Page 9 of Stealing the Rake's Heart
Alex wilted a little. “I know, I know. I just…” he paused, disentangling himself from her grip, and reached out to snatch up the decanter altogether. He pulled out the glass stopper and took a swig straight from the bottle. Grinning at Katherine’s annoyed face, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I can’t get through this summersober, Kat.”
She let out a long, slow breath. “I am going to break that decanter over your head.”
There was no time to find out whether it was an empty threat or not, because a thin, reedy voice came wafting in from the halls outside.
“Alex? Alex, my darling, where are you?”
“It’s Mother,” he murmured. “I’d better go find her.”
“Yes, do,” Katherine rose to her feet, shaking out her skirts. “And then come into dinner, both of you.”
They parted ways in the hallway outside. Katherine hurried towards the half-open dining room, light streaming out into the corridor, and Alex plunged into the gloomy part of the house, in search of his mother.
He found Mary in one of the morning rooms. It was seldom used, and bitterly cold, despite the time of year. She was standing at a window, holding up something to the young moonlight.
“Mother, what are you doing?” Alex asked gently. “Didn’t you hear the bell for dinner?”
Mary blinked at him. She had once been a beautiful woman, but time and poor treatment had stripped her beauty from her. Her force of will, never particularly strong, was quickly crushed altogether in the early years of her marriage to the duke. Alex could not remember his mother ever speaking up for her children, not even when the duke was at his most cruel. She’d formed a sort of slavish adoration to the husband who treated her like an inconvenience and was the only one who had truly mourned him.
Alex had secretly hoped that, with his father gone, his mother might grow into her old self, and thrive.
He was destined to be disappointed. Mary said less and less, retreating into herself and looking out at the world in a baffled, terrified way. She was starting to forget things, too.
“Oh, yes, supper,” Mary managed at last. “I don’t much like it in there. It’s far too bright. It hurts my eyes.”
Alex bit his lip. In a fit of frugality, the old duke had cut the candle allowance for the house down to a quarter of what it had been. The hallways were plunged into darkness, the poor servants did their sewing by moonlight, and they were obliged to hunch over their dinners in near darkness, squinting at their food to try and make out what it was.
Now that William was the duke, things were different. The house was actually well lit, the fires banked, even when it wasn’t the depths of winter.
“I don’t take pleasure in watching people squinting in the dark, or shivering by an empty grate,” he’d said once, when Mary queried it.
The woman came fluttering across the room towards Alex, reaching up to smooth out the shoulders of his jacket.
“So handsome,” she murmured. “The most handsome of them all, my Alex. You must tell William to stop lighting so many candles. The Duke would not like it.”
A lump rose to his throat.
“Mother, Williamisthe duke now. We can’t keep doing things the way Father did, can we?”
Mary pouted. “Well, your Papa was generally right. We saved all that money on tallow and wax, didn’t we? But I have a secret to tell you.”
“What is it, Mother? Why don’t we go out into the hall? It’s freezing cold in here. You’re only wearing a light shawl, and…”
“The Duke insisted that I hand over your brothers and sister to a nursemaid right away,” Mary interrupted. “First William, and then Henry, and then Katherine. He said that children ought not to be coddled. It was dreadfully upsetting, but he was my husband, so of course I obeyed. It was always strange to see them again, to see how much they had grown. They wouldn’t recognise me when they saw me again, and that always stung a little. But you… you, my little Alex, you were different. When you were born, your father was away, so I did not have to give you to a nursemaid. I looked after you all by myself. You were walking by the time your father came home. You weremine. I always felt guilty, though. I suppose the least I can do is to make sure that everything is the way your father wanted it, to make up for keeping you. It was a good bargain, I think.”
The lump was making Alex’s eyes water.
“Yes, Mother, but Father isn’t here, now. You can do as you like. You can be happy.”
Mary pulled back, eyes blank. “I am happy, darling. I’m a good wife.”
“I see.” Alex drew in a shuddering breath, wiping suddenly clammy hands on his jacket. “Well, you must be hungry, and so…”
“Oh, I almost forgot! Silly me. I have a present for you, darling.”
Mary opened her hand, revealing a silver cravat pin, tipped with a round ruby like a drop of blood.
“It was your father’s,” she confided. “I daresay William should have it, but I’d like it to be yours.”
