Page 51 of Her Heart's Rightful Earl
“He says …” Alexander joined Arabella at the boat, maintaining a respectable distance, “how fond he is of Charlotte. How they share a similar humour and could talk all afternoon yet still have topics to discuss.”
Arabella fought to repress a smile that tempted her lips. “Then he is fond of her?”
“I would say he is, yes.”
Arabella laughed happily.
“May I be so bold as to assume that the feeling is mutual?” Alexander looked up at her through his eyebrows.
“Oh no, not at all. My sister thinks Lord Carrington a brute! Each time he arrives to walk with her, she bemoans her misfortune!” Arabella delivered the line with a teasing smile.
Alexander laughed heartily—how good it felt to fall back into their charming banter. Arabella laughed with him, and there was a moment where they said nothing and only appraised one another with twinkling eyes.
“When next you speak with Lord Carrington, perhaps–” Arabella’s words were cut short as they heard steps approaching on the path outside the boathouse.
They both straightened up, tense and primed for discovery. Their eyes held each other’s as they listened to the steps outside, hardly daring to breathe.
“Hide!” Arabella mouthed at him, her eyes wide. Alexander carefully crept deeper into the boathouse and hid behind a boat. Once she was satisfied he was well hidden, she took a deep breath and ventured out the door onto the veranda.
“Good day!” Alexander heard her call out. He found a small knot hole in the wooden slatted wall and peered through. He could see the groundsman speaking with Arabella and breathed easy that it was somebody familiar and likely not harmful.
“Your dog?” he heard Arabella saying. “Yes, I saw it run over the way …” She pointed over the side of the estate, and the groundsman tipped his hat before disappearing to follow the direction she had pointed.
When she re-entered the boathouse, Alexander emerged from the shadows.
“It seems nowhere is safe,” she declared.
“That’s because nowhere is,” Alexander agreed and hung his head.
***
Alexander had waited at the boathouse long after Arabella returned to the house. He could not risk the groundsman seeing him because he would definitely be recognized. When he left, he felt enough time had elapsed, but as he rounded the corner of the boathouse, there was the dog the groundsman had been searching for.
Alexander froze. The dog’s hackles went up, and he bared his teeth. This was an unprecedented danger that Alexander had not thought through. He was essentially an intruder on a private estate, and this dog would surely be primed to attack strangers on the land.
As they stood in a standoff, Alexander realized this dog was familiar—he had known the groundsman’s dog, and if he was fortunate, it was the same dog he used to chuck under the chin on his daily walks and throw sticks to on occasion.
“Sonny?” Alexander asked, and the dog’s mouth closed, his ears pricking up and his eyes taking on a curious light.
Very slowly and cautiously, Alexander bent to his knees and, taking a deep breath for courage, he tentatively reached out a hand in a benevolent gesture. “Sonny? There’s a good boy …”
The dog bowed his head, not taking his eyes from Alexander’s gaze, and began to take hesitant steps towards him. He sniffedhis hand, and when it seemed any animosity had dissipated, Alexander bravely began to stroke his silky head.
“There you are, Sonny,” he said, their familiarity now evident. “Yes, you remember me!”
Alexander got quite caught up in the joy of the moment—some requited affection and a minute of levity. Then he realized that if the groundsman was still searching for Sonny, he might well come back around, and this was no longer safe.
“Go–” Alexander told the dog, standing up. “Don’t tell anyone you saw me!” he quipped and rounded the corner to pick up a stick, threw it as far as he could for Sonny to chase, and then he ran in the other direction and jumped over a fence into the fields beyond.
Upon instruction from Thomas, Alexander headed to his next temporary shelter, an abandoned mill that Thomas had secured through his shipping connections. Relocating every night was becoming exhausting, and he knew not how long the façade would have to continue.
At this point, it felt as though it would go on forever. He could envisage no end to the hiding and fruitless attempts to clear his name.
As he settled into the vast, musty arena of the mill, he at least found comfort in the idea that Thomas had guaranteed thisspace would be safe for one night. His main concern now was not for himself but for his poor brother. The longer this situation was protracted, Marcus was put in greater peril.
Alexander's protective instincts towards his brother surged beneath the surface. He felt so angry at those people close to him who suspected Marcus. They misunderstood his temperament and did not consider his mental instability with compassion, which disappointed Alexander greatly.
Am I the only one to defend you, brother?Alexander asked into the dark silence.
