Page 72 of A Gamble with the Rakish Duke
Her belongings—the ones paid for by Oliver—were mostly left behind at his London townhouse. She had to swallow her pride when she brought her jewelry to sell it. She wondered if her husband had noticed. He would certainly know the reason if so.
“That is all I can afford to give,” she insisted, her lower lip trembling. Her heart sank into her stomach as she realized just how far gone her father was.
He was a lost cause.
Some drunks managed to recover. Some gamblers steered away from cards and other types of games. They might fall hard, but they learned from their actions.
“All you can afford to give? You, the Duchess of Westgrave? If you have been listening closely to the news like a man would have—like your brother would have if he were alive—you would have learned that your husband is not only wealthy, but hehas also made some wise investments. He is getting richer and richer.”
Alexandra shook her head in disbelief. She didn’t care about Oliver’s money. He had worked hard to make up for his past mistakes. He deserved what he earned.
“Did you hear me, Daughter? Do you want some whore to enjoy your husband’s money?Think.I thought you were the smart one of my two children.”
The threat in Lord Hartwell’s voice was evident. He rose to his full height to emphasize the danger he could pose to his daughter. Slowly and deliberately, he approached her.
“I can’t give you his money, Father. You should know that he asked me to leave his London townhouse. I am going to return to the country.”
“Perhaps that is for the best. You have not gained much from that man. He had made you starry-eyed. You fell for his false charms. A rake will always be a rake, Alexandra,” Lord Hartwell cautioned, widening his eyes at her.
“You made me marry him,” Alexandra retorted, recoiling from him.
“For the money. But that isn’t why I sent for you. We’re here because I know who you are, J. Lewis,” her father whispered, as if he was keeping the knowledge a secret.
“W-What?” she spluttered, swaying a little. Ellen was quick to steady her.
The maid did not comment on Lord Hartwell’s declaration.
“Yes, you heard me right, dear daughter. I found out that you had been writing music as J. Lewis, the mysterious composer. At first, I could not believe it,” Lord Hartwell said, shaking his head, his eyes gleaming with madness. “I could hear some familiar patterns, a small part of it similar to what your dear mother used to play all those years ago. Yes, she also played her own compositions. I thought that it was merely in season. Then, proof landed right on my lap. Financial records under your pseudonym. What a bold move, Daughter! Perhaps you are worthy to be called my daughter, after all.”
He rubbed his palms together in glee. Then, he clapped three times like a child.
“Who gave you the information? There must be someone,” Alexandra said, knowing that she was falling further into his trap the more she talked.
However, she wanted to know who had discovered her identity. Her father might have suspected it, but to obtain proof?
“It does not matter who told me or gave me the proof. What’s important is that we now know we don’t need your husband anymore. You merely must compose more music. We keep on selling as J. Lewis. We take advantage of everyone’s curiosity.Then, we secure another marriage for you, this time with someone who will provide us with the money we need.”
“You mean the moneyyouneed. I’m already married, Father,” Alexandra protested. She couldn’t believe how serious she was about that. It wasn’t that long ago that she was willing to risk her reputation just to get a divorce. “Even if I were not, I can live in the country without much.”
“You consummated your marriage, I assume,” her father said with a sneer.
Alexandra couldn’t believe that once upon a time, she looked up to this man. He was her father, nothing was going to change that. But her affection for him was slowly fading.
“Yes,” she said evenly, tilting her chin up. “It’s a marriage, after all.”
“Why didn’t he just leave you alone like he did for more than a year?” her father grumbled, pacing back and forth.
Somehow, she had ruined more of his plans.
“So, what were you planning to do? Take his money and then have the marriage annulled?” Alexandra asked.
“Precisely! Keep up. Your brother would have understood the task immediately. But you—you let yourself be swayed by a rake! One day, when he finds a woman more beautiful or moreinteresting than you, he will leave you. You’ll find yourself alone, Alexandra, with no money. But as J. Lewis, we have more opportunities.”
“I can’t keep on hiding as J. Lewis, Father. It’s dangerous.”
“I’m glad you know that for a fact, dear daughter. You’d rather risk yourself than ask your husband for money, then?”
“I wanted to know if I can help you without begging anyone else to assist me. I wanted to know if I am any good at composing music, and I was right. It was you who kept on digging a deeper grave for yourself. When I came here, your debt was still manageable. I didn’t have to sell my best composition for a laughable sum.”
