Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Beast. The horrible words hung in the air for a moment, and then Alexandra drew herself up, icy fury filling her veins.
“Excuse me, Miss Harkworth?” She said, channeling Evelina at her most disapprovingly regal. “I’m terribly sorry, but it’s so loud in here, I’m going to need you to repeat yourself. You see, I cannot possibly have heard what it sounded like you said about His Grace.”
The Misses Harkworth glanced at each other, reminding Alexandra of chickens ruffling their feathers when startled. Then the braver one, Edith probably, tried, “Well, you see, Your Grace, it’s only that we heard what happened.”
“And what did you hear?” Alexandra asked quizzically.
“That he foiled your intended marriage, of course! After stealing his half-brother’s dukedom, he rushed in to steal his bride, too.” The other one looked at Alexandra over her fan, with something sly and nasty in her eyes.
“What a bold accusation,” Alexandra said.
“To make to a duke’s wife, and in public, too.
I think you’ve been reading one too many gothic novels, my dear.
I shall have to have His Grace have a word with your father about restricting your reading material.
It’s not good for an unmarried girl to have access to such things; they’ll give you all sorts of strange ideas. ”
The other Miss Harkworth was now starting to look concerned, but Agnes, probably, didn’t seem worried at all, boldly looking Alexandra in the eyes. “You misunderstand, Your Grace, we’re merely concerned for you after all we’ve heard.”
“Are you?” Alexandra said tartly. “And what have you heard, apart from nonsense about my dear husband stealing me like a parcel on my wedding day?”
“Well, that he’s a brute,” likely Edith whispered. “That he was dragged up in the slums of Glasgow only to turn up with forged papers and a corrupt lawyer to usurp his half-brother’s rights!”
Definitely too many gothic novels, Alexandra thought, surprised. She hadn’t actually believed that when she’d said it earlier, but where else on earth could the girl be getting this nonsense?
“What absolute nonsense,” she said, affecting amusement to cover her anger, and, yes, fear too.
Because if people were going around saying these sort of things about her husband out in the open, then that could mean real trouble for them all.
“Do you truly think parliament could be hoodwinked that way?”
“If he had enough supporters there,” Agnes began, clearly enjoying herself. “A conspiracy by the true Duke's enemies to unseat him…”
“Miss Harkworth,” Alexandra said sharply. “You are too bold.”
“We’re just concerned about you, Your Grace,” the other one said, and Alexandra thought the ridiculous girl might actually mean it.
That she’d somehow wound herself up into genuine feeling along with her excitement over the absurd story the two of them had come up with together.
Or been told, Alexandra realized with a sick feeling.
This might very well be what was being said about him.
“Yes,” the spiteful one added. “If you’re in danger, Your Grace, you can tell us. We might be able to help.” It was a ridiculous statement and the girl knew it, because what could they possibly do against a Duke, especially one as well-connected and dangerous as they said?
“I know you must be heartbroken,” whispered the silly one, eyes wide with self-induced feeling. “Being wrenched away from your love match to wed that Scottish beast instead.”
“Love match!” Alexandra exclaimed, only to pull herself up, horrified at how loudly she’d just spoken.
Glancing over at Hector, she could see he’d turned to look at her, a small frown on her face.
Likely, he hadn’t heard what she’d said over the chatter.
Hopefully, no one outside of their small, horrible circle had.
Still, it was highly uncouth to be so loud, and her cheeks burned.
“You know what, Miss Harkworth,” Alexandra said, gathering her dignity together.
“I did in fact make a love match. I was lucky enough to marry the most wonderful man in England, my dear husband, who I love very much indeed. Not only did I not have any kind of romance with the Marquess, but being swept off my feet by my Duke on that dreadful day is the best thing that has ever happened to me. He treasures my wishes and respects me as a human being, my every day is full of romance the like of which the authors you must be reading could not dream of. Now, if you will excuse me.”
Sweeping away from the two dreadful girls, fury and mortification burning inside her, Alexandra headed towards her husband. “My love,” she called, noting with pleasure that the little frown smoothed out at the endearment. “I would so like to dance with you at last.”
Hector smiled at her and she could see the words ‘aye lass’ forming in his mouth before he caught himself. “Well, how could I say nay to such a charmin' lady, you’ll nae mind, Harkworth?”
Lord Harkworth looked as though he might mind in fact, his mouth still open from the conversation they had been engaged in and his eyes darting between Alexandra's rigid posture and his own daughters with a dawning pallor that Alexandra was viciously glad to see.
There, she thought fiercely. Yes, your daughters have offended a duchess.
A wife to a man you clearly value doing business with.
Perhaps you will be able to teach them how to tell truth from fiction in the future, my lord.
I have no doubt that you are partly to blame for their attitude, or at least for not teaching them better how to respect those around them.
Hector paid no mind to his conversation partner's silence and stepped forward to take Alexandra's hand and place it on his arm.
His voice was low and merry when he spoke to her, the gleam in his eyes showing that she was due some teasing at least for her actions.
"Now here I was thinking that I wasnae allowed to dance with me wife at an event like this, sweetheart. "
Alexandra pursed her lips, too furious to be embarrassed, and moved her hand deliberately to hold his in a bold moment of clear public affection.
She squeezed lightly. "I have never danced with you in the first place so I think the ton can bear it this once.
We are due at least an engagement's worth of dancing together, don't you think, love? "
"I do," he said, staring at where her hand was holding his and then lifting his eyes, so deep and so thoughtful to meet her own.
There was so much in that gaze that she couldn't begin to understand, and she knew she herself must look just as strange to him.
Perhaps they were, in that moment, two lonely souls who never fit in their own worlds, who might just find a place to fit in each other's company.
"I agree wholeheartedly. And in fact what is there worthwhile about being a duke if I cannae even occasionally dance with my wife? Come, me duchess."
He led her towards the floor. Alexandra could feel all eyes on her again and this time she held her head high and ignored them all.
Let them see how much she cared about her husband.
Let them see how this narrative they had of a gentle creature swept away by a ravening beast against her will was nothing but a malicious fiction.
As if Hector was able to do something so horrid. He might be able to hold his own against all the men in the room, but he was a kind man, a good man. He would no more have forced himself on a lady than the sun would have risen into a green herring sky.
"Ye can curse me if you like," Hector said gently as they spun to the music, his large feet catching her slippers again. "I ken I'm nay good at this. Never had a reason to be."
"I won't do any such thing," Alexandra said in a quiet hiss. "I am enjoying dancing with my beloved husband. Let them choke on it."
"Ye are going to be all bruises," he said, his voice sounding like he was trying not to laugh at her.
"It is quite worth it, thank you," Alexandra said primly. "Now hold me a little closer. We are very much in love."
"Oh, we are, are we?" he grinned and his arms held her closer, feeling her lithe form pressed against his chest. He had never been interested in the social nonsense that was dances, except for a few fun jigs back in his hometown.
A ceilidh was a very different thing from what the English considered proper, with their rules and implications and so much less laughter and cheering.
Why shouldn't a man be allowed to dance with his wife, for instance?
But this moment, with the music blending around them in the sparkling light of the dancefloor, her eyes so bright and green as she gazed at him with the stubborn intense look on her face, the look that said she was doing this and he could just follow along with her or be left behind, it felt - magical.
For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine a ball where he had met her in a corner, saw the beauty that was everything about Alexandra, her swift wit, her warm heart, her lovely face, and had asked her to dance with him when they were unattached and able to romance each other.
Perhaps she could have been spared the attentions of his brother, and the wedding could have been one of joy and delight.
"We are indeed," Alexandra said firmly. "I will not apologize for standing up for you, Your Grace. I do hope you realize that in public such as this, I should indeed call you so, and it is not an attempt to dismiss your request earlier. You deserve better than what these people think about you."
"Let me make a guess," he said, smiling at her, loving the way she gripped him a little tighter when she was feeling protective and cross.
"They thought I had stolen ye from me dear innocent brother, that ye were in love with him and I had torn ye from home and family to live in me decrepit mansion where I keep cows and pigs inside, threaten to shoot visitors and eat raw meat while sittin' on the table and throwin' bones in the fire? "
She blinked, then tried not to laugh, the smile tugging on her lips. "My word, nothing quite so colorful but you do have the shape of it."
"I have heard it all in the past," Hector said gently.
Her eagerness to rush to his aid was sweet and kind, but it was an impossible task to push against the small-minded gossips that would ever rule public opinion.
"I have heard the title Beast to the Beastly Duke many a time since I inherited the title.
Men are nae comfortable that a man of trade and business with nay upbringin' outranks them and the ladies -" he wrinkled his nose a little, disturbed by the idea. "I think they like being scared of me."
"Far too many dreadful romances," Alexandra agreed curtly.
"There is quite a market for stories where innocent maidens are stolen away by dreadful men and kept in prisons to await rescue by some prince or lord.
I imagine the younger ones quite like the idea that such a thing could be happening. I think they find it thrilling."
"But that would be horrible," Hector said sharply, his accent thickening. How anyone could be gleeful about the idea of a woman being torn from her life, ruined and hurt and scared by a man with ill intent, he did not know.
"I know," Alexandra said dryly. "If anything your brother was quite a good fit for the villain of such a story, which would make you my dashing hero."
For perhaps the first time in his life, Hector felt his cheeks flush. "Och, now."
"Don't you 'och now’ me," she said so quietly that he knew she was secretly a little worried about being overheard.
"I am quite serious. And therefore I shall do my very best to stop as many of these dreadful rumors as I can.
They can at least no longer pretend I am some - " she groped for a word, frowning. "Iphigenia and you some - hydra."
"Why are we speaking in Greek myth? I get enough of that from Dunmore and Thornfield. Did ye ken their schooling is a great deal in Latin?"
"I know," Alexandra said, her lips pursing and eyes dancing. "I read a few of the Duke of Thornfield's books."
"Och, I have many a fine tale from the highlands I'll tell ye instead," Hector said, smiling at her.
"Better endin's, even when they're sad. In the meantime, me wife, I appreciate what ye are trying to do.
I have to admit it will ease my mind if no one is further sayin' that I have carried ye off against your will.
However, people will always spread rumors about me.
I am a common man from Scotland, a strange thing that very few of these rich people will ever have been forced to socialize with.
Many of them still think of me as me faither's bastard child.
They will never accept me. I have come to peace with that. "
The music swelled and then ended with them still standing on the dance floor.
Hector thought that they perhaps should be moving back to mingle, but Alexandra did not seem interested in moving.
Her eyes were fixed on his own, her face serious and intense.
And he found that he did not want to stop holding her.
She was finally in his arms. It was more intoxicating than he could have ever dreamed.
Perhaps if they never left the dance floor, the dance could just go on with them forever. No more dealing with his horrible family, the rumors, the snubs, and the judgment, just his wife in his arms and endless music.
Not for the first time, Hector imagined taking Alexandra back to Scotland with him. She wouldn’t like it, he knew. It was too alien a world for her. But they could have peace there, and peace was something he wished he could give her.