Henry’s shadow across the window glass announced his approach, her father at his heels. Her heart leapt in her chest and spurred her decision. She would pack her meagre things and flee under the cover of nightfall. Devlin and Phineas entered the room before the conclusion took root.
“Gentlemen.” Devlin’s tone was all business. “May I present Lord Bickerstaffe.” With an amazing economy of words he explained how Bickerstaffe offered for Alexandra’s hand and he approved the marriage. “Now that you have arrived, Addington, Alexandra has two suitors. How fortunate she possesses the opportunity to decide her own future.”
“My daughter’s future is already decided.” Her father grumbled his discontent. “I see no reason to continue this nonsense.”
“Regard the fine sample Henry presents, and the congenial circumstances were Alexandra given the chance to consider both gentleman. An amendable daughter is much preferred over a disputatious one.”
Every aspect of her father’s countenance warmed with the compliment given Henry. He agreed to a short courtship and the men shook hands as an understanding was met.
“Agreed.” Devlin’s strong voice rang across the silent room. “Addington will court Alexandra, as will Lord Bickerstaffe. By the end of the week your daughter will make her choice. Does this arrangement meet with your approval?”
Everyone, with the exception of Alexandra, nodded in agreement. But no one spared a glance in her direction anyway.
The door swung open and Reeston entered with Cook, except she no longer wore her usual service clothing and wide grey apron. Instead she dressed in a fine muslin dress of pale green that hung a bit off kilter as if it didn’t belong to her. A forgotten silver spoon kept her lopsided bun in place.
Reeston introduced her as Lady Lenore Bisket, Alexandra’s chaperone, and the entire scene proved laughable although her heart ached with the singular thought that one way or the other, whether it be Henry or Phineas, she’d be engaged by the end of the week. And no matter who managed to win the contest of her hand, neither man was the one she wanted.
The man she did want, who lived in her heart and burned in her soul, stood a scant distance from her, yet still disconnected. She watched him as he escorted the guests to the door. The she closed her eyes in exhaustion and fought the growing trepidation that the afternoon’s events left her no choice but to flee once again.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The clock chimed midnight when Reeston found him in the study. The room smelled of brandy and anger and his clothes were disassembled. He paid no heed, occupied with darker thoughts than decorum and appearance.
“Your Grace?” The butler entered on brisk strides, closed the double doors, and allowed his reserved demeanour to fall away.
Devlin poured another brandy and swallowed it in two gulps. The amber liquor burned a numbing path and he relished the sensation before he lifted the decanter to repeat the process.
“Drinking yourself into tomorrow will not pass this evening faster.”
The words were spoken with sincerity, but as he turned towards his butler he offered only a forbidding scowl. “I’m in no mood for company or conversation. A wise man would take his leave.” His derisive growl sounded menacing, but he cared little.
Reeston advanced and his eyes assessed the room’s condition. A question lifted his brow, his expression grim, as he took in the broken golf balls, their leather cases ripped and feathers spilled. A huff of distress followed. Reeston touched the discarded waistcoat thrown in haphazard disarray across the chess table, several ivory pieces knocked to the floor as a result.
Devlin reached for the half-empty brandy decanter and Reeston cleared his throat.
“The liquor, Your Grace , will it trigger another of your episodes?”
“No. The liquor, Reeston,” Devlin scoffed in a mocking tone, “will make me forget. Exactly the prescription I need for this evening.” He swallowed the contents, replaced the glass and walked towards the open terrace doors. He picked up his golf club and aligned for the shot. He swung with more anger than skill and his club hit the carpet not the ball. He sliced the air again and the ball took flight, a shot into the midnight darkness.
“She will return soon. Would you like me to inform you when Lady Alexandra arrives home?”
“This isn’t her home, Reeston,” Oh, but he could be glib when he set his mind. “You’d be smarter not to think of Kenley Manor as her home. Lexi will leave and then you will be disappointed.” He swatted at the golf ball near his boots, hitting it so hard the small orb broke apart; the white feathers floating softly to the carpet.
“I doubt golf is the answer, Devlin.”
He made no reply. His butler was allowed the informality. In truth, he served as the only father he’d ever known, but it made his counsel no easier to hear. He wanted to forget this night had happened. He wanted to distract himself and force the replaying of Lexi’s angered rail from his mind. How she condemned him for sending a letter he did not send. And how, with tears overflowing, she’d accused him of never caring for her, cut from the same cloth as her father, anxious to force her into a marriage she did not desire.
Derwent had summoned the visitors, but ultimately he accepted blame. He’d insisted the solicitor act on any clue of Lexi’s past, so he could not condemn the man’s actions even if their result caused tumultuous chaos and conflicted emotions. Lexi would not accept his explanation and reasons for pursuing her past. She was so overcome with emotion during their argument, he all but forced her to listen, speaking over her objections, for little good it did him. Still Devlin remained confident once her had anger subsided and she’d reflected on their discussion, she would understand his motivation for engaging the solicitor.
If only she knew the truth. His desire to see the situation resolved stemmed from something opposed to lack of feelings. He could no longer look at her beautiful face, her lovely smile, that sweet tempting dimple, without the heat of desire flooding his soul. Every word from her rose lips, every motion, conjured images of him over her, stripping her bare and making her his for ever. Damnation, he’d barely stopped himself a few nights past in her bedchamber. She looked so breathtakingly beautiful and willing to offer all of what he dreamed and craved with every breath he took. Worse still, he now expected her company, and looked forward to her walking through his estate her little pup in tow. He yearned for the sound of her voice or the touch of her hand.
The estate would seem darker and colder than ever, once she was gone.
He pressed his eyes closed and the image of Lexi’s despair after her father and Addington departed twisted his heart. How he wanted to go to her with reassurance, to wrap her in his arms and solve all her problems, yet what future would that offer? The bleak world he inhabited was not one to be shared. She deserved so much more than a semi-reclusive existence with a repudiated madman.
He lifted his club and swung. The ball vaulted forward and struck the corner of the doorframe, dropping flat on the terrace landing.
“Perhaps you should put the club down and talk to me.”
The request was soft spoken and met its mark. He took a last idle swing, walked out to the terrace, and threw the club into the wood below.
“There.” He turned and speared Reeston with defiance. “Now leave me alone.”
“That was not what I intended, but at least I have your attention.” They were no longer servant and employer, but two men in a room.
“Don’t trouble yourself. King will fetch it in the morning.” Devlin strode to the chessboard and pushed his coat aside. A few pieces slid to the floor, but the white queen remained upright and he picked it up, rolling it in his fingers before he clenched it in his palm.
“I beg you not to throw that out of the window. You will regret the loss of the piece come morning.”
Damned butler. Wasn’t this evening hard enough without the voice of Reeston intruding?
“Regret? My whole life is regret.” He let out a raw laugh. “Do you k
now what Addington said as we discussed his escort of Lexi this evening?”
“No, I have no idea.” The clock ticked a patient cadence across the room.
“I informed him if he did anything to hurt Lexi or bring her unhappiness, I would hunt him down and beat him senseless.” Another chuckle escaped, a raw sound in the silent room. “He reassured me against the possibility, as ever since he looked into Alexandra’s green eyes he’d known he was falling in love.” He paced the room with furious strides. “She has blue eyes, Reeston. Captivating, entrancing blue eyes that light with every smile she offers. Addington is an idiot. He knows nothing about her aside from her father’s desire to see him wed. How could he possibly be in Lexi’s company and not remember every nuance? Not know her favourite dessert, or which hand she favours, or that she … ?”
“If I may say so, as I can see you’ve given this a considerable amount of thought …” Reeston paused in his interruption, surely realizing Devlin worked towards a rage. “Are you doubting your decision to allow Mr. Addington to escort Lady Alexandra to the opera tonight?”
“Doubting it?” His quick retort startled the butler. “No. The house is quieter without her …” Footsteps? Voice? Laughter? His mind completed the sentence one hundred different ways, all of them woefully true, still his mouth refused to voice one aloud. He let the question drop in the same manner as his emotions. “The entire situation is a complicated mess and I’ll be well off when the matter is over.”
“If that were true, you would have simply sent her home with her father to marry Addington and have her off your hands.”
Off my hands? No, in my hands. I want her in my hands. Underneath the weight of my body. I want to possess her, consume her… I want to love her. Just one night. “That man is a fool.”
His words were a bitter lie. Addington epitomized the type of gentleman Lexi deserved: stable, sensible, respected. Each word stabbed sharp with honesty, for he was none of those things and worse.
“It is of no consequence, Devlin, and you know it.”
He skewered his butler with a furious glare. It was late and he was angry. The last thing he wanted was to face emotions and memories from the past. Reeston seemed intent on something else entirely. Damned servant proved too intuitive for his own good. In truth, Lexi was the first woman to make him take pause and consider his lifestyle, examine his feelings, and the meaning behind them. She aroused a protectiveness in him that supplied no explanation, save from the fact his heart would shatter if any harm befell her. And he’d cared for little so long, the sentiment consumed him with such intensity he wondered if it would destroy him, an obsession never to be satiated.
Reeston cleared his throat. “Are you afraid to admit your feelings and lose yourself to her?”
His butler’s uncanny ability to read his mind never failed to surprise him. “Lose myself? It is with Lexi that I have finally found myself.” His admission was but a whispered mutter in the otherwise quiet room.
“Sometimes you have to climb the mountain before you can see the view. Nothing, save falling in love with Lady Alexandra, has ever been easy for you.”
Devlin rushed forward, his anger and frustration ignited anew. “Did you come in here to spout riddles or to help me? Make no mistake, I never claimed to love Lexi. Do not put words in my mouth.” He moved to the sideboard and took another swallow of liquor to obliterate the complaint evident in Reeston’s eyes. Damn the old man for knowing him so well.
“You must care for her, because even the devil wouldn’t recognize you this evening. And I have never in my employ seen you so disassembled.” Reeston stated the words in a casual tone as if he mentioned the weather.
A cynical chuckle rattled in Devlin’s chest. Dear Aunt Min, if only she knew what she instigated. “Given my past and my reputation, what could I possibly offer her?”
“Begin with your heart,Your Grace.” Reeston crossed the room, pausing only when he reached the double panel doors. “I will retire now and leave you to your thoughts. Try to get some rest. I wonder if you will behave in this manner when Bickerstaffe escorts Lady Alexandra to Kensington Gardens.”
He hesitated, measuring his solemn reply. “Thank you for your help, Reeston. You are more than I deserve.”
“You are quite welcome.” Reeston nodded his head goodnight and left without a backwards glance.
Out on the terrace, the cool air erased his anger. He tipped his head back, his eyes on the black sky, unsure if he wished to clear his thoughts or bury them deeper. The slightest sliver of moon showed. Should he climb to the roof? He’d have a better vantage when the carriage turned down the long drive. Perhaps he should take Orion out. At times the glory of the ride exercised his tension. Although tonight his mind raced with agitation, not his body, and something told him it would be another wrong decision in an evening overburdened with regret. Lexi. He wanted her. He needed her. But she was the one thing in his life he could not have.
Why hadn’t she come home? The opera would have ended hours ago. Could she harbour feelings for Henry? He sneered in distaste. It followed the man would appear at his doorstep, polished and presentable, every father’s dream for his daughter, just when the smallest sliver of indecision and hope crept into his soul.
And what of Phineas? He seemed a little too eager with his offer of help. Were his motives honourable or did he work with Julia to set Lexi free from Kenley Manor so he could present his suit? Devlin refuted the idea, although a strange dark emotion clawed at his insides. It would destroy their friendship and he, in turn, would destroy his friend. He’d involved Phin in an attempt to gain the time necessary to solve the impossible situation that rose from nowhere. But that, too, was untrue. Weeks ago he had urged Derwent to uncover Lexi’s past. He had caused the unexpected and truculent reunion.
Tired of the relentless clatter of his emotions, he returned to the study and closed the terrace doors. He eyed the brandy decanter and crossed the room, all the while an incessant voice, riddled with anger and jealousy, reminded him of Lexi’s impossible loveliness. Who wouldn’t risk it all to have her?
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Well, look who’s come home! It’s nearly two o’clock in the morning. What were you doing with good old Addington all this time? Rekindling old memories?”
Alexandra climbed the stairs with care, not wishing to disturb the silent household. After hours of repetitive conversation, she had convinced Henry he would be better off without her and implored him to speak to her father. Fatigued from the effort, she sighed with remorse. She would not know the result of her persuasion for some time, but at least she’d done her best to mollify Henry and dictate the course of her future. The last thing she’d expected was Devlin in wait of her return.
She closed the last few paces and slowed to a stop. He leaned against the doorframe of her bedchamber, reckless and dangerous, with a sharp cool edge. His eyes ran down her length in languid assessment. Her heart pounded in response.
“The evening lasted longer than I anticipated.” She refused to discuss the subject further, her anger overriding good sense. It would take no effort for her emotions to obliterate all determination, and she would not let him discover the truth. “We talked for hours.”
She reached the door to her rooms, but he prevented her entrance as he leaned on the frame blocking the knob, one strong arm thrust across like a barricade.
“Talking? All this time? Your throat must be dry.”
Her breath caught at his cutting tone and he ran a lone finger down the column of her neck, his fingertip burned a trail in its wake as heartfelt as if he reached inside her and caressed her soul. She gasped at the intimacy and the sudden rush of heat that consumed her, but he did not back away. Instead, he brushed his knuckles against her collarbone and lifted the diamond pendant she wore, turning it over in his fingers. He chuckled an ugly sound, not the deep rich laughter she’d come to love, and she recoiled, unable to understand his conflicted reaction.
�
��So very lovely.”
Did he speak of the pendant or something else? She narrowed her eyes and searched his expression for understanding. With belated awareness, she noticed he’d let down his guard, bared his emotions, and his usual indifferent demeanour was absent. He stood before her exposed, reckless and too loose with words.
“You should go to sleep.” Her eyes took in every aspect of his dishevelled appearance and her heart broke a little more.
“Sleep? So I can see you in my dreams? I’d much rather have you in front of me.” His voice dropped low, heat and velvet against her skin, and she shivered, tethered to him by the glistening links of her necklace. “And what did you do after you talked with Addington? Did you allow him a kiss goodnight? Did you let him touch you? Learn the soft smoothness of your skin? How you make that delicious little noise in the back of your throat when you’ve given yourself over to the kiss?”
“Stop.” She pushed at his fingers, her own trembling, and he dropped the pendant, the brush of his hand a lingering caress. His eyes stared into hers and she sought with desperate determination to understand the emotions bared. Accusation, yearning … all his dark-kept secrets. “You brought him here and gave me to him. Why would you care if he kissed me? Or the consequences thereafter?” The words were meant to wound and she hoped she hit the mark.
He frowned at the absurdity of her question and flicked his eyes to her lips, once, twice, then up again.
He exhaled and something significant shifted. When he spoke, his voice warmed with a seductive entreaty, a potent antidote to smooth away her nervous uncertainty. “You spent hours with Addington, alone, and he never tried to assert his feelings? Foolish man. If I had you alone for one night, there would be no mistaking my desires or what pleasures we would find.”
Duke of Darkness Page 16
