Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty-Five

“ A lexander, I beg you,” Horace said two weeks later, his eyes heavy and tired. “Debts are being paid, or at least managed, but I need you to go home and rest.”

“No. Must we discuss this again?”

“Yes, we must. You look terrible, worse and worse by day. Do you even return home for mealtimes anymore?”

Why ? He thought bitterly, so I can stare out at an empty dining table? So I can drink the wine my wife chose?

“I eat,” he muttered absently.

“I didn’t want to do this but I feel like you have forced my hand.” Horace sighed and stood up. “If you do not go home and rest, trim that beard of yours, and eat a decent meal, then I will have the guards bar you.”

Alexander scoffed. “They cannot bar me. You cannot do such a thing. I am the owner.”

“And if you wish to create such a scene to tell them that upon your attempted entry then be my guest but I am sure you do not wish to.”

Alexander could not help but glare at his friend, betrayed yet understanding. He scrubbed a hand over his face and nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Horace confirmed.

“Yes. Fine. I will… I will do as you ask.”

“Not just for me,” he said. “I am only looking out for you.”

“One meal and… more sleep.” He scowled. “And then I will return, and if I find I am barred then I will…” He paused and Horace let out a quiet laugh.

“You will do nothing against me, Alexander. Just go home.”

And so Alexander did. Around him, the sounds of the gambling hell echoed around him. Arguments, cards slapping onto the table, dealers calling new rounds of another game. It was music to his ears—music and yet the thing that had snatched his wife away.

After riding hard out to the outskirts of London, he considered going back to his countryside estate. But how could he, when the whole place was soaked with memories of his wife? When she was right here, in the same city as him now, yet felt so far from him.

How could he walk away and tell himself he could live with her memory?

He could not.

You have outweighed Juliet’s fate , Alexander had once told her.

Thinking of that now, when she had once talked of Juliet’s loneliness and forced marriage to Paris, her hands tightened on the book she held.

It was not Shakespeare, but a more modern novel. Still, Madeleine had found she had no stomach for fiction recently.

It had been two weeks since she had left the Silverton townhouse, and her heart only grew heavier each day. She drifted from her bed, to the library, and back again, day in, day out. Madeleine was caught in a state of not feeling quite real, but if she did feel such tangible things then she might be guilty for being a poor house guest.

Yet Tessa only greeted her every morning, offered to take a walk with her through a local park, but Madeleine refused every offer. She needed to hide away and be alone.

“Madeleine.”

Tessa stood in the library doorway now.

“Tessa.”

“Colin and I are about to depart for a teahouse,” she told Madeleine. “Would you like to join?”

Madeleine shook her head. “No, thank you. But I appreciate you asking me.”

“I shall ask you every day,” Tessa reminded her. “I think some fresh air would do you well.”

“I…” Madeleine paused. I am afraid that I will see Alexander in the street and my courage will crumble. “Perhaps tomorrow.”

“I do not think you will see him, Madeleine.”

Of course Tessa knew her worries. When she had tried to conceal her troubles over Donald, Tessa had somehow known that as well.

She swallowed.

“I know.”

“So come out with us. You have circles beneath your eyes. I can tell you barely sleep.”

“Could you sleep well if Colin was no longer present?” Madeleine asked idly. “I did not choose to leave, yet I am forced to endure the consequences of Alexander’s choice. I cannot stand it.”

“You deserve better than to waste away in the library.”

“I like it in here. It is… quiet.”

“Sometimes the quiet is not always the best when our thoughts are too loud and upset.”

“I am fine,” Madeleine told her. “I simply need some time alone. Please enjoy your afternoon.”

Tessa hesitated as if she wished to push further but in the end she only nodded and departed.

Madeleine was left alone with her ringing thoughts. She tried to focus on her book, but the letters swam, and by the time she had finished the page, she could not have told anybody what she had read because she had not taken it in.

She slammed the book closed, put it back in its place on the towering shelves, and picked up another.

This one was a more realistic book, one on philosophy. She wondered if her brother would be impressed by her reading it.

She sat back down, hoping to find some sort of answer to her heartache buried within the pages. Was there some sort of philosophy she might adopt in order to heal and forget the taste of Alexander’s name on her tongue?

As the sun descended in the sky, Madeleine read, finding herself wrapped up in the reading for a brief, relieving time. However, when she was finished, she felt more confused than ever.

The philosophy of the book carried a theme of new paths still leading back to similar destinations, that no matter how much new change one might implement, the past might always be there.

Madeleine was frustrated, for she saw herself reflected in the pages.

She and Alexander tried to get through anything but their past always came back to hurt them both.

Madeleine’s hurt from her father, brother, and Donald; and Alexander carrying the burden of his mother’s death and the actions he had taken in response to that. But did that mean she should be hurt by him ?

What had happened to spook him that day? That was the question she could not answer nor let go of. Something had done, and he hadn’t thought it necessary to share with her despite it changing their marriage entirely.

She looked around the library, the book, and instead tucked her legs beneath her in the armchair, turning to look out of the window.

Her heart was a bruise in the shape of Alexander’s name, and she could not stop prodding it.

Alexander had finally followed Horace’s advice but the day after his friend sent him home, Alexander found himself unable to move.

He had stayed in bed long past dawn, and did not go down for breakfast. He answered no knock on his door, and ignored every check of wellbeing.

It was as though the moment he had stopped and acknowledged that he had not taken care of himself his body had simply ceased.

He missed his wife.

He needed her—he craved her, as he always had.

But by the afternoon, he was tired of feeling like stones filled his insides.

Alexander groaned and got up, and went into the bathroom. He grimaced at his reflection, finally understanding what Horace had been talking about. Alexander’s beard and hair were woefully unkempt.

He called for his valet, and soon, he emerged from the bathroom freshly trimmed and groomed.

Madeleine’s absence was unspooling him to his very core.

As he walked out of his chambers, ignoring the empty ones connecting to them, he rebuilt his defenses. He missed Madeleine but he had a duty to fulfill as the Duke of Silverton.

Somewhere in the city, Donald was lying low, and the fact was on Alexander’s mind. He could betray their agreement. He would find himself facing the consequences if so but by that point Alexander’s secret would already be out.

He was not yet sure what to do about Donald but he could not afford to forget about him. Part of Alexander was still reeling from finding out the man was not dead.

“Your Grace.” His butler approached him in the hallway, paces away from the main staircase. “You have a visitor.”

For a moment, his heart pounded, his hope rising—until he realized it would not be Madeleine. He had forced her to leave. Worse, he had hurt her enough that she would abide by his order.

“I have shown him into the drawing room to await you.”

Alexander was on high alert as he nodded, bypassing his staff, to enter the drawing room. It wasn’t Donald Cluett, however, as he feared for a moment. Instead, it was the Duke of Kingswell.

“Felix?” Alexander asked, stepping into the room. The other duke rose, smiling broadly.

“Alexander. Thank you for meeting with me. I am sorry to drop in so unannounced.”

“It is no matter,” he answered, clasping the man in a handshake. “Please, sit. What can I do for you?”

Felix folded himself assuredly into a chair as if he owned it. “I noticed you at my ball only a couple of weeks ago. I meant to speak with you then but I did not get a chance. I do have the feeling that you and your wife left early.”

Alexander swallowed, recalling the Kingswell ball where he had believed that he had seen one of Donald’s old associates that had often shadowed him at the Raven’s Den. He had been rattled. That, plus the gambling hell’s employee who had burst into the office, claiming to see Donald… it had all started to make sense.

“Yes. My—my wife was not feeling well.”

The words didn’t quite leave him easily.

Felix nodded. “I see. Alexander, I understand that we have known each other a while—since Cambridge, in fact—but we do not run in the same circles. However, I would like to.”

His indulgent smile was broad, assured. Alexander sat up straighter in his own chair.

“I am listening. What are you proposing?”

“A business agreement.”

Alexander’s interest was immediately piqued. “Then in case, I will have refreshments prepared.”

“Of course.”

Alexander gestured for a servant to fetch them a bottle of wine and two glasses. Once that was brought, Felix took his glass without being offered and took a sip. He hummed, nodding.

“Not what I would have chosen but rich nonetheless. It’s sharp, has a good bite to it.”

“It is the best, in my eyes,” Alexander answered coolly. He was glad for the distraction of speaking with a refined duke of the same status as him. For once, he was not dealing with desperate lords.

“I have an excellent partnership with a vineyard in France,” Felix said. “I would like to discuss supplying one of your many lucrative businesses with the wine I have imported. We share profits, directly in half, and we do not leave the other out in the lurch.”

Alexander cocked his head, sipping his rum. He knew that his secret of owning the Raven’s Den was safe but, for a second, he envisioned telling Felix of his ownership.

He imagined the Raven’s Den building its reputation and securing yet another deal to supply only the best.

He turned his attention back to the other business ventures that he had across London. “What would you be suggesting?”

“Once a month, I will have a crate imported with enough wine to last the entire month. Any surplus would be yours to keep for your personal use. If you sell any further bottles beyond the businesses we agree then those profits are yours to keep.”

Alexander rose a brow. “And what is in it for you?”

“I get a partnership involved with your name. You have great influence. You are a very good businessman, Alexander. I would like to be part of that influence.”

“You do not need my influence. Yours is incredibly great and far-reaching.”

“I did not say I need it.” Felix flashed a grin. “I merely want it. Do you agree?”

“And if the wine does not sell?”

Felix spread his hands. “Then we reconvene and plan. I will not leave you in the lurch. I wish for my name to be on the wine that you supply to your patrons. They will further seek my businesses out, as my own customers will for you. We benefit one another, no?”

“Indeed, we can,” Alexander agreed. “I shall have my solicitor write up a contract and have it posted.”

“No need.” Felix pulled out a sheaf of papers from a briefcase he had rested by the armchair. “I came prepared.”

Alexander laughed quietly. “You knew I would agree.”

“I had an idea, yes.” He passed the papers over for Alexander to sign.

“In that case, let us reconvene to my study so I may sign without further delay.”

The two men stood up and Alexander led Felix to his study. He had not been in there since he had stood in the window, watching Madeleine leave. There had been a moment, when the carriage door had closed, that he had wanted to run after her.

In the end, he had stepped away from the window.

He sat down at his desk and Felix sat in the chair opposite as though he owned the very room. Alexander cleared his throat and began to sign the contract, aware of the other man’s eyes on him. The tension thickened for Alexander until he eventually looked up.

“Yes?”

Felix crooked a smile at him. “I have watched your movements from afar. Not only business but… everything else.”

Alexander said nothing; he only nodded. A go on sort of gesture.

“Something is off,” Felix continued. “With your business, for I believe there is more there below the surface. I will not press but I am aware. If ever you wish for a supporter of anything… else happening, you may count on me. However, I do not think it is only business. Am I correct?”

Alexander’s eyes narrowed in a glare. If the Duke of Kingswell continued to push, he would find his contract torn up.

“I have heard about your marriage,” Felix said. “Dare I suggest there is trouble in paradise?”

Setting down his quill, Alexander clasped his hands. “No, you may not suggest.” His voice had a warning edge to it.

Felix only smirked but did not push further, clearly knowing not to provoke his new business partner.

“I merely comment as I could not help but know that Lord Halthorpe is Madeleine’s brother. You two are friends, no?” At Alexander’s silence, Felix continued. “It is a curious coincidence that my wife is also my best friend’s sister.”

“Yes, and why should I care?” Alexander asked flatly.

Felix shrugged, flexing his hands casually on the arms of the chair.

“I had trouble in my marriage in the early days. Of course, those troubles have gone now, and we have been married a happy long while, but back in those days, another duke approached me with advice after going through the same thing as well. I would like to impart it on you.”

Before Alexander could refuse him to do that, Felix began to speak again.

“He said that one must look out for one’s own happiness, and that your wife’s brother shall see that, too.”

Alexander scowled. Such problems did not occur for him, at least not ones that he had not already handled and solved.

“Thank you,” he said anyway, making it clear he was not entirely impressed. “And… congratulations on the birth of your son. I wish you and the Duchess of Kingswell many beautiful years as a family.”

For a brief moment, as Felix nodded, Alexander wondered if anybody had ever wished his own father such things with his mother and Alexander when he was a baby.

Had anybody looked upon their marriage and thought they deserved to have a long, happy life?

He shoved those thoughts aside.

“Thank you, Alexander. I do hope your situation will resolve soon. In the meantime, I look forward to doing business with you.”

Alexander merely nodded as Felix showed himself out, clutching their new contract.

The study was painfully empty as he looked out into it. His entire townhouse was, and he could not bear it.

Halfway down the hallway, he stopped short.

Why was he letting Donald Cluett, a desperate man who had needed to fake his own death just to escape his own mistakes, rule his life in such a way?

He was torturing himself just to appease one man who held no power over him.

Donald had rescinded his title. Alexander already held rank over him but now he simply towered above the man. He could do anything to Donald and it would not matter for the man had, quite literally, dug his own grave.

Why had he let such a piece of filth force him away from his wife?

His strong, silver-tongued Madeleine, with whom he had pictured a future that was happy—that was different to the life he had seen his parents have.

Anger burned in him. He had been so blinded by Donald’s threats and thinking that Madeleine would be safer without him that he realized the true threat: letting Donald Cluett roam free, unchecked.

He did not know where Madeleine was—Donald could have already gotten to her.

In a moment of pure fear for his wife, Alexander fled the townhouse, leaping onto his horse without even waiting for the animal to be saddled.

If there was one place Alexander knew Donald would slink to, where he might find refuge, it would be the Horseshoe Pass.

He had looked well-to-do, and if he could have afforded to bribe the manager, Alexander was willing to bet he had been given some sort of safety.