Page 110 of A Deal with her Forbidden Duke
She slammed the book closed, put it back in its place on the towering shelves, and picked up another.
This one was a more realistic book, one on philosophy. She wondered if her brother would be impressed by her reading it.
She sat back down, hoping to find some sort of answer to her heartache buried within the pages. Was there some sort of philosophy she might adopt in order to heal and forget the taste of Alexander’s name on her tongue?
As the sun descended in the sky, Madeleine read, finding herself wrapped up in the reading for a brief, relieving time. However, when she was finished, she felt more confused than ever.
The philosophy of the book carried a theme of new paths still leading back to similar destinations, that no matter how much new change one might implement, the past might always be there.
Madeleine was frustrated, for she saw herself reflected in the pages.
She and Alexander tried to get through anything but their past always came back to hurt them both.
Madeleine’s hurt from her father, brother, and Donald; and Alexander carrying the burden of his mother’s death and the actions he had taken in response to that. But did that mean she should be hurt byhim?
What had happened to spook him that day? That was the question she could not answer nor let go of. Something haddone, and he hadn’t thought it necessary to share with her despite it changing their marriage entirely.
She looked around the library, the book, and instead tucked her legs beneath her in the armchair, turning to look out of the window.
Her heart was a bruise in the shape of Alexander’s name, and she could not stop prodding it.
Alexander had finally followed Horace’s advice but the day after his friend sent him home, Alexander found himself unable to move.
He had stayed in bed long past dawn, and did not go down for breakfast. He answered no knock on his door, and ignored every check of wellbeing.
It was as though the moment he had stopped and acknowledged that he had not taken care of himself his body had simply ceased.
He missed his wife.
He needed her—he craved her, as he always had.
But by the afternoon, he was tired of feeling like stones filled his insides.
Alexander groaned and got up, and went into the bathroom. He grimaced at his reflection, finally understanding what Horace had been talking about. Alexander’s beard and hair were woefully unkempt.
He called for his valet, and soon, he emerged from the bathroom freshly trimmed and groomed.
Madeleine’s absence was unspooling him to his very core.
As he walked out of his chambers, ignoring the empty ones connecting to them, he rebuilt his defenses. He missed Madeleine but he had a duty to fulfill as the Duke of Silverton.
Somewhere in the city, Donald was lying low, and the fact was on Alexander’s mind. He could betray their agreement. He would find himself facing the consequences if so but by that point Alexander’s secret would already be out.
He was not yet sure what to do about Donald but he could not afford to forget about him. Part of Alexander was still reeling from finding out the man was not dead.
“Your Grace.” His butler approached him in the hallway, paces away from the main staircase. “You have a visitor.”
For a moment, his heart pounded, his hope rising—until he realized it would not be Madeleine. He had forced her to leave. Worse, he had hurt her enough that she would abide by his order.
“I have shown him into the drawing room to await you.”
Alexander was on high alert as he nodded, bypassing his staff, to enter the drawing room. It wasn’t Donald Cluett, however, as he feared for a moment. Instead, it was the Duke of Kingswell.
“Felix?” Alexander asked, stepping into the room. The other duke rose, smiling broadly.
“Alexander. Thank you for meeting with me. I am sorry to drop in so unannounced.”
“It is no matter,” he answered, clasping the man in a handshake. “Please, sit. What can I do for you?”
