Duke of Darkness

by Anabelle Bryant

  The memory of her first meeting with Aunt Min brought a wistful smile to her face. It had been as simple as applying for the position of companion. Little did she know she’d come to love the dear lady as the mother she’d never had. If only Alexandra had possessed enough courage to confess the truth of her past. Aunt Min deserved that honesty. Now it was too late to bring the words forward.

  Fleeing her home in Brentwood two years earlier under the secrecy of nightfall, Alexandra escaped an arranged marriage and miserable future. In his defence, her intended fiancé, Henry Addington, was a respected and honourable member of society. He was an excellent shot with a pistol and equally able with a sword, smart in the manner of investments, and witty with a jest. Alexandra memorized this litany of attributes in the precise order her father recited them each evening at the dinner table. Such a great love affair, between her father and Addington. She struggled to recall Henry’s features, surprised at the shadowy memory.

  She shook her head to clear her thoughts. When she decided to marry, it would be for love; not convenience or to please her father. He had dismissed her wish for a love match as ridiculous, but many happy unions grew from true affection and not from arrangements sealed with a handshake between two males. Was it too much to hope for, to fall in love and spend a future building a family with someone who cherished her? She raised her chin a notch and her maid whispered a protestation. No one would dictate whom she would marry. A woman had a right to her own heart.

  When her maid completed her coif in a soft style, the girl moved to the wardrobe to tend to her gown. Alexandra followed her movements with absent attention, her mind reconsidering the dim prospects of the future.

  Now dressed in a simple black mourning gown with white pearl buttons, a high neck and straight sleeves, she regarded her reflection in the mirror. Perhaps it was not entirely necessary, but she wished to show the duke deep respect for his aunt’s passing. The gown’s simple design and absence of adornment echoed the hollow feeling left by Min’s death. She had no need to draw any further attention to herself. Dinner would be interesting, if nothing else, and a chance to gain information about the estate to aid in her plans.

  She stooped to pick up Henry, her miniature white terrier. The dog was a gift from Addington, named by himself in his own honour. She let out a little grunt at the irony. Perhaps her father had played a hand in that decision, too. She dismissed the inane thought, gave Henry a little scratch behind the ears, and hurried to the staircase below.

  Chapter Five

  Things were not as they should be. Devlin had never considered that Alex might be a young lady. He shook his head in exasperation. Unexpected complications were not his strong suit. Yet hell and damnation, his whole world shifted when that waterfall of shimmering hair fell down her back. He clenched his teeth and finished dressing in an effort to drive the inappropriate observation from his brain. Mourning clothes would not be a problem. He always dressed in black.

  Fending off a case of self-loathing, he raked his fingers through his hair and a palm over his face. He knew how he appeared. A chinstrap beard outlined his sharp jaw, the ebony hair emphasizing the severity of his features. Eyes dark as pitch, an angular nose set off by prominent cheekbones, and dark slashed eyebrows, all gave the appearance of a villain or, at least, a man up to no good. He’d heard his appearance referred to as wicked. Right now he certainly fit the part, most especially in consideration of the news he planned to impart.

  He approached the dinner table while a litany of self-condemnation played through his mind. Alexandra stood near the dining room entrance conversing with Grimley. If only he were home, he could invite his servants to dine and therefore dilute the conversation to the most mundane of topics. But no, the table was set for two. A sudden pang of sorrow coursed through him at the remembrance of Aunt Min’s absence.

  “Lady Alexandra, I apologize, it would seem with all of the commotion I haven’t learned your full name.” She turned to him then, and he swallowed a sharp word. Even in black, she was lovely. She offered her hand as if to entreat him to enter, but instead he clasped it within his own and brought it to his lips. She wore no gloves, her skin silky smooth and warm to his lips. They were not dining formally and kissing one’s ward wasn’t proper, yet his actions seemed at war with his better judgement.

  “Good evening, Your Grace.” Her eyes twinkled in the light of the candlelit chandeliers. A footman came forward and pulled out her chair. She sat and turned to him with a smile on her face. “Are you ready?”

  His brows furrowed in confusion. “For dinner?” He took his place at the table and waited. His eyes did not miss the way her hair fought the silver combs trying with little success to contain those long tresses. Then she laughed and a dimple showed in her right cheek. Charming, that dimple.

  “No, are you ready for my name? My father believed I was destined for great things. I am called Alexandra Elizabeth Patricia Grantchester. It is no wonder your Aunt Min preferred Alex.”

  Devlin followed her glass as she took a small sip of wine. “With no disrespect to my aunt, there is nothing about you that is an Alex, Lady Alexandra.”

  “You may be right, although I must confess my full name sounds rather old and stodgy. I didn’t mind the alternative.” She laughed again. A very pretty sound.

  “Interesting. I will think on the matter then.” He matched her eyes over the rim of his goblet. She really was a delightful creature. Shan’t be any trouble to find her a match. A disquieting sensation settled in his stomach and he took another swallow of claret.

  “We don’t stand on formality here and as Aunt Min often said, it is just too much of a mouthful.” She paused in wait of his reply, but he offered none. “Are you enjoying the soup, Your Grace?”

  Had he tasted it?

  “Delicious,” he murmured with effort.

  A sudden yipping pulled his attention to the corner of the room where a white dog waited, a small bowl of food before him.

  “Never mind my dog, Your Grace, he’s a jealous little fellow when excluded from the conversation.”

  “By your own rules, you must call me Devlin.” He sat back as a footman removed his soup bowl and set a steaming plate in front of him. “Should I be afraid to ask your dog’s name? I am gripped with curiosity.” He’d anticipated uncomfortable conversation, so the playful banter that ensconced them with comfortable ease left him more than a little surprised.

  “Oh, that’s just Henry.” She smiled with affection at the dog. “A spoiled little pup accustomed to demanding most of my attention.”

  “I take it your father didn’t name your dog.” The humour wasn’t lost on her and she let out a sweet little laugh before glancing in his direction with a flick of her eyes. The exchange offered yet another glimpse of that fetching dimple in her right cheek.

  Very nice. She proved clever as well.

  He forced himself to focus on the meal. While far from extravagant, dinner tasted delicious, properly seasoned and freshly prepared. Hashed venison with shredded turnips evoked reminders of his childhood, and the second course of raised fowl pie with artichoke bottoms, proved the perfect cure to satisfy his hunger. He savoured the last bite and noted the steady rhythm of annoyed barking that continued from the corner. Alexandra set her napkin aside as Grimley appeared with impeccable timing.

  “Dessert will be served in the grand salon.” He waited for neither acknowledgement nor direction, pausing only to gather the dog and remove him from the room much to Devlin’s pleasure.

  “Well, Just Henry seems angry I’ve monopolized the conversation, but there is a matter of importance that needs to be addressed. Would you prefer we wait until after dinner?”

  Alexandra stalled. Her eyes held his for a long stretch and something in her gaze caused his heartbeat to falter. He sat at the opposing end of the long dining room table, yet within the candlelight, without another soul to make conversation or interrupt the pleasant silence, their dinner seemed intimate as if a pr
elude to something more enticing or a promise offered. He banished the thoughts as they surfaced. Aunt Min must have been delirious to assign him this task. If he wasn’t mad already, and many days existed when he believed the gossipmongers’ opinion of his sanity, the thought of guardianship to this incredibly beautiful woman would be the one task that accomplished his journey into hell.

  Chapter Six

  The remainder of dinner passed in much the same manner. Devlin found Alexandra to be pleasant and witty, her company enjoyable. Now seated in his aunt’s elegant salon, he felt obliged to inform her of the situation. Yet it seemed the more he learned of her, the less keenly he anticipated having to share the fact that he was there to uproot her, return her to Kenley Manor, and see her married. She struck him as an intelligent creature, one who would not be over pleased to find her future no longer remained in her control.

  He vowed to face the matter head on and walked to the sideboard for a fortifying brandy. Port was not going to do it. Grimley entered with a tray of sweets: biscuits, sugarplums and Shrewsbury cakes, their inviting lemon fragrance filling the air. He placed the platter on a round table between the two velvet settees. Devlin watched his ward sit down with grace and use the silver tongs to place a sugar biscuit on each plate. Ah, she enjoyed dessert as much as he.

  What a plague to love sugar as he did. It required him to keep a rigorous schedule of exercise in order to avoid extra weight. Alexandra seemed to support all her weight in the very best places. She was slim but not without appreciative curves. He turned to his brandy with forced interest.

  “What was it you wished to speak to me about, Devlin?”

  Her use of his Christian name jolted him to attention and the liquor in his glass almost splashed over the rim.

  Best have it out. Alexandra had to possess some idea, now that Aunt Min passed on. Perhaps Min had told her of the plan. Likely all this fretful consideration was for naught. He should state the facts and get on with it.

  “Devlin?”

  He realized he sat staring at the biscuit as if he’d never seen one before, lost in concentration about how to proceed until her soft-spoken enquiry broke him loose. He liked the sound of his name on her lips.

  “We should discuss your relationship with my aunt. Her note was brief and her passing has ramifications. There is the will, of course, and the estate that reverts to me, but another matter exists.” His voice held a note of urgency that he fought to conceal. “In regard to your position and future.”

  It was too much to hope she would supply the words to excuse him from the bitter explanation. If she already knew he’d been named her guardian, forced to relocate to Kenley Manor, much emotion and discussion could be avoided. Avoiding emotion was one of the things he did best. He finished the biscuit and reached for another.

  “I’m not sure I understand. As you are aware, I served as your aunt companion’s for over two years. It was a very enjoyable time.” Alexandra dropped her eyes to her lap then picked up her dessert plate in a hesitant motion. She took another bite of the sugar biscuit before wiping her mouth daintily with the linen napkin. “At only one and twenty, I could look for another position.”

  So very young. “What of your family, Lexi?”

  Her lovely blue eyes flicked to his at the shortened form of her name, but she did not offer a remark. Devlin swore he saw the corner of her mouth curl.

  “Oh, I really have no ties. That’s how I came to The Willows. I should seek another companion position with haste.”

  He chose his words with caution. “Perhaps I am here to offer you a solution.” She would not like his next statement. He attacked another biscuit, determined to have out with it now.

  “My solicitor met with me only days ago in regard to my aunt’s will. Everything was in order and, if you are not aware, Min arranged for a large settlement on your behalf.” Her only indication of surprise was the lift of her elegant brows. If he was a wagering man, and he never wagered, he’d bet it all she had no idea, and yet an even larger surprise awaited. She commented before he finished the thought.

  “Your aunt was very generous. Her concern for my welfare proved she kept my best interest at heart.” Alexandra took another sip of her tea. Her eyes reflected genuine sorrow.

  Devlin cursed under his breath. Having no family to speak of, the girl was truly alone. If he hadn’t arrived, if Aunt Min hadn’t arranged his guardianship…with disgust his feeble reasoning did little to assuage the statement he needed to deliver.

  They both reached for the last biscuit at the same time. For a moment, they simply stared at each other and a subtle silent communication passed between them. Devlin wished he could read her mind, so clear were her eyes. Then she grinned at him, that troublesome dimple making an appearance, and she snapped the biscuit in half. They shared a chuckle and he returned her smile in kind. He doubted she would be smiling in another minute, though.

  “I take it you are unaware my aunt arranged for your guardianship? For you to become my ward until such time as a suitable marriage can be arranged?” He spoke with tentative caution so one could only assume he was no more pleased with the delivery of the news than she might be.

  Alexandra coughed, choking on the remainder of the biscuit.

  Grimley’s timely appearance served to relieve the tension in the room. He swept in with the grace of an ever efficient servant and made quick work of clearing the service. Alexandra and Devlin sat in silence. And then her noisy little dog reappeared and launched himself upon the settee, failing miserably and flailing backwards. He rebounded and tried again, until Alexandra took pity and lifted the dog to her lap to stroke his fur. The pup answered with an eager jump to lick her chin.

  Grimley left soon after, the only sound now the panting of a ridiculously energetic terrier.

  “Just Henry seems to think you are his dessert.” Devlin envied the little animal. His declaration had chased away all conviviality and Just Henry remained a welcomed addition to the room, unlike himself.

  “I must tell you, Your Grace, I’m surprised by your news.”

  So he was Your Grace again. He grimaced, aware he needed to explain the more intricate details of the request within the documents he’d received.

  Alexandra rose to pace the room, dumping Just Henry unceremoniously at her feet. “Marriage? And that is a condition to the settlement?”

  “I believe it would serve as your dowry, the use of the money to be determined by your betrothed.”

  Alexandra scoffed, a flush of anger warming her cheeks. So lovely. Who would have guessed Aunt Min kept such a stunning English rose hidden away at The Willows?

  “And I am to accept this? I have no say in my future again.” Emotion riddled each word as she paced, her black skirts swishing around the panting dog who matched her every step.

  Ah, so the English rose did have a past. It was an interesting twist in the unfolding story. He watched her strides slow, could almost see her mind at work. Truly, he’d underestimated her intelligence.

  A determined glint lit her enchanting blue eyes as she strode forward. “I don’t accept. I refuse.”

  She stated the five words as if they weren’t laughable and, devil take him, he laughed. He transformed the misplaced reaction with a gruff cough and regained his composure in a swift act of better judgement. “I don’t believe you have a choice. Not only was it my aunt’s dying wish, but it is legally binding. You are now my responsibility.”

  Her answer clipped the final syllables of his response. “I’ll wager you for my freedom.”

  “What?” He almost missed her meaning, ensconced in determining how she would fit within his unusual existence. “Oh, I never wager. Sorry, Lexi. It is what it is.”

  “Don’t call me that, Your Grace. You claim I am your charge now. I would prefer Lady Alexandra.”

  An aborted snort of amusement escaped before he could think better of it.

  “That was uncalled for.”

  Wounded eyes glanced in his d
irection and an apology bloomed on his tongue. Ridiculous. The Duke of Wharncliffe never apologized.

  Yet she persisted.

  “One game of chess. Or the best out of three. Winner decides my future.”

  With due understanding, she would not let the matter drop, but her challenge immediately gained his attention. “You play chess?” Now that intrigued him. “How did you come by the skill?” He strode to the chess table near the far window and palmed the black king. He always played black. He always won. Hadn’t found an opponent yet daring enough to take the risks he did with his pieces. And so the game grew stale. Even he I didn’t like to win every time. Where lay the challenge in that?

  “Your aunt taught me, of course. We played often.”

  His brow climbed in question. Aunt Min despised chess. Or at least she led him to believe it so. True, one’s interests could change over time. Temptation whispered in his ear. He hadn’t had a good opponent in ages. How well could she play? He surveyed her stance near the fireplace. She met his assessment with an inborn confidence and a challenging gleam in her eye.

  So she would stake her future on the game. If nothing else, it would prove entertainment for the evening and deflect unwanted feelings linked to Aunt Min’s passing; although the notion paled when he considered the redundancy of forging the bargain when one already knew the outcome.

  He picked up the white queen and tossed it across the salon. She captured it in a smooth arc of her hand.

  “Let’s play.”