Duke of Darkness

by Anabelle Bryant

  Silence stretched and when she thought Devlin might walk away, leaving her bereft for any scrap of explanation, he surprised her, and breeched the subject she vowed this morning to forget.

  “Last night should never have happened. I shouldn’t have come to your bedchamber.”

  His regret stabbed her heart and she schooled her features in a desperate attempt to disguise how deeply the words cut.

  “You deserve more than I could ever offer you, Lexi. To face a future attached to … me? The gossip and censure …” His voice dropped off and she met his eyes with a silent plea.

  “Only a fool would believe everything the gossips propagate. I’ve lived at Kenley Manor for almost a month and I know their lies to be untrue.” A trace of despair tinted her admission, but anger overrode the sentiment as he chuckled a bitter sound in response.

  “They believe what they will. Do not prove yourself naïve. We’ve both done a superior job of pretending nothing matters beyond this estate, but it does. I could never offer you society or the ability to move within a ballroom without a trail of whispers behind you.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Her resolve slipped, her anger eased, and a familiar yearning to comfort the vulnerable man in front of her trumped her earlier vow to remain furious.

  “It is not so easily dismissed. You would care after a time of being gawked at, discussed and excluded. I know. I live that life.” His words rang with a note of finality and she forced herself to speak.

  “Then let me be the judge.”

  An odd laugh escaped him. “Were it that easy.”

  “Then tell me why. Help me understand. Explain your feelings, otherwise I am left to believe …” She couldn’t complete her sentence, but she knew he heard the raw emotion in her plea. He gazed into the fields for a long moment then his expression softened by the words he spoke.

  “Emotions are a weakness I cannot afford.”

  Disappointment ignited her temper anew. She stood and met his eyes in challenge. King’s low growl echoed her movement. “You keep such a tight rein on emotion, how would you know?” She gasped as his countenance transformed in a heartbeat, his stance angry, his jaw tight. He stepped closer to her.

  “How would I know? You need proof of my emotions? Emotions drove my father to madness and my mother to suicide.”

  Something inside her twisted in torment. He appeared disassembled, tortured by his memories. She drew a shaky breath. Was his love beyond her reach? Her heart preempted the horrifying conclusion. No matter how he lashed at her in anger, his volatile reaction stood as evidence he secreted far too much within his guarded heart.

  He scoffed at her startled reaction. “No doubt you’ve been spared that juicy bit of gossip. It is easy to do so behind these walls of rustication. And the reason why I rarely leave the manor. Little exists for me within the ton.” His words were a bitter sneer. “Aside from ample opportunities for the gossips to fuel their stories of my painful existence. They believe me insane, or likely to develop madness as I age. I am an oddity. How well do you think they would receive my wife?”

  Alexandra stood in silence. His tormented questions tugged at her heart and no words seemed adequate. She knew it pained him to discuss the horrors of his past, but it was the first time he’d allowed her a glimpse into his soul, the looming wall of secrecy at last breeched.

  “My father was an overly indulgent drunkard who occupied his time with intoxication or activities aimed to sully my mother’s name. He flooded her reputation with shame on a daily basis; then returned home unfit to serve as a decent husband or father to his son. His decline came quick enough. It was the alcohol and the opiates, and his madness worsened. Still, my father flouted his wicked tendencies and saw no need to confine himself to Kenley Manor.”

  He laughed and Alexandra startled at the unnatural sound. His eyes gleamed with anger and resentment, and she stared at the man who held her heart, unable to offer him comfort in his pain.

  “What’s a little aberrant behaviour when there is all of society to entertain? Such embarrassment is relished by high society. My mother felt horrified, ashamed, and my father more unreasonable in kind. His madness drove him to irrational actions. Unthinkable, inconceivable things. I am told my mother could bear the talk no longer. Her family disowned her. Trapped between my father’s madness and the weight of shame, her confined existence crushed her heart.”

  His voice lowered to a gravelly pitch, his words filled with loathing and something else entirely. Pain, perhaps, regret and remorse for the parents he never knew.

  “When my mother brought about her end, the talk worsened. People accused my father and in truth, while he might not have precipitated the deed, he caused the root of her melancholy.” Devlin took a long breath and exhaled as if he cleansed the words from his body. “Aunt Min and a bevy of servants became my family. They worked hard to prepare me, the future duke, and supply affection and attention, but they could never erase the damage and the tales of debauchery my father left as his legacy. It lives as much today as it existed decades ago.”

  “But you are a different man.” Her words were a whisper on the breeze.

  “Oh, I did my share to perpetuate their myth of madness. Growing up with privilege and wealth led me to an indulgent, self-destructive lifestyle at first. Young men do foolish things, and I searched for vindication, some path to exorcise my demons. And, of course, there are my evening episodes. Servants talk, people hear things and wonder. At first I was too arrogant to notice, but the censure continued for so many years only a blind mute could ignore the condemnation.” He swept a hand through his hair and cast a glare in her direction. The wind lifted a lock, raven black, and settled it over his brow; the effect conjuring images of the devastated child from years ago. “We live in a world of my making here at Kenley Manor, detached from the lies out there. We are content for the most part. But Lexi, you are everything good in all worlds. I cannot ask you to sacrifice all that is your due in exchange for … what? I care too much to sentence you to half a life.”

  Did he think so little of himself? She blinked back the tears blurring her vision.

  Devlin reached for the axe and whistled for King, but the dog remained.

  Afraid he would leave before she gathered her courage, her words rushed out with honest vulnerability. “Half life or whole, I can no longer imagine my world without you in it.” Her tentative confession, both wish and prayer combined, caused his shoulders to straighten and his head jerked up, his eyes intense with emotion.

  “Then marry Phineas.” He spoke, his jaw tight as if he forced each syllable past his lips. He continued in a storm of anger and words, heedless of her incredulous expression and outraged gasp. “Marry Phineas. He puts on a good show, but I know he would have you without a moment’s consideration. He’s an amiable man and spends more time here than he does at his own home. His family has impeccable lineage. You would be Viscountess Fenhurst and above all reproach.”

  Would he so readily deny their attraction? Dismiss the happiness she offered? “And when the day is done and Phineas and I have shared an enjoyable day at Kenley Manor, and I return home with him to our chambers, and the candles are gutted and you know I lay—”

  “Enough!” His roared objection caused birds to flutter from a nearby tree. “King, come!”

  Still the dog remained.

  “I will return him to the stable. Let him stay.” Her voice shook, if fact, her whole body trembled with heartbreak for the man in front of her and the little boy from long ago. An uneasy silence hung in the air.

  When she raised her eyes, Devlin was gone. She allowed her tears to overflow, until she soon wept with racking sobs. If only he believed she would exchange the future he suggested, without question, for a place in his heart.

  Alexandra remained outdoors, unable either to sketch or to stop the thoughts that bombarded her. Tears threatened again. King snoozed at her feet and she turned her attention to the animal in a useless attempt at distra
ction. After two scones, the dog dozed in satisfied bliss as if he hadn’t a care in the world. She envied his repose and eyed the pond, anxious to make a wish. A single teardrop slipped free.

  Lost in emotion, she startled when King rose to his feet with a sharp bark, and her heart leapt with a fresh wash of foolish hope. She wiped at her cheeks and whirled around to investigate the cause of King’s unusual excitement.

  Julia made her way across the field. Alexandra closed her sketchbook and traced her fingers over her cheeks in an effort to vanquish the evidence of her sadness. King continued a symphony of enthusiastic barks and Alexandra did her best to assuage the dog, yet as her friend arrived she needed to grab hold of King’s collar or he would topple Julia right in the middle of the grassy field.

  “I don’t know what has got into him.” King calmed under Alexandra’s comforting hand, but he yearned to be let loose.

  Julia smiled in her direction. “Good morning to you. I think I might have ruined my shoes with that tromp across the field. Nature can be unreasonable when it comes to silk slippers.” She patted King on the head and fussed over the dog until his bid for attention was satisfied and he resettled in the grass. She shifted her attention and her smile dropped. “Alexandra?”

  “Don’t mind me. I was sketching, but the muse is not with me this morning.” Even to her own ears, the words sounded forced and forlorn.

  “What’s the matter? You look absolutely wretched. Has something happened? Are you unwell?” Julia moved closer and placed a hand on her arm, her voice heavy with concern.

  “It’s Devlin, really. He confuses me. I don’t understand how all of this …”

  Julia expelled a short breath as if reluctant to delve into the conversation. “It’s complicated and I’m sure I don’t know the half of it. Phineas and I have known Devlin for as long as I can remember and the whispers have been there just as long. His life has not been an easy one. I believed somehow circumstances would change over the years, but they haven’t. I presume he wishes to protect you from the horrid gossip that keeps him a prisoner to the sadness of his past.” Then after several moments Julia added. “He must be terribly lonely.”

  The statement touched Alexandra’s heart and her tears renewed. If he allowed her to love him, if he accepted all she wished to give …

  When she refocused on her friend, Julia had moved on to something else entirely.

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  Confused by the morning’s emotions and unarmed by the weariness of her thoughts, Alexandra sagged against the rock and viewed the tree-line with tired eyes.

  “I was almost married once. If my father had his way, I would be married to Henry Addington and settled in Brentwood. But it wasn’t my heart that claimed love. My father found the perfect substitute son and sought to marry me off to achieve what he never had. In his eyes, the opportunity to gain the son he wanted was worth the price of his unhappy daughter.”

  “I had no idea. Was the gentleman not to your liking?” Julia prodded in a curious whisper.

  “No, he was a kind enough man, but I view things with a different perspective than my father. And I still do. He wished to choose for me, while I desire to choose with my heart. I tried every way I knew to make him understand and see reason, but there really wasn’t much for it. He believed my wish to marry for love a foolish endeavour. ”

  “I’m sorry. It must be difficult, being so alone.”

  “It is, and at times I actually miss my father.” A reluctant smile curled her lips. “Don’t mistake my meaning, he planned to see me married against my will and for that I will never forgive him, but he was all the family I had. My mother died when I was a child.”

  “How difficult it must have been for you. I am so close with my parents and brother.” Julia’s voice faded with remorse at having a loving family and home.

  “That is the way it should be. My past is of no importance because becoming a companion to Devlin’s aunt was the best decision I’ve ever made.” She swallowed with effort and fought a surge of emotion. “No matter what happens now.”

  Alexandra fell silent with her honest admittance. True, she would like to see her father again. Someday. When her father no longer held the power to decide her future based on his own needs and wants; when she was settled and married to a man of her choosing. A man that held her heart and cherished their love. An image of Devlin rose to mind with pristine clarity, his eyes intense and his breathing harsh as he captured her lips in their late night kiss.

  “Your dreams do not sound foolish. I won’t pretend to know a lot about love, but what I do know with certainty is that you can’t force someone to feel what isn’t there. And that no matter how much you want something to happen, falling in love is natural and not at all one sided. A person can’t simply wish for it and make it happen. It doesn’t work that way. I’ve learned that lesson well.”

  Julia’s melancholy words echoed her own and Alexandra reached forward and clasped her friend’s fingers in a tight embrace. There didn’t seem any need for further conversation and the two ladies sat in silence, the sunlight warming their thoughts of regret and sadness.

  That night Alexandra barely slept. Her mind whirled with the events of the day and her heart ached with the angered words she had shared with Devlin. Twice she’d ventured into the hall with the intention of going to him, and advanced no further than a few steps, her mind and soul at war with each other.

  Now as she hesitated in the doorway of her bedchamber, she wondered what to do. Sleep would not come while she lay conflicted in her bed, her heart in too many pieces to count.

  An aching moan pierced the air and she recognized Devlin’s voice fighting the tremor that gripped him. A breath later, Reeston exited the bedchamber and met her concerned gaze. He walked the few steps needed to bring them together.

  “Good evening, milady. I am sorry if the noises awoke you.”

  “I wasn’t asleep. How is he?” Her throat tightened as she waited for his answer.

  “The tremor is far worse than I’ve seen in a long time. His Grace believed the episodes were lessening and the tremors subsiding, but the nightmarish scene that holds him prisoner now is one of the very worst. It is disconcerting to see him held by such torment and yet there is little I can do. The physician advised it is dangerous to wake him and we must allow the episode to run its course. Yet it is hard to leave the room when he suffers so. I supplied a soothing tonic. It will do him good if he is able to accept it.”

  Reeston paused, his voice lowered to a grave tone of concern. “I’ve always believed it is his past that torments him through the night. On a good day, he is able to keep that part of his mind closed and the demons at bay. Since you have been in house, I’ve seen it happen more often. It’s truly done him good, milady. In the past, the tremors occurred with more frequency. Over the years, they abated as His Grace accepted his past and let the old stories die away. And then you arrived and I thought we would be rid of them for ever. Yet it would appear something has dredged up the horrid lies people have perpetuated over the years. And still you are here, and this terrible tremor will not release him from its grip.” Reeston pressed his lips together in a troubled grimace of concern. “I don’t know what else I can do for him.”

  A low moan penetrated the adjacent doorway and they both stared at the closed panel with despair. Then with a curt nod, Reeston retreated down the hallway and disappeared into the darkness of the main hall.

  Alexandra did not wait and slipped into Devlin’s room, advancing to his bed in anxious strides. He suffered as Reeston described him, tightly held in the throes of the episode. His face glimmered, dotted with sweat, and his hands fisted the bed linens, as if he fought with all his strength and failed against the force of his torment. She moved to his bedside and placed her palm across his forehead. The gentle brush of her fingers swept away the damp strands of hair. He made a startled sound, and the tremor continued to hold him until at last, with her palm cradled
against his face and her lips pressed to his cheek in a whispered prayer, he calmed to silence.

  Before he could awaken, she fled his bedchamber and returned to her own, where she surrendered to her heart and cried until sleep claimed her.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The following days passed without consequence. Alexandra hardly saw Devlin. She knew he was in residence, evidenced by the thundering hooves of Orion and his master set on a late-night ride. On occasion the erratic shot of golf balls as they flew from the study terrace doors while she meandered through the gardens in an aimless attempt to pass the day drew her attention. But now they rarely ate meals together and on the odd occasion that they found themselves in the same room, their stilted conversation sent someone fleeing the room with alacrity.

  And they never played chess any more, which caused her great sadness. She’d come to love Devlin’s intense concentration as he considered each play with his lovely midnight eyes, completing each move as if life depended on his decision. Or how he would laugh unexpectedly, a rare rich sound, when she managed to best him or capture one of his main pieces. But more than all these things, her heart ached for the way they’d once been together, when conversation flowed witty and carefree, and they laughed and teased, their most perplexing thought of the day how and where to hide a velvet hair ribbon.

  An uncomfortable predicament consumed the following afternoon. Alexandra rose to abandon the oppressive silence of the library as Reeston bid entry, a single calling card on the silver salver he carried. She watched with lowered lids as he brought the card to Devlin seated at the desk. Devlin hadn’t acknowledged her when she’d entered the room and did not glance from the papers in front of him as Reeston approached.

  “A caller for you, Your Grace.”