Page 97 of A Deal with her Forbidden Duke
“It is true,” he confirmed softly, reaching for her hand. He knew John would be watching them keenly.
“Alexander,” she murmured, blushing. “I feel… very well guided.”
He let out a soft laugh before turning to his friend. “I only ever wish to make Madeleine happy. Do you grant me such an allowance?”
It was meant to be teasing but half of him thought seriously on it. He was an only child but he was protective of Madeleine. He could not imagine the protection her brother would feel to deliver. And it was true what he had claimed.
John had seen the worst, most audacious sides of Alexander. He had seen him grieving, dallying with women whom he did not love, nor have a genuine interest in. He had witnessed a great deal of Alexander’s past, poor choices.
“I will think about it,” John joked.
“I have rebuilt not only my dukedom but also myself in these last six years,” Alexander told him. “You shall see.”
John nodded, drinking his wine. “I look forward to it. But in the meantime, I must demand there will be no risk of me entering a room to find you in such… compromising moments with Madeleine.”
“John!” Madeleine cried, flushing deeply.
“If I wish to pleasure my wife inanyroom of our house then I shall.” Alexander’s reply was smooth yet it held a hint of jest. Madeleine coughed lightly, drinking deeply as she got a mocking glare at Alexander. He only flashed her a grin in response.
“Brother, do tell me of your own experiences,” Madeleine urged as their empty plates were taken away and another course was quickly served. “I wish to know what you have seen, what you have done, over these last years we have been apart.”
“I do not know if I should speak of such things to my sister,” John worried. “But I will tell you about a good friend I made in the army. He was a viscount before he joined, and his land is somewhere east of here, I believe. It turned out…”
John’s brows flickered.
“It turned out our lands were not so far apart.”
There was a slight crack in his voice and Alexander realized a moment later: this was the tale of a man who had died. He recognized grief and the way it made one’s voice quiver.
“Tell us of him,” Alexander said, his voice gentler than it had been to his friend all evening.
“Yes. Yes, of course.” John sipped deeply from his wine glass, taking bites of food throughout his storytelling. “His name was James Norton, the Viscount of Hartford, but to me he was Jem. Jem, a soldier. Jem, who raised his rifle without a second thought to protect me time and time again.”
“Was?” Madeleine asked softly.
John nodded. “We lost him some months back. When he died, I was there. He took my hand and he told me to stop running. It was him that made me realize that was exactly what I was doing—running. From the guilt of not being here for you, Madeleine.”
“And yet you stayed further away,” Alexander muttered.
“I do not blame you for my marriage to Donald,” Madeleine reiterated to her brother, shushing Alexander.
“I blame myself for not stopping it. Alexander is right. My guilt pushed me further from you so I did not have to deal with it. Instead, it should have brought me closer, to make the amends I needed.”
He sighed. “It was Jem who made me realize it was time I faced everything. That starts right now, here, in London. It starts with me taking up the title. I ran from it when our father died, Madeleine.”
“It was a difficult thing to look at,” Alexander said, taking over the responsibility of consoling his friend.
After all, they had shared so many moments where they spoke of their fathers’ treatment of them.
“You did it.”
“I had no other choice.”
“Yougaveyourself no other choice. Your desire to right all the wrongs was greater than anything else, Alexander. That is admirable. I was a coward.”
He shook himself off. “But I have faced battle, and watched men be carried off the battlefield screaming, going through unimaginable medicinal treatment, and returning with a rifle in hand weeks later. Being alongside them, fighting with them…”
He paused.
