Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Alexander Black, the Duke of Westmarch, sat in the back office of his club with the heels of his black boots rested upon the surface of his mahogany desk. Head thrown back with his eyes closed, he groaned. In the efforts of making sure that all had a good time and spent well within the club, he had perhaps had one too many the night before.

Yet, it was a small price to pay in order to dig them out of the hole that he and his most trusted friend found themselves in.

"How did we do, Sean?" he groaned through gritted teeth, laying a damp cloth upon his forehead. "Please, tell me we at least made a dent in things."

Sean, sitting on the chair across from his desk, cleared his throat and looked at the ledger in his hands again before making any comment. "We took a good amount yesterday. The Lords Berbanks and Greenway were very generous."

Alex did not dare to remove the cloth from his forehead and instead pulled it down over his eyes. He did not need to look at his friend's face to know that the last evening's takings would not be enough.

When he remained silent, Sean said, "Did I see your uncle in here last night?"

Alex stiffened. He had hoped not to have to have this conversation just yet. "Yes."

He felt the tension grow heavier in the room. Opening one eye, he lifted the cloth and looked at his friend. "He says another of my father's debts has come to light."

Before he could see his friend's reaction, he dropped the cloth back down again.

"You're jesting with me!" Sean exclaimed incredulously. "Another?"

Alex simply nodded though it was hard to tell if his friend had seen it for the cloth. With a gesture of his hand, he told his manservant standing beside the door, "Please, fetch me something to take the ache from my head. Have one of the maids fix up one of those god-awful concoctions, would you?"

Mr. Benedict dipped his head and was gone from the room without a word.

Finally, Alex pulled the cloth from his face and dropped his feet from the desk, leaning forward in his seat.

Though he trusted his valet entirely, with his life and everything else besides, he did not wish to have such matters discussed before him.

"How bad is it this time?" Sean asked, his face pale. The man brushed his fingers through his chestnut hair and looked Alex in the eye.

"Let us just say it shall make our pocketbooks tight for the next month or so, but we should manage it," Alex stated, his throat tightening. He did not have the heart to go into any more detail.

Sean raised his brow and pursed his lips. The suspicious expression on his face was undeniable and Alex's jaw clenched. He had seen that look more and more frequently upon his friend's face of late.

"Are you quite certain of this?" Sean asked, closing the ledger on his thumb to keep his place.

"Of which part?" Alex asked though deep down he knew exactly what his friend was insinuating.

"That this debt is in fact your father's and yours to pay?" Sean said, looking Alex deep in the eye. Alex opened his mouth to argue but before he could do so, Sean continued, "Alex, I only say this as your friend. You and I both know that your uncle isn't exactly the most trustworthy of men. Just look at how he and your father built this place!"

Alex gulped past the hard lump in his throat. There was no denying all the dark and disgusting things that had led to the very club they now sat in, the place that had come to be known as The Devil's Lair , a secret club that only the most elite were aware of. Gambling, drugs, drink and sex were among the main points of the club, but the entire place had been built upon fear, extortion, blackmail and all other kinds of other foul things.

"Yes, my father and uncle did all manner of unimaginable things to build this place," Alex said through gritted teeth, "But my father always trusted my uncle and so shall I. Neither of them was ever perfect, and my father was a fool when it came to racking up so much debt. But one thing he always insisted upon was being able to trust Frederick."

Sean continued to look him in the eye without blinking as he asked, "Are you quite certain?"

Nausea rose in the back of Alex's throat. He knew that his friend only meant to try and protect him. He was likely the only man who would ever face him and tell him nothing but the truth. And yet, he hated to be questioned, especially when it came to family.

"I am."

Alex glowered at his friend, leaving no room for argument. Though he and Sean had been friends since they were small children—ever since Sean's father, Lord Seymour, had sold him to Alex's father to pay his own debts to the club—Alex would not sit idly by and allow him to talk ill of his uncle.

The man was a scoundrel, a drunkard and a gambler, but one thing was always certain, the Black brothers had always been about family and Alex and his younger sister Lorraine were the only family his uncle had left now.

"Besides, the shipment from India should be coming in shortly and that shall change all of our fortunes," Alex pointed out.

"The sooner it arrives, the better," Sean scoffed. He pulled open his ledger again and glanced down at the pages. "With our own investment and that of the loan you gave the Earl of Monrith our debts shall be more than covered."

Alex nodded agreement, flinching at the reminder that they were not yet entirely out of the loaning business. It was a business he would rather not be in, especially with his father having earned the title of The Devil Lord — which Alex inherited—thanks to the dark ways in which his father and Frederick had gone about seeing their investments and loans returned.

Violence and blackmail had been his father and uncle's main resources, and though Alex had used the threat of such things often, he very rarely had to actually use them.

When he closed his eyes, he could still see how easily his father and uncle had ordered their men to crack heads or set property alight. He still heard the screams of women and children as they paid dearly for the debts of their husbands and fathers.

"We shall all be much more comfortable once the shipment comes in," he agreed. At that moment, Mr. Benedict returned, knocking quietly before he entered.

"Your grace, your tonic," the man said, dipping his head even as he offered Alex a silver tray. Upon it sat two glasses. Alex took one of them and waved the valet away. The man turned and offered the second glass to Sean. "My lord."

Sean wrinkled his nose and waved the glass away. "No, thank you, Benedict. I would rather deal with the sore head than feel nauseous for the rest of the day."

Alex chuckled at his friend. He had never had much of a strong stomach. Though Alex could understand his turning down such a drink. The raw egg and shredded garlic mixture wasn't the most wonderful tasting concoction in the world. In fact, he held his nose and drained the glass as quickly as he could.

Benedict simply dipped his head again to Sean, bowed to Alex and then retired back to the edge of the room with the tray still in hand as if he thought Sean might change his mind.

Grimacing with the aftertaste of the tonic, Alex closed his eyes and groaned, placing the glass on the desk in front of him. When he opened his eyes again, Sean was looking at him with a questioning expression. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He heard Sean take in a deep breath. His friend averted his gaze before he said, "I was merely wondering where we stand on the matter of your father's letter?"

It was Alex who inhaled sharply this time. He hated any mention of that damned letter. Having worked so hard to see substantial returns on his business, and working even harder to pay off the debts of his father that still racked up, he hated any mention of the letter containing his father's oddest request upon his deathbed. It was one his uncle hadn't wished to give him until he had recovered from the enormity of his grief.

"What of it?" Alex asked, turning his attention to the papers on his desk. He could no longer bring himself to meet his friend's gaze when Sean lifted his head and looked at him again.

"Time grows short, Alex," Sean warned, and Alex's chest tightened. He most definitely did not need his friend to tell him that. With each day that passed, he felt his twenty-seventh birthday growing closer. "Do you truly believe that Frederick would stand any chance of being a good duke?"

Alex cringed. The thought had never crossed his mind when he had been a child. Even when he had been a young man, he had never imagined anyone but himself following in his father's footsteps.

When he had read the letter signed by his father that stated if he did not marry by his twenty-seventh birthday in order to produce an heir for the estate, the dukedom would pass to his uncle. He had been unable to believe what he was reading.

In fact, he had read the letter over and over for what felt like a million times before it had begun to sink in. He even had his uncle and Sean read it aloud to him several times in order to fully understand what his father wanted of him.

It was one thing to know that he must one day marry and have children in order to do his duty to the dukedom and his family, but it was quite another for his father to have put such a deadline upon such things.

For the late duke to have put this weight upon his shoulders made him feel sick. He had always been prepared to do his duty to his family. A large amount of his finances that didn't go toward the betterment of the estate went toward paying for his half-sister's education in France. It was a price he was willing to pay for his sister's health and welfare. He loved her a great deal. To have it all put at risk due to his father's deadline upset him.

"I need not answer that question," Alex said through gritted teeth. "Frederick shall never be duke."

The scowl that had taken over his expression deepened and tugged upon the tight scars that covered ninety percent of the left side of his face. Though the scars were years old and finally faded to silver, they were still uncomfortable and caused a great deal of people to stare at him like he was some kind of monster.

There was only one benefit to the wounds: they aided him a great deal in the mystery of The Devil Lord that allowed him to induce fear without even needing to act.

What they did not help with was his willingness to enter into the public eye and search for an eager bride. Nor did he believe he was going to have any great chance of finding one with such an appearance.

"Then you have a plan?" Sean asked, pulling Alex out of his thoughts

"I plan to find a wife," Alex stated, groaning deeply, he added, "I merely do not know how."

Sean cleared his throat and pointed out, "The London Season begins this evening. Lord and Lady Beaufort's opening ball is set to be the biggest and best yet."

Alex flinched. Another thing he did not need pointed out to him. There were a number of unopened invitations upon his desk, ones he had not yet had the courage to open for fear he could not decline them.

He had lived the life of a recluse for near on two years since his father's death, only meeting with the gentlemen and nobles who entered his establishment, and generally keeping his face covered with a hood in the darkness of the club. But remaining hooded within ballrooms and dining rooms was not something permitted in proper society and masks made his scars itch terribly. So, he had avoided all he could.

Yet, the rumors surrounding him were growing more and more mysterious and not a one of them would help him to find a bride. Besides, those who would have him simply for his assumed fortune and his title were of no interest to him.

If he were to live the life of a recluse with a wife at his side, he wished to at least get along with her.

"Maybe it is time I open these," Alex sighed, laying his hand upon the pile of unopened invitations. Sean nodded silently and leaned forward with encouragement.

As expected, when Alex opened the many invites that had been abandoned on his desk, he found that chief amongst them was an invitation to the Beaufort Ball.

"Shall we attend?" Sean asked when Alex sighed and handed him the invitation.

Every fiber of Alex's being screamed at him to decline the suggestion, but he was all too aware of his father's letter burning a hole in the top drawer of his desk.

Biting the inside of his lip, he turned to Mr. Benedict and sighed, "Please return to Westmarch House and have my bath drawn and my best clothes set out."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw excitement unfold upon Sean's face. It took all he had in him to turn his attention back when Benedict bowed and removed himself from the room.

"You are not jesting with me, are you?" Sean asked, looking as if he were attempting to temper his excitement.

Alex was tempted to say that he was, and call Benedict right back. Instead, he gritted his teeth and nodded. "I have held it off for long enough. It is time I showed my face in society again."

Just saying the words in such a manner—knowing the horrid state of his face—Alex shrank back. Yet, the elation on his friend's face was evident, helping calm his nerves on the matter.

Sean jumped to his feet, looking almost as excited as he had when Alex announced his friend's freedom. It had been his first act as the Duke of Westmarch. Having been a servant of the late duke for near on eighteen years, Alex thought his friend more than deserved it.

Though he was grateful and relieved when Sean had agreed to stay on as his business partner and friend. He wasn't sure how he might have handled what was to come without him at his side.

"Oh, Alex, I never thought this day would come!" Sean exclaimed, holding his ledger to his chest, his thumb removed from between the pages as though all thoughts of business had left his mind.

Alex raised one hand to silence him, rubbing his temple with the other as he warned, "Sean, do lower your voice."

Though the tonic had begun to take effect, he was not yet prepared for raised voices.

Sean laughed at that and leaned over the desk, "Perhaps that shall teach you not to drink so much while on the floor of the club."

Alex scoffed in return. They both knew that would never happen. Alex needed the liquor to dull the pain of the patrons' stares, containing fear or curiosity or even outright horror. Whichever it was, it did not matter, for they never looked at him as if he were anything but a gruesome curiosity in some kind of circus act.

Though a part of that was his own doing, by his playing the part of The Devil Lord ever since his father's demise, it still pained him to feel the effects of it. At any time, he could put down the mantle of The Devil Lord but the same could not be said for the scars that had become somewhat of a mask, hiding his true nature.

"I shall try to remember that for next time," Alex growled at his friend. "Why don't you go and get yourself prepared. I am certain we both need to bathe and have a shave after these last few weeks."

He had been taking his title of devil lord to extremes of late, and he suspected his current appearance would not help him in finding a bride, which he had little hope of doing as it was.

"Indeed," Sean agreed, crossing the room to put the ledger back inside the safe. It was only once he had locked it that he turned to Alex's desk and promised, "Have no fear, Your Grace, for we shall find you a bride tonight!"

Alex scoffed at that, wishing that he could have such confidence. Too many were dependent upon him to find a bride: Sean, Lorraine, the charities he supported. He had taken to donating half his wealth to help those who suffered at the hands of gambling, drugs and all other manner of horrendous things—things his father had a huge part in.

"I shall not be proposing upon the floor of the Beaufort ballroom!" Alex called after his friend even as he hurried from the room to prepare.

Sean paused at the door and said over his shoulder, "Be that as it may, you can certainly set your sights on the lady."

He winked devilishly and Alex wondered whether it ought to be him with the title of devil lord.

Sean dipped his head. "Your grace."

And then he was gone from the room, leaving Alex to wonder, what have I set in motion?