Duke Of Darkness

“I’ve gone ahead and arranged for your bath in the next room, milady.” Tillie opened the compact travelling valise placed on the bedchamber floor. How a footman had visited her room so quickly caused Alexandra to wonder at the efficiency of Wharncliffe’s servants. Impeccable, of course, in tune to his clothing. She set her personal bag on a wooden chest at the foot of the bed.

“Please, Tillie, you must call me Alexandra. Everyone does.” Well, almost everyone. A sudden flash of Devlin’s amused grin shot to mind. She pulled the pins from her hair and ran her fingers through the knotty mess. It would present a challenge to untangle her hair in any semblance of order before dinner. She hoped Tillie was as skilful with the toilette as she was in information dispersal.

“I could never do so, milady, but I thank you for your kindness.” The maid curtseyed and turned to leave.

“As you wish, although I am sure we will be great friends. A bath is just what I need.” Alexandra walked across the room and picked up her travelling bag. “Shall I ring for you when I am ready to dress for dinner?”

“Of course, milady. You will have a grand time at dinner. Viscount Fenhurst is expected as well as his sister, and they are lively company. Lord Fenhurst is His Grace’s very best chum. They grew up side by side. His sister, Lady Julia, was quite the tagalong through all their adventures. I suppose she still follows a bit now, but then that’s to be expected when you see the way she admires His Grace.” Tillie took a necessary breath. “But I keep you from your bath with my chatter.” The maid curtseyed again and left the room.

Alexandra smiled in relief. She collapsed against the back of the door to enjoy the solitude. Then she fairly skipped to the next room and sank into the steaming hot tub of bubbles.

Devlin stared at the Oriental rug and focused on the small leather bag resting on a makeshift holder. He arched both arms backwards in a long, swift stroke and brought the wooden club down through to completion. The ball shot forward, out through the opened terrace doors, as an enthusiastic bark sounded in the distance below.

“Nice shot, I say. Have you improved or does my eyesight fail me?” Phineas Betcham, Viscount Fenhurst, strode into the study and veered left to the brandy decanter. “Reeston no longer bothers to announce me. This whole laissez-faire attitude with the servants is going to come back to haunt you some day.” He poured himself a healthy portion and settled on the brown leather sofa while Devlin set for another shot.

The slice of the club sheering the air was the only sound in the room for the next moment. Then Devlin turned and smiled. “My staff is my family as much as you are, Phin. You know that. I can’t stand on tradition when there are many evenings Reeston might be in here chatting about golf instead of you.” He fixed another ball on the well-worn strip of carpet used as a beginning point. “Besides, they’ve all seen me through so much, what difference does a title make when you consider the bigger picture?” He glanced out of the terrace doors, lowered his head and took another swing. A series of deep barks could be heard after the ball launched.

“Don’t tell me King is outside cheering you on?” Phin viewed him, amused.

“I’ve taught him to retrieve the bags. Makes sense, doesn’t it?” Devlin angled his club against the corner of the sofa and walked to the sideboard to pour a drink.

“You have entirely too much time on your hands, Dev.”

“I know. Isn’t it great?” He chuckled, although his expression faltered. “And where is the lovely Lady Julia? You did speak to her, did you not?” Devlin tried to sustain a nonchalant air but in truth, much depended upon his friend’s answer.

“Of course I brought my sister. She’s flittering about somewhere downstairs. Did you think Julia would stay home if she knew I planned to visit?” Phin didn’t say more. They were keenly aware of the comment’s implication. Julia held a long-running entendre for Devlin, and while no one was supposed to acknowledge it and the lady in question did her very best to hide her feelings, Phineas and Devlin had known about the crush for years. At times it was uncomfortable. Still there was nothing to be done about it. Phineas introduced her to dozens of bachelors, aside from the attention she drew herself, yet as far as Devlin knew, her ardour had not lessened over the years.

“Well, what did she say about my ward? Did you explain the situation? Ask her to do me the favour? Help launch Alexandra?”

“You are an audacious scoundrel, Devlin Ravensdale. Sending me to do your dirty work. As if she’d refuse. Julia is exceedingly enthusiastic about the entire notion. She asked me dozens of questions of which I had no ready answers. Meanwhile, I am sure in her mind she anticipates all the time she will spend here with the off chance you might meander through the parlour or invite her to stay for tea.”

“I don’t drink tea.”

“Not the point. I just don’t want to see her hurt. No matter what I do or say, she still entertains the thought someday you will look at her and … uh, I can’t even say it.” Phineas finished his brandy and set the glass down, anxious to change the subject. “So tell me about your ward, what’s she like?” He waggled his brows and Devlin returned a severe scowl.

“There will be none of that.” The finality in his statement caused his friend to chuckle.

“Oh come now, you went to The Willows expecting a lad and instead discovered a young lady awaiting your protection. You’re going to tell me you didn’t notice what she looks like? How old is she anyway?”

“One and twenty.” Devlin’s retort was half answer, half growl.

“Oh, so young. And you’re to see her married? That could take years.”

Phineas had the insolence to laugh again. Despite his friend stood taller and broader, Devlin wanted to hit him. He finished his brandy instead. “It won’t take years, and you and I are not that much older than one and twenty.”

“Ridiculous. It seems like that part of my life, the carefree easy days, are quite some time ago.”

There was a bit of commotion outside, King’s rough bark followed by a sharper, high-pitched yip.

“As if you aren’t carefree now. Who do you think you’re talking to?” Devlin strode to the terrace doors and out onto the balcony. He scowled as Phineas took his place beside him.

Below, Devlin’s English sheepdog pursued Alexandra’s white terrier; the two engaged in a merry chase. The small pup was quicker and able to dart and change direction with the agility of a rabbit. Meanwhile King was overweight and cumbersome from partaking of too many sugar biscuits with his owner. His bark was the most energetic portion of his effort.

“King! Henry! Stop that at once!”

The twittering of laugher that floated up to the balcony caused the men to peer over the railing.

“Hell’s teeth.” Devlin’s scowl grew darker. Directly below, Ladies Alexandra and Julia stared up at the two of them, their laughter barely contained, not just at the scene before them but at the ridiculous nature of his exclamation, too.

Meanwhile, at his left, Phineas eyed Alexandra and muttered with emphatic appreciation, “Oh my.”

Chapter Nine (#ulink_8b07406d-c064-5c90-abbe-ddb4d1518a8c)

“I think we should plan a ball or some kind of social.” Julia’s eyes lit with her suggestion and Alexandra smiled in amusement at her new friend’s overflowing enthusiasm.

Devlin did not intend to be the wet hat, but the thought of anyone other than the few chosen people that frequented Kenley Manor descending upon his home was out of the question. Alexandra may be unaware of the rampant gossip attached to the Wharncliffe name, but he would not have her opportunity to make a match sullied by the rumour mill.

“Absolutely not. I do not want anyone coming here. This is my home.” The finality in his tone stunted Julia’s usual rebuttal. They reclined in the study having finished an enjoyable dinner filled with light-hearted conversation. After which they’d chased down the dogs and separated them. Ridiculous, really. King would not leave Just Henry alone.

Just Henry.

Devlin enjoyed the quip, most especially as every time he used it, he was guaranteed another glimpse at the adorable dimple in Lexi’s right cheek.

“Don’t be unreasonable, Dev. Somehow we are going to have to get social.”

Devlin was confident Phin knew better than to share his reasons for dropping from each season’s activities. He’d made an honest effort to appear at social events over the years, but it soon became evident that the draw to such events was the Mad Duke of Kenley Manor’s attendance. It was his character, his family history, and the exaggerated story attached to it, that provoked whispers in the corner, as if catching a glimpse of him was a rare and sought after experience. The whole thing turned Devlin’s stomach and he withdrew from society the same way one dropped a poker resting in the fire too long. Eventually the invitations stopped coming. He was in no hurry to see them renew. For the most part, the life he led suited him without complaint.

“Dev?” Phin reached across the mantel and rapped his arm. “Are you with us this evening?”

“Yes. Excuse me. Of course, we’ll get social.” Devlin took a moment to exhale and clear his thoughts. “Let’s just do it somewhere else.”

“I can ask Mother to plan a ball for Father’s birthday, Phin. That’s only a week away and if we make a concerted effort we can arrange a small affair with the most selective guest list.” Julia leaned forward, more animated with each word. “I know all the most eligible bachelors, Alexandra, and I will be sure to see my mother invites each one of them.”

Separating from where the ladies sat on the settee, Devlin turned to Phin with dark suspicion. “What is your sister up to? I don’t trust that look in her eye. I’ve seen it over the years and it never leads to anything good.”

“I don’t know.” Phin glanced to his sister. “You don’t suppose she’s trying to make you jealous, do you?” Both men shared a withered look.

“Good God, I hope not. Talk of eligible bachelors and the choicest men is exactly the conversation I want to hear. Maybe your sister can find herself a match while we seek a husband for Lexi.”

“Lexi?” Phin raised his brow in question as a mocking smile broke loose.

“Never mind the name. Figure out a solution. I have it in mind we get both girls wedded so we can enjoy some peace and quiet. Then I can continue to work on my golf game.”

“And you think it’s that easy? I tell you, it is highly unlikely unless you are considering marriage yourself. My sister has a one-track mind. Make that a one-man mind. Do something to discourage her, for heaven’s sake. Golf and your other eccentric tendencies fail to mar your appeal. Take to drinking too much or chewing tobacco. Claim your seat in Parliament and oppose the Corn Laws. Stop looking so damnable dashing.”

“Why, Phin, I had no idea.” Grinning, Devlin strode to the corner and lifted one of his clubs from the case. His friend followed, enjoying the foolishness of their banter.

“How much do you spend on clothing anyway? It isn’t a masculine trait to be so preoccupied with one’s appearance.”