Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

“ J ohn?” Alexandra squeaked in disbelief. “How could you?”

John Prescott walked into the parlor, looking paler and gaunter than Alexandra remembered him. He was in his late thirties, but it almost seemed like he had recently developed a hunch.

Her words hung in the air between them. His eyes didn’t look like they belonged to someone who had just betrayed her. How did he not look like a villain?

Damn him.

“Y-Your G-Grace,” John stammered, not daring to meet her eyes. It looked like the hunch was more of a bow—or simply a manifestation of his guilt.

“Did you give my father my financial records?” Alexandra asked, hoping for a different answer. Perhaps he was being blackmailed.

“I did, Your Grace,” he admitted, bowing his head lower.

Alexandra strode to where he was standing near the door, as if he was ready to escape if needed. Then, she slapped him. Hard.

“Apologies, Your Grace,” he whimpered, raising his hand to his cheek but not quite touching it.

“Were you earning more from my compositions than you were telling me, John?” she asked.

“No. Believe me, Your Grace. I was giving you the full amount. You will still get money from the latest composition, which was well-received. Then, you have royalties for the rest of your life.”

“For the rest of my life?” Alexandra sobbed bitterly. “As J. Lewis? You can reveal my identity. I don’t care much for my reputation. My husband already knows who I am beyond the woman who was given away by her father. Beyond the spinster who the ton didn’t notice until she became the Duke of Westgrave’s wife.”

“You don’t understand, dear daughter. I know you well. You like to sacrifice, don’t you? A little saint in the making.”

“What do you mean?” Alexandra asked, whirling around to face her father again.

“You don’t care much about the ton discovering your secret. But what about your husband’s secrets? What about John Prescott’s secrets?” he taunted.

“John’s secrets?” Alexandra turned back to see John straightening up and meeting her eyes. There were unshed tears there, and his cheeks were red.

“I—” he began. He swallowed noisily, as if the words he was trying to say were too difficult. They were stuck in his throat, trying to get out.

“He is having a difficult time telling you, I can tell,” Lord Hartwell said with glee. “What John is trying to say is that he is a gentleman of a certain persuasion. A molly. A sodomite!”

John visibly recoiled at the last few words, each crueler than the one before it. Alexandra looked at her former music teacher with understanding.

The friend he was with at the opera.

The whispers about him.

The slamming of his lodgings’ back door.

She suddenly felt pity for him. She knew that he wouldn’t accept such a feeling, but she felt it anyway. She knew what it was like not to be free. At least, she had found a way out of her prison. It was still out of reach, but it was there. Possibility.

She wondered what possibilities John had.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she said softly.

“That’s what you say, dear daughter. But you have always been different. What would the ton say if they knew about his predilections?”

“I am so sorry, Your Grace,” John apologized again, giving her a slight nod.

“It’s not your fault, John,” Alexandra said, although her chest felt tighter than when she had been arguing with her father.

“So, Alexandra, what do you think? Prescott is relying on you. I will keep my mouth shut about his predilections if you pay off everything and more.”

“More?”

“Money for your dear father,” Lord Hartwell said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You’ll get the money. But you need to sign a statement saying that you will never breathe a word about John and his friend.”

“His friend,” he sneered maliciously. “Don’t forget that if you try to find a way out of our agreement, I will also reveal your husband’s secrets.”

“Oliver’s secrets? He is not ashamed of his past. Perhaps he was back then, but he no longer is,” Alexandra declared confidently, remembering the late nights when she and Oliver had talked about many things after making love. Sometimes, they just spent those nights talking. It wasn’t lust that they shared, she realized. It was more than that.

“Yes, for the most part, Alexandra. Now, think of his past and add the revelation that his wife is no other than J. Lewis, and what do you think people will say?”

Alexandra simply stared at her father. Never had she entertained violent thoughts about anybody but at that moment. Her father knew that while she could sacrifice her reputation, she wouldn’t want John exposed or Oliver seen in a bad light.

“Don’t know what to say, Alexandra?” her father sneered.

“I’ll pay Lockwood. You can rest assured,” she said. “Please don’t hurt John or Oliver.”

“Ah. Hurt? There are many ways to hurt a man. Like ruining his reputation, for example. Prescott will lose his students and patrons if they find out what he is,” Lord Hartwell said, his voice dripping with disdain. “As for your dear husband, he’d see that marrying you was a futile attempt to fix his reputation. His business partners may not be too happy about dealing with a liar. A liar who cannot control his wife.”

“I will pay his debts,” a voice boomed from behind John.