Page 76 of Enslaved to the Seduction of a Lady
“More sure than of anything,” Luke urged. “I’ll arrange a meeting so that you can see it for yourself.”
* * *
“May I have a word, My Lord?”
“What is it, Fletcher?” Rupert snapped.
He was in his study, sitting by the unlit fire with a book draped over his crossed thigh. He didn’t look up when his valet entered the room, and he had no intention of doing so now. That he was interrupted at all was irritating enough.
It was a large room, as were all the rooms in Belmont Manor. The carpet that sat in the middle of the wooden floor was pristine—as near as new as it could get, and a deep shade of green. The curtains that draped the windows were a similar dramatic green, as were the panels on the walls, between strips of cream coving. His desk, at which he rarely sat, preferring instead the green leather chairs by the fire, was a dark mahogany. The result was dark, certainly, but striking and moody. It suited Rupert Sherriden top to bottom.
“I have some information that you may be interested in. Servant talk, mostly, but I believe there may be some truth in it.”
Rupert looked up, huffing as he did so. “Servant talk. Really? Why do you insist on coming to me with this nonsense?”
“It’s about Lady Alison, My Lord,” Fletcher said.
“Well why didn’t you say so before?” Rupert cried. He slammed his book closed and uncrossed his legs. “Fetch me a port, then tell me everything you know.”
“Yes, My Lord.” Fletcher went to the drinks’ cabinet and pulled the stopper out of the port bottle with an audible pop. The crystal cut glasses clinked as he pulled one out, and the port gurgled into it.
Rupert was intrigued. He couldn’t deny it. Fletched had, quite successfully, captured his attention, and whenever someone managed to do that, Rupert always gave them a little of his time.
Fletcher handed him the glass of port and then stood awkwardly in front of him, hands behind his back.
Rupert took a sip of his drink and then slowly looked up Fletcher, bewildered.
“Well sit down then, man,” Rupert snapped. “I will not have you towering over me.”
“Yes, My Lord. Sorry.” Fletcher took the other seat and Rupert again looked at him, waiting for him reveal his news.
“Well?” Rupert said after a silent moment.
“Word is,” Fletcher began, “that Lady Alison is having… an illicit affair with the head groom. One Luke Jones.”
“Illicit?” Rupert almost laughed, but he realized quickly enough that it wasn’t funny. “What do you mean, illicit?”
He thought back to when he went riding with Lady Alison, of the sly looks she and the groom were giving each other. Rupert had suspected something then, but he brushed it off as imagination. Now, it seemed, he was entirely right to have been suspicious.
“I don’t know the details, My Lord, but I hear she has asked her parents to let her marry him.”
Rupert did laugh then, loud and clear, the sound ringing through the room. “A lady? Marry a groom? The poor girl must be delusional! I don’t even need to ask if her parents declined her request.” He knocked back the rest of his port in one gulp, then grinned at Fletcher as though he had told the funniest of jokes.
“Quite, My Lord.”
“And the Duke did not have him thrown out immediately? For daring to think he could become involved with Lady Alison? Most fathers would have him out on his ear at the mere suggestion of something going on, let alone a marriage request.”
“Apparently not, My Lord,” Fletcher said. “I don’t quite understand it myself, but I’m sure he has his reasons. Perhaps he trusts his daughter not to disobey him, now that he has said no.”
“Fool,” Rupert spat. “The weaker sex cannot be trusted, not ever. Their petty minds do not allow them to be honorable, as we gentlemen are.”
“Indeed, and now—”
“Now what?”
“Rumor is that their relationship is far from over. One of the stable hands—a good friend of mine, and a trusted source—overheard them talking about running away. To Gretna Green. To marry, without her father’s consent.”
Rupert’s vision darkened and he felt the familiar rage inside him. That another man—and a servant, at that—had dared to even try and take what was rightfully his infuriated him. He felt as though he had been duped, that this was a personal betrayal.
