by Alice Kirks
She swallowed hard, studying him from where she stood in the corner. He was talking earnestly to an older man, nodding at the words that he spoke. She could see his long, handsome face, his one hand at his side, the other on his shoulder, casually clasped. She thought that he was the most interesting fellow she had ever met.
And he is my employer. This is foolishness of the highest sort.
She looked away, focusing her glance on Arabella, remembering her duty. She was sitting at the pianoforte, the group of young people surrounding her. Two other people had joined them – a girl about Arabella’s age, and a youth perhaps a little older. They seemed involved in an earnest discussion of what to play.
Alexandra smiled, feeling glad for Arabella’s joy as she talked and laughed and discussed. She needed friends, she thought – it was so much better for her than being shut away at Blakeley.
She was going to talk to the Duke about it.
“Oh, Alexandra!” Arabella gushed, as she walked down the steps beside her later, heading out to the coach. “It was such a lovely evening! I spoke with Frank the whole time! And Amelia played so well! She said I could go and visit and Halehurst to learn that piece from her. Isn’t that grand?”
“Yes,” Alexandra nodded. “Very grand.”
She saw Lord Blakely turn around to face her, a small smile twisting his lips. He didn’t say anything, but she sensed he was enjoying listening in, which at once amused and frustrated her.
He might affirm his sister, every now and again! The girl needs to know how much he cares for her.
She looked up at a young lord who was staring at her, and instantly looked away, shivering. She could see condemnation in some people’s eyes when they looked at her, and interest in others. She needed to get out of here, for neither sort of interest was something she needed.
She didn’t need any word – from master or servant – getting back to her father. Anybody who could speak to someone who might know her was a danger. And she desperately needed to keep out of the public gossip.
“Alexandra! You really do look poorly,” Arabella said, taking her arm as they reached the bottom of the path. “Come with me! We need to get into the coach. Help us, Matthew.”
“Of course, sister.”
Alexandra tensed, but Matthew helped her and then Arabella up into the coach and sat down beside his sister. Alexandra turned to look out of the window, conscious of his gaze upon her.
She had enjoyed the party, but now she needed to get home and think. She might be in more danger than she knew.
Chapter 7
Matthew went upstairs to the drawing-room. It was empty. He went over to the windows, feeling relieved. He needed peace and quiet.
He had to think.
What is happening to me?
He recalled how he felt, sitting with Alexandra in the coach, and then talking with her in the garden. He had felt overwhelmed, interested and slightly nervous, heart racing and palms sticky with earnest perspiration.
He knew very well how he felt. And he also reckoned he knew why.
“But why now?”
He shut the door and sank down onto the chaise-lounge, feeling weary. He had never fallen in love before.
Alexandra and his sister were talking a late-afternoon stroll in the gardens – he could hear them outside, talking and laughing, if he listened carefully, the sound floating in through the windows on the scented evening breeze. He needed to contemplate how he was feeling about Alexandra.
He was almost entirely convinced that he was falling for her.
It was, he told himself, inappropriate. He had to make an important marriage, one that could bring advantage to Blakeley and the whole region. Claudine Simmons, daughter of the Earl of Sunderfeld, would be a good choice. Why could he not feel this way?
Because Claudine, though she is pretty and accomplished, is utterly unlike me in mind or heart.
He found her hard and cold, and he could not warm to her. It was more than that. It wasn’t so much that he disliked Claudine, as that he liked Alexandra.
Too much.
“Your Grace?”
Matthew got up, feeling self-consciously like anybody could read what was in his mind. The butler had come in and gone over to the fireplace to stoke it. He turned to Matthew.
“Your Grace, you have a visitor.”
“I do? Albert!” Matthew jumped up. What in Perdition’s name had got into him? He had completely forgotten about Albert’s visit. “Send him up to my study at once if you please. I will speak directly.”
He went rapidly up to the study and sat down, leaving the door open to allow Albert to enter.
Albert sat down at the desk and Matthew sat down opposite. He leaned back, stretching his legs. Up here, in the closed, padded space of his study, he felt better.
He couldn’t hear Alexandra and Arabella, and so for the moment, he could focus.
“So, old chap…you were at tea this afternoon? How was it?” Albert asked. Mr. Denning had come up to bring them tea, and the teapot clinked as he put it down on the table.
“Oh, as ever,” Matthew said, shifting so that he was comfortable in the big leather-upholstered chair. “The same sort of people, witty discussions, and a fine selection of sandwiches. The best in the region, I think.” He laughed, but even he could hear it was a bit forced.
“As you say…they are good, aren’t they?” Albert replied. He looked unconvinced, and Matthew was sure he was going to ask him what was bothering him as soon as he had an opportunity.
He did.
“I say, Matthew,” Albert said, reaching across the desk to take a sip of tea. “I reckon something’s troubling you. It’s not those figures, is it? Those investments in rope are always troublesome…up and down, never stable.”
Matthew shook his head. Rope was, absolutely, not what he was thinking of.
“No, Albert…it’s not that. I was thinking of another subject. How do you know if you’re falling for someone?”
Albert stared.
“I say! Matthew…” he swallowed a few times, distinctly uncomfortable. “That’s quite a strong topic you picked there! Now…how to answer?” His brown eyes blinked rapidly a few times, making him seem very nervous.
Matthew grinned to himself. He felt that maybe Albert might not be the best person to share his confidence with – after all, Albert was more excited about rope and shipping than he ever was about people. He was surprised when Albert answered him.
“Love is the strangest thing, Matthew. It takes a hold of your heart and it transforms your whole world. Bleak rainy days look brighter, the colors intense. Birdsong seems sweeter. Flowers smell stronger. Love makes you alive to a new world. A place where even darkness is the home of stars.”
Matthew blinked. He had utterly not expected that.
“I see,” he said. “Thank you, Albert.”
“Don’t mention it,” Albert said, voice stiff. “Now, I’ve been looking into the possibility of trading in cotton. What do you know of it?”
Suddenly, he was brisk again, his hand moving down the columns in the book, his manner businesslike. The brief window into his soul was closed, and Matthew could only marvel at what he had seen down it.
And wonder when Albert had fallen in love.
They talked for a while, and then Albert excused himself, saying he had to hurry home for dinner.
“You can take the evening meal with us, if you like,” Matthew said instantly. “Mr. Hayden always cooks extra, and you are always welcome here, you know.”
“Thank you, Matthew. But I must hurry home. I have an interesting fellow coming for dinner – he owns three mills, and I hope to invest in them.”
Matthew shook his hand and said farewell, then went back up to his study. He had a lot to think about.
He could hear Arabella and Alexandra again, and he looked down to watch them walking and gesturing. Arabella was pointing at something in the garden, and they were both giggling, the sound free and light on the cool air.
Of course, he did! How could he not, when she made everything seem brighter; more alive?
He blinked, shaking his head. In perdition’s name, Albert was right! He really must be falling in love.
“That’s most difficult,” he told himself firmly.
He absolutely couldn’t allow that to happen.
“I should take a holiday. Albert would have me stay there. I cannot allow myself to go about doing this.”
He needed time, and a clear head, to face this possibility.
He felt his heart thump and his hands clenched into fists, sudden fear overwhelming him. He couldn’t risk the scandal! Arabella, in association, would be ruined! She had enough to overcome as it was, with no parents and – until now – no introduction into society. He did not need to go making it worse by making a fool of her.
He stiffened as someone knocked at the door.
“Brother?” Arabella called.
“Come in,” he said, standing. Arabella came over at once, dancing lightly into the room. She had changed out of the sprig muslin, he noticed, into a more informal gown of cream linen, decorated with ribbons and ruffles.
“Brother! Can we dine upstairs? Alexandra promised to show me a new piece on the pianoforte, and I want to be able to study it during dinner.”
“Alexandra isn’t going to eat with us,” he said instantly.
“Are you sure?”
Matthew nodded. “Absolutely sure. Now, come on. Let’s go to the drawing-room. We’ll ring for Mr. Denning, and he can send up the dinner.”
They went to sit down. Arabella seemed subdued, and Matthew thought that she was probably angry with him for having refused to let Alexandra dine with them. But what could he do? He could not indulge his foolishness, and he couldn’t tell Arabella the reason for his harsh decision.
“An excellent soup,” he murmured, taking a cautious sip. It was pea soup, sweet and delicious. Arabella nodded.
“Can I go to the village tomorrow?” she asked him, as the butler came to remove the empty soup-dishes.
“Of course!” Matthew said instantly. He felt so guilty about depriving her of Alexandra’s company that he wanted to prove he wasn’t that bad. “Would you like to take the coach? I will need to go in anyhow, to talk to my accountant. We’ll go together.”
“Good! And I do need Alexandra to come with me this time,” Arabella insisted. “She can escort me to the fabrics shop while you go to speak to Mr. Dunham.”
“Of course,” he nodded.
Arabella brightened and chattered away while they ate – the main course was fish, the dessert trifle. Matthew felt a little guilty as he ate it – he was sure that Alexandra would have enjoyed it too. It was full of raspberry jam, moist and lovely.
“Ah! There you are!” Arabella said, jumping up as someone came in. Matthew stood, feeling as if his skin was thin and the room was hot, as Alexandra came in.
“My Lady…” she paused, half-ready, it seemed, to back out through the door again when she saw him at table. “Should I really…”
“Oh, we’re finished, Alexandra!”
“Yes,” Matthew said, and bowed low. “I have just finished my dinner. My sister explained that you wished to teach her on the pianoforte, and I will vacate the room and leave you to it.”
“Brother! You can stay,” Arabella invited, but he shook his head. Mr. Denning came in to clean the plates, and he headed to the door.
“No, sister. I must prepare some documents for the trip tomorrow.”
“Oh, very well…” Arabella sighed. “Come on! Let’s play now.”
Matthew heard Arabella draw the piano-stool out from the instrument, then sit down. He walked quietly up the hallway but stopped.
Tiptoeing back, he stood just outside the door. He could hear sweet music, and, when he peered around the edge of the doorframe, he could see Alexandra was seated at the piano. She was playing a restful piece, and he thought her touch was fine and delicate, the sound sweet and soft. He watched her, looking at the light glowing on the soft skin of her neck, her hair dark and lustrous in the light from many lamps.
Go away, his mind told himself. You shouldn’t be here. You are making matters worse for yourself, not better.
But he couldn’t help it. He stayed a few seconds, watching her gentle touch on the keys, the way her back moved when she played.
He tiptoed away, chiding himself for his foolishness, but knowing that, if he had the chance to listen to her playing, he would take it again. The notes haunted him, and the memory of her loveliness.
I have to go away, he told himself. He had decided he would take a few days at Albert’s home, to try and regain his sanity – but not tomorrow, as tomorrow he had to take them both to the village.
Chapter 8
Alexandra leaned on the cushion behind her, looking out of the window. She laced her fingers together and tried to focus on the landscape that was flashing past, and ignore the bump of the coach-ride, and also to ignore the fact that the man seated opposite was staring at her.
He has no business to be staring.
Dressed in a plain cotton gown, Alexandra was trying to forget about the events of the previous day.
She found that she couldn’t, and that frustrated her.
She kept on thinking – over and again – of the tea-party and of the words she had exchanged with the Duke.
“Alexandra?” Arabella asked, interrupting her thoughts. She reddened with a blush, as if Arabella could see what she was thinking.
“Yes?”
“Are you needing anything for the tapestry we’ll be making? I thought perhaps we could choose some cottons for that, too. The haberdasher has those as well, and I thought we might like to make a plan for what we need now.”
“Oh!” Alexandra nodded. “Yes, Arabella. That’s very thoughtful. We’ll need blue, for the flowers. And green, I would imagine…plenty of green. One spends so much time sewing the wretched leaves, that one hardly has time for the flowers, which are the fun part.”
Arabella giggled. The Duke looked over at her, face lit with an amused smile.
“You seem quite annoyed by sewing?” he chuckled.
Alexandra laughed.
“Have you ever sewed anything, your Grace?” she asked. “It strains the eyes and gets on your nerves.”
She blushed, realizing soon after she’d said it how candid it was, but the Duke was grinning.
“It’s a very refreshing view on embroidery, I think.”
Alexandra’s blush deepened, especially when his eye lingered on her approvingly. She looked away. When she turned back, he was looking out of the window, seeming absorbed in the scenery.
“Alexandra,” Arabella said, sounding confused, as if she couldn’t understand these changes that happened so rapidly between them. “Should we go for tea in the village? You’d like that.”
“It depends on your brother, my Lady,” Alexandra said, studiously ignoring the form hunched by the window, staring decidedly out. “I would like to, but it depends if he has the time. He will also be needing the coach to take him back, will he not?”
