Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

“ W ho gave this to you, Ellen?” Alexandra asked her maid, who looked paler than usual.

Ellen’s hands were trembling. She did not know the extent of her mistress’s concerns, but she knew that the Duchess had been sending letters to someone and had been receiving notes from strange men.

A week and two days.

That was the precise period of peace Alexandra had before she received another letter from her father. She was not even given a fortnight of bliss with her husband, but she was still grateful for the time no matter how short. Guilt still came over her when she thought of her original mission to pay off her father’s debts.

When would she finally be free of him?

When would she finally be able to truly live her life?

Even her music had to be sold under a man’s name. The transactions had to be done through yet another man, and she owed her title to another. The latter did not feel as restrictive as it used to, but still.

You have a fortnight to collect all the money I’ll need to pay off my debts. Know that I am aware of the secrets you’re both keeping. You also know what happens when such delicate secrets are spilled to the ton. Beware.

Her father had decided to send her this warning not long after the break of dawn. It was unsettling that it might have been the first thing he thought of when he woke up, or perhaps he had not even left Devil’s Draw yet. He was probably addled by drink, and yet he still found the mental fortitude—or insanity, whatever the case may be—to write her this note.

When Alexandra admitted to Oliver that she was J. Lewis, she thought it would be the end of her problems—at least for a moment. She knew that with her father in the picture, that would never be the case.

Alexandra had not explained the contents of the letters she had received, but she knew that Ellen had noticed the shift between her and Oliver. There was more affection, for example. Whatever they had might be better than most ton marriages.

At least, that was what she told herself. What she felt.

“A man in a hooded cloak. He was almost the Duke’s height but broader,” Ellen explained, wringing her hands.

“Hmm. And he just shoved the letter at you?” Alexandra asked in a calm voice, her arms hanging at her sides. In her right hand was a small leather book, and her fingers tightened around it.

“Yes, Your Grace. He was rough about it, too. Shoved me so hard that I almost fell,” Ellen said, still visibly shaken.

Alexandra could not blame her. They had stayed in the country for a long time. They did not have these types of concerns. All they had to concern themselves with every day was what activity to add to the gardening and what meals to plan to take full advantage of the farm.

“I’m sorry you went through that. It means that I must run errands again from now on,” Alexandra said, feeling resolute.

“Errands, Your Grace?” Ellen echoed, concern written all over her face.

Alexandra thought of all the reasons she shouldn’t be out there. Her promise to Oliver. Scandal. Gossip. Especially now that the ton knew her well. She was no longer the wife that was hidden in the country.

However, this final piece was too important to entrust to someone else.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad now that her husband knew about her identity, and how she needed someone to sell her compositions. They did promise that there would be no more secrets between them.

However, she felt that if she talked to her husband about her father’s threats, he would take it upon himself to solve her problem. What could he possibly do? Threaten her father back? Sue him?

Would he have a physical altercation with the blackmailer? Pay off his debts?

None of these possibilities sounded great to Alexandra. She must do something, once and for all. Her latest piece could fetch a good price, and maybe after selling a couple of her jewels, she would be done with it. Hopefully, she could then distance herself from her father.

“Yes. Errands. Get me my cloak, Ellen. I need to make a run before the Duke comes back,” Alexandra ordered, not thinking her decision through.

She didn’t care what her maid thought at that point. She only wanted to get enough money to pay off her father’s debts. She couldn’t live like this forever.

Then, she recalled what her husband said after realizing that John Prescott was involved in selling her compositions.

“I understand why you did it, but I don’t want you dealing with Prescott alone again,” he had said gravely.

“Are you afraid for our reputation?” was her cheeky response, which earned her raised eyebrows and a deep frown.

“It’s not about our reputation, and you know it, Alexandra. If we are going to work toward a better future together, we need to establish trust. I know you can’t trust the man who married you off to a stranger. But now, I believe we can work together as partners. We are in this together.”

She had agreed. Then, they kissed and spent many hours in bed.

Oliver’s presence had a strong effect on her. Whenever he was at home, she wanted to be close to him. Even if it was simply to hear him breathing. To watch him sleep. Whenever he was away, the ticking of the grandfather clock would grow louder, and she would feel the urge to spin its hands faster so that he could be home.

But today was different. Alexandra had to see John one last time, hopefully not twice more.

“Your Grace, I can do it quickly and carefully. I know this errand is important to you.”

“And for that, I am thankful, Ellen. But today, I must face my problems by myself,” Alexandra said gravely.

Ellen nodded quietly, understanding what her mistress needed. She rushed upstairs, her feet barely making a noise.

It was then that Alexandra realized that even though Ellen did not seem to agree with her plans, she would still follow. The fact that the girl was making sure nobody else heard them was enough proof.

“Be careful, Your Grace. I would have gladly taken on the task. Whatever you may be dealing with, there are some men out there who may wish you harm. I know you have your reasons, but it would be much better to wait for the Duke,” Ellen advised while helping her mistress into her cloak. She made sure to cover her properly.

“You are right, Ellen. I would be safer with the Duke. However, I don’t want to involve him in this mess. Things will only get worse.”

They locked gazes, a silent conversation passing between them. Alexandra could hear what her mind was thinking better than if she had actually said something. Her heart was pounding in her ears.

With coin for the coachman, she set off to John Prescott’s house. They were quick enough so that they could get back before Oliver came home, but not too fast that they would draw attention.

In John’s lodgings, she was like a storm—all emotions and fast talk. Alexandra did not like this side of herself.

“Your Grace, I thought you won’t deliver the compositions yourself. Your maid had been doing a wonderful job.”

John looked just as flustered, walking around his parlor as if he was about to be attacked by an army. Or arrested.

“I need a great deal of money. Do you think this piece could fetch the equivalent of… well, the annual income of a family of four living in the village?” she asked breathlessly, clutching her composition to her chest.

Suddenly, there was a bang at the back of John’s house. The music master himself turned his head toward the noise. He heard it, too.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” John said evenly.

However, his eyes looked wild, and his arms were raised, his palm facing outward as if in surrender. As if he had been caught.

“Was somebody here?” Alexandra asked.

Her thoughts were racing. Who could it be? What if he was with a friend—the one he was with at the opera? Was the man a member of the ton , and would he spill their secret?

“There’s nobody here but us, Your Grace,” John replied through gritted teeth.

For the first time, Alexandra found herself stepping back from him. She had never been afraid of John Prescott, her former music teacher. However, there was something about him this morning—he looked like a trapped animal.

“If you’re certain.”

Her heart was in her throat, and she thought she might faint. She reminded herself that it wasn’t ideal. She didn’t want John to send for a physician to examine her in his home.

Breathe, she told herself. Breathe.

“I am, Your Grace. Now, please let me have a look at your composition,” he urged, reaching for the sheets encased in leather.

“Here it is,” she said meekly, handing him her latest masterpiece. She tried not to let her hand tremble.

For some reason, her view of Prescott had changed. It was a strange thought. But she shook it off, reminding herself that he had several chances to hurt her but he never did.

Silence fell over them as he perused her new composition. Alexandra could hear her blood roaring in her ears as she waited with bated breath for his assessment.

When he took a deep breath and looked at her, she clutched the back of the wooden chair to her right. She might have swayed a little, but she kept her eyes on him.

“Your Grace, your music has been garnering quite a reputation. A good one. The ton had even requested more of your work. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to pressure you. I heard your marriage is also doing particularly well, and I didn’t want to disrupt that by insisting that you make more music.”

“It’s not disrupting my marriage,” Alexandra insisted. Her eyes flicked to the sheets in his hands as if they were living things that could escape at any time.

“No. I can see that. However, what I’m trying to say is that you have attracted the interest of several potential benefactors. The orchestras are aware of that. Therefore, this here is as good as a commissioned work. I’ve already gotten big offers for this.”

Alexandra heaved a sigh of relief, her hands pressed to her chest. “That sounds wonderful! So, I’ll earn a large amount this time?” she asked, shocked by how girlish her voice sounded.

“Yes. In fact—and don’t be shocked—I already have the down payment. They insisted I accept it because they suspected it was I who composed the music. It’s a good amount, Your Grace. As you said you needed an amount equivalent to the annual income of a village family, wait here—you’re going to get it and more.”

Alexandra was speechless. Emotions ran through her, each one as intense as the next.

Excitement. Despair that someone else might take credit for her work. Apprehension. Fear.

Nothing good has stayed in her life. It always dissipated.

She was certain that someone was in John’s lodgings. Did he go to fetch the other person?

“Here it is,” he said, startling her out of her reverie.

He had finally returned to the parlor and was handing her a thick envelope.

“Oh.”

“Count them. I didn’t touch it,” John said gently.

Alexandra opened the envelope, and gasped. It was full of banknotes, more than she had ever seen at once. Yes, she had her allowance from her husband, but she had barely touched it. The money remained in the bank unless she felt the need to redecorate or buy a new dress. She didn’t use to buy dresses regularly, but being introduced to the ton had changed that.

“It-It looks like I don’t need to s-sell my jewelry,” she stammered as she tried to control her emotions.

“I hope you resolve whatever problems you have, Your Grace. We need to retire J. Lewis at some point. They’d been asking. Even your father asked if it were me,” John said, paling after he’d said the words.

“You talked to my father?” Alexandra asked, her voice rising.

“H-He saw me after I left the music director’s office,” John explained, looking down at his bare feet.

Alexandra was startled by the realization that she was talking to a barefooted man, no matter how ridiculous that seemed to be. He had just told her that her father might suspect that he was J. Lewis, and she was distracted by his bare feet?

“I do hope you’ll be careful when you submit this composition and collect the rest of the payment, Mr. Prescott,” she said a little coldly.

She had not spoken to him like this before, but she was confused and suspicious. Something was wrong, but she could not place it.

“I will.”

She counted a few banknotes and handed them to him. It was only fair. He did have to be more careful.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Alexandra didn’t know if it was her imagination, but he sounded regretful. He wasn’t happy about taking some of the money. Not at all.

In a matter of minutes, she was at Devil’s Draw, scandal be damned. She did not know where her father was staying, and if he weren’t there, she would just have to directly pay Gideon Lockwood.

It was mid-morning, but some men were already at the notorious establishment. The thugs were no longer surprised to see her as she headed straight for Lockwood’s private office.

Her father was sitting there with the smug-looking Lockwood. His head hung as if he was barely awake, possibly drunk.

“Father, why am I not surprised you are here early in the morning?” she asked with her hands on her hips.

“I see the Duchess has more sense now than before. Wearing a cloak? Of course it does not really hide your beauty, my dear. And you’re here at my establishment? Again? I’m flattered,” Lockwood drawled.

“I’m here to pay, Father,” she addressed her father, who was now looking at her with half-open eyes.

“It’s about time.”

“Come here, little girl, and show me how much you have for me,” Lockwood jeered, beckoning to her with a beefy hand.

Alexandra bristled, but she didn’t have a choice. She was in his territory, paying for her father’s debts. She handed him the envelope.

“Looks like someone had torn it apart it took something from it,” Lockwood noted as a bleary-eyed Lord Hartwell looked on. “Did someone else take anything from my money?”

“No. Of course not,” Alexandra snapped. “I was merely counting the banknotes again.”

“Well, it’s not enough. Your father is a gambler. He cannot stop himself.”

“How much do I still owe?” Alexandra asked, even though she was afraid to find out.

“Ha. Finally, Daughter. You are claiming my debt as your own, as you should,” croaked her father, who had managed to straighten up.

Lockwood told her the remaining balance. At this rate, she might have to sell some jewelry, after all.