Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“This manor is so lovely,” Penelope enthused, flitting happily about the room. “I’m so pleased you’re married—and I just can’t believe it’s to a duke.”
“How is marriage treating you, Alexandra?” Evelina asked, meeting Alexandra’s eyes. “Your wedding day was so fraught with the unexpected. I never saw you married to this man. I never dreamed that would be the result of that day.”
“It’s been all right,” Alexandra confessed. “Better than I might have expected.”
“Yes, we saw what a good time you were having at the ball,” Margaret teased. “You and your duke put on quite the performance. The whole of London is talking about it—how the hard-hearted duke has found true love at last in the softening influence of his beautiful new bride.”
“A performance,” Alexandra insisted. “As you say, Margaret. Nothing more than that. I merely wished to help my new husband overcome the rumors society likes to spread about him.”
“They do have plenty to say against him, don’t they?” Penelope said. “You know, my friends have asked me about him.”
“What do they ask?”
“Whether he is as beastly as everyone says he is,” Penelope said.
“Oh, and what do you tell them?”
Penelope smiled. “I tell them nothing,” she said. “I refuse to answer the question. It’s not anyone’s business, really, is it?”
“You’re not going to fit in well among the ton if you refuse to participate in gossip, little sister,” Margaret teased.
“And should I perpetuate gossip that affects Alexandra?” Penelope shot back. “I’ll do no such thing.”
“It’s all right,” Alexandra said. “This is what we were dealing with at the ball—trying to make sure that we control what people see when they look at us. There will always be assumptions made, of course, but we want everyone to know that we are happy.”
“Is that why you referred to him as your love?” Evelina teased her.
“Well, what would you have done?”
“I don’t mean to judge your actions, Alexandra. I merely wondered whether there was any truth to what you’d said. Whether you do feel love for the man.”
“I’m not in love with him,” Alexandra said.
“It’s a marriage of convenience. We helped one another—it’s as simple as that.
He stepped in to marry me because his brother failed in his responsibility and he didn’t want shame to come to his family—and I think that’s very understandable.
I think any reasonable gentleman would have done just the same. ”
“So you contend that he’s a reasonable gentleman?” Evelina asked. “Because you know people say he is a brute.”
“A bit ill-mannered, perhaps, but he isn’t a brute,” Alexandra said. “He hasn’t been brought up the way we have. He doesn’t know how to integrate himself into society. But now that he’s married to me, he’ll learn.”
She found herself imagining the dance lesson of the other day. He had been awkward in the way he had managed himself, and he had overstepped the bounds of polite society more than once. But he’d learned the steps. A few more lessons like that, and he would fit right in at any upcoming balls.
Which reminded her of another matter that had been on her mind. “Penelope, you’re now the only one of us not to be married. That means it’s your turn next. You should accompany me to the next ball, since our sisters have children to think of.”
“You’re offering to escort me?” Penelope asked.
“Well, I’m hardly going to leave it up to Father to do it,” Alexandra said. “If we waited for him to make the time to escort you to a ball, you would never attend one. You would become a spinster.”
“She’s right,” Evelina said. “You know we sisters have all seen each other through these things, and now it’s your turn—and Alexandra’s turn to escort you.”
“So you must make sure you have something appropriate to wear,” Alexandra said. “Do you have a gown?”
“I have several. You know that.”
“I mean something new. You ought to have something special to wear for a ball. Something eye-catching. I’ll have something sent over to you,” Alexandra said.
“You mean, one of your old gowns?”
“No I’ll have something made for you. I know your measurements well enough.”
“Won’t the duke mind? He won’t want you using his money to buy something for me.”
“He isn’t going to mind a bit,” Alexandra said firmly. “And you let me worry about what my husband will think. You worry about yourself. I’ll send something over, and you just concentrate on what sort of gentleman you might like to dance with. It’s such an exciting time.”
She felt a bit wistful as she said that, for of course her own courtship had been marred by tragedy.
The scandal with her husband’s brother, and then the mess that had been her marriage.
She had emerged from it all relatively unscathed, thankfully, and she was happy with the hand life had dealt her.
But a part of her still wished she’d gotten a more romantic ending.
At least she could make certain that happened for her sister. Penelope would have nothing but the very best.
“Don’t fret,” she told her sister. “We’ll find a gentleman who is worthy of you. You’ll see.”
“I just hesitate to leave Father,” Penelope said. “He’s been so unwell, and he has only me to help him.”
“But, of course, you have your hopes,” Evelina chimed in. “We all did. We’ll see to it that you find happiness, Penelope.”
“That’s right,” Margaret agreed. “We all want that for you.”
Margaret glanced at Alexandra, and Alexandra felt a pang. This was the way her sisters must have felt when she first came out—excited for her, eager to see to it that she found a match worthy of her. And then she had gotten involved in a scandal, and everything had fallen apart.
And yet…I did end up with a worthy man.
The thought surprised her, but she felt confident that it was the truth.
Hector returned home earlier than anticipated, and Alexandra was shocked by a rising bruise on the side of his face. “My God,” she exclaimed, leaping to her feet. “Hector—what’s happened to you?”
“Boxin’,” he said gruffly, and strode by her in the direction of his study.
Alexandra turned toward her sisters. “You’d better go,” she said quietly. “I think I ought to tend to this situation.”
“Will you be all right?” Penelope asked her anxiously, eyes wide, and Alexandra was sure her sister was thinking of the duke’s reputation as a brute. It probably hadn’t helped seeing him come home with that bruise on his face.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured Penelope. “Go on, now. I’ll send you that gown we talked about in a few days.”
Penelope looked doubtful, but she turned and hurried away just the same.
Alexandra waited until her sisters were gone, then made her way back to the study, where Hector had poured himself a drink. He took a big swallow of it without looking in her direction.
She lingered in the doorway until he looked up at her and raised his eyebrows. “Are ye comin’ in, then?”
“You need to put something on that bruise,” she informed him. “You look a fright. The ton has plenty to say about you already without you walking around looking like that.”
“Aye? Help me with it, then,” he said. “If ye bring me somethin’, I will allow ye to treat me face.”
He smirked at her, and her heart seemed to tremble in her chest. This way he had of making her feel as though her body was failing her, as if every part of her was coming apart—it was dangerous. She didn’t know what to do in his presence.
“I’ll fetch a compress,” she murmured and hurried away to do so, grateful for the temporary space between the two of them.
By the time she returned, he had his feet up on the desk and was eyeing his drink contemplatively. “Put that down,” she told him, holding up the compress.
“Daenae boss me, lass.”
“And I’ve asked you not to call me that.” She moved to his side, summoned her courage, and placed a hand on his temple, tipping his head to one side so that she could better access his face. She laid the compress over the bruise.
“What’s that smell?” he wanted to know.
“Witch hazel. It will help. And you shouldn’t talk right now.”
“If ye had yer way, I’d never speak,” he chuckled. “Did ye learn this treatment growin' up?”
“From my sister,” she said. “Because my mother died young, Evelina raised us and cared for us all our lives. She taught me all I know.”
“Nae yer faither, then?”
“He hardly wanted anything to do with any of us. Too disappointed in the fact that he had four daughters.” She shrugged; that was an old pain. “We sisters were forced to look out for one another.”
“Ye were lucky to have had them.”
“I was. Very lucky indeed. Now, stop talking and let me treat your face, for pity’s sake. I thought it was important to you to stop the wagging tongues.”
“Nae a hope of ever stoppin’ that.” He mimed a quick punch. “Be at ease, lass, they cannae do me any harm.”
“For heaven’s sake. I’ve told you to sit still. I can’t treat this properly unless you do.”
“And yer relationship with yer faither now? He must be pleased that ye’ve made a good match.” He winked roguishly.
Alexandra shrugged. “I don’t know what he thinks.
I don’t care what he thinks. My sister says he’s changed, that he realizes the injustice in how he always treated us.
For all I know, that might be the truth.
But what I do know is that I can’t trust the man.
I couldn’t even trust him to manage our family’s ledgers—I had to take over that responsibility. ”
“Well ye’ll nae have to do that now that ye’re married to me.” He caught her wrist as she came in again with the compress and pulled her close. “And I’ll show ye that some men are to be trusted, even if perhaps yer faither wasnae one of them.”
She met his eyes, feeling as if she were on a ship at sea. The world seemed to rock around her.
Why did she find it so hard to keep a clear head when he started acting like this?
She needed to break their eye contact, but she couldn’t.
She couldn’t look away from him. She couldn’t so much as turn her head.
And now he was rising to his feet, and she wanted to tell him not to do that, that he needed to keep his seat so that she could finish treating his wound, but she couldn’t do that either, somehow. She was helpless. Powerless.
He stood over her now. His eyes searched hers, as if there was something specific he hoped to see there. Something he hoped to find. The answer to a question he hadn’t asked, and she couldn’t comprehend.
His hand was still on her wrist, and he pulled her closer.
Her heart missed a beat. He’s going to kiss me.
He would stop if she tried to stop him. She was sure of that. He wouldn’t force a kiss on her.
But she didn’t try to stop him.
If this was what he wanted, she realized, she was going to allow it—and that was a terrifying thought.
But he pulled away from her just before his lips met hers.
“I’ll finish treatin’ me wound,” he said, picking up the compress and sitting back down. “Thank ye.”
She lingered a moment longer, heart pounding, a thousand questions on her mind—but in the end, she could say nothing, and she turned and fled the room.