by Bobbi Smith
"I don't anymore," David answered firmly.
"I don't doubt it," the duke replied with a smile. "Dalton? Are the refreshments ready?"
"Yes, Your Grace. If you'd care to come into the dining room, Sir Townsend is waiting for you there."
The servant went to help the duke, but David offered first.
"Dalton, would you mind if I helped him?"
Their eyes met in understanding, and Dalton relented graciously.
Edward gave Alexander an appreciative look as he leaned on the young man's strong arm to walk the short distance into the dining room.
They passed the next several hours in conversation, and the longer they were together, the more impressed Edward became. Later, when he grew weary, the duke excused himself to go up to his room for to rest for a while before dinner.
"Your Grace . . ." Dalton began a little hesitantly once they were in the privacy of his chambers. "You seem less than certain that this young man is our Alexander. Is there something troubling you? I was most convinced myself."
"There's nothing that I can pinpoint exactly, Dalton. I suppose I'm more puzzled than anything," he confided as the servant helped him into bed. "When I brought up the subject of pirates, which he was once so keen on, Alexander didn't react strongly at all, and then there's the matter of the boat . . ."
"His toy boat, Your Grace?" Dalton knew exactly what he meant. Alexander and the boat had been inseparable until the day he'd disappeared.
"Yes. He hasn't asked about it at all," the duke said, frowning. "Maybe he was just too young to remember . . ."
When Dalton went back downstairs, the others were still in the dining room.
"Would you like me to show you to your rooms?" he offered. "Sir Townsend, you will be staying the night, won't you?"
"Yes, thank you, Dalton."
The servant took them upstairs and directed each to their own bedroom. He showed David to his room last.
"Here you are, Lord Alexander," he said as he opened the door to the same room he'd had as a child.
David stepped inside and found it much like Vivienne had described it. It seemed just from looking around that the duke had not disturbed a thing in all the years the real Alex was gone. He cast Dalton a sidelong glance. "He didn't change anything . . ."
"Not a thing," he confirmed. "I'll leave you now. If there's anything you need, just use the bellpull. Dinner will be served at half past seven."
"Thank you, Dalton."
When the old man had gone, David stood alone in the middle of the bedroom of the man whose identity he'd stolen. He felt the interloper, a stranger in a foreign land. He moved around touching the massive walnut wardrobe and the sturdy four-poster bed.
On impulse, needing a breath of fresh air, David left the room. He moved through the house quietly, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Studying Vivienne's drawings of the house had helped him tremendously, and he made his way easily through the massive mansion gazing at the portraits on the walls and glancing out the windows to familiarize himself with the gardens and lawns. Remembering that Vivienne had told him the real Alexander liked to go to the reflecting pond at the back of the garden, he let himself out of the house and wandered along a brick path that skirted the building. Within minutes he found himself at the edge of the flower garden, and he moved on down the walkway, through a high hedge to the very back where he found the pond just as she had told him he would.
David sat down on the mossy bank to stare out across the small pond. He could well imagine how special this place had been to the little seven-year-old boy who had played here every day. He found himself sympathizing with the missing, and very probably dead, real Alexander. David thought it tremendously sad that the boy had been stolen from his loving grandfather, and he made a silent promise to try to be the very best Alexander Wakefield he could be.
As David was sitting there alone, lost in his thoughts, the sound of voices came to him from the other side of the hedge.
"Did you see him, Mattie? Did you see how very handsome he is?" a breathless feminine voice with an Irish lilt was asking of her unseen companion.
"Oh, I saw him, all right, Miss Tess," the woman named Mattie answered, but she sounded a bit disapproving.
"Didn't you think he was grand?" Tess sighed.
"He's as good-looking as his father was," the one named Mattie disparaged.
"That's bad?" Her question was surprised.
"You're too young to remember. You weren't here when Lord Avery was. We can only hope that 'like father like son' doesn't hold true for another generation."
"I don't understand."
"His Grace is a good, fine man," Mattie lectured Tess, "but his son, Avery, was nothing like him. He was a scoundrel. It was a shame. He put the duke through hell."
David was amazed at what he was hearing and said nothing, not wanting to reveal his presence.
"What did he do?"
"Rumor had it that he gambled and the like. Of course, we were never really sure, and though Dalton knew all the particulars, he wasn't one to talk. Just know that he was not a good man, and the duke is well rid of him."
"And you think Lord Alexander is like him?"
"We'll have to wait and see, Tess, but I wouldn't be looking at him as if he were the Savior returned, if I were you. Remember your place, girl." Their voices faded out as the two women moved away, completely unaware that he'd overheard them.
David had at first found their conversation amusing, but he was stunned by what he'd heard concerning his "father." It was a shock to him that Avery had been a wastrel, Vivienne had never so much as hinted at any flaws in her beloved husband. It certainly explained a lot about the way she manipulated and used people. She'd probably learned from her husband, or they might have been two of a kind from the start. The realization left him feeling even worse. Getting to his feet, he went back inside to get ready for dinner. As he entered the house, he wondered idly which one of the servants was Tess.
Several days passed in calm activities. Vivienne seemed completely satisfied with the way things were going. David knew he and the duke were getting along well enough, but he'd noticed that in all their conversations the old nobleman had yet to refer to him by name. When he spoke to him he always used the terms "my boy" or "son," never "Alexander." It was the one clue David had that he had not been completely accepted yet.
It became a pleasant habit for David to walk out to the pond late every afternoon. He was there lingering on the bank the third day after his arrival when he looked up just as the duke came slowly down the walk past the hedge.
"I had a feeling I might find you here. Dalton told me you come out every day," Edward said, observing him closely.
"I like it here. It's so peaceful and serene . . . "
"This was where you were taken from. Do you remember any of it?" His gaze did not waver from his face. He was tired of the uncertainty. Dalton seemed positive that this was Alex. Vivienne and Townsend seemed sure it was him. Why did he still doubt?
"Not really. I just remember being afraid and . . . " David looked thoughtful as if wracking his memory for details of a trauma long past. He glanced up at Edward then and saw the small toy boat he held in his hand. "My boat! You saved it!" He was immensely relieved that Vivienne had warned him over and over about the boat, and he moved forward to take it as the duke held it out to him.
"You remembered . . ." Edward breathed in relief, then tested further for the one last bit of proof he needed. He watched as the young man cradled the boat like a treasure. "Do you still want to paint the name on it? We'd planned to do that together when I got back from my trip all those years ago."
David had no idea what Alexander had wanted to name his boat and obviously neither had Vivienne. Covering his sudden fear well, he thought quickly and replied, "I still want to paint a name on it, but I want to call it the Homecoming now, Grandfather. Nothing else matters except that I'm back and we're together."
There was no need fo
r David to hide his true feelings behind his actor's mask. He was truly beginning to care for this man. The duke was honest and forthright and a gentleman through and through. He was all the things that David was not. Their gazes met and locked.
Edward looked up at him, knowing he had to make his decision now. He wanted him to be Alexander. It wasn't as if the boy hadn't remembered the boat. He had. That alone should have been enough, would have been enough for any other man. but it bothered him that this young man seemed to have no recollection of calling the boat the Scimitar when it had been so very important to the both of them at the time. Wanting to believe, Edward finally cast that last nagging misgiving aside. He looked like Alexander would have looked. Some of his expressions and mannerisms were just the same as they had been as a child Just because he couldn't remember the name he'd made up almost nineteen years ago for a toy boat didn't prove him an impostor.
The duke took a step closer and rested a trembling, aged hand on David's broad shoulder. "You're right, Alexander. Nothing else matters except that we're together again . . ."
David knew in that moment that he'd been accepted as the true grandson. He knew he should have felt like celebrating. Instead, he he only felt miserable.
The only redeeming thought David had as he bent down and set the boat to sail on the mirror-smooth waters of the pond was that he would do everything he could to make the duke happy during the time he had left. He would become a duke Edward would be proud of. He owed him that.
Chapter Fourteen
"Alexander . . ." Edward's voice rang out from where he sat in the parlor. He'd been meaning to have this discussion with his grandson for several weeks, and now that rumors were starting to come to him concerning the young man's successes among the ladies, he knew he could put it off no longer.
"Yes, Grandfather?" David appeared in the parlor doorway looking quite the man-about-town. He had been on his way out for an evening of cards and drinking with the new friends he'd made in London.
"I need to speak with you for a moment."
"Of course. I was just off to the club, but it can wait. What is it?" He moved comfortably into the duke's presence and settled in the wing chair opposite him. They had become close during the past weeks and David really enjoyed his company.
"I have something very important I must relate to you," Edward began, hedging a bit.
David sensed his nervousness and was puzzled by it. "Is something wrong?"
"Oh, no, nothing's wrong."
David waited expectantly.
"I have heard that you are cutting quite a wide swath through the young women," Edward mentioned.
David grinned. "There are many beautiful women in London, Grandfather, and I think they're quite impressed with my title." One of the benefits of becoming Alexander Wakefield, he'd discovered, was a sudden, marvelous success with females. Obviously, they found his future prospects quite impressive.
"With you, too, my boy, and that's what brings me to our present conversation . . ."
David looked at him expectantly.
"Years ago, when you were but a babe, my good friend, Alfred Lawrence, the Marquess of Ravensley, and I privately drew up a marriage contract between you and his granddaughter, Victoria Lynn." He paused.
There was silence for a minute as David digested this news. "Are you saying the contract is still in force?"
"Most definitely. You, my dear grandson, are engaged."
David blinked in surprise. He was going to be married and he'd never seen the girl?
"The marquess's fortunes nearly match ours. The arrangement will be a coup for both of your families."
"But I've never met her . . ." he protested, stunned.
"You will."
"Is she here in London?"
"No, she's living in India with her parents. Alfred and I spoke shortly after you returned, and he signified his willingness to agree to the marriage. Victoria has been informed of your return."
"I see . . ."
Edward could well imagine the panic gripping his young grandson, and he chuckled sympathetically. "Don't worry, Alexander. It will all work out. Alfred and I think the public announcement of your engagement should come soon, but there's no need for the two of you to rush into marriage. You can take your time and get to know each other, see if you're compatible."
David looked bewildered. Suddenly he found himself engaged to a woman he'd never seen or heard of in his life. Marriage was important to him. His parents had loved each other dearly, and he'd hoped for the same for himself. He hadn't wanted to marry just for wealth and position, but it appeared now, though, that the decision had been taken out of his hands. He knew he had no choice but to accept it.
"There's no need to worry about the girl," he assured him. "Alfred gave me this small portrait of Victoria, and she's quite a lovely young lady. I think you'll be pleased." He handed him the miniature and watched as he studied it.
"You're right, Grandfather. She is quite attractive," David agreed, staring down at the raven-haired, green-eyed beauty.
"Then it is settled," Edward pronounced, not giving his grandson any chance to discuss the matter any further. "I'm just surprised your mother didn't remember when the plans were set. Of course, it was shortly before you were kidnapped, so she probably forgot it in all the heartache that followed."
"What about Victoria? How does she feel about this?"
"I don't think you have to worry about any arguments coming from her, Alexander. You're the best catch in England. There isn't a woman who would turn down the opportunity to be your bride. She'll be thrilled."
"Yes, sir."
"Very good. I'll send word to Alfred today to draw up the final contracts. He can notify his son in India of the official announcement of betrothal after that. It might be a good thing to include a picture of yourself in the letter he sends. Do you have one?"
"No, sir."
"Then we'll plan on getting one made right away. Once all this is done, it will just be a matter of time before your future bride is on her way back to England to meet you. Congratulations, Alexander. I'm sure you won't regret your decision," Edward told him happily. His heart was light as he considered how perfect his plans were. The future that had once seemed so bleak, was now full of promise. Life was good.
"Thank you, sir. Have you spoken to my mother about this yet?"
"No. I thought a man-to-man discussion was warranted first."
"I'll tell her later this evening when I see her."
Just outside the study door in the hall, one of the maids had escaped Dalton's eagle eye and had been hovering near enough to listen in on the conversation. Within minutes of the duke's announcement, she rushed back to the kitchen area to spread the word of Alexander's engagement. All of the household staff was ready to celebrate at the news except one—the young chambermaid, Tess.
At eighteen, Tess was a beauty of an Irish lass, with fair skin, burnished hair, and shining hazel eyes that usually lit up with an inner glow that mirrored her basic good nature. Finding out just now from the others that Lord Alexander was to marry was like a knife in her heart, and for the first time in her young life, Tess knew bitter pain.
Tess had fallen in love with Alexander the moment she'd laid eyes on him the day of his homecoming; and in the way of all innocent young girls, she'd dreamed that one day he would notice her. He had on several occasions greeted and smiled at her, and that alone had given her hope. The duke had never paid any attention to her when she was around, but Lord Alex had actually spoken to her!
Now, facing the reality that she would never attract Alexander's eye or know his kiss, Tess was devastated. She slipped away from the work area as soon as she could manage it so no one else would know of her distress. It was going to be difficult enough for her to handle her feelings without bearing the ridicule and scorn of the older servants, too. Mattie, in particular, knew she thought Lord Alex handsome, and Tess was sure she would look upon her desire for a member of the Wakefield family
as pure folly. Logically, Tess knew her love for him was hopeless, but then, there could be no dictating the ways of the heart. As she hid near the back of the gardens, out of sight of the house, her tears fell in silent testimony to the love she believed she would never know.
It was in the early morning hours that David returned from his night of gaming. He saw that the light was on in Vivienne's bedroom, and he knocked softly on her door as he made his way upstairs to bed. She was still fully dressed when she opened the door to him.
"Come in, my son. I understand you have news to tell me?" she greeted him with a wide, avaricious smile.
"You've spoken with Grandfather?"
"Earlier this evening, yes, and I couldn't be more pleased with this turn of events. A marriage between the Lawrences and the Wakefields will set this town on its ear!" The thought of all that money and prestige thrilled her. "I can't tell you just how pleased I am with you, Alexander. The money from this marriage will be more than I ever dreamed. You're doing very well. Keep it up."
"I don't have much choice, do I?"
"No," she stated flatly, her eyes mirroring her murderous intent should he falter. "You don't, son. "
David was thoroughly disgusted as he left her. He went to his room and began to undress, telling himself to concentrate on the good parts of the arrangement. Though he tried, he still felt uneasy about marrying this girl. As he untied his cravat and tossed it aside, he picked up the small portrait once again. She was a beautiful young woman, and she had every reason to believe that she would be marrying Alexander Wakefield. The depth of his guilt grew.
Lady Victoria Lynn Lawrence was a tall, willowy, ebony-haired young woman with expressive green eyes and a quick smile. Wearing a sedate, pale-green daygown that highlighted her coloring and brought out the sparkle in her eyes, she strolled on the deck of La Mouette enjoying a bit of fresh air and sunshine with her traveling companion, the gray-haired opinionated Miss Edith Jones.
