Page 55 of Her Heart's Rightful Earl
Exasperated, Alexander watched him go, wishing he and Thomas could see past Marcus’s fraught behaviour and focus their time instead on pursuing the real murderer.
***
Arabella arrived at the boathouse before Alexander. It was creepy to be in a deserted, cold, creaky cabin in the darkest area of the estate so late into the night, and so when Alexanderstealthily entered, she almost threw herself into his arms in relief.
Instead, she held herself tall and composed her fears, knowing that she had important information to impart.
“Tonight,Ihave news foryou!” Arabella announced the moment he had closed the wooden door behind him.
Alexander reached up to remove the tweed cap from his head and looked at her, rather amused.
“Good evening to you, too, Lady Spencer!”
Arabella shook her head in frustration at his levity. “Alexander, this is serious!”
Alexander’s smile dropped. “Tell me.”
“I received a letter from a man called Joseph Evans. He was Edmund’s valet, spanning well over a decade. I recall him as a loyal and amiable fellow during the time I lived with Edmund.”
Alexander nodded, working hard to bury the surge of envy in his chest at the idea of Arabella living in Edmund’s home as his wife.
“Joseph Evans is dying of consumption in a workhouse east of the river,” Arabella explained, taking the letter from her pocket to show him.
“That’s terrible. But how does it affect our investigation?”
“It may not,” Arabella admitted. “But I feel certain there is some relevance. Joseph Evans has requested my attendance at his deathbed, for he claims Edmund entrusted secrets to him that he wishes to declare before he meets his maker.”
Alexander’s mouth dropped open as he took the letter to look over the words Joseph had written.
“Additionally, he says he has something of Edmund’s that he believes should now be bestowed upon me.”
“What is it?” Alexander breathed.
Arabella shrugged. “I can tell you when we next meet, for I will visit him tonight.”
“No–” Alexander interrupted. “Not alone. I will go with you.”
Arabella laughed. “You cannot! You are a wanted man, Alexander. You cannot be seen there!”
“Let me be captured! I will not risk your safety. Arabella, it is your choice. Go—with me as your chaperone—or do not go at all.”
“Imustgo, Alexander! This could be the answer to who killed your father and even, perhaps, lay clues as to who killed Edmund! It is not to be negotiated.”
“You go; I go.” Alexander fixed her with a solid glare that told Arabella there was no flexibility on this point.
For a moment, they stood in opposition. Alexander noticed how Arabella’s breathing became more rapid—he could tell by the rise and fall of her chest above the empire waistline of her dark grey dress. She had obviously dressed for covert movement through the night and was committed to this mission.
What he could not tell was how his words had created a fizzing sensation throughout Arabella’s body. Alexander’s insistence on escorting her—even to his own detriment—demonstrated very clearly how he felt about her. He had stated that he was not willing to risk her safety, and this declaration shifted something in her carefully guarded heart.
Despite the walls she had deliberately built up to protect herself, she experienced the same flush of affection for him that she had the night he proposed. When he was bold and strong, it took considerable effort not to succumb to his allurement. She hadconsidered exile a precarious status for weak men in hiding, but she realized now that the hardship had fortified a resilience in him, and he had returned mightier.
Arabella shuddered slightly as their eyes conveyed a conversation their words could not. She blinked quickly and looked away, out the small window, to where the moonlight gleamed off the lake.
Alexander continued to focus on her beautiful face and stepped forward, closing the gap slightly between them as he asked, “Which is it to be?”
Arabella snapped out of her reverie and looked at him sharply.
“You may attend under the guise of being my servant.”
