Chapter 30
As Alexander strode away from the Palace of Westminster, he felt as though he were leaving part of his body behind.
More than once, he suppressed the urge to turn and run back.
He wanted to take Violet’s hand and run with her.
Run far from this place in any direction.
Leave behind London and Parliament, the Ton and English society.
A croft in the highlands would suit. Somewhere far from people. She may understand how to deal with people but I do not. Not the kind that inhabits the world I have been thrust into anyway.
Ambrose’s words haunted him. The man was a snake, capable of turning and lashing out in any direction.
A man unused to defeat who made himself resplendent in his unopposed success.
He wore his assumed superiority like a golden crown.
What might such a man do when finally faced with defeat, particularly from one who he considered so far beneath him?
Might the bastard strike at Violet to get at me? I would put nothing past him. If he thought it would help defeat me, I believe he would hurt anyone without a qualm.
That fact seemed to have been proved already by Ambrose’s sudden interest in the Ravendels. He had turned up in Violet’s path and then again, charming Lillian into accompanying him.
And turning Violet’s Uncle against me too. The man had never met me, had no reason to be so opposed to me. Ambrose is trying to undermine me by removing those he sees as my supports. And I do not know how to fight him!
He did not know in what direction he was walking or where he was going.
A small part of him whispered that he would end up at the riverside eventually, seeking out a dark, smoky tavern where he could dive into the oblivion that came from strong drink.
Or perhaps engineer a scrap with another lost soul and vent his anger in that direction.
Fights in dockside taverns were easy to come by.
“Your Grace!”
He stopped when he realized that the voice that had just penetrated his red-misted gloom had been calling him for some time.
Turning, he looked through a curtain of hair falling across his face.
A young man in the plain but well-made clothing of a middling clerk skidded to a halt on his heels.
He had a round, well-fed face, and eyes that blinked behind wire-rimmed spectacles.
He raised his hands defensively at the look on Alexander’s face and swallowed, wetting his lips with his tongue.
“Your pardon, Your Grace, please. But, my employer wishes to speak with you.”
“And who is your employer, lad,” Alexander growled.
“Your pardon, again, Your Grace. Mr. Octavius Gellert, Solicitor.” The man gulped.
Alexander frowned. He had not yet consulted with Mr. Gellert on the matter that he had promised Violet he would.
A letter had been penned before his lessons had begun, stating that he had an urgent task for Gellert’s firm to undertake but had not been able to find the time to follow up with a meeting.
It did not seem the kind of task to put into writing, too delicate to risk the letter falling into the wrong hands.
Perhaps this was a way to redeem himself.
I have surely wounded Violet by rejecting her. Unable to deal with my own failure, I lash out like an angry child. Whatever business Mr. Gellert has with me will be put aside. This is more important.
“Very well. Where is he?”
“He awaits you at a private room he has taken in a nearby coffee house, Greene’s I believe.”
“I know it. I will go at once. Keep up if you’re coming,” Alexander said.
He glanced around to orientate himself and then set off for the aforementioned coffee house.
It was not far and the young man jogged to keep up with Alexander’s long-legged pace.
Alexander strode into Greene’s and briefly looked around for the proprietor.
A man with thinning gray hair and a supercilious expression looked him up and down disdainfully, and Alexander showed teeth with a feral smile.
“Mr. Octavius Gellert has taken a room with you. I am the Duke of Lorchester. Tell me where I may find him.”
Disdain was replaced with ingratiating smiles. “Of course, Your Grace. Allow me to show you the way.”
“I will not. Just tell me and go about your business. I’ll not have you or anyone else listening at keyholes to mine!” Alexander barked.
Greene’s was the kind of establishment that Ambrose Devereaux would feel at home in.
The main room was bright and decorated with paintings and marble busts set back in alcoves in the wall.
The customers were finely dressed and drinking from delicate cups, little fingers raised as they did.
It was the kind of place that made Alexander’s hackles rise and the attitude of the proprietor didn’t help.
The man stammered directions and Alexander brushed past him, sweeping hair from his face as he did, knowing that the long mane was something the English seemed to consider a sign of barbarism.
That was one of the reasons he did not have it cut.
As soon as he had learned that he was thought to be strange and savage because of it, he embraced the look.
Let them be a’feart of me. Let them cower like frightened weans.
The room was upstairs, reached by a plush staircase concealed behind double doors that were half ornately gilded wood and half stained glass.
He entered without knocking to see the wizened Mr. Gellert sitting by a window, nibbling on a sandwich from a plate before him.
Alexander suppressed the urge to gather himself a plateful of his own from a supply on a sideboard.
I no longer need to hoard my food. There is always plenty mair. I have the coin to buy as much of it as I want, whenever I want. But the habit is hard to break.
Taking a seat opposite Gellert, Alexander placed his hands and elbows on the table and stared hard at the old man.
“You sent a boy to fetch me, Gellert. What is so important?”
Gellert dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and sat back, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap. When he had arranged himself to his satisfaction, he met Alexander’s stare with a sharp squint. If Alexander’s dark eyes were hammers, then Gellert’s were rapiers.
“I understand Your Grace has just lost a vote in your most commendable cause. And that the chief architect of that defeat was Lord Godstone.”
“Aye, I know all this. Is that how you think to earn the fees I pay to keep you on retainer?” Alexander replied drily.
“Hardly, Your Grace. I was merely framing the reason for my request to meet with you,” Gellert replied.
“Your summons. Let’s call a spade a spade, shall we?”
“Very well. I would not be doing my job if I did not recognize the chief threats to my employer's fortunes and devise strategies to deal with those threats. I have known for some time that Lord Godstone is one of the most vocal opponents to the Bill you are championing and it has become clear to me that he is, in fact, the leader of the faction that wishes to defeat it. Therefore, I have undertaken work, on a pro-active basis, to meet this threat and…defeat it.”
Alexander sat back, watching Gellert thoughtfully. “I had no idea you were willing to be so…pro-active. Whatever that means.”
“It means I do not wait for you to give me instructions where I see an opportunity to defend your interests. That is what makes me pre-eminent in my profession and that is why you pay me such a handsome fee to retain my services.”
“Do I? I was quite unaware of how handsome a fee I was paying you. That is the business of my estate managers…”
“Another subject I should like to take up with you. Perhaps now is not the time. I have reason to believe you are being robbed by at least one of those you have employed to run your estates…”
He cut off at a raised hand from Alexander.
“I know that. I recently took my own steps to address that. I have employed a Lady who will, I think, be more than capable of running my business affairs for me. And whom I trust.”
Gellert blinked. “A Lady?”
“Aye, a lassie,” Alexander said challengingly. “And I’ll no be questioned on that decision. Now, what did you want to blether about?”
Gellert mouthed the word blether and even looked to the clerk who had been sent to find Alexander. The man sat across the room on a simple, wooden chair, a book open upon his lap and a pencil poised over the page. The man shrugged and Gellert sighed, turning back to Alexander.
“I do not pretend to follow your colloquialisms, Your Grace. I am reminded of the boy I found when I came to Glasgow searching for the heir to a Dukedom. It was as though you spoke a different language. But, I digress. I have found the means by which you can end the opposition and finally defeat Lord Godstone for good.”