d promised, but Max seemed to hate her for it, so what had she actually proved?
That she was stubborn to a fault and too afraid to question whether her pledge not to interfere with his life made sense anymore?
By the end of that first, lonely day, Allegra was convinced she’d made a terrible mistake.
Max did deserve better. She’d never been a coward, and it was imperative that she tell him the truth, both about her feelings for him and the baby.
Then, if he chose to repudiate her, at least she’d know where she stood.
“Mrs. Smith?” Allegra went into the kitchen. “I’ve decided to join my husband in London, after all. Will you ask Brice to organize the carriage for me? Anne and I will leave tomorrow at first light.”
After an exhausting day dealing with his father, who had decided to give Max more funding and responsibilities throughout the various entities the dukedom held, Max simply wanted his bed. His brother George, who was in a very affable mood, accompanied him up the stairs.
“Do you fancy coming out, Max? Some of us are trying out a new gaming hell in Jermyn Street.”
“No thank you,” Max said. “I’m rather tired.”
George laughed uproariously. “That’s a good one.
The great Max Devereux turning down an opportunity to gamble after being stuck in the countryside for months.
Or has your mind turned to whoring? I can’t imagine you being stuck with only one woman in your bed for the rest of your life.
I hear your last mistress would be more than willing to resume her duties, as would half the ladies of the ton. ”
Max turned to his brother. “I’m married. I wouldn’t disrespect my wife by indulging in such nonsense.”
“Devil take it!” George stared at him. “What’s happened to you?”
Max smiled. “Perhaps I’ve finally reached adulthood?” He patted his brother’s shoulder. “Don’t despair, one day, you’ll get there, too.”
His suite felt large and empty without Allegra in it, but that was what she’d wanted—him out of her house and possibly out of her life.
He poured himself a brandy and sat down by the fire.
Did she seriously believe he’d rather stay in London than be with her?
Whether he liked it or not, she’d changed him, and her stubborn conviction that he should resume his old life and forget that he was married rankled.
He’d always been made to feel as if he wasn’t good enough, and he’d be damned if he’d take that from his wife.
If she truly didn’t care for him, he’d rather know.
But first he needed to tell her the truth he’d been avoiding for months—that he loved her and that he wanted to stay with her.
It would be his last throw of the dice, and if he lost, he had no idea what he was going to do next.
Max finished his brandy and poured himself another one.
As soon as his father was done with him, he would return home and tell Allegra how he felt about her.
He’d rather have a marriage founded on truth than on misunderstanding and lies.
All he could hope was that, even if it hurt, Allegra was willing to be honest with him in return.
In the depths of his soul, he was convinced she loved him, but how to persuade her to acknowledge that wasn’t obvious.
Sometimes his wife could be extremely stubborn, and some devil within him loved to tease her about that.
But it was time for the jokes to stop and for the truth to be revealed.
He was a different man because of her, and she needed to know that.
Faintly relieved by his decision but also apprehensive, Max decided to go to bed.
Two days later, Allegra arrived at the London townhouse of the Duke of Barfleur, stepped down from the carriage, and was ushered into the hall as if she’d been expected.
She knew that wasn’t the case, because she certainly hadn’t warned them.
The butler expressed his delight in seeing her, and she was taken up to Max’s suite without delay.
“Where is my husband?” Allegra inquired of the very haughty butler.
“His grace and the marquis have gone to visit some of the London property owned by the estate,” the butler said. “They are due to return for dinner.”
“Is the duchess in residence?”