Page 71 of A Gamble with the Rakish Duke
Alexandra.
Alexandra had left and had no plans to return.
The reality crashed down on him. Around him. In him.
Oliver had thought that he was content with being a bachelor for the rest of his life, but Alexandra had changed all that.
A year ago, he was irritated by the thought of spending his life with one woman. Not only that, but he didn’t want to end up with a woman he didn’t choose—a constant reminder of how he had made a terrible mess of his life.
He groaned aloud, no longer able to suppress his feelings. Everything felt tight. He turned around, suddenly feeling dizzy. He needed to leave Alexandra’s room. He needed air.
As he stumbled out of her room, he was startled by the sight of someone standing in the hallway. It was one of his footmen, and he looked grave.
“Your Grace, the Duchess is not in the countryside, if that is what you fear.”
“What? Where is she then?” Oliver asked, pressing a hand to his forehead.
“Her Grace stopped at her father’s house first. She might still be there,” the footman replied.
Oliver didn’t wait for another second, he ran down the steps and hollered for his coachman not to step down from the carriage. He was fortunate that the man was practically inseparable from the horses.
On the way to Lord Hartwell’s home, countless thoughts raced through Oliver’s mind. But most of all, he wondered if his wife was still there. Then, he wondered why she would even go to her father’s house.
Did she want to go there? Did her father ask her to come?
Oliver cursed himself for forgetting to ask the footman.
They arrived at Devon Lane in no time. However, he could not see Alexandra’s carriage anywhere.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Why am I here, Father?” Alexandra asked. She could not keep her voice from shaking with anger and apprehension.
Lord Hartwell reclined on the sofa, looking smug and content. It was not the expression she’d have expected from someone indebted to a gambling hell lord like Gideon Lockwood.
“Where are your manners, Daughter? Should you not be greeting me? Asking about my health?” Lord Hartwell asked, shifting in his seat so he could sit up.
With a pang, Alexandra noticed that his back was no longer straight like when she was a child. Her father was getting older, but he had not changed. She thought about Oliver, about his compulsion to return to Devil’s Draw for another fight whenever he was frustrated or melancholy.
Was her father feeling sad about how his life had turned out? Was he feeling angry? There must be a reason he was drawn to the gambling hell. Why he was tied to it. But it still didn’t give him an excuse to be cruel and selfish.
What about Oliver? Would he grow old like her father? Would it be because he was always meant to tread that path, or would it be because she left?
He wanted her gone.
Alexandra steeled herself. She knew that she could not depend on any man.
“You’re lecturing me about manners, Father? Have we resorted to such ridiculousness? I’ve been trying to help you, and you have never once tried to help yourself. All I get from you are insults!”
There was a small whimper behind her. It was Ellen. Alexandra knew that she had someone she could trust. But would it be enough? Her father was a ruthless man, blinded by drink and gambling.
“Well, my dear, you may get something else from me. Not insults, not this time. I can even praise you! All you need to do is pay off my debts. All of them, Alexandra. Not a little here and there. Lockwood is greedy and will take more and more if I can’t leave Devil’s Draw for good,” Lord Hartwell explained.
For a moment, Alexandra believed her father, except for the part where he claimed he would praise her. That was simply absurd.
He wanted out.
However, she was also reminded of her attempts to pay off his debts only to discover that he had somehow accumulated more debts. The total was staggering even at the beginning. It continued to grow at an alarming rate. Her last composition at least gave her some hope that she could pay.
