by Alice Kirks
And she probably made it easier for Arabella to understand my side as well.
No, he had learned a great deal about Alexandra. And all of it made him more determined to make it possible for her to be ennobled.
“Come on, Brother!” Arabella insisted, turning to look at him as they went down the hallway. “I need to ask your opinion swiftly on my gown for London.”
Matthew nodded.
“I give you my undivided attention,” he said with a small bow.
His sister grinned.
“I wanted to wear a dress like this…in the Gazette,” she said, fetching a copy of the ladies’ Gazette off the table. She flipped the pages to a sketched illustration of a dress with loose, fluttery sleeves and a ribbon about the waist. Matthew raised a brow.
“It’s rather nice,” he said. “I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t.” It was quite respectable, he thought – the neck was low-cut, but not any more so than any society lady’s gown. He had been worried she was going to choose something inappropriate.
“Oh! Thank you, brother!” Arabella said, clapping her hands. “I want it to be white. This is the dress I want to wear for my Almack’s party.”
“Yes, of course,” Matthew nodded. “White will be most appropriate. Muslin?”
“Oh, yes!” Arabella nodded. “I thought with a pattern of white squares woven in. In silk, that is, so you can see them!”
“Sounds pretty,” Matthew said. He wasn’t sure what else to say. He looked around. “What did Alexandra say?”
“She said it would be very becoming,” Arabella said. She looked up at him hopefully.
Matthew nodded. “Well, then. Sounds good to me. Should we play that Whist?”
“Let’s play!”
They went over to the table by the window and started dealing out the cards. Matthew was distracted while they played and ended up losing the first round. He was thinking about Alexandra.
“Brother…can’t we play another?” Arabella begged, as he stood to leave. Matthew nodded.
“One more,” he promised.
They played a second round, and he knew he was playing badly, but Arabella seemed quite unbothered, and in the end, they decided to declare themselves both the winners.
“I’ll go to my bedchamber, I think,” Matthew said, pushing back the chair. “I have letters to write before I sleep.”
He said goodnight to Arabella and went upstairs. He didn’t actually have any letters to write – he was just too tired and too confused to stay awake much longer. He called for the butler to bring up a tray of dinner and ate alone. When he retired to bed, it was still hard not to think about Alexandra.
He rolled over from one side to another, unable to find ease.
Somewhere, he imagined, Alexandra was doing the same. He wondered if she also felt so uneasy; if she thought of him with even half the intensity with which he thought of her. He blushed.
“Matthew, you’re a dolt,” he told himself.
He couldn’t help it. He longed for her. And the next day, he promised himself, he was going to take first steps towards remedying the situation.
He was a duke, and he could probably find out how to ennoble someone. It shouldn’t be that hard, after all! And if anyone knew the people who could get it done, he did.
I must try.
The next morning, he woke early and called for his manservant, to help him get dressed. His head hurt and his vision was blurry – he hadn’t slept well.
“My riding-clothes if you please,” he said to his manservant firmly. “I’ll ride out directly after breakfast.”
“Very good, your Grace,” his manservant nodded.
Breakfast was brief and mostly silent. Matthew was aware he was distracted, and that Arabella was trying to talk to him, but he couldn’t pay attention. His mind was already planning his day, deciding where to stop on the road to London and back. He was tired too and focusing on anything besides the ride was difficult.
“Brother! You didn’t say anything about Amelia coming. Can she visit?”
“Oh. Sorry, Arabella,” Matthew said, feeling his cheeks flush warmly. “I wasn’t following you. I’m quite tired and distracted this morning. I’ll go riding now.”
“You are distracted,” Arabella giggled. “Well, I’ll see you at luncheon, Brother. Alexandra wanted to ask if we could go to the village tomorrow. We need some cotton for tapestries.”
“Of course,” Matthew nodded. He couldn’t help the fact that he glowed at the mention of her name.
“I’ll see you after luncheon, then,” Arabella called to him as he hastily left.
He grinned to himself. His little sister was tolerating his distraction, and he couldn’t help being amused by it. He went out to the stables.
“Saddle my horse,” he asked the chief stable-hand, a stocky fellow with an open-hearted expression by the name of Mr. Jutlands.
“I will, your Grace. And where will you be going of the morning if I may ask?”
“London.”
Without pause, Matthew led his horse away and swung up into the saddle from the block in the yard by the water-bucket. He had a long way to ride if he wanted to get there and back before luncheon.
On the way, he found himself turning back towards the manor. The road was long and looping, and he reckoned the easiest way to get there was to follow the route he always used. That meant he had to get back to the road near the manor and turn around part of the way.
“Why are things always so damnably difficult?” he swore under his breath. As he stopped and looked around, reading the signpost with a frown, he decided where to go.
“Back to the manor, then the other way. It’s three quarters of an hour faster, at least!”
The fact that he’d already spent three quarters of an hour reaching this point couldn’t be helped, he decided. He would turn back and ride the shorter, and safer, distance to London.
On the way, he paused. He was passing the woods, going very near to his own home. The village was half an hour’s walk away, but he could hear people. Or at least one person, and they weren’t exactly being quiet either.
“Help!” he heard someone shout.
It was a lady’s voice, and, without thinking about it, he turned back and rode into the woodlands. He was almost at his home, and he was absolutely not going to let anyone’s cry for help remain unanswered.
“Help!” he heard her shout again. He rode towards the cry, feeling his heart thump and his blood race and not thinking of anything – his safety, his fighting-skills or the fact that he didn’t have even a walking-cane to his name. He was going to help whoever it was that was screaming, and he was going to do it regardless of whatever danger he found himself in.
Chapter 22
Alexandra stared at the man she’d encountered in the forest. He stared at her. They had only looked at each other for an instant, but for some reason Alexandra couldn’t fathom, instead of ignoring her, apologizing or just carrying on along his own path, the man walked towards her.
“Please,” she whispered. “Leave me alone.”
He was looking at her searchingly, and Alexandra felt her heart pound. Was he a thief? Or was he simply wandering in his wits? She couldn’t tell.
“Please,” she said again. “I have no money. I was just walking in these woods. I have nothing for you.”
He didn’t say anything but took a step forward. She could see rapid calculations going on in his mind. What was he trying to work out? The likelihood of someone coming? How likely she was to have money in her purse?
“I don’t have anything for you,” she said, backing away. “Please. Leave.”
“You’re from the big house!” he said.
Alexandra froze. He sounded surprised, and his expression changed from confusion to triumph. He walked towards her. He was close now – almost close enough for her to push him if she so chose. She didn’t.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, as he approached her. “Leave me!�
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“You’re her!” he said.
Alexandra screamed.
He made a grab for her and she twisted away and ran, shouting for help. She could hear him crashing through the bushes behind her and she ran, heart pounding, feet aching, body gasping. She hadn’t run this fast for years, but she needed to. She had to get away!
He knew who she was.
She could think of no other explanation. He wasn’t a servant in her household, and why he was tasked with looking for her, she had no idea. But somehow, he was here to find her. And he’d seen her.
He knew where she was.
“No,” she whispered to herself. “No.”
He was close now – she could hear him. She turned around and saw that he was perhaps ten paces behind her, and with no hope of him not seeing her.
She screamed for help again and hurtled through the bushes, trying to avoid him. She thought that it would be simpler for him to apprehend her on the road, so she ran down off it, running between the trees, hastening and trying to lose him.
“Oh, no,” she panted, as she felt her legs start to wobble.
I can’t run anymore. I can’t outrun him.
She could feel herself running out of strength, her chest already heaving for breath. If there was nowhere to go; if she couldn’t find somewhere to hide, and within the next few seconds, she was finished.
She looked around and spotted a dense clump of bushes. Perhaps, if she went in there quickly, she could hide!
She raced for the bushes, but before she could get there, she heard the sound of horse’s hoofs and suddenly, confusingly, the world exploded into color and sound and horse’s legs, running towards her.
“Stop!” she screamed.
The horseman must have leaned back, because the horse raised up on his back legs, then crashed down. Alexandra screamed, and then went silent. The horse stood in the road in front of her, snorting.
She took a step and stumbled backwards, falling against a tree. The shock made her start crying, her shoulders lifting as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Miss?” the horseman said.
The voice was low and male and Alexandra, still sobbing, didn’t listen to anything. She was crying, her hands up over her face, shoulders heaving as she struggled to breathe, her tears flowing down her face.
“Miss?” he said again. She heard his feet on the path, crunching the fallen foliage. She looked up, heart thumping.
“Please…” she began, about to ask him to leave her alone. Then, she jumped. “Your Grace?”
“Alexandra!”
He stared at her, the contact lasting a second, then he lowered himself to his knees and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up.
“Alexandra?” he said. “What happened? Why were you running? Stop crying,” he added gently, as he held her against his chest. “You’re safe now.”
Alexandra sniffed, and suddenly realized that she was standing with Lord Blakeley’s arms around her, with her head resting on his chest, close enough to hear the steady melody of his heart. She tightened her grip on his shoulder.
Please, let me stay here, she thought. She could wish the whole world could just disappear and they could stay, standing like this, with his body pressed to herself.
She looked up as he shifted in her arms and looked down at her.
“Alexandra,” he said softly. “What happened?”
She swallowed hard. “I was pursued. A man followed me. He…would not stop running behind me.”
What could she say? She couldn’t tell him the truth. The man had recognized her. He had pursued her, yes, but because he knew who she was. What else could she take from his behavior?
She did not know that for certain.
She looked up, about to add to her explanation, when Lord Blakeley spoke.
“I’ll have him pursued and brought to the village to be tried,” he said. He spoke without raised voice, yet Alexandra shivered. She could sense his anger. If he could, she thought, he would punish the man himself.
“Please, don’t,” she said hastily. If the man were tried, he would certainly explain himself, and then the Duke would know who she really was. And the whole village would know, too, making it a matter of time only before her father found her. “I am safe and that is enough. We can forget him.”
“Maybe,” the Duke said. “You are forgiving, Alexandra. I assure you, if that man ever crosses my path again, he will regret it.”
Alexandra swallowed hard.
“Yes, your Grace. I’m sure,” she said. He sounded as if he would happily choke the man himself. She couldn’t help feeling a tiny glimmer of something inside her, swiftly gone.
He cares enough to strangle someone he’s never seen, just to save me from harm.
She couldn’t help the fact that she liked the thought. It was a fleeting thought, though, and was instantly replaced both by her reluctance to actually see someone maimed, and her need to get away.
“Please, your Grace, forgive me. But I must get back,” she said. She looked around. The thought of walking alone terrified her. But what else could she do? Unless he was willing to walk back with her, leading his horse, she would have to walk back and pray not to walk into the stranger again.
“You are not walking in these woodlands again,” the Duke said. He spoke gently, but she knew better than to argue with him. “You are going to ride back with me now. I will stop by the village at the watch-station and tell them to send out a few men to look for this scoundrel.”
“Please, your Grace…it was nothing,” Alexandra murmured, but her mind hastily caught up with what he’d said, and she stared. “I ride with you?”
He nodded. “I will not let you walk back alone. And you must return swiftly. The best way is to ride back with me. If…it is not scandalous?”
Alexandra found herself laughing. She tried to stop, knowing it was more from relief and shock. She shook her head, taking a hiccough of breath in.
“No, your Grace,” she said. “It is not in the least distasteful to me.”
He smiled, and he seemed genuinely relieved, which would have amused her if she hadn’t been so touched.
“Come here, then,” he said. “I assure you, he’s not dangerous. Can I help you to mount up? We can go to that post by the roadside, where the fence is…?”
“No, it’s all right,” Alexandra said, without thinking about it. “I can get on.” She slipped her left foot into the stirrup, gripped the pommel and hauled herself up. She ended up astride, looking down at him.
“Oh,” he said. “I see. I didn’t think you could ride, actually.” He frowned, awkwardly.
“Um…I can’t, really,” Alexandra said, desperately trying to think of some appropriate story to explain her riding skills. “I mean…I helped with the horses when people called at the school. And I watched the boys learning, so of course I learned one or two skills. Like how to mount up. I can’t ride, though.”
