Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Alexandra paced back and forth in front of the door to Hector’s study, trying to summon the courage to go in.
I don’t need to do it, she reminded herself. She was escorting Penelope to a garden party—she didn’t need him for that. She could tend to it perfectly well on her own, without his help. So maybe she ought to do that and leave him out of it.
But she couldn’t put from her mind the fact that he had asked her to reach out to him the next time she was taking her sister to a function.
He had been bothered that she hadn’t let him know about the dinner party.
As bad as things were between the two of them right now, the last thing she wanted was to make them any worse.
She had to honor the request he’d made of her, no matter how awkward it was.
And even though she couldn’t be sure he would still want her to do this, given the uncomfortable state of things between them, it made more sense to do as he had asked than to run the risk of making a guess that he’d want her to ignore that request.
It was torment that things had been so uncomfortable—she’d never meant for that to happen.
Of course, she hadn’t. And that day in the library had been lovely, right up until the moment it hadn’t been.
He’d been so kind to think of showing her those books, and so right to think that she would like them.
He had been so generous, telling her that she could have a tutor and that he would help her explore a business venture.
It was more than Alexandra could ever have dared to hope for, and she knew it.
She wouldn’t have taken any of that for granted.
And then there was the kiss. Oh, that kiss! It was impossible to stop thinking about it. His lips found hers in her dreams, kissing her over and over until she was dizzy with it, until she’d forgotten her own name, and she awoke heartsore with tears in her eyes.
If only he had never asked her to come to his bed! That was the one thing she had been unable to give in to, because in spite of everything, she didn’t trust him. She couldn’t. What if he turned out to be like her father? What if loving him was wrong-headed and unsafe?
No. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t allow herself to be vulnerable to his man—even though her heart yearned to do exactly that.
But I can open this door. I can go in this room and speak to my husband. I can do that much.
She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and then opened the door and walked through it.
He didn’t look up from the papers on his desk.
She let out a sigh. I suppose I deserve that.
“Hector,” she said, “I’m going to a garden party today. I’m escorting Penelope.”
“Enjoy yerself,” he said, still not looking up at her.
“I’m here because—well—you told me that you wanted me to let you know if I was going to do something like this,” she reminded him. “You said you wanted to be included next time this happened.”
Now he did look up.
Alexandra couldn’t help it—she let out a gasp of shock.
He looked unwell. She hadn’t seen him since the day in the library, so perhaps it was no great shock that she hadn’t realized he was in this state—but that had only been a few days ago, after all. He had been fine then.
Now he looked as if he hadn’t slept in weeks.
He had dark circles under his eyes, and his cheeks looked hollow.
Was he eating properly? He hadn’t come to dinner recently, which she had been grateful for—the fact that he was avoiding her had spared her the duty of having to avoid him.
She had been able to eat her dinner at the table because she’d known he wouldn’t be there.
She hadn’t guessed that it might mean he wasn’t eating at all. Now she was worried for him.
She cleared her throat. “It ought to be a good party,” she said. “Would—would you like to join us?”
Minutes ago, she had been hoping he wouldn’t want to come.
She had come to ask him about the party out of duty, not desire.
But now she found herself wishing that he would say yes, in spite of how awkward she knew it would be.
She wanted to try to repair what had broken between the two of them.
She wanted to mend things, especially now that she could see for herself how much he had been hurt by it all.
“Ye go,” he said. “I’m sure ye’ll have more fun without me.”
“No—you can come if you’d like to,” she protested. It was the closest she dared come to telling him that she wanted him to be there, even though she did.
“I’m giving ye yer space for now,” he told her, looking back down at the papers in front of him. It was a clear dismissal—he was finished with the conversation. Finished with her.
Guilt flooded Alexandra. He was doing this because of her, because of the way she had acted when he had asked her to his room. She felt sick with it, seeing the consequences of her decision play out in front of her like this.
She hadn’t known that she had the power to hurt him.
She couldn’t quite regret the choice she had made—but she had never meant it to have this impact.
He couldn’t put this on for show. This is real. He isn’t trying to trick me.
The feeling that she had done wrong followed her when she left the study.
“You didn’t tell me Father would be coming to this,” Alexandra hissed.
Penelope had the decency to look embarrassed. “I didn’t know he would be,” she said. “Not when we last spoke.”
“You should have sent me a letter or something when the decision was reached.”
“You wouldn’t have come with me if you had known,” Penelope said.
“That’s right, I wouldn’t.”
“And I wanted you to come. I need you here with me, Alexandra.”
“You don’t. I escort you to these things because you have no one else to do that, but if I’d known our father was escorting you, I would have known I wasn’t needed. And if you’d told me you wanted him here instead of me, I would have accommodated you in that.”
She knew she was being too harsh, and she felt the shame of it when her sister looked stricken. “Do I really have to choose?” she asked Alexandra. “You’re both my family. Can I not have both of you? Will I always have to choose between you and Father?”
If it had been any other day, Alexandra would have found something kind to say. She would have reassured her sister that it didn’t really need to be that way, that she could make nice with her father for one day, at least.
But right now, his presence was like salt on a wound.
She was too afraid to trust her husband because of her relationship with her father and her fear that every man would be like him.
Hector had done nothing to indicate to her that he would be the same sort of man.
Her elder sisters had learned to put their trust in their husbands, but Alexandra was having trouble overcoming this hurdle, and she resented him for that.
Being in his presence today—it was painful.
Her father walked up alongside the pair of them. “It’s good to see you today, Alexandra,” he said. “I haven’t seen much of you since you were married. I’m so glad I was able to join you.”
“You shouldn’t have joined us,” Alexandra snapped. “I had this under control, Father. I don’t know why you’ve insisted on being here, but you shouldn’t be. You make our lives harder.”
“Alexandra!” her sister hissed.
But she shook Penelope off. “I want you to stay away from Penelope’s affairs. I want you to leave her to me. Because my worst nightmare is that she ends up as damaged by you as I have—afraid to let anyone love her for fear they turn out to be selfish and cold!”
Her father looked stricken. “Alexandra—I know that I haven’t been a great father. I’m sorry for that.”
She didn’t want his kindness. Not now. It made her feel worse about the fact that she had allowed her mistrust to make her hurt her husband.
She stormed away before she had time to register the way the words had hit her father. She had said more than she’d meant to, and she had no desire to see his reaction or hear any follow-up questions—from him or from Penelope—about what she’d meant by being afraid to let anyone love her.
She made her way out to a secluded place in the garden and found a quiet bench. Perhaps she could sit here and wait out the party until it was time to go home.
But it was not to be. The voice interrupted her solitude almost at once. “Good day, wife.”
The word caused her heart to leap in her chest. Had Hector come after all?
But she knew that was wrong, even before she turned. The voice was too low, too sinister. And when she took in his face, it was with dread, but not surprise.
Benedict Lennox.
She rose to her feet and took a step back, as if the terror that gripped her was something she could physically escape. Her whole life had been derailed the last time she had been alone with this man.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she told him. “We shouldn’t be together like this.”
“Why shouldn’t I be alone with my wife?” he leered. “Nothing improper about that.”
“Perhaps because I’m not your wife? Have you forgotten that you didn’t marry me?”
“Never mind. My claim to you stands,” Benedict said. “That bastard brother of mine should never have had my dukedom, and he shouldn’t have my woman either. I’ll be taking you with me now, as you were always mine.”
His hand flashed out and caught her by the wrist, pulling her close.
She recalled when Hector had done this same thing—but from him, it had been passionate, not threatening. Panic surged within her.
“Don’t you scream,” Benedict hissed. “You know you can’t save yourself by letting people see you alone with me. You’ll be ruined for that bastard. He’d never touch you.”
Benedict might be right. But Alexandra couldn’t allow him to drag her off. She was filled with horror at the thought of what he might do.
An image came into her head, suddenly. Hector sitting in his study. His face bruised from fighting, his fist swinging at the air—but his arm firm and stable, as if he was delivering an actual blow.
She didn’t stop to think. If she had, fear of what she was doing might have taken her over.
She lashed out and punched him squarely in the side of his face.
She didn’t think she’d hurt him, but she had shocked him enough that he let go of her arm and raised a hand to his face, his eyes wide and blazing. It was the opportunity she needed.
She turned and sprinted toward her carriage.
Penelope was with her father. She would be fine.
Alexandra needed to get out of here before something dreadful happened. She had just barely avoided disaster—but she was sure Benedict wouldn’t give up.
She had to get home.