Page 76 of Stealing the Rake's Heart
He watched his siblings drink alcohol and suffer no ill effects, and had wondered more than once whyhewas the one who could not get the hang of moderation.
The longer he went without a drink, the less it seemed to matter.
“Should I read it?” he asked, after a pause.
Henry and Katherine exchanged glances.
“We did,” Henry admitted. “I wanted to know what he had to say. I have no idea what you’ll find in that letter, though. Be warned.”
Alexander nodded. “Thank you.”
His three siblings filed out of the room, closing the door behind them.
Alexander was left alone in his bedroom, staring down at the envelope.
In about an hour, he would be married, and his inheritance would come through. He had no idea what to do with it, beyond buying a neat townhouse for him and Abigail to live in.
The business of his mother worried him. She had the dower house and her own allowance, of course, but William lacked patience with her. Katherine resented her mother for never supporting her during those hellish years when their father lived, and Henry did not seem to think much about his mother at all.
Alexander already knew, deep down, what would need to be done. He had said as much to Abigail.
“I think that my mother may need to live with us,” he had said, slowly and hesitantly one evening, not so long ago. “I… I don’t think she can alive alone. She is so fragile.”
Abigail had put down her book and considered, nodding slowly.
“Then she’ll live with us.”
That was all. Alexander blinked, frowning. “Just like that? Most women would rather die than have their mother-in-law live with them.”
Abigail smiled, reaching out to take his hand. “I can see how vulnerable she is, too. Your father, her husband, treated her poorly and took her for granted. She suffered. We won’t let her suffer more.”
Alexander had broken into a wide, relieved smile, very nearly bursting into tears.
“Thank you, Abbie. Thank you.”
Back in the present, he picked up the envelope and gingerly slipped it open. He’d half-expected something terrible inside, like a dead spider or poison powder.
It was just a letter, of course, written in his father’s familiar handwriting. Holding his breath, he unfolded the paper and began to read.
To my Youngest Son, Alexander.
It is a common saying that every nobleman requires ‘an heir and a spare’. There is not a word used for a third spare. I’m sure there is one.
Your birth made me truly secure, knowing that William was there to take over in the event of my death, Henry in case of a tragedy, and you in case we were exceptionally unlucky. I will be frank, Alexander, I did not think much of you during my life. I have prepared four letters for my children on the event of their marriage, and yours is the final one. I very nearly forgot you altogether.
Your mother thinks I neglect you, and you are the only one of our children whom she defends in such a way. I suppose that is a testament to what a good son you are.
William is made in my image, in more ways than one, and I have always had grudging respect for Henry. Katherine is not my ideal of a daughter, but out of my four children, she is the one who I believe is truly beyond my reach. She will live her own life, and has a reservoir of stubbornness, which is why my will has compelled her to marry first or doom you all. You, however, I do not understand. Your good nature infuriates and baffles me, and your tendency towards indulgence and frivolity seems to have come from nowhere. You insist upon seeing the world in an optimistic light, and I cannot grasp why you, of all people, would look upon the world is such a kindly manner.
I’m glad you are married. All of you will be wealthy, so money is not a great concern. I imagine you are about to marry some nonsensical flirt of a woman, one of those Modern Ladies who speak vulgarly and insist upon being the life of the party, dancing and drinking and talking without taking a breath. You, Alexander, will marry a true chatterbox. Frankly, I am glad I will not be meeting her. I predict that you will marry a female version of yourself. I suspect she will make you unhappy, and I ask only that you uphold theWillenshirefamily name.
I wish you well in your endeavours.
Regards, Your Father,
The Duke of Dunleigh.
Alexander stared down at the letter for a long moment, particularly the prediction about what sort of woman Alexander would marry. He pressed his hand over his mouth to smother laughter.
