Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

W hen Alexandra ordered Ellen to help her pack her leather trunks, she was still furious. That fury gave her enough energy to commit to the task without pausing.

She didn’t like how Oliver quickly concluded that she had betrayed him. Yes, she was ridiculous—not him, even though his accusation hurt. After all, how else would you describe a woman who helped her father pay off debts that he kept accumulating?

It was an impossible task for an impossibly unlikable man. She also slipped away to meet with a man in secret—as if on a tryst. She broke the rules of the ton and expected to be welcomed back home with open arms.

Was she expecting commendation?

Did she think Oliver would embrace her and kiss her forehead and tell her, “I understand why you did that. Is it going to be all right from now on?”

Despite her guilt, she was also angry and hurt. She did not expect Oliver to suggest that she leave. He even said they could divorce. He had given up! The one week and two days of bliss with her husband were quickly gone as if the moments they had shared were nothing.

Just because he was jealous.

Just because he cared more about the scandal.

At the foot of the stairs leading to the house’s entrance—now the exit—the butler, Graham, approached Alexandra and Ellen. Judging by the way his lips were pressed together into a thin line, Alexandra could only expect terrible news. At this point, she had mastered the art of acceptance.

No, that was a lie.

“Your Grace, your father wants to see you. It is urgent, his messenger said,” Graham announced in a monotone that she was not used to. “He says that he is staying at the house on Devon Lane.”

Alexandra might not be that familiar with Oliver’s servants, but she knew that Graham was not a typical dour man. He might disapprove of her and Ellen’s comings and goings, but he had been polite and often had a smile on his face.

“Oh, I see. Did the messenger leave a note?” she asked.

“It’s probably the same man who accosted me early this morning, Your Grace,” Ellen said. This time, there was no nervousness in her voice, but an uncharacteristic anger.

Alexandra could only nod weakly.

What did her father want this time? Could he read her mind from quite a distance? Did he suspect that she was planning on absconding?

Graham was still watching her expectantly. So, she tilted her chin up and straightened her back. She would not escape from her problems. Perhaps when she was finally past them, she could have peace.

“We will be heading for Lord Hartwell’s residence immediately, Graham. Thank you for swiftly informing me,” she said calmly.

The positive thought quickly evaporated when she remembered what Oliver said—to ask John to follow her. To live with another man. It still stung how he thought of her after she had given him her body willingly. After she had spent time sharing her thoughts and simply basking in his warmth.

It was time to go. She kept her composure, looking very much like the Duchess the ton expected her to be—graceful, elegant, and in control.

In the carriage, however, the gravity of her situation crashed down on her. She could not admit that she was foolish and obstinate. She could have taken Ellen with her, but she didn’t.

For her father, she had decided to isolate herself, instead of being open to her husband. It would seem that she didn’t care about Oliver’s feelings. She was simply focused on her mission—selling a composition she could never claim in her lifetime, and it wasn’t fair.

Seeing Oliver had made her panic. He had seen her face when she was still devastated over her father’s complete disregard for her efforts and over John’s insinuation that people thought it was him who had been writing the compositions all along.

Three men. Three terrible interactions.

For some reason, it was her interaction with Oliver that broke her. In the carriage, with Ellen and the coachman the only two living souls within earshot, she wailed.

“Your Grace,” Ellen began, holding out a hand but seemingly not daring to touch her mistress unless she was asked to.

For more than a year, Alexandra had been suppressing her emotions. Despair. Feelings of being unwanted. Rejected. She let herself sob quietly. It might be her only opportunity to do so. After today, she would have to steel herself from more heartbreak and disappointment.

“We’re going to my father’s. To Devon Lane,” she told the coachman after wiping her eyes with her hands like a child.

It didn’t matter anymore if her father could see her distress. It would be better if he knew what he was doing to her. More likely, he would not even care.

Ellen did not comment. She merely looked out the window with a frown on her face as people went about their day, unaware of what was happening inside the carriage.

“Don’t fret, Ellen. We won’t be staying with my father. That is out of the question. We will leave London as soon as I find out what he wants.”

Alexandra’s heart was breaking apart, and she couldn’t even admit it to anyone. After all, she had gotten what she wanted. She knew how to earn money. If things soured further with her father, she could simply run away and be her own woman.

Perhaps the proud Lord Hartwell was beyond saving. Perhaps everything that happened from her wedding up to this very moment was a mistake.