Page 22 of When her Duke Returns
His mother was wringing her hands. “I believe there is a matter that requires your immediate attention, and I would ask that you accompany me to see your grandmother at once. She has done something quite unspeakable.”
“Unspeakable?” Alex echoed. His grandmother was not the kindest of women at the best of times, but she had been especially difficult since his return from the country. Perhaps he had slighted her in some way at the dinner though the memory remained out of reach.
“I fear so,” his mother trailed off with a sigh and gestured for him to follow. “I would rather not twist things further. You should question her yourself.”
When the Duke found his grandmother at last, she had fortified herself in the second drawing room of thebel-étageand was tending to some correspondence over a large ochre table, her reading glasses perched high atop her nose.
“Granny, what is this I’m hearing?” he asked, the room swaying ever so slightly. “Mother says you have done something quite beyond forgiveness.”
His grandmother barely lifted her gaze from her quill and ink. “I have done nothing, my dear, but right your wrongs,” she replied with gravitas.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Do not play coy with me, Alexander. I refer to your dalliance with the Lady Carlisle, naturally. You have caused quite a stir amongst your peerage, and numerous are the letters I have received from concerned friends.”
“If this pertains to my intrusion upon the Carlisle ball, I take full blame. Frankly, I thought the matter was long resolved. I do not see what concern it is of yours, if you do not mind my saying, nor is it any business of yourfriends.”
“Oh no, the matter of the ball has been concluded quite aptly,” she said confidently. “It did not take much for me to twist the narrative in our favor, regardless of how dreadful I found the whole ordeal.”
“Be plain with him, Elara,” Alexander’s mother urged at once with unusual bravery. “Tell him what you’ve done before you lead us in circles.”His grandmother removed her spectacles then and placed them upon the table with tempered agitation.
“To be frank,” she began though Alexander could not remember a time she had ever spoken to him without honesty, “I could hardly believe you were heedless enough to ride down as you did. It may not be my place to chastise you for your recklessness, but as the last Rowe woman with any wit about her, I must. I did not raise your father a fool, and he did not raiseyoua fool. That you have chosen to approach your affairs with such carelessness is quite unfortunate. Doubtless, this is why I have been granted a long life that I might educate you on the way of things.”
Alexander furrowed his brow. “And what is the way of things?” he asked with bitterness plain in his voice.
“When one finds themselves in a most inopportune situation, say, the abandonment of one’s betrothed, one must seek to take command over the narrative. I have done exactly that.”
“By painting Mary out to be aharlot, you mean,” his mother cried with a vulgarity that was much unlike her.
The Dowager Duchess grew irate. “I have done nothing but lay out the facts. She has toyed with you and the Lord Burkley both. She has jumped from one suitor to the next so as to solidify her gains. She keeps you on a leash should her engagement fall through. Your display ofcomraderylast night was the last straw! Sheisa harlot, and I have not denied it when asked.”
Alexander looked upon the stack of letters on the table, and the situation become clear. “You’re the one who’s been spreading rumors about Mary.”
“I have merely provided our people with the truth of the matter.”
“What would possess you to entertain such behavior?” Alexander balled his fists. “You will not send those letters, Granny, and you will burn the rest immediately. I will not hear of any slander against the Lady Mary nor any of her lot.”
“It is far too late.” His grandmother smiled then, and it curdled Alexander’s blood. “I have done this to protect you and to protect this family—thatis the duty I must exercise whenyoufail to see reason! This is merely a warning to keep the young lady in line. Should she seek to charm you further by leave of her depravity, I will settle for nothing less than her ruin.”
“You are a cruel woman,” his mother said then as Alexander stood in stunned silence. “It is not your place to condemn either of them to a life of spoiled youth for your benefit. Not all must live as unhappily as you!”
“I will not accept such vitriol fromyou! Lady Mary has made her bed, and she must lay in it, lest it tarnishes us all.”
“Do not think I lack the power to smother these rumors, Granny, or that I will need to send you to seat elsewhere,” Alexander threatened.
“You may try, but you are not so empty-headed as to ignore the power of words over brutish force… I will not stand by idly and watch as you jeopardize the good standing of this house. You will redirect your attentions to women more suited to you, and we will maintain appearances. Noifs; nobuts.”
Alexander wrestled with the anger within him. He had half a mind to shout his grandmother down or to fall to his knees and beg her to abandon her scheming. But on that last point, she was right: though she was forcing his hand in the matters of his heart, he was too out of favor with thetonto contest it.
Alexander shook his head. If those around him were so determined to see him rid of Mary, and Mary herself would be caught in the crossfire of their machinations if he did not comply, he feared there was only one course of action he could take: his heart was to remain apart from him. Thatwas, of course, until a footman made his presence known at the door of the room with a message in hand.
“I am begging your pardon, Your Grace. This has just arrived from Mr. Carlisle,” he said most candidly.
Harry?Alexander thought, before the mist lifted from his memory. “Oh, God,” he mumbled, sinking his aching head into his hands with a groan.
ChapterTen
When the invitation to Whitcliff had arrived at their London house, Mary had hardly believed it. The place appeared like a god-wrought haven, rising proudly from the Devon fields upon which it was set in medieval marvel. Mary had not been here since she was a child, and this was hardly how she expected to return to the place—trapped in complicated pining for its owner with another man at her side, surrounded at all angles by people she did not trust.
