Chapter 25

Chapter

Twenty-Five

W ithin an hour of Duke D'Estel finding him in a compromising position with Lady Charlotte, Alexander was in a carriage with the few possessions he kept at the London estate and was on his way to his mother's residence in Marylebone.

He paid the hackney cab and entered the house. The three staff he kept on the books were nowhere in sight, and he was glad of it. He didn't need anyone to see him arriving in disgrace.

He found his mother knitting in the downstairs drawing room—a pastime she enjoyed and often indulged in.

"Mama," he said, bending down to kiss her cheek.

"Oh, Alexander, how lovely to see you. I did not know you were going to call today!"

He smiled at the excitement in her tone, but the pit of his stomach churned at the thought of having to tell her the truth—of what he had done and what the duke had witnessed. She would be ashamed of him, especially considering the circumstances they had lived through these past twenty years, thanks to a man of consequence doing wrong by her.

Alexander slumped into a chair and fought to gather the courage to tell her. "Actually, I'll be here more often for the next few weeks. I've been dismissed from the duke's employ, so we shall be able to spend more time together."

He tried to make light of his situation, but it was no use. His mother dropped her knitting onto her lap and frowned. "What has occurred, Alexander? This is out of character for you—and the duke, who I believed was quite fond of you."

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, but it didn't relieve the weight of shame he carried. He could not regret having Charlotte in his arms. He adored and was in love with her. He could not deny those feelings or her pull on him, body and soul.

"I do not know how to tell you this without you being ashamed of me. But please know, if I could, I would marry Lady Charlotte D'Estel without hesitation."

"Oh no, darling boy, what have you done?" His mother's distraught tone made him inwardly flinch. He was a cad—a man who took liberties with an innocent woman before marriage. And his mother would soon know his shame.

"The duke and duchess caught me sneaking from Lady Charlotte's to my room. We've formed an attachment," he quickly interjected when his mother looked on the verge of flaring him alive. "We care for each other," he continued. "And we've both been ignoring those feelings for some time now, but recently, we have crossed the line of respectability."

"And the duke and duchess caught you?"

"They did, just this morning. The duke was furious, and I believe Charlotte has been locked in her room."

"Oh dear, this is terrible. Do you think she will be mistreated?"

"No, nothing like that. They just mean to keep her from me and hope our feelings will pass. But they will not."

"Do you truly love her, Alexander? Is that what you're trying to tell me? Because I should hope only love would drive you to do something you know would upset and disappoint me knowing our past struggles."

Alexander considered her words, feeling the truth of his answer deep in his soul. "I do love her. She's the sweetest, most beautiful woman I've ever met. I cannot give her up, no matter what the duke thinks or how he acts. I want her to be mine, and I cannot stand by and watch her marry another. It would kill me—and her, too, I believe. I'm not alone in my affections for her."

"Well then, my dear. What are you going to do? I do not believe the duke will see you as suitable." His mother's brow furrowed in concern, and she paled.

"Oh, I know I'm not suitable, but I am rich. Surely that counts for something?" He wished it did, but from the pain that flitted across his mother's face, he knew it was not enough.

"Not for these great men. No matter their feelings, their families often rule and make decisions based on rank and how well-connected they are. I was tricked into believing my marriage to Lord Lacy was legitimate—both in fact and in feeling. I thought I loved him and was several months along with you at the time. But when his family found out, they showed me proof that I was not his wife, and I was ordered to leave and never return. To never darken their doors again. So I did. I fled to England and never looked back. The Duke D'Estel will protect his daughter from you, will guard her, and force her to marry a man suitable for their name. As much as I adore you, my darling, you will never be enough for them."

His mother's words stung. How he loathed nobility's arrogance against those they deemed beneath them. Alexander hated his father for the trickery that had left his mother ostracized and for what that deception enabled now—he would lose Charlotte because of his father's inability to do right by the woman he had seduced.

He shook his head. He refused to repeat his father's mistakes. Even now, Charlotte could be with a child despite his attempts to be careful at first. He would not allow her to marry another man and pretend the child in her womb was his when it was Alexander's.

They would marry, no matter what the duke and duchess wanted for their daughter.

"How can I prove I'm worthy?" He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands, feeling utterly without hope.

"There is little you can do, my dear. You will never be legitimate, and if she does not thicken with your child, they will drive her to marry someone who is correct—titled, rich, and proper. But that does not mean she will not marry you as you are. Lady Charlotte must care for you deeply if she allowed you into her private quarters. Perhaps she would be willing to elope?"

"This may be my only option. As you say, I cannot change my birthright, and I'm not ashamed of who I am. What happened to us was not our fault, and I refuse to be looked upon with shame. But I fear the duke will ensure I cannot find work in London again, and I enjoy being a steward and working with numbers."

His mother shook her head, reaching for her knitting. "The duke will not say a word, Alexander. To do so would put his daughter's reputation at risk, and they will not jeopardize that under any circumstances. They will make up some excuse for your departure, but the duke will not blacken your name. The ton is too wise and will see through his words against you. They will start asking questions, and no matter what happens now, the Duke and Duchess D'Estel will not want that."

Alexander had not thought of it that way, and his mother's words brought him a semblance of peace. "There is a card game happening soon at Lady Dames. The duke is to play. Do you think I should attend as planned and see if I can speak to him? It may be my only chance to explain and ask for his daughter's hand in marriage. He will refuse, but at least I would have done the right thing by asking before we elope. Perhaps, in time, the duke and duchess will forgive me."

"This is the right course of action, so long as you approach him quietly at the card game without raising suspicion. But yes, it is the right thing to do—to ask for permission, no matter what happens afterward."

"I agree," he said, feeling more confident about the days to come and the future. A future that, no matter what, would include Charlotte.

Alexander stood, supposing he ought to go to his room and unpack.

"Oh, before you go upstairs, my dear. A Mr. Fitzroy called looking for you last week. He left his card. I mentioned to him he could find you at the D'Estel estate. Did you happen to meet with him?"

Alexander paused, having completely forgotten about the solicitor. "He did call, but I have not had a chance to see him. I shall visit him this week. Now that I'm free to do so," he said, with a wry twist to his lips.

His mother sighed, back to knitting. "It's probably best. He seemed quite eager to speak to you."

"Yes, I will see him tomorrow," he said. "I'll be down after I'm settled." He went to his room and stood at the window that overlooked the street. He hoped Charlotte was well and not facing too much wrath. He shook his head, hating that he'd caused her trouble. But he would right the wrong one way or another.