Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

A lex rested his chin on his fist, staring out the window and watching all those passing by on the streets below. There were ladies and gentlemen, both old and young, on foot and by carriage, filling the streets and the sidewalks with the purpose of business and leisure. Alex inspected them carefully, knowing that amongst it all, somewhere contained a clue that could help his current predicament. Which had nothing to do with his own matters of business or leisure, but instead of what to do with his wife.

How did one set a goal to win over a woman he had already married?

A knock sounded at the door, making Alex turn, attempting to appear busy with the papers on his desk. "Come in."

His wife entered, and Alex's heart skipped a beat at the sight. Not for any particular reason, for she looked as she did on any other day, but he was reminded of her beauty every time he saw her. And it wasn't only that, but also that he had just been thinking of her, and he felt somewhat guilty, as if he'd been caught. But what did he have to hide ?

"I'm off to visit the dowager duchess," she explained. There was no malice in her voice as there had been when advising him of her outings before.

"Ah, yes." Alex nodded. "Very well. Shall I go with you?"

"That won't be necessary," she said in a hurry.

He leaned forward. "But do you think she might ask for me? To meet your husband before she passes?"

Mrs. Westcott grimaced. "I suppose you are right. Though I don't wish to impose on your time…"

Alex shook his head. "No imposition at all." He'd rather be anywhere else than linger alone with his thoughts as he had all morning.

After retrieving his jacket and gloves, Alex followed his wife to the carriage. They traveled in silence again, which he had hoped would be a more comfortable silence than they'd had after the dinner. Only the last time they were in this carriage, he had tried to explain his thoughts and feelings clearly and provide a peace offering. She'd seemed to accept them, but his own words still burned in his mind. She had finally seemed comfortable enough to tease him, which he had countered with a reassurance that he would never fall in love with her.

It made him want to shrivel up and disappear from her sight.

It had been too dark to see her reaction in the shadows, but he had wondered how his words might have impacted her. He had intended them to be reassuring, but the moment they were out of his mouth, he had regretted them deeply, not knowing how to expound without making the situation worse. And his own words still continued to gnaw at him the day after.

Such a thing would never happen? From him, the man who had been determined to marry for love? His heart might still ache over the memory of Miss Frances, but now that his focus had changed to the wellbeing of his wife, he was starting to care more about her, what she thought, how she felt. Was it impossible to think, in their precarious war of words and emotions, that they could one day raise a white flag and fully reconcile? Truly become husband and wife who loved each other?

They arrived at the home of the dowager duchess, and once inside, they discovered the duchess was already there.

"How good of you to come," she greeted them, leading them down a corridor. "She will be happy to see you both."

They entered the woman's bed chambers to find the duke seated by his mother's bed. He looked up and stood, placing a hand on her arm.

"Mother, Miss Clay is here to see you."

Alex bristled uncharacteristically. Miss Clay was, in fact, Mrs. Westcott now, wasn't she? But perhaps that was the only name the dying woman would recognize. And besides, hadn't his wife already set him straight before? He had no right, no claim to her. At least, not yet.

The elderly woman roused and turned her head. "Oh, my dear Miss Clay." She lifted one hand and Emily hurried to her side. "You did not have to come all this way."

"I wanted to," she responded, patting the woman's hand. "Only I am Mrs. Westcott now."

Alex could not help but smile hearing her say the name. Perhaps it would become more natural with time.

"And who is Mr. Westcott?" she asked, urging him to step forward into her view.

"Alex Westcott, at your service, Your Grace," he said with a bow.

The older woman gave a laugh without much force. "Well, you won't be at my service very long, will you?"

He gave a forced smile at her dark humor. "I wish you a speedy recovery, Your Grace. "

She waved a hand. "Tush and nonsense. I will soon go the way of all things, and you'll think nothing more of me. But I am glad to meet the man who will take care of this sweet girl the rest of her days."

Alex swallowed. "Then I will do my best, Your Grace."

The dowager duchess sighed, and a moment of quiet settled over the room.

"Would it be all right if I had a moment with Her Grace alone?" Mrs. Westcott asked.

The duchess looked to her husband, and Alex followed suit. The duke bore pursed lips and a worried brow, but eventually he nodded, so they all stepped out of the room until the duchess closed the door.

"I will be in the study," Norland said before disappearing down the stairs.

The duchess remained, eyes of concern locked on the door.

"Will she be all right?" Alex asked.

"Emily will come find us should the worst happen." Then she looked up at him with a genuine smile. "Would you care for a tour of the gallery? There is quite the collection, and a handful of paintings there I've done myself."

"That sounds lovely." He followed her downstairs, not expecting much conversation in the gloomy circumstances, but she did have a question. "How has Emily taken to your home? Is she settling down all right?"

Alex grimaced before he could catch himself. He couldn't confess the whole tumultuous truth of it. "If she isn't, then I would be the one at fault, not her. Though I am trying…"

"That is what I was afraid of," the duchess mumbled, then shot up a look at him. "Not that I would assume you would be at fault, of course, only that… it is a difficult hand you both have been dealt."

He was certain of that much, at least.

"And though I do not know your life experience, I would have you know…" Her words trailed off before continuing. "Before coming to us, Emily had spent a great deal of time on her own. Thinking she had no one in the world, being strong because she had no other choice. She came to trust us after some time, and seemed to blossom when she met Mr. Evans, so I imagine the disappointment was severe, perhaps making her seem closed off and harsh." The duchess paused her steps and looked up meeting Alex's gaze. "Though I do not think any of that would be your fault."

He wanted to chuckle. "I think a good portion of it may be my fault."

She shook her head. "I would only ask that you have patience with her. I believe your efforts will not be in vain, that eventually her guard will come down, and you can create a beautiful life together."

"Thank you, Your Grace. That is my hope as well."

The duchess opened the door to the gallery, but Alex couldn't help looking back before stepping in, wondering what discussion was happening with the dowager duchess.