Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

“ W hat are you reading?”

Several days later, the day of the opera, Madeleine was reading in the library again. She looked up, finding Alexander leaning against the doorframe, hands behind his back.

“It is an account of the life of the performer we are seeing tonight,” Madeleine told him.

She beckoned him closer. “It details her life, here in London, as the daughter of a modiste, before she discovered her talent. From there, she went to Paris to be discovered. Now, she travels Europe to perform.”

“That sounds interesting. What language does she sing in?”

“Italian and French. Rather impressive.” Madeleine paused. “It is very interesting, in fact, for she is afraid of boats.”

Alexander paused before a bookcase containing books that detailed various philosophical discussions, frowning. “She is afraid of boats yet travels Europe?”

“Indeed, listen. It says here that Mademoiselle Giselle has said that her dream is far bigger than a fear. Upon being asked if the reward of her singing is worth the fears she goes through, she simply smiled and said, ‘any dream that matters should face a fear or two to achieve. ’ Is that not quite wonderful?”

“It is very inspiring,” Alexander said. His mouth was tight in the way that it was when he was thinking hard. “What fears have you faced for your dreams?”

Madeleine thought hard. “Well… I had a fear of losing my entire stability, my financial support. I had a fear of trading one loveless man in my father for a loveless man in marriage. And yet if I had not faced that fear, I would not have met you.”

Alexander laughed quietly, turning to her. “I am part of your dreams?”

She almost said love was her dream, but she stopped herself. Perhaps he would think it was too soon.

“Yes,” she said. “You have shown me what it is to be adored and wanted. You have shown me the ways in which I matter. For me, that is part of my dream.”

“And the other part?”

“You said it yourself on the beach,” she said quietly. “We have made love. Does that not answer your question? Unless you meant it only as a common phrase.”

Alexander was quiet for a moment, gazing at her.

“It was not only a phrase, no. You… well, my feelings for you, Madeleine, they terrify me. Oftentimes I do not know what to do with them. You understand that is why I pull away at times.”

“I understand. I only ask that you do not pull so far so I might not reach you at all.”

He shook his head. “I would not. I suppose you wish to ask me the same question, fears and dreams.”

Madeleine nodded.

“Then yes, I faced my fears. My father, actually, was the cause of my fears. But my dream has come true, and I have a lot to be proud that I have achieved.”

“You are vague purposefully.”

He sighed. “Yes. I have some… ventures I do not wish to be open about.”

“Why not?”

“It is business,” he said.

“Your business is my business,” she pushed. “Does this business burden you?”

“At times, but it mostly brings me great pleasure.”

Madeleine’s stomach tightened at the thought of him keeping a secret from her but she swallowed back her insistence. She did not want to fight with him upon the day of the opera, something she was very much looking forward to.

“Very well,” she conceded. “Did you come in here to read with me?”

“No, but I cannot help watching you when you read. You get very involved with it.”

She nodded. “Reading has always been my escape. From missing my brother, to my father’s lack of care. He did not dislike me, nor hurt me, but I did not feel loved by him. Perhaps burdened is the best way to put it.”

She paused, sighing.

“My mother passed away shortly after I was born, and my father was too preoccupied with everything else to remarry. I became the last burden for him to rid himself of. Many days passed in silence between my father and myself, and then to my marriage to Donald. Reading let me get away from all of that.”

“What do you like to read?”

Her eyes brightened at the question. “Everything. I would read the war journals my brother kept as a personal record, poetry books, maps.”

“Maps?”

“I liked to think about the world beyond what I knew.”

“Novels?” he prompted.

“I like those too,” she said. “Shakespeare is a beloved author of mine, although I do suppose he is mostly a playwright.”

Alexander gazed at her with an expression she could not quite figure out, something softer than she was used to seeing on his face.

“Who is your favorite character across his plays?”

“Juliet,” she admitted. “It is perhaps simple to say so but… she was lonely, and she loved a man she could not have. For me, a long time ago, there was no man I preferred but the concept represented something . The more I wished for. She was forced into a marriage and would have rather died than accept it. I walked right into Kinsfeld House.”

“And you walked right back out,” Alexander told her, his tone commanding. “You left there. You have outweighed Juliet’s fate.”

“As long as you outweigh Romeo’s,” she teased.

“Shall I sneak into your chambers tonight, as Romeo sneaks into Juliet’s?”

“Please,” she laughed. “Regardless, why did you interrupt my reading time?”

He gave her a mocking scowl before pulling out an invitation from behind his back.

“We have been invited to attend an art exhibit in a week’s time. I would like to let the host know that we will be in attendance. It has been some time since I have attended an art gallery.”

“Where is it?”

“In London,” he told her. “I have some business I wish to attend to so we will reside in the townhouse for a while.”

“Is this a choice?”

“The opera is a choice,” he told her. “This is something I very much would like to do with you. I have promised you protection and you shall get it. Although, I do imagine everybody has settled their gossip on us. We have been in the countryside for some time.”

“That has not stopped the gossip,” she reminded him.

“And it has been several weeks since…” he trailed off, clearing his throat. “Since we were wed.”

Since Donald was found dead , she thought. Since his brother became Lord Kinsfeld.

“Besides,” Alexander continued, “I imagine everybody will be admiring the paintings rather than looking at us. Come with me.”

It wasn’t quite a demand, but more of a request.

“I shall take you to a tearoom afterwards,” he attempted to bribe.

When she still remained silent, Alexander sighed.

“I will not have my duchess cowering in fear of the ton. I will not have you shut yourself away to appease them, for they do not care as much as you think they do. Their gossip is nasty, yes, but that is only to pass the time. I will have my wife displayed on my arm proudly.”

“And what of the Lady Bastians and the Lady Rowtherns of the ton ?” Madeleine challenged. “What of them?”

“I will strike them down as I did before,” he said. “And if they do not stop, I shall warn their husbands they can duel with me over their wives’ disrespect.”

Madeleine’s lips parted in shock. “You would not?—”

“For your safety, I would do anything. You are above all of them, Madeleine. I do not care much for the aristocracy, and half of the people that form it are a plague upon the good-named people. But we are part of it. Do not settle for cowering in here, as beautiful as Silverton is.”

“And you are sure I cannot convince you to stay home, where we might… indulge?” She gave him a teasing smile but she could see that she had not won this particular battle. Alexander inclined his head to her.

“We are attending the exhibit,” he said. “You love art, and I wish to see you admire it. I will have you fitted for a new dress.”

With that, he strode out, leaving her nervous, a little frightened, yet excited all the same.

At the opera that night, Alexander guided Madeleine by her gloved hand to the box he had purchased for the night. A man in a silk tailcoat waited at the back, holding a tray with two glasses of wine that he gave to them.

“Your Graces,” he said, bowing. “The performance shall start upon the hour. Should you require anything, I am beyond the curtains.”

Alexander nodded, watching the man leave before he took his seat next to Madeleine. She looked stunning, with her blonde hair pinned into a wide bun at the nape of her neck, and an onyx necklace around her neck. He had purchased it for her upon their wedding day but had waited to gift it to her.

Tonight, with him wearing black, it seemed like a good moment to wear it.

Especially with the eyes of the ton on them for the first time in a while. He was aware of the gazes of others sliding to them as they took their seats. Some whispered and pointed, others merely glimpsed, curious, before looking away.

“They are watching us,” Madeleine whispered. “And yet you wish to attend the exhibit next week.”

“Let them watch.” Below the balcony wall, out of sight, he placed his hand on her thigh. “They cannot do anything to harm us. You are not guilty, nor have I done anything wrong, either. Enjoy the opera, Duchess. You are stronger than any of them.”

He leaned into her, his mouth brushing the base of her ear.

“I do not care what they will say, and if you fret for another moment instead of enjoying yourself, I will get creative about my ways to distract you.”

His hand slid higher up her thigh, and he heard the catch of Madeleine’s breath, before the stage lit up with a spotlight upon Mademoiselle Giselle.

“Enjoy yourself,” he reminded her.

And she did.

He watched her as she watched the singer. Her attention was raptly captured, her eyes wide. She leaned forward, almost pressed right to the balcony as if she might wish to fly beyond it, to be right on the stage with the performer.

Alexander could scarcely take his eyes off Madeleine. She was more captivating than a thousand operas, performances, or paintings. She had been ever since he’d first laid eyes on her. He had tried to pretend he felt nothing.

It was untrue; he felt everything.

He knew he had to tell her the truth about owning the Raven’s Den. Each time she asked him anything about his life, she got closer and closer to his truth, and he could not keep it from her any longer.

Given her previous husband’s troubles with gambling, he did not know how she would take it.

Would she see him as an enabler? As someone who plied the unfortunate with drugs that destroyed them? Would she think he was truly dangerous, a man who lorded over the most notorious gaming hell in London?

He tried not to think of such extremities, and instead focused on the opera singer’s voice.

It unlocked something within him—something buried deep from his childhood, a memory he had long ago locked away.

The warmth of his mother’s smile, the sound of her soft voice, and the feeling of her steady hand on his shoulder while they sat together in the theater flooded back to him.

It was the last memory he had of her, before everything changed. The recollection swelled in his chest, a heavy weight that he couldn’t ignore anymore.

For once, he didn’t fight it.

When the interval came, and Madeleine turned to him with watery eyes and a breathless smile, he took her hand.

“Are you enjoying it?”

She nodded eagerly. “Are you?”

“I am,” he told her. “It reminds me of coming here with my mother. She would use her Galilean binoculars, and she would hold them up to my eyes. Look , she would tell me. Do you see the sets they use to tell a story, Alexander? ”

He smiled softly.

“I always told her I could understand the stories, but I never could.”

“I am sure she told you anyway,” Madeleine said.

“Of course she did.” He gave a gentle chuckle.

“My father was loveless, as I have mentioned. He was… he was a gambler, and that was his downfall. That, and wishing to rise within the ton. That is the way with those sorts of men with such a penchant.”

Alexander nodded, his thoughts drifting to yet another man in her life who had fallen to gambling.

And there he was, the owner of a place where men like Madeleine’s father, or her former husband, met their downfalls.

He swallowed.

“Are you all right?” she asked, frowning.

“Yes,” he said but his voice was thin.

“What of your father?” she asked.

He almost laughed aloud.

I imagine our fathers saw one another at the gambling hell that I own.

Yet he was saved by the spotlight returning to the stage, signaling the next part of the performance.

“Mademoiselle Giselle is about to come back onstage,” he muttered. “You should not be distracted.”

Madeleine giggled, leaning into him, unmindful for once of the eyes on them.

He should have been happy for that but he felt too exposed, so close to revealing his secret business. Too close to the words that might turn her tentative affection to hatred.

His heart clenched.

“I thought you wished to bestow a distraction upon me.”

“And I am captivated by watching you watch the opera, you must indulge me.” He tried to sound smooth, as he often did with her, but his voice faltered.

Madeleine frowned for a moment and pulled back. But she only looked around, as if she reasoned it was to be proper in public.

Her eyes turned back to the stage, and Alexander breathed easier for a while.

What of your father?

The question rang through his mind over and over for the remainder of the opera.

And when they returned to Silverton that night, Alexander was too darkly lost in his thoughts to emerge from them long enough to remain undistracted.

He knew he had to tell her about the Raven’s Den.

Once he got the art exhibit over with, he would tell her everything.