Page 4 of When her Duke Returns
All three generations of the Rowes were sitting in the second drawing room of their London house, dubbed “the Red Room” by visitors to the estate. Alexander took another swig of his drink and smiled.
Once the commotion had passed, and his mother had come back to her senses, to the uncontrolled cackling of his grandmother, no less, Alexander had tried his best to explain all that had occurred. Neither woman was in any state to speak plainly, and so, all thought it best to retire for the afternoon and convene at supper.
The Duke had been treated to a bath for the first time in years, and one of the footmen had come up to trim his hair and shave his beard as they had long since done away with the valet.
It was only upon catching a glance of himself in the long-looking glass of his room that he realized he was not the man he had been before his departure. His face had been marked by war in more ways than one. His scar had warped the skin strangely around it, and the green of his eyes had dulled. A line had appeared on his forehead when before it had been a solid slate of golden skin, and he could have sworn he was taller now, perhaps stockier too. This was the body of a man, of aDuke, not a boy playing at war.
And, where once he had been tremendously handsome, a man of untampered monstrosity stared back at him now. The bandages he wore around his face, that he feared he wouldalwayshave to wear, could not mask his disfigurement entirely. It was on that thought that he dressed himself and headed down for supper.
As he sat face to face with the women he loved most in the world, he felt the whirling of both relief and confusion within him. “I do apologize for my sudden arrival. In truth, I hadn’t expected either of you to be here.”
“So, you had wanted to sneak in and out of England like a ghost in the night? How very roguish of you, dear,” his grandmother retorted though his mother seemed to jump at the word “ghost”.
“You must understand, I would have written had I had any faith in receiving a response. But I had not heard from either of you in months, and I thought the whole affair rather troubling.”
“It appears we are at an impasse of understanding, my dear, though perhaps there is much we ought to inform you of,” his grandmother said with unusual kindness.
“I beg that you do, Granny, for I am at a loss.”His grandmother looked to his mother as if urging her to speak. His mother stayed silent, choosing instead to toy with the beading of her armchair. With a shake of her head, the Dowager Duchess continued.
“To be quite frank, dear, we heard that you had died.”
The words struck him like a blow to the head. “I beg your pardon?”
“It’s true,” his mother spoke at last and with great haste. “Oh darling, we were told you had died on the continent—that you had suffered a fatal blow to the head and had not recovered. They said they had buried you at sea!”
Alexander was wrought with confusion. “Who told you this?”
“The British, darling… An officer or perhaps two. We received a letter first and then a visit to Whitcliff. Oh, it was so horrible!”
“Which officers? I must know their names,” Alexander barked.
“Oh, I can hardly remember their names, my dear! You must understand, it was such a coup to the heart.” His mother leaned forward. “You mustn’t blame them, darling, nor anyone else. They appeared as distraught as we were at the news. They said they had been forced to leave you in some awful infirmary fighting for your life, and the next they heard, you had been thrown in the sea!” She bit her lower lip as if to fight back her tears. “The two of them were gravely wounded themselves. One of them was only returned to England half a year ago himself, and he could barely walk!”
“Well, I don’t care an ounce whether or not the man could walk if he was so eager to pronounce me dead!”
“He could not have known, my dear. As far as I know, they were simply relaying what had been told to them. You mustn’t treat them with such unkindness until you are presented with all the facts,” the Dowager said. As glad as he was to be in the company of family, Alexander was not so relieved to be back at the mercy of his grandmother’s scathing nuggets of wisdom.
The two women continued to inundate him with their understanding of the matter, of his supposed death some six months ago, and their short-lived attempt at finding a male heir to succeed him after his passing. They had settled on a cousin thrice removed from Yorkshire, but Alexander had heard more than enough and cut them off before they could burden him further.
“You must both understand that I have every intention of righting as many of these wrongs as is within my power. I cannot begin to imagine what you’ve both had to endure in my absence…but I will not hear of northern heirs as though I am still dead.”
“Of course not, my darling son. While it is, admittedly, a great shock to have you returned to us, I believe I speak for the both of us when I say how very glad we are to see you safe and sound.”
“While I believe it slightly impetuous to speak for one’s Mother-in-Law, I can only agree,” the Dowager conceded. “Perhaps we should begin with the matters of your estate.”
“And a new set of clothes,” his mother added, suddenly full of glee.
Alexander thought for a moment. He had been so enamored with the prospects of his homecoming that he had spent little time considering how other things might have changed in his absence. Presented now with the state of his affairs, he knew not how to begin living again. He chose not to think, then, and said instead what first came to mind and heart.
“What of Lady Mary?” he asked, and a sudden weight lifted from his chest. The Rowe women looked between themselves, and Alexander noted their unease.
“Is she well?” he asked again with more fervor this time.
“Oh,” the Dowager began, “she is quite well.”
“Must we speak with such opacity? Mother, what is it?”
His mother shot him a weary smile. “I am sorry, my darling as I know how deeply you cared for her.” She let her hands drop to her lap as if in prayer. “I believe the Lady Mary is to be wed soon.”
