by Alice Kirks
I need to speak to someone.
His friends were nowhere near – he would have to ride for two hours before he found Albert, and, while it was possible, he couldn’t do that without forward planning. But at the same time, this was a dilemma. The more he thought about it, the more he could only come to one conclusion.
Alexandra was running away from some dark secret. And somebody in London knew what it was.
The man she had encountered in Almack’s – he knew, for one. And he felt sure there were probably others who knew whatever her secret was. It was worrying for Arabella. What if Alexandra had such a dark secret that Arabella was being damaged their friendship?
“I can’t afford to have her name tainted with whatever this shocking secret is.”
No, if he couldn’t get to the bottom of this in a week, he would need to find Alexandra new employment.
“And I can’t do that.”
He felt his fingers twist in his hair. He recalled that moment – just before they had gone out – when he had looked into her eyes and seen that bright wisdom shining back. He loved her! How could he jeopardize her?
“She needs protection.”
She had to some extent trusted him, even though she had never told him the particulars.
“I should confront her. I should tell her I know she was not honest at the interview.”
He shut his eyes, imagining the confrontation. She would be upset, and frightened. She might run away. But she didn’t have anywhere to go to – he knew that.
He planned the conversation in his mind. He was still busy thinking about it when the butler summoned him to lunch.
“The meal is ready, your Grace.”
“Thank you – I’ll be down directly.”
He stood and went down to the drawing-room. Arabella was already there, waiting.
“Brother! You look like your thoughts are elsewhere,” Arabella said gently as he sat down to eat.
“Yes. I am thinking of a few things, Arabella. Please don’t worry yourself…it’s nothing important.”
“Yes, brother,” Arabella said. He could see her watching him, though, as she ate her meal, and he felt bad for not being able to tell her anything. He thought it best not to worry her. As it was, she seemed quieter and he wondered if his mood had affected her.
“Would you like to go to the opera?” he offered, wanting to cheer her up.
Arabella looked up, frowning. “The opera…Oh!” she nodded. “I would love that, brother! I heard Figaro is on. I would love to see it! The music is some of the best!”
Matthew nodded. He felt better, having cheered her up. “And you may take a guest, if you like?” he offered.
“I will consider it,” Arabella said. “Of course, Alexandra will come with us, will she not?”
“You’ll have to ask her,” Matthew said, feeling uneasy. He didn’t feel comfortable with Alexandra being seen in public anymore – not with his sister, who needed her to safeguard her reputation. She absolutely did not need a chaperone with dark secrets.
“Alexandra seems very preoccupied,” Arabella said. “I talked to her before lunch, but she seemed very much as if something troubled her. I think she may be unwell.”
“Well, then. Perhaps it is better if we go alone,” Matthew said smoothly.
He needed to write to Albert, and to make discreet inquiries. He was not going to rest until he had found out all he could about Alexandra and her past.
Chapter 33
In the room on the colder side of the house, Alexandra sat down on her bed, heart thumping in her chest for nerves. She felt her fingers twisting the sleeves of her gown and made herself let go. She took a deep breath and tried to think, but all she could feel was horror.
“He suspects something.”
He had been asking questions about her – she was sure of it. Why else would he raise that particular one now? His attitude had changed somewhat, too. He was still friendly, still accepting of her opinions, which was rare in an employer, especially one of his status. But she could see how his eyes were filled with questions, and she was aware that he was trying to accompany her and Arabella to every event.
“I wish I knew what he was doing now.”
She shut her eyes. Who would know, on the staff, if Lord Blakeley was asking questions? The butler! Of course. It was here she had initially been interviewed. Not right here, but in London.
That was why he was making inquiries now.
That, she thought, feeling a blush creep into her cheeks, and the comportment of herself at the ball.
She looked out of the window, feeling a need to run. She had to get away from here! If her secret came out, the Duke would contact her father, and then she would be worse off than she was before.
“What if I told him?”
She paused, considering. What would the Duke say, if she told him she was a noblewoman on the run from her father? Would he believe her, or would he dismiss her story as fanciful? She couldn’t prove it – the only way she could show him it was true was by introducing him to her father. And she was not going to risk that.
“Miss?” she heard a voice outside the door. “Miss? Are you there?”
“Yes…I’m here,” Alexandra said, recognizing the voice of Mr. Leighton. “I’ll come directly.”
“Lady Arabella was inquiring after you,” he said. “She wished to speak with you after luncheon.”
“Of course,” Alexandra said. “I’ll come directly. Is she in her chambers?”
“Yes, Miss.”
Alexandra looked at Mr. Leighton. She had not had much of a chance to interact with him, but she sensed he was a mild and not-judgmental sort. He had a long, serious face, but he seemed kind. She decided to take a risk.
“Mr. Leighton…you wouldn’t happen to have told Lord Blakeley anything…untoward…would you?”
“Untoward?” he shook his head, eyes obscured by a low frown. “I have told him about you, of course – the details that you relayed in your interview. But untoward? No, not at all. Whyever would I do that?”
Alexandra frowned. “No reason.”
He walked past and Alexandra felt worried. She had upset him, and she didn’t mean to. She felt her breath catch.
“Is it really too much to ask, to run away from a horrid marriage?”
She shut her eyes. Yes, perhaps it was too much to ask. Her own mother had not had her choice. She had been married to a cold, hard man who Alexandra was fairly sure was incapable of love. Why should her own life be any different?
“Because Mama’s life was unfair.” She felt her spine stiffen. If she accepted the same fate, she was simply justifying her mother’s pain. By choosing another way, she was showing she knew her mother’s fate was unjustified.
She felt new strength and walked swiftly to Arabella’s room.
She could hear somebody singing, and she knocked, surprised to hear Arabella sing. She had seemed subdued and sad when she had gone to take lunch. It was good to hear her happy.
“Alexandra!” she greeted. “I am all uncertainty!” She struck a theatrical stance, grinning. “What should I wear?”
“For dinner?” Alexandra frowned.
“No! Brother said we shall attend the opera! I have never been! I have no idea what to wear! Advice?”
Alexandra raised a brow. “You’re going to the opera? When will you attend?” Tickets were not easy to come by. Of course, as a duke she was sure Lord Blakeley had access where others didn’t.
“Oh, in two days.” Arabella raised a brow. “Which is why I am all flustered! I have no time to have a dress made if I have nothing appropriate! I have no idea what one wears.”
“Let me think,” Alexandra said. “I would wear something quite grand. Not a ballgown…have you something more restrained? Less frilly.”
“A sort of court gown?”
“Something like that,” Alexandra nodded. “Only it can be a bit low-cut and pretty. Just nothing frivolous.”
“I have
a cream gown that will suit,” Arabella said. “You remember it. I just recently had it made. Here?”
She opened the wardrobe, and Alexandra nodded.
“That is exactly what I visualized!”
“Good!” Arabella clapped her hands. “We’ll go at around eight of the clock. It’s Figaro! I’m so excited!”
Alexandra felt quite relieved. It had been terrifying, attending the ball and seeing people who could easily have recognized her, if only they had looked. If she were spotted at the opera, there would be no hiding.
“I can’t wait! I have always wanted to see an opera!” Arabella enthused. “Shall I do my hair in ringlets, think you?”
“Um…Yes,” she replied, putting her head on one side thoughtfully. “I think ringlets are quite appropriate.”
“Good!” Arabella clapped her hands. “Oh! I can’t wait! And there will be so many people there.”
“Yes, there shall,” Alexandra smiled. “You have so many suitors.”
“Do I?” Arabella frowned. “Oh, Alexandra…that’s not a good thing, I think.” Her soft face fell instantly.
“Why not?” Alexandra asked, surprised. “Why would you say that? It is very good to be so well thought-of, I assure you.” Even she herself would have liked to be as sought after as Arabella was!
“But Alexandra, I don’t want anyone and what if Matthew tries to make me marry somebody horrid?”
“He won’t,” Alexandra said. Her voice was so flat that Arabella’s eyes widened.
“He won’t?”
“He won’t, because if he did that, he would have to be the most foolish, wickedest fellow and he would not wish to live his life with that everyone’s judgment.”
“Oh!” Arabella giggled. “Do you think so, Alexandra?” She stared, real astonishment in her green eyes.
“Yes,” Alexandra said. She could hear how upset her voice sounded, and she cleared her throat, trying to ease the tension in the room. “Now, let’s see what that dress looks like. You’ll need a pair of shoes, to go with it.”
“Oh. Yes! I can wear my dancing-shoes,” Arabella said, and Alexandra watched as she went to the wardrobe and took out a pair of cream satin slippers.
“You could,” Alexandra agreed. “You will not do much walking, so they won’t wear out.”
“Oh, good.”
After they’d talked for a while, Alexandra went upstairs. The room was cold, and she shut the door, sat by the fire, and drew a shawl around her. She had a lot to think about.
“I need to make inquiries of my own.”
How to discover what the Duke was up to? He had been inquiring about her background, she was certain of it.
“Again, I need to be able to trust him.”
Could she, however? For all she knew, he was at that moment deciding when to end her employment at the manor. She had never seen him so disaffected.
“So.” She shut her eyes. Her head felt sore even thinking about it, but she would have to get ready to go to her aunt. Part of her planned to run away on the night of the opera. If they came back and simply found her gone, what could they do? There were so many people in London, it was easy to vanish without a trace.
And there are more chances of getting a stagecoach in town, she thought.
Yes, she decided to herself. She would have to leave soon, even though the thought of leaving Arabella and her brother was far more painful than leaving her own cold, loveless home had ever been.
Chapter 34
“Morning, brother. Have you seen Alexandra?”
“No,” he said softly. “I haven’t.” He was quite glad about it, too. As soon as he saw her, he would have to decide to speak with her alone and he was not looking forward to that.
If I must tell her to leave, I just can’t.
He reached for his tea, as Arabella started eating. They were in the breakfast room.
“Where is she?” Arabella said, frowning. “I would have thought she’d taken breakfast by now. And her place is still set.” She gestured to the table, where a third place had been laid. Alexandra often took breakfast with them – Arabella insisted on it – and today she hadn’t.
“Maybe she’s abed,” he said, trying not to show concern. “She might still be feeling sick from whatever it was that ailed her at the ball that night.”
“Not at all!” Arabella protested. “She was quite well yesterday, and as soon as I’m finished my breakfast, I’ll check on her. I don’t like the thought that she’s sick again.”
“No,” Matthew agreed.
Arabella finished her tea and ran hastily to the hallway. In a few minutes she was back. The frown between her dark brows deepened. “Brother…she’s not in her bedchamber.”
“No?” Matthew felt his own heart thumping with alarm. Somehow, he sensed that she had planned something. “Maybe she is somewhere else in the house?”
Arabella frowned. “I’ll ask downstairs in the kitchen.”
“I’ll find the butler. He’ll know.” Matthew nodded, and drew the bell rope, summoning Mr. Leighton.
“Leighton? Have you seen Miss Alexandra?”
“No, your Grace. I can’t say I have. She took breakfast up here, since she wasn’t downstairs in the kitchen, I do know that.”
“She didn’t eat here,” Matthew said, gesturing at the table.
“Oh. Well, is she in her bedroom? She said she was feeling off-color yesterday. Retired upstairs without eating dinner.”
“Oh.” Matthew felt his heart thump. Where was she?
He headed into the hallway. Perhaps she really was in her bedchamber. Maybe she was sick, like he’d thought, and therefore had not answered any knocking? He ran up the hallway and to the door.
“Is Miss Alexandra in?”
“She’s gone, your Grace,” one of the maids said. “I was in there, and she wasn’t there.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s gone,” Matthew said, looking around almost fearfully. Where could she possibly have gone?
“Matthew?” Arabella said, running up to him as soon as he was back downstairs again. “I spoke to Christiana. She said that she met Alexandra this morning.”
“Where was she?” Matthew shouted. He drew in a breath. “Sorry. Speak,” he added, waving belatedly.
The maid cleared her throat. “I bumped into her in the hallway, your Grace. She was in some hurry. Said she was going to the apothecary. I offered that someone else went, but she said she had to buy the preparation herself. Don’t know what it was. I don’t know if that helps, my Lady?”
“Where is this apothecary?” Matthew asked. He was fighting for calm. If she really was ill, why had she not told anyone? She should have been able to trust him!
“I don’t know, your Grace,” the woman said. “There’s one in Baker Street, but I reckon that’s a bit far. She was in a hurry.”