Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

“ I s today the day you finally tell me what is on your mind?” Tessa asked Madeleine the following day.

The ball that was being thrown in the residence of Lady Morgan’s was in full swing. Madeleine stood in another remade gown, hoping that nobody noticed, wondering what else of hers had been swiped and pawned without her notice. How many items had she lost? She had noticed the rapidly dwindling collection but if she truly took the time to sift through it all…

Her thoughts had tumbled with the question, with wondering what Donald was doing with the money if his debts were still not paid, with how long this had been going on without her notice.

She felt foolish.

The ball allowed her to slip among the crowd and pretend as though she was nobody. In that moment, being a nobody, a version of herself that would not have to endure all of this, sounded perfect.

When Madeleine did not answer, Tessa leaned in. “I have heard the rumors, Madeleine. I am your closest friend?—”

A loud clearing of a throat came from Colin.

“Colin, you are my husband. You do not count.”

“Then I shall remove you from counting as my closest friend,” he teased.

“Colin, is it not time that you joined the other men? See, I spy the Baron of Greenacre over there. You conducted business with him last winter.”

“Indeed I did,” Colin said. “Is this your way of telling me to leave you to have your lady talks?”

“ Yes ,” Tessa stressed, and eventually Colin conceded and left, laughing.

Tessa sighed. “I love that man ever so dearly.”

Madeleine was almost wistful as she watched her friend’s fondness, but then her expression turned serious, fixed on her. “Why did you not tell me of Lord Kinsfeld’s disappearance?”

Madeleine tried not to slump, to not show anybody that she was defeated. “I cannot discuss it. It—it makes me appear weak, and I am not .”

“You do not have to convince me of that,” Tessa assured her. “However, I do wish you had told me. We do not need to discuss it, but I would like to know how you are faring. And if there is anything I can do.”

Madeleine opened her mouth to respond, but paused.

For her attention had been caught by the Duke of Silverton, who had just entered the ballroom.

The Duke cut a handsome figure in his dark shirt, waistcoat, and breeches, with the jacket adding the slight hint of fine silver color. His eyes swept the ballroom, briefly landing on her.

A jolt went through her, and Madeleine made sure to turn her gaze away.

“I am all right,” she told Tessa, eager to distract herself from interacting with the Duke.

After her brief break in her composure yesterday, she did not wish to speak with him. He did not want her to press her.

Madeleine had the feeling that the Duke saw through every defense and wall she put up, regardless of what she said or did.

I have long wished for someone to see through my insistences of being all right. I wish to be strong but ache for somebody to tell me that it is all right to not feel strong all the time. I wish them to let me let go.

The Duke was not that person—she had to remind herself of that.

I am married , she reminded herself, frustrated.

I am married to a man who has vanished for a week now. But he will be back. He must return. He cannot leave me like this.

“Madeleine?” Tessa’s voice came to her, as if far away. Madeleine blinked herself back into focus properly. “I asked if you wished to speculate on why the ball was so hastily put together. Colin and I were debating if Lady Morgan feels as though she needs to distract us all from the swindling of her husband’s cousin.”

Madeleine forced a laugh, as she was supposed to. “Indeed. I agree.”

In the thick of the crowd, the Duke of Silverton mingled, greeting men briefly, a tight smile on his face. It was not sincere, though. Anybody looking hard enough would see he looked frustrated to engage.

She turned her back to the crowd, facing Tessa. “What do you think of the wine?” she asked. “It is delicious, is it not?”

Tessa lifted a brow at her, as if suspicious. “Yes. Rather.” Slowly, she drank from her own drink, her eyes on Madeleine. “You are acting strange, Madeleine, and I will uncover why.”

Alexander weaved through the crowd of the ball at the Kingsley residence. The host, Lady Morgan, danced with her husband, catching the eye of her attendees.

“They think a mere dance will ward off scandal.” A voice had Alexander not quite turning but paying attention.

Hargrove.

“Lord Hargrove.” His voice was hard as he greeted him.

“I see you are not happy to see me, Your Grace. I was hoping we might forget my incident at the Raven’s Den several evenings ago. I am sure we can discuss it properly over a drink.”

“I do not wish to be around you and wine, Hargrove.” He flicked his gaze uninterestedly over the other man. “Do you have a knife with you tonight, as well? Should I warn our guests?”

“You do not need to mock me so.”

Alexander only shook his head. “Enjoy the ball.”

He went to walk away but was tugged back by Hargrove’s hand on his shoulder. “Silverton.”

“What?” he bit out.

“I do not wish to be barred from the Raven’s Den. I know you have a good relationship with the manager, Mr. Matthews. Have a word with him for me, yes?” He held Alexander’s gaze, nodding once, as if they had already reached an understanding.

“You have conducted your own fate. You gambled too high and too risky. That is none of my concern, Lord Hargrove.”

“One might ask what you were doing there.”

Alexander stiffened.

“You came from the upper levels, did you not? You were already there. Watching us, were you, Your Grace?”

Alexander half turned to him, glaring at the offending man.

He shrugged off the hand on his shoulder. “Do not touch me. And if you attempt to manipulate me again then I will have a talk with Mr. Matthews, and ensure your debt is tripled. Now, leave .”

Hargrove gaped at him but quickly scurried off.

Alexander groaned internally, wishing for some peace.

His eyes caught on the length of blonde hair in the crowd, a glimmer of a red gown. Lady Kinsfeld’s words came back to him from the day before.

My birthday is in July, so he bought me a ruby-themed engagement ring, the same month we got engaged.

Lord Kinsfeld likely would have gifted her with the dress as well, and it irked Alexander.

How could a man be so lowly as to abandon his wife this way? She was so lonely in that house—even as she wore her determination like a cloak around her shoulders—with that proud set of her shoulders and narrowing of her brows.

Soon, he was approached by a footman.

He tensed. He had instructed Horace to always send a footman with a message should any of their employees find anything.

“Your Grace, one of your employees has arrived and asked to speak with you for an urgent matter.”

“Very well. Where is he?”

“I have shown him to a side room so you may speak privately.”

As he made to leave, he met the eyes of Lady Kinsfeld, only to see her quickly look away.

Alexander followed the footman to a room beyond the ballroom, finding one of his younger employees, a running boy whom he sent across the city to keep eyes where he could not.

The boy was barely fourteen, and his wide, fearful eyes made him appear younger. Behind Alexander, the footman left.

“What did you find out?”

“Word around is that your man owes money to some thug,” the boy told him, his eyes flickering around worriedly, as if waiting to be called out for his presence at the ball. No matter. He was under Alexander’s protection. “A real low-life dealer type. Not a smile and words type, either, Your Grace.”

“Where can I find him?” Alexander demanded.

The boy coughed. “He has a bit of a rundown establishment on the corner of Highhope Street. Some dicey-looking pub called the Horseshoe Pass.”

“Good. Thank you. See me tomorrow at the Raven’s Den for your payment.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I’m always happy to be of service.”

Without another word, the boy scurried off. Alexander was honest; he would have the money ready for him. He needed to return to the ballroom, but as soon as he could, he would leave to find the pub.

As soon as he returned, he was waylaid by Lord Banbury, a young man who had recently taken over his father’s land and was still growing accustomed to his new inheritance. Alexander knew him well from the Raven’s Den—a more honest sort of patron.

“Your Grace, will you be dancing tonight?”

Alexander snorted. “No.”

“You are one and thirty, Your Grace. Surely you cannot remain alone forever. There are plenty of eligible women here tonight, all undoubtedly eager.”

“Lord Banbury, I have seen the way you look at the ladies here. I shall dance when you finally pluck up the carriage to ask Lady Anna for a dance. She is newly debuted, is she not?”

He raised a brow at the lord, a challenge, even as the man blushed.

“Lady Anna’s father is a tough man to impress.”

“And you have plenty of land to impress with,” Alexander told him. “Plenty of inheritance. Your title carries you. Hold it with pride, Lord Banbury.”

“As I said, perhaps we might venture into such a world together.”

“I have no interest in such things.”

His voice was firm, shutting down the conversation. His mind was on a nondescript street in London, and he knew he could not delay himself any longer. “Excuse me.”

He bid his farewells and paused, catching Lady Kinsfeld’s gaze once more before he left for the exit.