Chapter 2 #2
The Duke entered behind the woman she had seen with them at the church, closing the door with a firmness that suggested he preferred his conversations contained.
Miss Leyton, she assumed, and if the woman’s worried look was anything to go by, she was not looking forward to any conversation with him.
He looked as he had in the service yard: controlled, composed, and carrying an air of barely contained energy, like a storm held behind glass.
“After today’s… developments, I will be marrying Lady Alice.
She will be staying with us until the wedding.
” The announcement was delivered to the foyer at large with the flat efficiency of a man reading a shipping manifest. “Which will take place in the next few days. In the meantime, you will treat her with the respect due to your future stepmother.”
Charlie’s eyes flicked from his father to Alice and back. “People say it’s bad luck for the bride to see the groom before the wedding,” he remarked.
The Duke’s mouth did something that was not quite a smile. “We have had quite enough bad luck already. We will survive this breach of protocol.”
Charlie nodded once, accepting the verdict with the solemn gravity of a junior officer acknowledging orders.
“Now.” The Duke turned to the governess, a woman of indeterminate age whose expression suggested she had long ago made peace with the challenges of the Stafford household. “We can’t let the day go to waste. Take the boys upstairs and resume your lessons as you would on an ordinary day.”
Freddie groaned. Charlie did not, but the slight droop of his shoulders conveyed a sentiment his manners would not permit him to voice.
The governess herded them toward the stairs easily, evidently having learned that direct commands worked better on Freddie and gentle guidance sufficed for Charlie.
Alice watched them go.
“If you are not too much of a scaredy-cat, we can go horse riding,” Freddie suggested.
Charlie’s voice was softer. “We’re not allowed to go away if no one knows where we are, Freddie.”
Freddie sighed. “But Jackson works there, and he will know where we are, so that makes it safe.”
“But what if Jackson tells Papa?”
“He won’t. He will have no reason to. Now, come on.”
Charlie, it seemed, did not have much of a choice.
Alice knew that dynamic. She had lived it. The bold one and the quiet one. The one who claimed space without asking and the one who learned to make do with what remained.
Watching the twins disappear through the doorway, she felt the hollow ache of Rachel’s absence settle beneath her ribs like a stone.
Where are you, Sister?
The Duke summoned the housekeeper with a gesture so slight it barely qualified as movement. The woman emerged from the corridor with the promptness of someone who had been waiting just beyond the range of polite hearing.
“Prepare the blue chamber for Lady Alice,” the Duke instructed. “She will require a maid. Her belongings…” He paused, glancing at Alice. “Arrange for whatever she needs.”
The housekeeper curtsied and departed.
The staff moved through the corridors with the hushed efficiency of a household accustomed to unexpected arrivals and ducal directives. Alice could hear the soft rush of activity beyond the foyer: footsteps, murmured instructions, the distant clatter of linens being unfolded.
With that, she and the Duke were left alone.
He stood by the mantel, one hand resting on the carved wood with the casual proprietorship of a man touching his own possessions. He did not look at her but studied the empty fireplace as though it contained something worth his attention.
“I suggest you do not run,” he said. The words were quiet, measured, stripped of the heat they had carried in the service yard. “I would prefer not to hunt you through the countryside, if you are anything like your sister.”
“I gave you my word.” Alice kept her voice level. The foyer felt smaller with just the two of them in it, the air between them charged with something she could not name but could feel against her skin like the pressure before rain. “I intend to keep it.”
“Good. I won’t let my family suffer any more humiliation by yours.”
He turned then and looked at her directly. The force of his attention was so physical that Alice felt it like a hand against her chest, not pushing but undeniably present.
“I am certain that Rachel didn’t intend to humiliate you, Your Grace. She never spoke about wanting to run away. She—”
“Runaways rarely tend to share their plans with others,” he cut her off, his eyebrows knitting together.
“How do you even assume that she was running away? She could have been kidnapped, for all we know,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.
The Duke’s eyes followed the movement, but instead of flicking back up to her face, they lingered, and she felt a strange heat crawl up to her cheeks.
His eyes snapped back up to hers. “It’s been a long day. I won’t argue with you further,” he said gruffly. “Whatever happened today, I will find your sister, as I promised. Once I do, she can corroborate either your theory or mine.”
Alice pursed her lips but ended up nodding. Although she was offended by the suggestion that her sister would do such a thing, she also understood that the Duke had faced humiliation today. And he had two sons to think of, on top of that.
Before she could speak again, the housekeeper returned. “Your chamber is ready, My Lady.”
The Duke nodded once, a gesture of dismissal that encompassed both women without quite addressing either. “I have estate matters to attend to. Dinner is at eight.”
With that, he left.
Alice felt her heart racing wildly in her chest. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she recalled the way he had looked at her décolletage. No man had ever looked at her that way before.
She swallowed as she followed the maid, whose name she learnt was Mary, upstairs.
The young woman in question was cheerful, and apparently under the impression that Alice’s sudden elevation to future Duchess was the most romantic development she had witnessed in her employment.
She chattered through the process of unpinning Alice’s hair and helping her into a borrowed dressing gown with the bright, relentless enthusiasm of a woman determined to find joy in someone else’s circumstance.
“Such a fortunate match,” she gushed, brushing Alice’s hair with more vigor than strictly necessary. “And after all the trouble with the first bride! They’re saying it was meant to be, My Lady. That sometimes the wrong path leads to the right person.”
“Thank you,” Alice muttered. “I… wonder if there is any news from Peltbury House about my sister, Lady Rachel?”
The maid’s expression clouded. “Nothing yet, My Lady. But rest assured, he does not leave things unfinished.”
No, he does not.
The Duke of Bearmoor was clearly a man who finished what he started.
“I hope not,” Alice whispered regardless. “Right now, nothing is more important than her.”
The maid nodded silently and continued brushing her hair.
Alice’s heart ached. Rachel was missing. Somewhere in the gathering dark, her sister was gone, and Alice was in a stranger’s house, preparing to become a stranger’s wife.
She closed her eyes. Behind her lids, she saw the Duke’s face: the controlled set of his jaw, the dark intensity of his gaze, the way his eyes had held hers with a weight she could feel in her bones.
No, she chastised herself.
Finding Rachel was far more important. She had to focus on her missing sister, not on the strange feelings the thought of the Duke’s eyes evoked in her.