Page 61 of Her Wicked Duke
But Anne had begun to see the real Alexander. She knew the truth behind those stories, even if he had cruelly used those names Society gave him to reject her.
“No,” she said, shaking her head, heading toward the front door. “No, you’re all wrong. He cannot be the sender of those letters.No.”
He would have had to insult himself in the letters.And he had me right there. He did not have to fight for me.
And yet the stalker had been at every event she attended. Alexander had watched her, knew every man she danced with or talked to. Had always asked her which man caught her attention the most. Perhaps he had needed to be convincing—throw her off the scent.
But no…
No.I refuse to believe it is him!
“I must speak with him,” she said.
“I do not think that is wise, Anne,” her father cautioned. “I don’t want you to cause more problems for yourself.”
“Father, I must!”
“I will not have you going there without a chaperone.”
“The Dukehasbeen my chaperone!” she cried. “You have been too busy yelling at Mama to chaperone me. So, I shall goalone—and it is not the first time I have gone there unaccompanied.”
Annette let out a scandalized cry, while Matthew gritted his teeth. Even Patrick’s expression had hardened.
Mary’s face was softer. “You may take our carriage,” she whispered.
Anne blew her sister a kiss, and without another word, she vanished into the dark evening and made her way to Haverdshire Castle.
Anne needed to discuss the whole situation with Alexander. She needed to think through, once and for all, what rumors he had heard, if he had started any, and what he may have told anyone about their agreement.
But mostly, she needed to know if he was her stalker. Just the thought made her heart hurt.
But a lot of things made sense. He’d also promised her he had people looking into it, but according to everyone else, the Duke was a social recluse, aside from attending Society events for her sake.
She knocked on the front door and waited patiently. After he had rejected her, and then ignored all her letters, she was nervous to face him.
But she knew she had to.
His butler opened the door. He’d seen her several times, enough for him to recognize her.
“Lady Anne,” he greeted. He cocked his head. “You come alone?”
“Yes,” she said. “I wish to speak with Alexander.”
“His Grace is currently bathing,” he told her. Anne was about to complain about being lied to or accuse the Duke of making up excuses to turn her away until the butler added, “But you can wait for him in his study. I shall show you in.”
That was one of the rooms Anne had not yet been in. They bypassed the library, the parlor, the dining room where she had tea with Alexander’s grandmother. They passed the window that showed a view of the apple orchard, and she looked away so she did not remember too much of his kisses.
“Please, make yourself comfortable,” the butler said. “I shall let His Grace know you are here. He will be down shortly.”
Anne nodded and began to look around as the door closed behind him. She wandered over to Alexander’s desk, trying to find stationery, inkpots, burned letters. The fireplace behind his desk was swept clean of ashes, and no inkpots littered his desk, only charcoal scattered over an old sketchbook that was falling apart at the spine. A ribbon held it closed.
Curious, Anne opened it. She knew this was not her place, but she was desperate to find anything that might give her answers.
She opened the sketchbook to find her own eyes gazing up at her. They were shaded only in black charcoal, but the Duke had captured them perfectly. Every lash was fine and long, her eyes holding that mischievous glint her brother teased her about. There was even a smudge of eyeliner at the corners of her eyes that gave the sketch a sharper, more intimate look.
Anne flipped through the pages, finding more sketches of herself. Some were just of her face and hair, some were of her features, and others were full drawings of her. Some seemed like newer drawings, but others were older, based on how she styled her hair. There were some from when she was a younger girl, with the gold ribbon in her hair from the last Christmas Alexander had spent in the Angleton residence.
These are very good.And very flattering.
