Page 62 of A Gamble with the Rakish Duke
“Your Grace, your music has been garnering quite a reputation. A good one. Thetonhad even requested more of your work. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to pressure you. I heard your marriage is also doing particularly well, and I didn’t want to disrupt that by insisting that you make more music.”
“It’s not disrupting my marriage,” Alexandra insisted. Her eyes flicked to the sheets in his hands as if they were living things that could escape at any time.
“No. I can see that. However, what I’m trying to say is that you have attracted the interest of several potential benefactors. The orchestras are aware of that. Therefore, this here is as good as a commissioned work. I’ve already gotten big offers for this.”
Alexandra heaved a sigh of relief, her hands pressed to her chest. “That sounds wonderful! So, I’ll earn a large amount this time?” she asked, shocked by how girlish her voice sounded.
“Yes. In fact—and don’t be shocked—I already have the down payment. They insisted I accept it because they suspected it was I who composed the music. It’s a good amount, Your Grace. As you said you needed an amount equivalent to the annual income of a village family, wait here—you’re going to get it and more.”
Alexandra was speechless. Emotions ran through her, each one as intense as the next.
Excitement. Despair that someone else might take credit for her work. Apprehension. Fear.
Nothing good has stayed in her life. It always dissipated.
She was certain that someone was in John’s lodgings. Did he go to fetch the other person?
“Here it is,” he said, startling her out of her reverie.
He had finally returned to the parlor and was handing her a thick envelope.
“Oh.”
“Count them. I didn’t touch it,” John said gently.
Alexandra opened the envelope, and gasped. It was full of banknotes, more than she had ever seen at once. Yes, she had her allowance from her husband, but she had barely touched it. The money remained in the bank unless she felt the need to redecorate or buy a new dress. She didn’t use to buy dresses regularly, but being introduced to thetonhad changed that.
“It-It looks like I don’t need to s-sell my jewelry,” she stammered as she tried to control her emotions.
“I hope you resolve whatever problems you have, Your Grace. We need to retire J. Lewis at some point. They’d been asking.Even your father asked if it were me,” John said, paling after he’d said the words.
“You talked to my father?” Alexandra asked, her voice rising.
“H-He saw me after I left the music director’s office,” John explained, looking down at his bare feet.
Alexandra was startled by the realization that she was talking to a barefooted man, no matter how ridiculous that seemed to be. He had just told her that her father might suspect that he was J. Lewis, and she was distracted by his bare feet?
“I do hope you’ll be careful when you submit this composition and collect the rest of the payment, Mr. Prescott,” she said a little coldly.
She had not spoken to him like this before, but she was confused and suspicious. Something was wrong, but she could not place it.
“I will.”
She counted a few banknotes and handed them to him. It was only fair. He did have to be more careful.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
Alexandra didn’t know if it was her imagination, but he sounded regretful. He wasn’t happy about taking some of the money. Not at all.
In a matter of minutes, she was at Devil’s Draw, scandal be damned. She did not know where her father was staying, and if he weren’t there, she would just have to directly pay Gideon Lockwood.
It was mid-morning, but some men were already at the notorious establishment. The thugs were no longer surprised to see her as she headed straight for Lockwood’s private office.
Her father was sitting there with the smug-looking Lockwood. His head hung as if he was barely awake, possibly drunk.
“Father, why am I not surprised you are here early in the morning?” she asked with her hands on her hips.
“I see the Duchess has more sense now than before. Wearing a cloak? Of course it does not really hide your beauty, my dear. And you’re here at my establishment? Again? I’m flattered,” Lockwood drawled.
