Page 113 of A Deal with her Forbidden Duke
Anger burned in him. He had been so blinded by Donald’s threats and thinking that Madeleine would be safer without him that he realized the true threat: letting Donald Cluett roam free, unchecked.
He did not know where Madeleine was—Donald could have already gotten to her.
In a moment of pure fear for his wife, Alexander fled the townhouse, leaping onto his horse without even waiting for the animal to be saddled.
If there was one place Alexander knew Donald would slink to, where he might find refuge, it would be the Horseshoe Pass.
He had looked well-to-do, and if he could have afforded to bribe the manager, Alexander was willing to bet he had been given some sort of safety.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Donald Cluett,” Alexander called out. “Is this where, in fact, you have been hiding? Does it please you to know I searched for you here and could not find you?”
He was right, of course.
The Horseshoe Pass was cloaked in darkness by the time Alexander got there. Not even a candle was lit in the window, the doors closed, and its patrons gone. Idly, Alexander wondered if a few well-placed authoritative figures had gotten the place shut down.
It was no matter to him. One less scourge on London, he supposed.
But Alexander heard scuffles from a nearby alley and knew the place was not entirely deserted.
A top window of the Horseshoe Pass overlooked the alley—a perfect place to lurk for those on the prowl.
The scuffle was sharper, as if it was a frantic drag of boots on cobblestones.
Alexander smirked, jumping down from his horse in the dark street. His boots hit the ground and he heard another quick movement from the alley up ahead.
A lamplight shone down upon it, illuminating the entrance.
Alexander smirked, finally feeling his anger turn into something useful.
“Your Grace,” Donald called out, a mocking tone to his voice. “How is Silverton House? Lonely, I imagine.”
The man pressed away from the shadows of the alley’s depth, strolling towards Alexander. He realized quickly that the noises that sounded like escape were only to taunt him, to bring him closer. But Donald was a clever man, and Alexander needed to give him more credit for it.
“I am not here to talk about my residence,” Alexander said. “Perhaps it is jealousy that drives you to ask about it. Tell me, howdoesKinsfeld House look with your brother at the helm?”
Donald’s smile fell. “My brother is an imbecile.”
“And yet you allowed him to take everything. How considerate.”
Darkness wrapped around them both, pulling them deeper into the alley. Nobody else was around, and Alexander felt a thrill of power sing through him.
“No, you are right,” Donald said. “I am not here to discuss estates. Now, that whore of a woman you call your wife, that is worth talking about.”
“Speak of her with respect in my presence,” Alexander growled.
Donald laughed, dark and wild. “Respect? Surely you experienced it yourself, what she does for attention. That woman lost all respect when she fell into my arms the night we were married, practicallybeggingto be fu?—”
Alexander saw red and punched Donald square in the mouth. The pain lancing through his knuckles barely registered, not when Madeleine was being spoken of so crudely. Donald laughed and spat blood, but Alexander would not hear another word.
“Are you jealous, Your Grace?” Donald rasped, even as Alexander grabbed him by the jacket.
“I warned you about coming for me out here. I warned what the dregs of the underworld will do to her. Perhaps you want that to happen. Are you a cuckold, Alexander? Do you wish to see yourwife taken by the men of this city who would love to have one taste of a duchess?”
Alexander slammed Donald’s head back into the wall of the alley, delighting in the defeated groan.
“You arefilth,” Alexander hissed. “You do not deserve to even think of my wife. You do not get to make your inane threats any longer, Donald.”
