Page 2 of A Gamble with the Rakish Duke
She weaved her way through the crowd, ignoring the blatant curiosity in some of the stares and the whispers that reminded her that what she told Ellen might be inaccurate. Some reputations did matter. She was a duke’s wife, after all.
One other thing gambling hells were notorious for was scandal.
“Isn’t that the Duke of Westgrave’s wife?” a man who looked faintly familiar asked.
“Looking for her husband, of course!” another snorted.
“Or looking for a lover,” a man quipped, his eyes roving over Alexandra shamelessly.
Alexandra ignored all the comments she heard—mostly speculations about who she was and what she was doing there—and continued hunting for the man responsible for most of her misfortunes.
Her father.
It was easy enough to find him. A loud argument had broken out near the farthest corner of the gambling hell. Alexandra could recognize his arrogant voice even from across the room.
Suddenly, the envelope hidden in her purse felt heavy. Her chest tightened as she thought of all those years Lord Hartwell failed her as a father. It didn’t mean that she’d fail him as his daughter.
“Gideon, you know I’ll pay you as soon as I have the money,” her father begged.
Gideon Lockwood, a man notorious for his business, barked out a laugh. He held his rounded belly with undisguised glee. Then, he abruptly stopped and watched Lord Hartwell with narrowed eyes.
“You? Your son-in-law is nothing but a rake and a drunk like you! How will you repay me?”
“Let me play, Gideon. I will pay you back in a fortnight. In full.”
“That was your promise the last time, Hartwell.” The humor was wholly gone from Lockwood’s voice. Instead, it dripped with menace.
His eyes were blazing, focused on Lord Hartwell’s once handsome face. Drink and lack of sleep had made his skin sallow and thin.
“I will pay his debts,” Alexandra volunteered, her voice surprisingly steady and strong, even though the hand that held her purse slightly trembled. She clasped it in her other hand to soothe it.
The small crowd gawking at the unpleasant scene parted for her, and she found herself only a few feet from the two men. She could see her father’s tired eyes, the grey in his beard and hair.
“The Duchess!” boomed Lockwood. “I hope you know what you are getting yourself into. Have you persuaded your husband to give you money to save your father?”
“I have money of my own,” Alexandra, fumbling for the envelope in her purse.
She made a tight fist to control the movement, hoping the gambling hell lord wouldn’t notice.
“Is that right?” Lockwood asked, the corners of his mouth twitching, but the menace remained.
A low rumble of laughter soon escaped him, his shoulders and belly shaking with his mirth. He met the eyes of two of his lackeys, and all three of them laughed.
“H-Here,” Alexandra handed him the envelope while her father looked on with a gaping mouth and furrowed brow.
It was almost painful to let go of the money she had worked hard for, but she had to.
“This should cover his debts,” she said.
Lockwood unceremoniously pulled out the banknotes and counted them. The strains of music around them taunted her.
Ironically, it seemed to be one of her compositions.
“Your Grace, your father owes me a much more considerable amount. This here can barely cover half of it. Not even close.”
“W-What?”
“Isn’t that what I just said? I know where to find the money to pay you back, Gideon. There is no need to rely on this useless chit. I’d never rely on her! She cannot do anything right. If only my son Julian were still alive!”
