Page 13 of Her Heart's Rightful Earl
“Ah,” Thomas responded, as though he understood the logic, yet opposed the decision.
“I know it was misguided …” Alexander admitted as he observed the disapproval on his friend’s face.
“Foolhardy,” Thomas added.
“Perhaps a little incautious …” Alexander placated him.
“Reckless,” Thomas confirmed.
The two of them stared at one another for a moment before Alexander acquiesced.
“I accept it wasrecklessof me. The room in Whitechapel, though, Thomas. It was loud, damp, rat-infested. I would never have slept, and then I began to catastrophize—what if Mother should die in her sleep this very night, when I was mere miles away without her knowledge?
To have come so far and risked so much, then lost her regardless, would be an absolute tragedy. It would have all been so pointless. And if night it were to be, then I bartered, why notthisnight?”
Thomas clicked his tongue and released a loud sigh, leaning back into the elegant curve of his armchair.
“So you have been to Wellwood. Did you see your mother?”
“I did,” Alexander confirmed, deliberately withholding any further detail until he absolutely must reveal it.
“How was she?” Thomas’s brow furrowed. Having known Alexander since they were children together in school, Margaret had been like a second mother to him; it was only natural that he would be concerned.
“She looked frail and pale, and so much older …” Alexander looked sadly off to the side, remembering as he watched his mother in the moments before she saw him.
“But then, she seemed—how should I express it? She seemed improved. She went to stand to greet me, which was not at all conducive to a dying woman. She was competent in her speech and alert in her manner. I am pleased to report this, of course; however, it was not what I had expected …”
“I hope you do not think me a fraud for reporting her in mortal decline and calling you back here unnecessarily …”
“You did not call me back—in fact, you advised I stay away–”
“Even so. Now you must think I was sensationalizing regarding her health …”
“Not at all, Thomas. Shewasunwell. And truly I am thankful that I did not find her bedbound and ill at ease …”
“Very well,” Thomas relaxed that he did not stand accused of histrionics. “And are you quite satisfied that no other person witnessed your visit?”
Alexander could not find the words and simply looked at his friend, blinking as he constructed the appropriate articulation.
Drawing the correct conclusion from Alexander’s hesitation, Thomas drew back in horror. “Who saw you!?”
Alexander dropped his eyes to the floor and steepled his hands, bringing them to his lips. As his eyes rose to meet Thomas’s, he whispered, “Arabella.”
“No!” Thomas stood abruptly from his chair and began to pace the room. Of all people who could have witnessed Alexander’s reappearance, Arabella was the most problematic.
“I have played along with Marcus’s narrative that you died escaping London. I mourned with Arabella; I have continued to keep your memory alive with her, recounting fond stories and reassuring her when she felt guilty for marrying your cousin …”
He stopped pacing and turned to Alexander, all colour drained from his face. “I have lied to her, persistently. And now she knows you survived! How she will hate me …”
“I am so sorry …” Alexander uttered, as he considered for the first time how many untruths Thomas had been compelled to fabricate on his behalf.
“But aside from all that,” Thomas dismissed his self-obsession with an errant hand and seated himself back down opposite Alexander. “How did it happen? Was she in terrible shock?”
Alexander raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to one side. “She fainted. Then, when she came to, she yelled …”
“Arabellayelled?” Thomas interjected.
“Yes, it was quite unlike her.”
