Chapter 24
“Two days,” Alexander muttered, dropping heavily into the chair opposite Spencer. “Two entire days, and not a single message from her.”
Spencer looked up from the ledger he had been reviewing with a raised brow. “Yes, you have mentioned that.”
“I will mention it again,” Alexander said stubbornly. “Because it has been two days.”
“Did you write to her?” Spencer asked drily.
“No, I am waiting for her to write first.” He dragged a hand through his hair, got up, and paced the length of the study.
Spencer watched him and his lips twitched. “You are ridiculous and it is making you unusually agitated.”
“I am not ridiculous nor agitated,” Alexander snapped, then immediately grimaced. “I am merely… unsettled.”
Spencer’s brows rose. “About Miss Dowell?”
Alexander stopped pacing.
He hadn’t meant to speak about her. He hadn’t meant to bring her into this room at all. But the moment Spencer asked him what was troubling him, something inside him loosened, as though he had been holding his breath for two days straight and once he spoke about it, everything spilled out of him.
Well, certainly not everything.
His last night with Theodora was what truly left him completely unsettled.
And it did not help that his bed sheets kept her scent.
She occupied his senses and his dreams. At every corner of Hawthorne House, Alexander saw her, smelled her, and craved her.
He had to control himself or else he would march to Dowell House and demand to see her.
Even the Iron Pit could not dissolve this intention, so he decided to meet with Spencer instead.
“Yes,” he said finally. “Miss Dowell unsettles me.”
Spencer set the ledger aside; his interest was piqued. “I did not realize that the two of you were close.”
“We are not,” Alexander said too quickly. “Not in the way you are implying.”
Spencer waited patiently for an explanation.
Alexander exhaled sharply and sat down again. “She helped Rosalind. More than anyone else ever has. And she is brilliant. Did you know that she is a scientist?”
“Yes, I am aware. My wife tells me everything.”
Alexander continued as if Spencer didn’t speak. “And she asked me to be her subject for one of her experiments.”
Spencer blinked. “Tell me you did not agree to that?”
Alexander glared at his friend. “Do not sound so surprised.”
“I am only trying to imagine you sitting still long enough for someone to take notes or experiment on you.”
Alexander wished that her experiment was that easy, but he could not tell his friend what they had done. It would ruin her and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Instead, he threw a paperweight at his friend and Spencer dodged it with a laugh.
“Anyway,” Alexander continued, ignoring his previous statement, “I found her intriguing. That is all.”
“Hmm, that is all,” Spencer repeated, highly amused.
Alexander’s jaw tightened. “Fine. That is not all. I cannot seem to get her out of my mind.”
Spencer’s expression shifted from amusement to genuine surprise. “Is that the truth?”
“Yes, nothing but,” Alexander said, irritation creeping into his voice. “Is that so unbelievable?”
“Coming from you? Yes, it is unbelievable,” Spencer admitted. “You and Miss Dowell are… opposites.”
“I am intrigued! Please elaborate?”
Spencer shook his head and chuckled. “Well, there is the obvious one. She is clearly the brain, and you are most definitely the brawn.”
Alexander pointed at him. “I will take that as a compliment.”
They both laughed, but the sound did nothing to ease the tension coiled in Alexander’s chest. He was leaving for Wiltshire tomorrow and he had not heard from Theodora yet.
After leaving her near Dowell House, Alexander had the sudden urge to follow her, but he stayed put. He waited for a sign, any sign, of distress. But none came and he was left sorely disappointed and confused at the muddled-up feelings he had during his departure.
Alexander looked at his friend who was studying him. “You know, you look and sound exactly like I did when I was falling for Anna.”
Alexander groaned. “Do not start.”
“I am serious,” Spencer said. “You used to mock me for pacing around like a lovesick fool. And now look at you.”
“It is not the same,” Alexander insisted. “Anyway, you were already married to Anna.”
Spencer shook his head. “Yes, we were married but I only knew my wife for a single night before we married. We never courted and we barely spoke or saw each other. Yet I became completely undone by her.”
Alexander stiffened.
Am I completely undone?
He did not like the idea of that. Alexander always had to be in control. If he were not in control then everything would fall apart. Including himself.
Spencer placed his elbows on the oak desk and leaned forward. “You, on the other hand…”
Alexander cut him off. “Theo and I never courted, and we do not plan to get married.”
“Perhaps not yet.”
“No, not at all,” Alexander said firmly. “And she made it clear she does not believe in love. She thinks it is some kind of chemical illusion. A distraction or a fictional story people tell themselves to make life less painful. Hell, she even believes falling in love is a form of hysteria.”
Spencer’s mouth twitched. “And that is exactly why you are intrigued by her.”
Alexander did not answer because it was true.
He had never met a woman who challenged him so sharply and dismissed romance with a raised brow, but kissed him like she was falling apart.
She insisted it meant nothing, but her body said otherwise.
Likewise, he had never met a woman who made him feel unsteady, unprepared, and entirely out of his depth.
“So, tell me, Alex… what would you do if Miss Dowell were to change her mind?”
“About what exactly?” Alexander said with a raised brow.
“About love.”
Alexander’s breath caught. He had not let himself imagine that possibility. He stared at the floor, jaw clenched, heart pounding with something he didn’t want to name.
“She is a stubborn woman; she will never change her mind about it.”
But even as he spoke, he remembered the way they held onto each other after he deflowered her.
And when she opened up to him about her family, he felt an unfamiliar yet satisfying warmth settle over him.
She had wanted him as much as he wanted her.
But Alexander was her first. Surely, it was lust that intrigued her and not love.
“You will never know, Alex. Love can change even the coldest hearts of the most prominent intellects in this world.”
Spencer picked up his ledger and continued reading it. His silence left Alexander with a provocative question.
What would I do if Theodora Dowell fell in love with me?
Both the question and answer terrified him.
* * *
“Good day, Your Grace,” Mr. Carson greeted Alexander as soon as he stepped through the front doors of Hawthorne House. “You have several letters waiting.”
Alexander pretended to remain calm as he shrugged off his coat. He was exhausted from spending the entire day trying to keep his composure. “Thank you, Mr. Carson. I shall take them in my study.”
Mr. Carson nodded and handed him the small stack of envelopes. Alexander accepted them, then hesitated. He opened his mouth to ask the question he had been asking for two days now.
“Any letters from—”
“No, Your Grace,” Mr. Carson gently cut him off with the practiced efficiency of a man who had served him since childhood. “No letters from Miss Dowell have arrived.”
Alexander’s jaw tightened and he clutched the pile of letters so tightly that one of the seals popped off.
“I see,” he muttered.
But he did not understand any of it. He had expected a note, a line, or even a single word. Anything. But Theodora’s silence stretched on, and with each hour it grew heavier.
“That is all Mr. Carson.” Alexander nodded at his butler stiffly and walked towards his study.
The house was silent and he missed having Rosalind around.
Although she didn’t speak much, it calmed him to know that she was nearby.
Tomorrow he would head out to Wiltshire with an unsettled mind thanks to Theodora.
Feeling frustrated, Alexander pushed open the study door, lit a lamp, and sat heavily at his desk.
He set the letters down and sighed deeply.
Theodora, what have you done to me?
He picked up the envelope with Rosalind’s handwriting on it, opened it, and scanned the contents.
Alexander chuckled. His sister had sent him a list of things to bring when he visited her. He shook his head as he went through it.
“You are insufferable, Rosie,” he murmured, smiling at himself. “I am not your errand boy.”
But he folded the letter carefully and set it aside. He would bring her everything she asked for and more. He always did and always would. Alexander skimmed over the remaining envelopes of invitations, requests, and dull obligations until one specific envelope caught his eye.
It bore no seal nor a sender’s name. Just his own title and name were written neatly on the front in familiar handwriting.
His pulse quickened.
Alexander pushed aside the other letters and reached for it. He tore the envelope open to find a single sheet of paper, folded once. He unfolded it hastily with steady hands.
It was unmistakably from her.
Alexander,
You must forgive the delay in my response. Circumstances have changed rapidly here at Dowell House. I am forbidden to communicate with anyone outside of the home. Even now, I am limited to writing this letter. So, I will get to the point.
After our last meeting, I took your advice and told my mother the truth about my father. I confessed all of it because you were right, she deserved the truth. I believe I owed her that much. Unfortunately, my confession resulted in a severe confrontation between my parents.
My father is displeased, to say the least. He has forbidden us from leaving the house. I am not permitted visitors, correspondence, and anything beyond the walls of my room. I am in the company of my mother, who is equally distressed.
Please send my regards to Lady Rosalind. She was a wonderful companion, and I am grateful for the time I spent with her. I am certain she will continue to thrive without my assistance.
Thank you for agreeing to be a subject in my experiment.
I know it was an unusual request, and I appreciate your patience and cooperation.
I wish you success in your life for only God knows when I will see you again.
Sadly, I am a prisoner in my own home, and I do not know when or if I will be allowed out again. This will be my last letter.
It was… unexpectedly enjoyable getting to know the Scarlet Duke.
Goodbye, Your Grace.
Theodora Dowell
Alexander stared at the letter before he read it again. And again. The words struck harder each time. He stood abruptly, still holding the letter in his trembling hand.
“Mr. Carson!” he shouted.
The butler appeared almost instantly with a startled expression. “Your Grace?”
“Have the carriage prepared. Immediately.” Alexander barked the order.
Carson bowed. “At once, Your Grace.”
Alexander strode to the coat rack, grabbed his travel coat, and shrugging it on. His breath came fast and uneven. He did not know what he was going to do or say when he arrived at Dowell House. He only knew that he had to go to her immediately.
He walked towards the foyer and waited there for the carriage to arrive. Alexander felt as though he was preparing for the biggest fight of his life. All of his thoughts tangled together and became impossible to separate.
She is a prisoner in her own home. Locked away by her own father.
He clenched his fists.
He had not known Theodora for long, but he knew her well, and the idea of her trapped, frightened, and alone, made anger twist painfully inside of him.
All this time she had been fighting for her freedom while he had been waiting for a response from her.
“Your Grace,” Mr. Carson called from the doorway and snapped him back to reality. “The carriage is ready.”
Alexander didn’t wait for the rest. He strode past him, down the steps, and into the night air. The driver opened the door, and Alexander climbed inside.
“Dowell House,” he said, voice low and firm. “As fast as the horses can manage.”
The driver nodded, snapped the reins, and the carriage lurched forward.