Summons From the Castle, Regency Christmas Summons Collection 3

by Catherine Gayle

  Alexandra’s eyes flew open to find her younger sister sprawled on her bed. Oh, Olivia. Dear, beautiful, vibrant Olivia. With her cheery confidence, she couldn’t be a starker contrast to Alexandra’s own plump, gloomy self.

  Olivia’s cornflower blue eyes widened with concern. “You are positively ashen, Alex.” Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she rushed across the room. “Why are you home so—?”

  Alexandra couldn’t help the sudden onset of a new wave of tears.

  “He was there wasn’t he?” Olivia hissed, ushering Alexandra to the edge of the bed. “That cad. After the deplorable way he’s treated you, must he accost you at Lady Williams’s soiree? I told mother it was madness, just madness for you to go that blasted ball. I can’t countenance father even allowed it.”

  Alexandra gasped. “Olivia, your language.”

  “To the devil with my language. What did he say to upset you so?”

  Alexandra swiped a hand angrily across her eyes. She hated tears. Since Nathan’s betrayal, they seemed to be all she was capable of.

  Olivia sank down in the spot beside Alexandra. The mattress dipped slightly under the additional weight.

  “Oh, sister, what did he do to you?” She took Alexandra’s cold hands between hers and tried rubbing warmth into them.

  “O-oh, Olivia, it was awful. I confronted him.”

  Olivia gasped.

  “Y-y-yes…I confronted him before a sea of people. I threw a stack of notes in his face.”

  Olivia’s hand flew to her mouth to conceal a sound that was part groan, part laugh. “You didn’t!”

  “I did.”

  Olivia paused before speaking. “Did it make you feel any better?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then I’m sorry for that.”

  Olivia clambered to her feet, and Alexandra realized what her stiff formality meant.

  Her mother, still gowned in her magnificent diamond-trimmed sapphire dress, stood inside the doorway. “I’d like a word with your sister, Olivia.” It was a command.

  Of course, Olivia had never been easily cowed by anyone, certainly not mother or father. She did not leave Alexandra’s side. “I warned you attending Lady Williams’s ball was a horrible idea.” At just sixteen years, she delivered that pert rebuke with a wealth of knowledge packed into her tone.

  Their mother’s lips tightened. “That will be all, Olivia.”

  Olivia looked to her sister who gave a curt nod. Giving Alexandra’s hand a reassuring squeeze, she slowly took to her feet and sailed over to the door. She paused in front of her mother. “I’ll see to father,” she muttered and then closed the door in her wake.

  Their mother moved deeper into the room and claimed the spot Olivia had vacated.

  “Oh, my dear, whatever were you thinking?”

  At last, there it was. An aching disappointment kicked Alexandra in the gut. She was all cried out, however. “I loved him,” she said on an aching whisper.

  Her mother reached up and stroked a hand across her daughter’s curls. “I knew following that hideous wager we should have sent around our regrets this evening. This is my fault.”

  Alexandra shook her head. “Please don’t, Mother. I have caused this scandal, and when the duke finds out…” Her words trailed off and her eyes slid closed.

  Her mother made a dismissive sound. “Don’t give Danby another thought.” Alexandra heard the worry in those words.

  Alexandra managed her first real smile of the evening. Since she’d been a girl, Mother had always referred to her father as Danby—not Father, not Papa—just Danby. Which was probably why Alexandra had always been so terrified of the duke. She’d never seen him as a grandfather or a Papa, but as a duke. And now he was going to find out that his granddaughter had set London on its ear with a scandal, and worse…that she’d fallen hopelessly in love with a man who’d been undeserving of her love.

  “How could he do this, Mother?” She dropped her head into her hands and reminded herself to take a deep breath before her nausea consumed her.

  “He’s a cad, my dear. Your father warned you about Pembroke’s family.”

  Of course her father would have to be right. When Alexandra had returned from a ball with stars in her eyes, captivated by Nathan, her father had tried to squash all that joy. He’d insisted that the late Earl of Pembroke had been a scoundrel and his son was the same.

  Alexandra had staunchly defended the man who’d begun to court to her, who’d remained into the winter even when all the other fashionable lords and ladies retreated to their countryseats, to stay with her.

  “I believed he loved me, Mother.”

  Mother sighed. “You will find a man deserving of you, Alexandra.”

  Not after this. Alexandra would never find a gentleman, nor for that matter did she want to.

  “Does Father know?”

  “I mentioned there was an incident and told him I would speak on it when I return below stairs.”

  “He is going to be livid,” Alexandra whispered, her eyes sliding closed. She didn’t even want to think about facing her father’s wrath come morning.

  A sardonic smile tipped the corners of her mother’s lips. “I trust he should be rather easy to speak with once your sister has a word with him.”

  Alexandra managed a smile. “By the time you meet with Father, I’m sure Olivia will have already convinced him that he is somehow to blame.”

  It wasn’t Father who worried her, though. It was her grandfather, the great Duke of Danby. At least she had time until she had to deal with the Duke of Danby’s displeasure. For now, all she wanted was to climb under the sheets and forget that she’d ever been so foolish as to give her heart to Nathan.

  ~ 3 ~

  Long after Alexandra fled, Nathan remained for an infernal amount of time in his same seat in Lord and Lady Williams’s card room, pointedly ignoring the bevy of curious looks and hushed whispers.

  Taking care to keep his facial expression flat, he finally tossed down his hand of cards and shoved his seat back. “I know when to cut my losses. I bid you good evening, gentlemen.”

  He didn’t wait to hear the murmured responses as he collected his winnings, his hand hovering over the notes Alexandra had thrown in his face not even two hours ago. His gut tightened painfully, nearly doubling him over with the intensity of it, but he collected those notes, keeping them separate from the rest. Alexandra had left her heart in Lord Williams’s godforsaken home. He’d be damned if he left any other part of her here.

  With a glower and stride meant to deter company, he moved through the ballroom, up the wide staircase, and to the foyer. His lined black evening coat materialized almost instantly. All but wrenching it from the servant’s hands, he drew it on and stormed out the front doors.

  A gust of frigid wind slammed into his face but he welcomed the stinging bite of winter pain. Any pain was preferable to the hellish torment he’d inflicted this evening—both on her and himself. He waved his carriage off, instead opting to walk the distance to his townhouse in the midnight cold. It was a meager attempt at penance for the sins he’d committed, a kind of absolution that would not come.

  Not that he deserved absolution.

  “You’re a bastard,” he muttered to himself.

  The one solace of being stuck in London in the dead of winter was that the streets were blessedly empty in the evening hours. So the mask he’d adopted for all of Lord and Lady Williams’s ball could finally slip without the ton’s eyes to witness.

  Then, the implications of his actions finally registered, and he staggered to a halt in the middle of the pavement. He stared out into the dark night sky and, shaking his head, dragged a weary hand across his eyes.

  She was gone.

  The one glimmer of purity and happiness he’d known in his miserable thirty years of existence had gone out as easily as the fragile flame of a candle. What was worse, it had been he who’d extinguished that sweet joy—hers and his own.

&
nbsp; A grimace of pain twisted his lips and he paused beside the street lamp, laying his head along the icy black length. He softly banged his forehead over and over, but it was of little use; the agony did not lessen.

  What had he done?

  It meant nothing that the decision to scratch his bloody wager in the book at White’s had been out of love for her. Now he wished he’d been the self-serving bastard everyone always took him for, because then he would still have her.

  Until the day he drew his last breath, the haunted expression in her cornflower blue eyes would be with him, reproachful yet pleading. There’d always been a momentary hesitation of hope, an uncertainty in the reality he’d allowed her to believe.

  That moment, not even two ticks on a clock, had filled him with hope that she must know his love for her was so great that the wager had been nothing more than a calculated lie. He’d held on to that two-second gleam of hope.

  However, he’d been far too convincing in his deception, for the trusting sweetness and innocence that had first drawn Nathan to her had died a very public death at his feet.

  Each day he’d been fortunate to have her in his life had been greater than the next. For four months, he’d dared to believe that he, the son of a filthy, gambling, lecherous bastard, could be happy. For four months, he’d lived with laughter. Nathan had waited with bated breath for a thief to rob him of the joy Alexandra brought to his life.

  A mirthless laugh escaped him as a puff of white air. It had turned out her father, the Marquess of Tewekesbury, was the thief who’d absconded with his happiness.

  His fists balled tightly at his side. Even thinking about the fat, condescending man made him grit his teeth in agitated fury. Except he couldn’t simply lay blame at her father’s feet. Nathan had complied with the marquess’s duplicity.

  And what was worse was knowing. For all the pain his wager had cost him, Nathan would probably do it again, because her happiness meant more to him than even his own.

  So maybe he wasn’t such a selfish bastard after all. No, he was just a miserable one.

  “Ahem.”

  Lost in the agony of his own doing, Nathan’s body stiffened at the unexpected interruption in the dead of night.

  He lifted his head from the pole and he spun around to face a tall stranger, smartly dressed, with a wide-brimmed black hat.

  “I said ah—”

  “I heard you,” Nathan snapped. “What do you want?”

  If the man had come to speak to him about what had transpired at Lord Williams’s, by God, he would draw his cork.

  The man reached into the front of his cloak, and Nathan immediately went into a defensive crouch in preparation for an attack.

  Instead of brandishing a knife, however, the man withdrew a thick ivory velum envelope with Nathan’s name scrawled across the front.

  “Lord Pembroke.” The man extended his hand.

  Nathan stared from the stranger to the unfamiliar scrawl, his heart picking up its rhythm. Alexandra!

  Without stopping to consider the stranger in front of him, Nathan ripped into the envelope, his heart plummeting with disappointment. It wasn’t from Alexandra. Really, what was there for her to say, anyhow?

  He resumed reading the brief missive, his eyes dipping in confusion.

  Pembroke, I want you at Danby Castle within the week. This is not a request.

  The Duke of Danby

  “His Grace requires your presence posthaste.”

  “I’m sorry?” Nathan asked, dumbfounded by the note from Alexandra’s grandfather.

  “I said His Grace—”

  “I’ve ascertained as much,” he drawled.

  The stranger bowed low and continued walking down the pavement.

  Nathan blinked at the immediate departure. “Who are you?” he called after him.

  The unknown man didn’t even turn around. His words carried on the midnight quiet. “I’m the duke’s eyes and ears.”

  ~ 4 ~

  A series of harsh, staccato raps penetrated the fog of Alexandra’s sleep. She tugged her pillow over her head, willing the sound away.

  “Go away,” she muttered, the fabric of the pillow muffling her words.

  Then, mercifully, the knocking stopped. She closed her eyes. She willed her body back to sleep, but then remembrances of last night’s scandal intruded and sleep was forgotten.

  She groaned, wishing it had been nothing more than a horrible nightmare, wishing Nathan had never…

  “It is time to face the day, my dear.”

  The pillow was dragged from her head and she threw her hand across her eyes to blot out the bright rays penetrating the room.

  “Mother,” she mumbled, by way of greeting.

  The mattress dipped as her mother claimed the spot next to her.

  “You’ve sulked long enough, Alexandra.”

  “Is that what you think this is, Mother? Sulking?” Alexandra blinked and popped up. She threw aside the coverlet. “Is that how you see it? I had my heart broken.” She enunciated each word slowly. The admission alone felt like her skin had been ripped into with a smartly delivered lash.

  “You destroyed your social image, Alexandra.”

  Surely she’d heard her mother wrong? That was what Mother was focused on? Should Alexandra really expect anything different? Emotional outbursts and plebian sentiments such as love were scoffed at by Society. And yet—“I loved him, Mother.” She bit out each word, willing her to understand.

  Her mother glanced at a point over Alexandra’s shoulder. “You engaged in a mere flirtation. He brought you flowers. Wrote you poems.”

  Alexandra’s eyes slid closed, as if the action might dull the aching pain. “He did not write me poems, Mother.”

  Her mind went to a particular moment. I will not waste your time putting inadequate words to paper. There are no words sufficient to capture your beauty.

  Her lips twisted cynically. What he’d probably meant was she wasn’t capable of inspiring any man into putting pen to paper.

  Her mother’s hand danced about the air. “When this scandal is behind you, you will find a man worthy of the Marquess of Tewkesbury’s daughter. Pembroke was never deserving of you.”

  A bitter laugh trapped in Alexandra’s throat. “How simple you make it all sound.”

  But she didn’t dispute her mother’s words. A man who’d paid court to her, who’d snipped a lock of her hair to always keep it close and then so callously wagered on her name in the books at White’s, was certainly no gentleman. Mother was correct; Nathan hadn’t been worthy of her.

  That reality brought no solace to Alexandra. It just hurt her all the more. How could she have been so wrong about him? How could she have given her heart to one so calculated and cruel? Her faulty decision shook her to the core, rattled her already limited self-confidence.

  Which only served as another aching reminder of one of the reasons she had fallen in love with Nathan. He hadn’t looked at her and seen a too-plump young lady who danced with two left feet, a clumsy clod, as her father had called her. He had respected her mind, enjoyed their witty repartee. He had called her beautiful.

  And she’d been fool enough to believe him.

  She had staunchly defended his suit against her father’s bellowing condemnations of the match. Her father had reminded her that she was no great beauty and threatened that Nathan would just make light of her name.

  In the end, her father had been right.

  No, there was little comfort to be found in this entire situation.

  In fact, the only thing she found comfort in was that it would be at least another week before news of her scandal reached all the way to Yorkshire—and her grandfather’s ears.

  Her mother’s voice broke through Alexandra’s unhappy thoughts. “We received a missive from the duke this morning.”

  Alexandra collapsed against the pillows and flung a hand over her eyes yet again. “That isn’t possible.”

  “My dear, I thought you would know
by now, the duke makes it his business to know each family member’s business.”

  Alexandra sat up and shoved her fingers through her hair. Yes, she did know that. Fortunate for her, she’d always managed to escape the duke’s notice.

  Until last night.

  “It has been less than twelve hours.”

  Her mother arched a brow. “Alexandra, you’ve been sleeping all day. It is nearly two o’clock.”

  Alexandra’s eyes flew to the chintz clock across the room. She squinted to make sight of the numbers. Good Heavens, her mother was correct. Since she’d cloistered herself away in her room at ten o’clock the evening before, she’d lost track of time.

  “Still, the only way he could possibly have found out so quickly was if he had a man present at Lord and Lady Williams’s,” she protested.

  “My dear, haven’t you already learned your grandfather has eyes and ears wherever his offspring are scattered?”

  Be that as it may, Alexandra would venture there was no way her grandfather had such firsthand knowledge of her far more interesting cousins who were off in France, America, or on the high seas. No, only she and the other unfortunate souls who happened to call England home were so closely scrutinized.

  There was a firm knock at the door. Before Alexandra or Mother could respond, the door opened. Olivia sailed into the room with the aforementioned missive in her hands. She waved it about.

  “My, the duke is fast. I’d imagine he has assigned someone to monitor each member of our esteemed family’s activities.” She gave a mock shudder. “I fear the day I receive my missive is not long off.”

  Their mother gasped and snatched the note. “Olivia, do not even jest about such a thing!”

  Olivia caught Alexandra’s eye and gave a sly wink.

  “Come now, Alex. Open it up,” Olivia prodded.

  Alexandra squinted. The glint of the silver tray reflecting in the sun’s beaming rays nearly blinded her. It seemed to rain in England nearly every day. Why, why, on this one day couldn’t she receive a day that matched her spirits?

  Alexandra didn’t say anything. She didn’t make a move to accept the missive. Instead she stared at the note as though Olivia came bearing a tray of plague-infested rodents with a taste for blood.