Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

“ Y ou are looking particularly weary today, Alexander.”

“Oh, do not start, Horace.”

Alexander sank into the chair opposite Horace’s desk in his office in the Raven’s Den. Papers were scattered over the surface in a messy array. A few piles were placed, as if he had begun to organize the mess, but not continued.

“What keeps you awake at night as of late? Could it be your wife?”

Alexander had finally managed to turn his thoughts off from Madeleine and her sun-soaked hair that spilled over her shoulder, her wide, imploring eyes, and how she blushed deliciously whenever he teased her.

He did not know what had come over him lately. The need to flirt with her, to rile her, had overtaken him. But the things he suggested—the way she responded—had him awake most nights, aching for her.

He honored his word, though. The door that connected their rooms would remain firmly shut until he had a clear invitation.

But for now, he had turned his focus elsewhere: his gambling hall. Silverton to London wasn’t a long journey, and he had neglected his business for far too long.

Outside the office, the usual chaos of noise filled the several levels, and he relished it for a moment.

“Silverton Hall gets too quiet,” he noted, closing his eyes. “Sometimes, I miss the noise from here.”

“You chose to marry,” Horace reminded him lightly.

“I did,” he muttered. “And now I am pursuing business. Do not let me neglect it so. What news of late?”

“Nothing much has changed,” Horace told him. “I have switched suppliers for the rum, as you asked. The new shipment came in and I undertook the switch a few days ago. Furthermore, I have closed two more accounts, and banned Lord Hargrove as you requested last week.”

“And the open accounts?”

Horace sighed, leaning over his desk. He man looked older with each day, Alexander thought worriedly. “That is not for you to worry about right now. In fact, I ought to be toasting your marriage with that fine bottle of whisky you bought me for Christmas. You remember? The year you appointed me as manager of this place.”

“Do not bother,” Alexander said, waving it off. “It is done, and I do not need a toast.”

“What you need is more time off from the Raven’s Den to enjoy your wife.”

Horace gave him a knowing look but Alexander glared at him. “That is none of your business.”

His business partner held up his hands and mockingly backed away, sitting in his seat. “I ain’t thought you’d be in such a foul mood, what with that beauty in your home.”

“ Business , Horace.”

It was both an order to switch the topic and the reminder for his manager to stay out of what was not in his interests.

“Ah, there was one more thing, actually.” He appreciated the swift switch from the joker to the man he had entered business with. “It is regarding our disappeared man who turned up dead.” He winced. “The authorities have arrested some thug for Donald’s murder.”

“Really?” Alexander asked, interested, as he leaned closer. “Say more.”

“There ain’t more to say about it. They’re still investigating.”

“And in the meantime, have you spoken to the new Lord Kinsfeld regarding Donald’s debts?”

“Not yet. Not had a chance to send collectors, or meet with him myself.” His accent came through thicker and stronger when he felt under scrutiny, or if he had failed as a manager of such an establishment.

“Has the new lord attended the Raven’s Den? I wonder if he is indulging through his new status.”

“Also no,” Horace said, sighing. “I haven’t seen sight nor sound of the bloke.”

Alexander nodded. He saw Horace’s fingers twitch towards the Kinsfeld file, thicker than most but not the thickest they owned.

“I shall cover the debt from my other sources of income. Trading and investments, and such. I do not need a connection to the Kinsfeld line, and the longer the new lord stays away, the better for us. I have the money available, and with Donald dead and his brother lying low, we cannot afford to let the Raven’s Den be at such a loss.”

Besides, he did not want to deal with the man who had threatened his wife in such a way. He had heard the gossip at the Banbury ball, and read the opinionated scandal sheet, and, whether Madeleine wanted him to or not, he had a mind to go after everybody who dared darken his wife’s name.

“You will cover the Kinsfeld debts?”

“Yes,” Alexander confirmed.

Horace blinked, surprised, and Alexander shrugged, but before he could explain his reasoning, a loud noise crashed through the main hall of the Raven’s Den, and he dashed to his feet.

Neither man wasted any time in rushing out to the upper level, grasping the railing of the balcony that overlooked the floor below.

Two men opposed each other—Lord Banbury’s younger brother, and a man whom Alexander recognized as Lady Anna’s father.

“Take back what you said about my brother! He is more than worthy for Lady Anna! He is honorable and good ?—”

“Good!” Lord Mortimer cried in disbelief. Both of them swayed on their feet. He had Lord Banbury’s brother braced over the table, the cards they had played with, scattered. “He is a scoundrel! He is a young man who has given away his fortune already. Do you think I should entrust my daughter’s dowry in such?—”

“You judge my brother while you are here, squandering your own fortune?”

“How dare you!”

A punch was thrown before Alexander could make it down the stairs fast enough. But as soon as he did, he yanked Lord Mortimer back.

“Calm yourself,” Alexander scolded. “Control your tempers, both of you, or you shall both find yourselves barred.”

“Do not involve yourself in this, Your Grace!” The brother of Lord Banbury called out.

Lord Mortimer was already fighting to get back to him. Alexander elbowed past him but the older gentleman was fired up, and the punch he aimed at the young man hurtled in Alexander’s direction.

The punch landed drunkenly, with barely any force behind it, but a heavy signet ring caught on Alexander’s jaw, and he snarled.

A flash of pain burst through his face, and he rounded on the lord. He shoved the man back.

If he fought, he’d have to be escorted out, too, under the pretense of simply being another gambler so nobody knew he had been in Horace’s office.

But Lord Mortimer looked over his shoulder. “Lord Banbury does not deserve my Anna, and no amount of his father’s excuses will convince me otherwise! He is a rake who has not learned from his mistakes.”

The younger Banbury shouted as he dove towards Alexander—towards Lord Mortimer, sending all of them crashing to the floor.

Hands gripped throats, and a swipe of blunt fingernails caught his skin. One of the lords punched again, and Alexander groaned, catching it. He didn’t know who was who for a moment, surrounded by flailing arms.

Alexander growled, overpowering both of them, once he finally saw through the drunken bluster.

He had both of the lords pinned to the floor, a fist clenched in each of their collars.

“Behave,” he snarled. “ Both of you. Settle your differences outside of this establishment or risk being barred. If you wish to fight like thugs, then you can find yourselves in the less savory places of London. I have heard the Clover is fine at this time of the day.”

Both lords looked outraged at his suggestion but Alexander merely dragged them both up to standing, releasing them with a push. The men staggered back.

“Get out of my sight,” Alexander ordered.

To the sound of apologies, he turned to Horace, who was already ordering everybody to return to their game. The guards hovered back, ready to intervene had Alexander not done it first.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Horace said, glancing around at the onlookers who lingered out of curiosity.

It would protect them both, should Alexander look to be doing Horace a favor.

“It seems our meeting is concluded,” Alexander said quietly, and Horace nodded, clasping his back.

“You are a husband now, regardless,” Horace responded in a whisper. “Go home to your wife, Your Grace.”