by Amanda Davis
Again, her cheeks stained with embarrassment, and she shot her sooty eyes away, but Xavier was enraptured with her beauty.
“Shall we continue?” she murmured, glancing about at the milling guests and staff.
“Of course,” he said, his tone mildly apologetic. He had not meant to stare at her with such intensity, but he was drawn to her face like a bee to pollen.
She is the daughter of a Duke. I cannot openly gape at her, regardless of how difficult it is to resist.
“Mrs. Compton is kind,” Elizabeth offered. “I am unsurprised that she shows compassion for the servants.”
“She married one,” Xavier barked with unexpected sharpness, and she looked at him in surprise.
“Mr. Compton was a servant?” she asked in shock, again pausing from their walk. “A servant who owns part of the hotel?”
“It is truly a long tale,” Xavier muttered, furious with himself for bringing up family history with a near stranger.
She does not feel like a stranger to me. She feels warm and comfortable, as if I have known her before.
“I would very much like to hear it,” Elizabeth insisted, but Xavier shook his head and led her up the staircase.
“Truly, I should not have said a word.”
“I would not betray your confidence, Mr. Xavier, if you should wish to discuss private matters with me.”
Once more, Xavier was struck by her plaintive sweetness, and he longed to blurt out what troubled him about Elias Compton.
If I tell her my fears, she will know I have only asked for this marriage to enhance my hold on this hotel.
He knew that was a trivial fear to have. After all, she was sure to understand that their nuptials would be nothing but an arrangement, one which would benefit both the duke and the Balfours, but suddenly, he did not wish for Elizabeth to consider their union one of business.
“Perhaps we will save such a discussion for another time,” he told her when he realized she still stared at him, awaiting an answer.
Inexplicably, a look of sadness crossed over her face.
“I look forward to hearing it, Mr. Xavier.”
Silently, he led her onto the second floor, pausing to point out the various art that his mother had chosen with care once upon a time.
“She has quite an eye, your mother,” Elizabeth commented appreciatively. “I have always been quite fond of paintings, but I fear I am somewhat of a philistine in comparison to some of my peers.”
“My mother does very little for the hotel now,” Xavier said grimly, and again he wondered from where this free tongue had come.
“Due to her poor health?” Elizabeth asked softly, and Xavier cast her a sidelong look. She seemed to understand more about Anne than she said.
“Yes,” he said quickly. “Due to her poor health.”
“Mothers can be difficult,” Elizabeth said quite unexpectedly, and Xavier studied her face with interest. He would never have suspected that the duchess caused any sort of problem with her daughter.
“Some more than others,” Xavier conceded, but the conversation made him vaguely uncomfortable as though he was speaking ill of his once much-loved mother. It was difficult to recall the precise point when Anne had gone from socialite to melancholic drunk. Once upon a time, she had been so full of life, a mother and wife whom others aspired to emulate.
Yet that had been so long ago, and no one quite remembered Anne Balfour how she was. Suddenly, she was merely a ghost who flittered in and out of their lives.
It is a miracle she managed to find Lady Elizabeth and in such a short time.
He ushered her along the second floor, to the third and fourth, doing his best to keep his attention on the history of his prided hotel and off Elizabeth’s nearness. The lines of her neck were intoxicating him, and he was overcome with a desire to kiss her.
“Each floor caters to a unique style of guest,” Xavier explained, the words keeping his mouth from doing the brazenly unthinkable. “The fifth floor is reserved for the family.”
Elizabeth seemed stunned.
“Our suite is on the fifth floor,” she said, and he nodded.
“I hope that you will soon be family,” he replied gruffly.
“A-are you…?” she could not finish her thought as though it was unbelievable to her that he might entertain their marriage.
“Proposing?” he asked dryly and she nodded. “I daresay that I best ask your mother first.”
“I doubt she will give you any objections in the matter.”
They smiled at one another and continued back through the winding halls of the fifth floor to the staircase, bringing them back to where they started.
“I should return to my mother with the news,” Elizabeth told him gently. “Should you not do the same with your own family?”
“Indeed,” Xavier agreed. “Will you join us for supper?”
“Of course, Mr. Xavier.”
“My lady.”
He bowed stiffly as she hurried back into the dining room, in search of her mother, and Xavier turned toward the office.
“Is my father inside, Matthew?” he asked, and the concierge nodded but cast Xavier a sly smile.
“Yes, Mr. Xavier. He told me to send you in upon your return.”
The statement bothered Xavier.
It is just as much my office as it is Father’s—and Elias’s. I should not need to announce myself when I come and go.
But he would not permit the annoyance to fester, not when he had such important news. Xavier strode toward the door and entered, speaking without preamble.
“Father, I have wonderful—” his statement died on his lips as he realized that Charlton was not alone in the office. Xavier’s smile faded to a deep frown.
“Father, may I speak with you in private?” he demanded, looking pointedly at Elias.
“If this is regarding your engagement, Xavier, I would rather Elias remain,” Charlton replied.
“For what purpose? He has no part in this matter!”
“We are concerned, Xavier,” Elias offered. “Charlton and I both.”
“About what?”
“Lady Elizabeth. Something seems rank,” Elias explained. “Can you not sense it?”
Xavier’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“That is quite rich coming from you!” he spat indignantly. “You came here under false pretenses and ended up married to the heiress of a profitable hotel!”
“Xavier, mind your tongue!” Charlton barked, but Elias was not one to permit such a slight go unanswered.
“I saved this hotel, Xavier, or have you forgotten?”
“How can I forget? Your presence is a constant reminder of how my father permitted such a thing to occur.”
“That is quite enough!” Charlton’s face was scarlet with ire, and he rose to his feet, resting the full weight of his body onto his closed knuckles.
“Is it enough?” Xavier snapped. “He is accusing my fiancée of being what? Baggage?”
“I accused Lady Elizabeth of nothing,” Elias said flatly. “And you have proposed then?”
“That was what I had come to announce. I did not realize I would be entering a stadium for the battle.”
“Xavier, no one is battling you,” Charlton growled. “But I daresay before you wed the lady, you must do your due diligence.”
“On a duke’s daughter?” Xavier scoffed. “What is it you fear? That she is an imposter? She and her mother both?”
The idea was laughable, yet there was an unmistakable graveness in his father’s eye.
“I cannot say what it is that troubles us, but there is something amiss, undoubtedly.”
“That is hardly an answer, Father. Surely, something caused you to think in such a way.”
Charlton frowned and glanced at Elias, their look only causing more anger to spark through Xavier’s blood.
Elias will see me displaced in my own house, before my own eyes. I will not have it.
“Well?” Xavier b
arked. “I demand an answer if you have brought this forth!”
“There is something elusive about the way the duchess takes questions, as though she does not truly have an answer,” Elias offered, and Xavier scoffed.
“You will need to do better than that if you wish to protest my marriage!”
“I will not stand in your way if you choose to wed Lady Elizabeth, but I urge you to be wise in the matter,” Charlton interjected before Elias could speak again.
“It is a pity you did not urge Emmeline to do the same,” Xavier retorted, spinning to leave the office. He had heard quite enough of the foolishness that enshrouded him.
“Xavier!” his father yelled. “The matter is not closed!”
But he was already gone, mounting the stairs toward his mother’s bedchambers.
Ridiculous. Mother went to the duchy and met with them in their manor house. There is nothing untoward occurring, regardless of what they might think. Elias is simply laying the ground for his own plans to overtake the hotel. He is attempting to sabotage my happiness.
On the fifth floor, he paused, sinking against the wall with a pounding heart.
That is all it is—jealousy. Elias is plagued with worry about my marriage.
He wondered then, why he rapped on his mother’s door and eventually let himself inside to stare at his mother’s sleeping figure in her bed.
The smell of liquor permeated the room, and Xavier stared down at Anne worriedly.
His mother was most certainly a drunk, but was she truly melancholic? He could not fathom that she would purposely arrange for him to marry someone who intended him harm, but if she was not in her right mind…
Xavier gritted his teeth furiously and stormed from Anne’s bedchambers.
I will not allow Elias Compton this victory, too. Lady Elizabeth and I will marry, and we will do it quickly.
He could hardly wait to see the expression on Elias’s face when he heard he had not won this fight.
I will marry Lady Elizabeth within the month, and we will begin trying for a son at once.
Chapter Five
“I think it is a wonderful idea,” the duchess announced. “I will see to all the preparations.”
“A month!” Lise choked. “Mother, I never expected for such a short engagement.”
The moment she spoke the words, Lise wished she could retract them, the look on Patience’s face stern.
“Time is not a luxury we can afford,” the duchess reminded her daughter, and Lise nodded, swallowing the stone forming in her throat. “I can only keep your father at bay for so long, Lise.”
“Of course,” Lise murmured. “Forgive me, Mother. This is all so sudden. I simply have not had the opportunity to process.”
“You are fortunate, Lise. You were granted the chance to meet your betrothed beforehand.”
The bitterness in Patience’s voice was unmistakable, and Lise was consumed with guilt.
You must remember why you are doing this.
“It was his idea,” Patience continued. “Clearly, Mr. Xavier is in a rush of his own to wed.”
“Yes.”
Lise held back the rest of her thoughts and instead focused on what was to come.
“I will need to return to Holden before your father grows suspicious. I will tell him you are in Wales with your aunt.”
“You cannot leave me here alone!” Lise gasped. It would be her first time away from the duchy without her family.
“The servants will remain, and you have the Balfours.”
“But Mother!”
“You must not cause a fuss, Elizabeth. We have planned this for a long while, even if you never believed it would come to fruition. Perhaps matters are moving along too quickly for you, but I cannot see this through with enough speed. A month seems an eternity in my life.”
Shame and compassion touched Lise, but she realized then that it was less being alone in Luton that worried her and more that Patience would return to the duchy without the benefit of her protection.
“Mother, what if Father learns what we are doing?” Lise asked gravely.
“It is my task to ensure he does not.”
“But if he does—Mother, we should not part ways.”
“It is the only way it will work, Lise. The duke will hardly permit us both to be away for such a long time.”
“Mother, what if—”
“Elizabeth, you must heed me now. Your concerns in Holden are finished. You must remain in Luton, and we will reunite in time for the wedding.”
Lise eyed her with large, tear-filled eyes.
“Mother, what if you do not return?” she asked quietly. “This will have all been for naught.”
“You must not think that way,” the duchess told her sternly, but it was clear that Lise’s words only echoed her own thoughts. “You must only look to the future.”
Misery enveloped Lise as her mother patted her cheek gently.
“All will be well, Elizabeth,” she promised. “You maintain matters here, and we will prevail.”
There was little else that Lise could do but concede, despite the heaviness weighing on her chest.
“How will you manage the wedding arrangements, Mother?” Lise asked, a last attempt to have her mother reconsider what she was doing.
“Oddly, Mrs. Balfour came to discuss the matter with me. I have agreed to work with her through page.”
Lise’s head cocked to the side like a perplexed hound.
“That seems tedious,” she muttered. “Would it not be sounder to meet?”
“It is the way she prefers it,” Patience explained. “And I must confess, I am learning to appreciate her reclusiveness. There is a peace at being left alone. Perhaps I will have an opportunity to experience it for myself one day.”
Impulsively, Lise reached forward to squeeze her mother’s hand.
“I swear to you, Mother, I will do precisely what it is I need to do to get us away from father,” she breathed. “But you must promise to err on the side of caution. You cannot provoke him. You must make yourself scarce when he is about.”
“You know it is much easier said than done, child,” Patience chuckled, but there was no mirth in the sound.
“Please,” Lise begged, tears pooling in her eyes. “You must give me some sense of peace in sending you back to Holden.”
“I will call upon your brother,” she said, and Lise exhaled with relief. She knew that the duke was much less apt to beat upon them when the marquis was present.
Albeit that is no guarantee.
“What if he cannot come? He is just barely married himself.”
“I will implore him,” Patience said firmly, gripping Lise’s hand. “You must have faith that we will prevail.”
Lise wished she shared her mother’s confidence, but it was difficult to muster even a small smile, particularly when she knew that she would be in relative safety while her mother was forced to bear the brunt of her father’s wicked hand on her own.
How many years did she live this nightmare? Twenty? Twenty-five? Did Father begin to hit her from the moment of their union, or did he bide his time, gain her trust?
Lise recalled the first time the duke had ever struck her. She had been barely five years old. Before that world-shattering moment, Lise had believed she was the apple of her father’s eye, the little lady he adored.
Oh, how she missed him when he was gone, and she would count the days until his return.
He must have been whipping Mother before that. I simply did not recall because he doted on me so much.
If Lise closed her eyes, she could sometimes feel the sting of that first blow to her small face and hear the sickening impact it made upon her for years to come. There were more beatings, of course, but it seemed that none hurt as much as that first one, even when she was bloodied and bruised, left in the care of an abigail to be mended, only to be beaten again.
Once, she had been so happy to see the duke returning to the manor, but she quickly
learned to hide away when his carriage neared.
Her mother was never as fortunate. Patience was required at her husband’s side and therefore oft within reach of his tireless fist.
Several times, Patience had been brought back from the brink of death, but with each revival, more of her spirit was chipped away until she was merely the Duchess of Holden without anything left inside.
James, the Marquis of Holden, had also endured his share of the duke’s lava-hot temper, but Lise’s father seemed to reserve the brunt of his anger for Patience and Lise.
There had been no doubt in Lise’s mind that she or her mother would inevitably die at the hands of the duke, but what could they do but endure it?
“If James will not come, you will send for me by messenger,” Lise told her mother firmly. “I will not rest until I know you are in his care. Or perhaps you should go to Whittaker to be near him.”
“You will stop fretting,” Patience insisted. “In a short while, we will be free of this oppression and begin a new life.”
If I do what is expected of me.
“Lise?”
“Yes, Mother?”
“You may change your mind at any point, and I will not fault you.”
“I will not, Mother. You need not suggest it.”
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and both women started at the sound.
“Who is there?”
“Chamber service, Your Grace.”
Lise arched an eyebrow.
“I did not send for any service,” Patience muttered, gliding toward the door. When she opened it, a young man pushed a silver cart through, a smile on his boyish face.
“Mr. Xavier Balfour sends strawberries and champagne, Your Grace, my lady.”
“Strawberries?” The women were flabbergasted. “Where in God’s name did you find such a thing in the dead of winter?”
“At the Balfour Hotel, Your Grace, all is possible.”
He reached for the bottle of wine to pour, and Lise felt a shiver of warmth slide through her.
“He is quite a romantic, is he not?” Patience muttered as the waiter placed the glasses before them.
