Page 106 of A Deal with her Forbidden Duke
“I know you, Madeleine,” Tessa said gently. “I know when sorrow weighs heavily on you, and I know this is not a normal marital argument. However, your privacy is yours. Your stay here is not conditioned to you revealing why you need to be here. I only ask that you open a window to me, if not the whole door, and let me into your heart. I shall face whatever resides there with you.”
“I am so grateful for you, my friend,” Madeleine whispered. Tessa held her close, petting her hair.
“I shall take care of you.”
And Madeleine was secretly grateful that neither of her friends told her that they had warned her of Alexander’s danger, or said they had disliked him from the start. All they cared to discuss was Madeleine’s safety—and for that, she could only weep softly into her friend’s arms.
Alexander woke several days after Madeleine’s departure, wincing at the ache in his body. The bruises on the left side of his ribs were yellowing, at least.
He dragged himself out of bed, reaching for the space his wife no longer filled on the days when she had fallen asleep after their coupling and did not return to her own chambers.
It had happened enough that he could not convince himself this simply was not one of those mornings.
Groaning as his body protested, Alexander ordered his valet away and dressed himself. He did not know what time it was, nor care.
All he knew was that he needed to move, to do something, to shut his mind off and not think.
Within the hour, he had arrived at the Raven’s Den. It was too early for many patrons to fill up the gaming room below, but there were a few drinkers at the bar, and women were already swaying their hips, ready to attract the day’s custom.
Alexander walked past it all, entering Horace’s office.
His friend looked up at him and winced. “For pity’s sake, Alexander, you look a right mess.”
“I do not care,” he muttered, dropping into his usual chair.
He hated being in the office now, every corner of it reminding him of the night that Donald had threatened him, had forced Alexander to give up Madeleine. But it was the only place he could bear to be. At least he had to face the reminders of his own choices.
He deserved that.
“Well you should. You look terrible. Did you even sleep last night?”
Alexander shrugged. “An hour here and there. The bed…”
The bed is empty and I cannot stand it. My home is empty without my wife to fill it with laughter and conversation. I miss her terribly.
“The bed was cold.”
“It is not winter,” Horace pointed out delicately. “When are you going to tell me the truth?”
“What truth?”
“Whatever it is that has you looking so run-down. Alexander, I ain’t seen you this bad-looking since your mother passed away and you sent yourself almost insane looking for her killers.”
Alexander almost growled at the reminder. “I am fine.”
“You are running yourself into the ground, and I have an idea why.”
“Do tell me, then, if you are so intelligent.”
“Don’t be getting cocky with me,” Horace warned. “You are a duke, and I respect that, but I got a lot of worry going on for you, Alexander. I won’t be forcing you to talk to me but I want you to know that Iamhere if you?—”
“Well I do not, so spare me the lecture.”
Horace gave him a disapproving look, shaking his head.
“Hand me the files,” Alexander muttered, reaching out a hand. “The files for those who remain in our debt.”
“Alexander—”
