Tillie’s ramblings proved a welcome respite while Alexandra completed her morning absolutions and then the busyness of the day prevented her from speaking to Devlin in private. During their chess game they teased and talked, but afterward they pushed ahead, and pretended there wasn’t a chasm of unanswered emotion lying at their feet.
Now he stood beside the bench and she could no longer bite her tongue. “I received a letter from my father. Addington convinced him our match would not suit. He sent me his blessing and a wish to visit with Lady Bisket.” She smiled at the tomfoolery of posing Cook as her chaperone. Only Devlin could invent such a ridiculous solution and succeed.
“I see. So we’ve heard the last from Sir Henry? I can’t say I will miss him.” He offered her a sideways glance and she returned the favour, although her lips quivered with uncontrolled emotion.
“I may travel to Brentwood. I hope Cook is able to take the trip.” She baited him in an attempt to forge her way into the conversation she wished to have.
“I am sure she will do you the favour. She cares very much for your happiness, as do all my staff.”
Alexandra glanced in his direction and her heart fell into her stomach. He stared into the fountain, his eyes cold and emotionless.
“You’ve surrounded yourself with very fine people. They not only care about you, but look after you as much as any good family would. And Phineas and Julia, they wish to see you happy. Settled. Perhaps even in love.” Her awkward statements, riddled with carefully chosen words and unsaid emotions, worked to lead her to the topic that plagued her. She made a show of rearranging her skirts and pretended she did not notice how he turned, his interest piqued, his concentration focused.
“I suppose so. Yet one never knows what will cause a man to fall in love. Or a woman, for that matter.”
He raked his fingers through his hair and exhaled in a way that revealed his confusion, perhaps conflicted over the choices of the past and the challenges of the present. She pressed, treading with caution, in hope the right words would force him to understand.
“I agree. When I dreamed of falling in love, I never imagined it would include a shaggy disobedient sheepdog and his reckless, argumentative master.”
He whirled to face her, one dark brow arched high. “Argumentative, you say? I am not.”
“Yes, you are. You are arguing with me right now. That proves my point. Anyone who argues about being labelled argumentative is indeed an argumentative person.” A little giggle escaped and she relaxed the smallest bit. Henry yipped as if to confirm her conclusion. The little dog just returned from his jaunt, jumped hopelessly at the fountain’s edge, not tall enough to reach the water. King lumbered to the edge and stuck his face in for a few laps before he returned to his nap in the grass.
Alexandra picked up Henry and lowered him over the fountain wall for a drink. “Silly dog, we can’t always have what we want, can we?” She hadn’t expected an answer and Devlin’s definitive voice startled her. Her hand stalled as she rubbed behind Henry’s ears.
“No, we can’t, Alexandra. We truly can’t.”
In the course of a heartbeat, everything changed, or perhaps, she’d finally scratched the scab off the topic that meant to be discussed. She just never expected it to hurt so much. She placed Henry on the ground and walked to Devlin. Tears welled in her eyes as she reached his side.
“I don’t understand you. I can’t understand you, no matter how I try. You said you were going to court me?” She drew a fortifying breath and searched his steely gaze, desperate for the true meaning behind his stubbornness.
Tension squared his shoulders and the muscles in his jaw jerked as if her question provoked an invisible battle within him, one of decisions and regrets. When he spoke, his voice was calm and emotionless.
“We have been through this before. I have no choice in the matter. If I court you, I want you. I can’t keep my hands from you. Your future should not include my broken life. Hasselby’s ball proved my point.” He warmed to the argument and paced the length of the slate patio, his words punctuated by the motions of his hands. “We put on a great show, didn’t we? Dancing every dance, ignoring their scorn, but that was one night. And we did not stay to hear the backlash. I can only imagine what is repeated and exaggerated concerning our display on the dance floor. How foolish and short-sighted on my part. Not at all in keeping with finding you a husband. I’m sure they talk still … the disturbed guardian and his naïve ward.”
“What do they say? That a gentleman was so entranced by his lady, he bade her dance with him and no one else? That the lady was so enthralled with her beau, she had eyes only for him? This is the gossip you shun? It is nonsense. You are not mad, no matter how often you evoke the use of such madness. The events of your past do not define the man you are today. You are running, but for the life of me I cannot understand what you are running from.” Her voice broke with a sob, but she used the back of her hand to brush away her falling tears because the anger living inside her was more important than the sadness. She’d have time enough to shed tears later.
“I am not running from you, Lexi.” His voice was flat and his eyes deceptively calm.
“Well, as surely as you run to me when I open my bedroom door, you run from me when I approach the subject of love, so whether you admit it or not you are a man on the run.” Hopelessness consumed her. She’d never make him realize how much she cared and her voice showed how much the admittance cost her when she spoke again. “You do not have to break my heart to find out what is in it, Devlin Ravensdale. I love you. I love you. If only you were brave enough to accept my love.”
On a ragged sob, she picked up Henry and ran from the gardens. It didn’t matter if he meant to respond. It would be nothing she wanted to hear.
Devlin returned to the house, surrounded by quiet, and entered his study. Phineas reclined on a chaise, awaiting his return, a brandy in his hand. Devlin cut him a glare.
“Remind me why you are here so often? I am not in the best disposition this afternoon. Consider yourself warned.” He poured himself a brandy, dropped into his leather chair, and rubbed his palm across the back of his neck.
“What have you done now? The on dit is still abuzz after your dance display at Hasselby’s. Sorry I missed it.” Phin whistled a low sound.
“I’ve ruined her. I’ve ruined everything.”
Phineas shot from his seat and brandy splashed over the rim of his glass. “You’ve ruined her?”
“No, not ruined her. Not like that.” A scowl darker than the first marred his face. “I’ve ruined her ideals, her sunny disposition, and her belief that life is joyful. I’ve ruined her.” He finished his drink and set the glass down hard on the desk. “And I’ve made her cry again.”
“How have you accomplished this devastation? What have you done? If you have not ruined her, what could you possibly have said that has her so upset?”
Phineas sounded a little too eager to hear the problem and Devlin narrowed his eyes in hesitation of the retelling. With reluctance, he dismissed the uncomfortable suspicion and found his way to the explanation. “It’s what I haven’t said. I haven’t been able to tell her I love her.” The words sounded pathetic when spoken out loud. Lexi’s confession rang strong and overflowed with emotion. She was a survivor and a fighter, a goddess imbued by pure determination. His weak admission proved useless. When he stood there in the garden and watched her tears fall, her words raining out, his chest grew so tight he thought his heart might cease beating. Now he’d be lucky if she’d speak to him. The sudden thought he might never hear her voice again sent a shot of panic straight through him. Ridiculous. He forced himself to calm.
“Do you love her? In truth? We’ve been through this before. She was foisted off on Addington and almost made to marry him. She endured the exposure of being seen in the shadow of your past and you doubt her commitment?” Phineas returned to the chaise and settled on the foot to contemplate the situation.
Devlin
stared at his friend, the seriousness of his tone giving him pause, Phineas not often the voice of sound reasoning.
“Do you know nothing of love?”
The answer clear, Devlin replied without pause, “No.”
Caught up in the moment Phineas continued, a man on a mission. “You know you haven’t listened to me from the start. I told you to have a care for her reputation, but you took her to Hasselby’s and danced the night through. I told you to keep your hands off her—”
“You did not.” Devlin snarled. “May I remind you not to overstep the bounds of our friendship.”
Still Phineas went on undeterred.
“As I said, you didn’t do that either. I suppose as much as I protest about the shackles of marriage, someday I’d like to find a woman who adores me and fires my loins with intensity.”
“Fires your loins?” A trace of incredibility laced Devlin’s question.
“Yes, fires my loins, makes me burn with desire, the same way you and Alexandra heat up a room with no more than a glance. I suppose I could even be jealous of you, having found the one woman who is truly your soul mate, when I will have little left once you become inseparable.”
“We really are now.” Devlin’s contemplative murmur crossed the room.
“But instead I wish you well, if you’d only open your damned eyes and see what is right in front of your face, Devlin Ravensdale.”
Phineas appeared flustered by the time his speech was finished, having long before risen from the chaise and presented his speech with a flourish of arm movements and facial expressions.
“You will never be left out. You are a brother to me and as much as it pains me to admit, you are right. But I have failed her and hurt her. I am not so much the fool to know it will be difficult to gain her trust. We’ve been through this before and I’ve repeatedly disappointed her by showing little faith in the power of our affection.” He leaned his head back against the leather bolster and sighed in resignation.
“If you know it is right, don’t let anything or anyone stand in your way.”
His friend’s frank admission penetrated his obtuse reasoning. Perhaps he could find a way to repair Lexi’s faith in him. Something important and meaningful, more so than if he appeared at her doorstep and blurted out three words.
“Might I make a suggestion?”
Deep in thought, Devlin forgot Phineas remained in the room. He opened his eyes and nodded in affirmation.
“Why don’t you both have a come-out of sorts?”
At Devlin’s immediate objection, Phineas waved a hand to silence him. “Think about it, Dev. Lady Alexandra needs to be presented to society. She’s been hiding at Kenley Manor with only two outings to show for her introduction into society. Meanwhile, we all know you’ve never given a care for the ton’s perception of your person. Perhaps if you showed them the folly in their thinking, you could recover your reputation enough to balm your feelings towards Alexandra. In turn, Alexandra can make her own decision based on the gentlemen she may meet once she becomes part of the social fringe.”
Phineas smiled with smug confidence. He likely believed he had it all figured out. And truthfully, the idea held merit. Well, except the absolute absurdity of the last part. He would think on it as soon as he escorted his friend to the door, for while he was glad to have had the conversation with Phin, he was in no mood for company. He had a lot of thinking to do and perhaps a little soul searching to better understand what was keeping him from making Alexandra his for ever after.
“Reeston, will you please ask a footman to carry my bags down in the morning. I will be using a coach to travel to Brentwood come sunrise.” Her hasty decision prevented her mind from dwelling on Devlin’s rejection. Every attempt to coax open his heart failed, even after she’d bared her most precious feelings. She couldn’t stay in his house any longer. The pretense of guardianship turned comedic weeks ago, her father being the first to point out what Alexandra readily knew. She needed no guardian. But how she loved believing she was under Devlin’s protection; almost as much as being enfolded in his embrace. Her chest seized with a sharp pang of longing and she wrapped her arms around middle to quell the sensation.
“Excuse me, milady. Did you say you are leaving Kenley Manor? Permanently?”
It was one of the very few times Reeston’s demeanour faltered. Alexandra’s heart warmed with emotion for the starchy butler.
“Yes. The time has come for me to move on, or move back, wherever my path leads me.” She wondered if he would detect the melancholy she fought to disguise.
“Have you said your goodbyes to Cook? Earlier today she mentioned baking fresh cinnamon buns for tomorrow’s breakfast. You wouldn’t want to miss them.”
The briefest of smiles curled the corner of her mouth. “Oh, Reeston. It isn’t as easy as cinnamon buns.” She paused, wishing it was all so simple. “But I will go to see Cook, and tell her I plan to leave in the morning.”
“And have you written a note to Lord Fenhurst? I dare say, he will be affronted if you leave without a farewell. He’s taken to you grandly. I’ve heard His Grace dress him down more than once when he feels Phineas pays you too much attention. So unlike His Grace to be jealous, but the viscount tends to bring out the worst in him at times.”
Alexandra’s eyes narrowed with scepticism. She’d never heard Reeston talk so much. “I will write him a note then and I will leave it with my letter for Julia. Of course, I will see you on the morrow before I leave.” Her voice lifted in question even though she hadn’t asked.
Reeston nodded his head in that stogy, stiff butler manner he adopted with strangers. He did not raise his eyes.
“Reeston?”
“Do not mind me, milady. I am reflecting on what the estate was like before you arrived. Please forgive me. We did not have flowers in the hallway or laughter in the study. There was no little dog to chew on priceless antique furniture and stain oriental rugs, or reasons to make two batches of sugar biscuits instead of only one. And certainly very little joy. The west wing was forbidden, not under renovation; and His Grace was decidedly different, more serious perhaps, although I can’t readily put a name to it. A shadow of himself, I’m sure.” He exhaled softly. “I suppose I will return to serving as a makeshift chess opponent who occasionally takes a seat at the dinner table, although the conversation will suffer and I will be hard pressed not to speak of you, milady. I imagine I will be forbade the privilege.”
Her brow raised at the forlorn picture Reeston painted. Surely he exaggerated, no matter how his little speech threaded through with truth.
“I am sorry. I truly am.” She laid her hand on his arm before she rushed up the foyer steps. It was hard enough to turn her back on her destiny, not to also have Reeston remind her how soon her life would alter.
She stood in the hallway now, the note she completed only moments before held tightly in her hand. Tied with her blue hair ribbon, it comprised her final goodbye. She loved Devlin. She held no reservation in admitting the feelings, but she could not stay where she was bound to find only rejection and hurt. Devlin would welcome her into his bed. She needed to live in his heart.
As soon as the first sound of his tremor penetrated the night silence, she went across the hall. The night episodes had all but dissipated, and she wondered what brought about the plague of this one now. She moved with silent steps to his bed and gently sat on the edge of the mattress. With fingers that trembled with remorse, she laid a palm against his cheek. His beard brushed the bottom of her hand. Her eyes fell closed with the sensation.
Her palm cupped his jaw and it took no more than the simple gesture to banish whatever nightmarish horrors claimed him. She didn’t wonder why her touch could halt a harsh tremor or why only days before their argument, the tremors did not come. Perhaps he only needed her by his side, in his bed, to bring peace to his sleeping hours and joy to his waking hours. Instead, her eyes searched his handsome face, peaceful in sleep, and she brushed back the too long
hair across his brow and traced the sharp angles of his jaw with the barest touch. Her heart broke a little bit more with the realization that she would never see him again. And then, aware she had stayed too long, she placed her note beside his bedside candle and left the room on padded feet, full knowing at the first light of dawn, she would be gone.
Chapter Thirty
Devlin took the steps by pairs and burst into the breakfast room, scattering the few servants who prepared for the meal.
“Reeston!” His bellow rang through the empty foyer. “Reeston!” He called louder and a few maids eyed him, wary of what had set the master of the house in such a black mood.
“Reeston!” He tugged on the bell pull in the salon, his patience on a short leash. Set to holler a fourth time, Reeston entered, and Devlin advanced on the servant. “What is this?” He thrust the sheet of foolscap forward.
“That would be a piece of paper, Your Grace.” Reeston maintained a sober gaze. Devlin almost broke.
“I know it is a piece of paper. It says goodbye. Where is she? Where is Lexi?” A familiar shot of anger tightened his jaw and he struggled to keep it at bay. Anger born from his own stupidity. He wasn’t getting answers fast enough. “Her rooms are empty.”
“Yes, Your Grace. She left before sunrise.”
“Left for where? Don’t talk in riddles. You know everything that happens in this house. Now tell me, where is she headed and why did she leave?”
“Brentwood. She plans to return home for the time being. I cannot tell you why. I reserve my opinion.”
Reeston made to exit as if the conversation was finished, but Devlin stayed him with a low growl. The servant returned to his position.
“I’m not interested in your view at the moment. Why didn’t you wake me?” The question was more accusation.
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