Chapter 22

What You Deserve

Alexander stood in the entrance hall, doing his best not to lose his temper with the man in front of him.

It is not his fault, he is only doing what he was told, and perhaps he brings me news of my quarry.

The man led him out of the hall and into the night, looking over his shoulder as though he were worried about being overheard. Alexander frowned, wondering why the man seemed so concerned.

"You are trying my patience. Deliver your message, I will not go any further." Alexander stopped, refusing to move any further from the house. "If you fear being overheard, speak quietly, but for heaven's sake, be swift."

"Your Grace." The man wrung his hands, licking his lips nervously as his eyes flicked from right to left. "I apologize. But I was told I should deliver this message in the utmost confidence."

"Well, there is no one around, so out with it, man. Do you bring news from the magistrates?" Alexander kept his voice soft, refusing to let either his anger or excitement show.

The man's eyes widened, and he looked confused. "The magistrates?"

Then he knows nothing about the man I'm hunting. What else could have been so important?

Alexander's temper flared, and he took a step towards the man. "That you do not know implies that your message is far less important than you suggested. Deliver your missive at once, for I find my patience is wearing rather thin."

The man swallowed. "The message I was told to deliver was this—you do not deserve her. Do not hope to keep her. A rose must have a garden, not a sty."

Alexander towered over the man, his hands clenched into fists. "Who. Sent. This. Message?"

The weasel-faced man was retreating, all color draining from his face. "I-I do not know. I was told to deliver the message and make sure to do so where we were not overheard."

Alexander resisted the urge to howl with rage. "Do you know who I am?"

The man nodded and began to shake.

"Do you truly think it is wise to threaten my wife? To threaten me?" Alexander stood tall, filling the space between them and letting his anger show in every movement.

Even strangers think you do not deserve her.

He shoved the thought away, letting his rage consume him. He wanted to roar, to yell.

I could be dancing with Rose, and instead, I am here, with some stranger, being insulted.

"Get out of my sight. And if you ever think to deliver such a message to me again, I would urge you to consider how much you value your life." Alexander knew he would not kill the man, but he saw no reason to disabuse him of that notion.

He threatened Rose. I will not let that stand.

The man whimpered, then nodded and fled into the darkness. Alexander took a deep, steadying breath, trying to get his anger back under control.

He turned on his heel and strode back into the ballroom, hoping that he might still have a chance to dance with Rose. His anger faded into a mix of excitement and agitation. He remembered the surprise on her face when he asked her to dance.

I thought you would never ask.

Her smile made his heart ache, and he scanned the ballroom for his wife. All eyes were on the dance floor, and as he looked in that direction, his heart stuttered.

Rose was dancing with one of the most handsome men Alexander had ever seen. She was smiling. Her easy grace seemed balanced by the stranger's.

"It is such a shame, look how well-suited they are," a woman said to her companion.

"Yes, she truly is radiant. I believe the two were about to start courting earlier in the Season," her companion answered, and it was as though someone had driven a knife into Alexander's chest.

"It is almost like looking at what could have been." The first woman was nodding sagely.

Alexander moved away from them, his heart twisting as he tried to force their words away. Yet, he could not. Nor could he tear his gaze away from the sight of Rose in another man's arms.

The man was shorter than Alexander, and although he was older, his age had only added to his looks. He had cherubic beauty about him that seemed to only accentuate Rose's loveliness.

They look as though they were made for each other.

Alexander felt something ugly and dark stir within him. He wanted to stride forward and snap the man in half. To fling him away from Rose and tell him never to speak to her again. He saw the warmth that the ton seemed to regard them with and felt something inside him break.

They will never look at us like that.

His anger melted away.

I do not deserve her.

It was true. How could he deserve someone as kind and as beautiful as Rose? He, with his deformed face, so tall that he could not help but tower over everyone around him.

He turned, anger and shame welling up within him. He had let himself believe that perhaps there was something for him. He had been selfish. He could see that now.

He felt a hand on his back and turned, finding himself face-to-face with Nigel.

"Rokesby? Are you well?" Nigel's face was full of concern.

Alexander shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

"Come, let us go to the gardens. You look like you could use the fresh air."

Alexander allowed his friend to lead him out of the ballroom, tearing his eyes away from Rose and her handsome companion.

She does not need me. She does not want me. She will be happier with someone else.

They walked across the terrace, ignoring the stares of people around them, and down the steps into the garden.

"Whatever is the matter?" Nigel asked.

"It is nothing." Alexander's voice was flat. "I simply realized how foolish and selfish I have been as of late."

"I am afraid I do not understand." Nigel tilted his head.

"Did you see Rose?" Alexander tried to keep his voice neutral.

"Yes."

"Who was she dancing with?"

"I believe that is the Earl of… Garingbone?" Nigel frowned as he tried to remember the name.

Alexander shook his head. "No, he's the Earl of Verimoor. Verimoor is within my duchy."

Nigel shrugged. "Close enough. Why does it matter that the Duchess was dancing with some earl?"

Alexander answered Nigel's shrug with one of his own. "Did you not think they made a handsome couple?"

Nigel did not answer.

Alexander let out a bitter laugh. "Ahh, Maxton. You cannot deny it."

"No, I cannot, but I do not see what it has to do with… well, anything." Nigel put a hand on Alexander's shoulder. "She is your wife, not his."

"By some unhappy accident." Alexander turned away from his friend, unable to look at him as guilt and shame washed over him. "I thought… I thought perhaps, she cared for me. That perhaps we could be happy. But I see that was only a selfish hope."

"How is that selfish?"

"What right have I to her affections? I, who have stolen so much from her." Alexander shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "Who would choose me, when it is so clear that Lord Verimoor is the superior?"

"I do not think he is. He is good-looking, but that does not make him better than you." Nigel's voice was firm. "Besides, it is clear that the Duchess cares for you."

"Perhaps it is just pity. Pity, that in my vanity I have mistaken for—" Alexander stopped himself just in time and said instead, "Something else."

"You cannot know that." Nigel squeezed Alexander's shoulder. "Have you asked her?"

Alexander shook his head. "I do not need to. I have been living in a dream. Let myself forget the truth of who I am, and what I can offer. Rose deserves more than I will ever be able to give her."

"What are you saying?" Nigel sounded worried.

"I must set her free. She should be with someone who lets her shine bright, someone whose reputation she does not have to salvage. Who people view with love and kindness, and who will view her with such affection." Alexander sighed. "She may be married to me, but I do not have to hold her back."

"Rokesby, I—" Nigel began, but Alexander shook his head.

"My mind is made up. It is time for me to stop living in some fantasy. Everyone else can see that I am far less than Rose deserves." Alexander squeezed Nigel's shoulder. "You, dear friend, are far too loyal for your own good."

Nigel shook his head. "I am not. I simply see you as you are. And damn it, I wish you could see yourself as I do. I wish you could see the man you truly are."

"I am no man. At best, a delusional and selfish brute. I have let myself pretend long enough, but tonight has shown me the truth." Alexander laughed bitterly, remembering the smiles on the faces that had watched Rose and Lord Verimoor dance. "I will never be able to offer her that which she most deserves."

"And what is that?" Nigel asked.

"A man who is not scarred by tragedy. A man who is confident and charming." Alexander shook his head, thinking of Lord Verimoor and his easy grace.

"Perhaps that is not what she wants." Nigel's voice was soft.

"What else could she want?" Alexander asked.

"Love." The word hung between them. "Love is what most people want."

Nigel's words caught him off guard.

Love?

"If we lived in a world where love alone was enough, then it would be a far better place. But that is not the world we live in."

"Rokesby, if you let—" Nigel began, but Alexander cut him off.

"It does not matter. Love cannot exist when it is not reciprocated." Alexander smiled sadly at his friend.

She will never love me. Love or not, there is no hope for me.

"It does not matter what I feel. If you love someone, you want what is best for them. And I know that it is not me."

Before Nigel could say anything, a familiar voice called, "Alexander, is that you?"

Rose stood on the terrace above them, peering down into the darkness. The moonlight illuminated her face, bathing her in an otherworldly light.

She looks like an angel.

For a moment, Alexander could do nothing except stare at her. Then he remembered the way she had looked dancing with the Earl, and something slammed into place inside him.

"I am speaking with Maxton, do not feel the need to stay outside in the cold on my account." Alexander's voice sounded cold, distant, even to his own ears.

Rose stiffened. "I was wondering if you might like to dance together."

Alexander shook his head and turned away from her. "No, I would not. Perhaps you might find a more suitable partner for the evening."

Rose opened her mouth as though to say something, glanced at Nigel, and then closed it once more. Alexander thought he saw a look pass between them but did not care to decipher it.

"Will you return to the ball? There is not much time left, but I am sure there are one or two more people who we could speak to." Rose sounded confused, hurt.

Alexander hardened his heart. He had seen what he had denied her. What his selfishness had cost her. He should never have indulged his fantasies.

I should not have believed I could be worthy of her. She is still trying to save my reputation, my family name.

"I will bid our hosts farewell, then wait in the carriage." Alexander nodded to Rose and then to Nigel. "It was good to see you, Maxton."

"And you, Rokesby." Nigel bit his lip, looking as though he wished to say more, but Alexander walked away without giving him the chance.

Alexander had expected Rose to return to the dancing, but she followed after him.

"I said I would wait for you in the carriage."

"I do not wish to return to the ball without you." Rose searched his face.

Alexander kept his expression blank. He did not want her to see the ugly jealousy that stirred within him. The entitlement that he had tricked himself into feeling.

Do not expect to keep her.

That seemed less like a threat and more like a prediction of the future. What hope could he have of holding her affection? As they saw more of the ton, as she brought Emberly to life, she would see the truth.

She will understand just how much I lack.

"Very well. Then let us bid farewell to the hosts and return to Emberly." Alexander deliberately kept his arms out of Rose's reach, walking just fast enough to keep some distance between them.

Rose frowned as she followed him, and he could see the anger growing within her. It helped fuel his own determination. Let her remain angry with him. Let her rage at his ineptitude.

Better to disappoint her now.

He could not remember the pleasantries they exchanged with their hosts, nor any other words spoken as they made their way into the carriage. Unlike the journey to the ball, Alexander sat on the opposite side of Rose.

"What message did that man give you?" Rose asked, as the silence seemed to stretch between them.

Alexander clenched his fists, remembering the man's useless message. "It was nothing of any importance."

"Yet, it kept you from returning to the ball." Rose reached for his hand, but Alexander drew it away. "And clearly has caused you upset."

He shook his head. "I am not upset."

"Then why are you being like this?" Rose's voice was a mix of confusion and anger.

"I am tired." Alexander rolled his shoulders.

And I saw the truth of my selfishness tonight. I understand just how much I have robbed you of, and I detest myself for it.

"I shall remain in my chambers tonight."

"Oh." Rose's voice was small and soft.

The rest of the journey passed in silence. When they finally reached the castle, Alexander did not wait for her to get out of the carriage. He did not trust himself to resist her.

If she grabs my arm, even just for balance, I will not have the strength to leave.

The dream of the last few weeks was over. As he lay down, alone in his bed for the first time in weeks, he thought he heard the muffled sound of crying. But he knew it could not be.

It was more of his vanity. His hopeful pride, daring to think that someone could care enough for him to mourn his loss. He knew the truth of things. He knew what he deserved.

No woman will ever weep for me, for no one could ever love someone like me.