Page 107 of A Deal with her Forbidden Duke
“I did not ask.”
Reluctantly, Horace handed over the files. Alexander looked over them for a brief minute before spotting an address on one that was closest to the Raven’s Den.
“I shall pay some of our patrons a visit,” he said, needing to remain on the move.
“Alexander.” Horace’s voice rang with warning. “No. It could be dangerous. Debts are higher than ever, and men are more than desperate to not pay them, or outrun us.”
Alexander let out a bitter, flat laugh. “I will do my duty to my business.”
Without another word, he left the office. Ignoring the patrons trickling slowly into the gambling hell, Alexander stalked out.
Maybe he was planning to collect debts in the hopes of spotting a glimpse of Madeleine, wherever she had gone. Maybe he was doing it to go looking for an argument. Maybe he was just lost and needed something to focus on.
Perhaps it was all of those.
Whatever drove him, he didn’t care to analyze it deeper. He clambered up on his horse and galloped down the street.
He knocked on the door, and found it opened by a butler who looked at him with slight alarm.
“I am here to visit the lord of the manor,” he said. “And if your master does not deign to meet me, then do let him know I shall alert the lady of the manor that her husband enjoys any number of frivolous evenings at the Raven’s Den, and we shall see how agreeable your master becomes.”
Alexander was not in the mood to be considerate. His own life had been torn apart; he did not care for others anymore. He stared at the butler who nodded quickly.
When the lord walked out some time later, Alexander gave him a wide smile that held no kindness.
“Well, well,” he said, “I am sure you understand why I am here.” He held up the letter of debt collection with the Raven’s Den seal.
The lord froze.
“And do not think of running. I have a horse that will outrun any of yours in half the time it will take you to reach the countryside.”
The lord gaped at him, eyes widening. “I—I can pay. One week, sir, only one?—”
“You have three days.”
“That is impossible,” the lord whispered.
“I am not feeling particularly kind today,” Alexander snapped. “Three days or there will be consequences that will not only damage your reputation, but that of your daughters. You have three due to debut in the next year or two, do you not? It would be a shame for them to suffer the consequences of your poor choices.”
Alexander stared hard in warning before turning on his heel and leaving the lord’s residence.
He went on and on like that, going through every file, giving outrageous timelines and warnings, threat and intimidation.
It all collected through him—the power, the distraction, the ruination of others so they might suffer just as much as he did.
He did not care who he dragged down with him. Alexander only lost himself to the rush of business, the need to collect what was owed, eliminating every lick of desperation that would tarnish his business.
It was mid-afternoon by the time he approached yet another townhouse. And perhaps while he had hunted down those in debts, other lords had sent warnings—that a man from the Raven’s Den was on the warpath.
Little did they know that they dealt with the owner.
And he had run out of patience.
But when this door opened, it was not to a butler, but the lord of the house himself, aiming the barrel of a gun right at Alexander’s face.
“Who are you?” the lord demanded.
Alexander crooked a smile. “I am not in a very forgiving mood today. I suggest you put down that gun.”
