Duke Of Darkness

Devlin pivoted, his club at rest by his side. “Oh, you remind me. Could Julia take Alexandra to a modiste? She arrived with the smallest valise in existence. I can’t imagine much is in there besides the horrid black gowns she keeps producing. There is no way she is going to any function, never mind your father’s birthday party, dressed like the Dowager Duchess of Darkness.”

“Very clever.”

“Not really. I just switched the name out. One of my old labels in the gossip rags. Mad Duke of Darkness. You remember?”

To another, there wouldn’t have been notice, but Phin reached out and touched his shoulder, and Devlin knew his friend could read his emotion as easily as he knew his own.

“By the by, you failed to mention how becoming your new ward is.”

Devlin answered his comment with a malevolent stare and Phin stepped back with palms raised.

“A simple observation.”

His friend almost chuckled but better judgement changed his mind.

“Don’t get any ideas.” Devlin’s growled response caused Phin’s eyebrows to climb; yet it was hard to deny his friend’s classic profile and rugged appeal irritated. “And stop looking at me like that. She’s too young for you anyway.” The well-known fact that a gaggle of women twittered over Phin’s golden brown hair and unique amber eyes at every social affair deepened Devlin’s annoyance.

“Earlier today you said we weren’t much older than one and twenty.”

Devlin knew his friend was jibing him but all at once he was in no mood. “That’s not what I meant. You should pay better attention.” And then he rapped Phin in the leg with his golf club, because it felt good to do so.

“Ouch. What was that for?” Phineas leaned forward and rubbed his shin. “What are you going to do about a chaperone? Propriety dictates your ward have a respectable chaperone.”

Devlin grimaced in visible disgust. “Propriety is overrated. I refuse to invite some doddering old maid in here to oversee every move I make.”

“But you will have to do something once Alexandra enters society.”

Was it necessary for Phin to belabour the subject? “I don’t know. I’ll just make someone up if anyone asks.”

Phineas began to chuckle until he realized his friend was serious. “You can’t do that.”

It was said in such an incredulous tone, Devlin found humour instead. “Of course I can. I make my own rules. Remember?”

“Devlin, Phineas, come over here please, I think we have it all worked out.” The men shared a glance before they moved across the room to join the ladies. Devlin knew Julia’s level of determination once an idea took hold of her brain. It was damn near impossible to dissuade her. At times her vociferous manner proved overwhelming.

“Alexandra and I have it all planned.”

It was easy to get lost in Julia’s chatter and Devlin took to comparing the two ladies seated across from him. They couldn’t be more dissimilar. While both ladies were attractive in their own right, their colouring was different, their poise. Even in that horrid high-necked black dress, Alexandra’s beauty shone apparent. Julia tried too hard; her hair curled and cut in the most popular style, her gowns as current as possible. What would Alexandra look like in a fashionable gown, ribbons in her hair, diamonds around her neck? She had a graceful neck, lithe and smooth, the perfect pathway for kisses.

With an abrupt shake of the head, he stopped himself. What was this foolish game he’d indulged in the past few days? She was his ward, not a subject for his fantasies. He had a job to do, an obligation to his dear aunt. Viewed in its true light, it seemed incredibly selfish he might entertain improper thoughts … but damn it, his mind had no trouble at all conjuring erotic dreams with little effort. He passed a hand over his face and forced his attention to Julia. If he stared at her long enough maybe he would forget who sat beside her, but the outcome of his plan seemed doubtful.

“I am so excited. This will be the event of the season and we only have a week to get you ready.”

Julia could rival Tillie in a conversation competition. Did the girl need to breathe? Granted the thought of a social gathering, of new gowns and accessories, thrilled Alexandra. At The Willows, Aunt Min rarely entertained, and when she did, the median age of her social circle tripled Alexandra’s years. Few exchanges with anyone remotely familiar with current fashions were offered. She smiled ruefully at the memory.

Attending a few social functions and becoming acquainted with people in London would not be altogether unappealing. It could prove enthralling if she allowed herself the emotion. Of course there was the whole notion of finding her a husband and seeing her wed with utmost expediency, but that consideration was unthinkable. She would cross that bridge when needed. Julia appeared determined to prepare a list of eligible bachelors and Alexandra would make a concerted effort to meet the gentlemen. It wasn’t as though she was averse to the idea of marriage. It was the forcing of her hand that caused the rebellion.

Her thoughts wandered to Henry. He wasn’t a distasteful man. In truth, most of her father’s listed traits for an admirable husband rang true. And her father fell hard, completely smitten, with the man. Despite Henry’s respect and favour, Alexandra felt nothing for him other than a vague friendship. She was not so shortsighted that she could not understand her father’s deep desire for a son. Yet to sacrifice one’s only child’s happiness in an attempt to gain a selfish wish; that solitary fact of having no choice in her future ignited her desire to leave Brentwood. How could she remain when her father regarded her own happiness as unimportant?

She hadn’t been a difficult child to raise. Even without a mother’s guidance, she’d been an obedient and respectful daughter, eager to please her father. How dismaying to realize her wishes mattered so little. When her father mentioned securing a special licence to have her wed quickly and it became clear he would no longer discuss the subject or listen to her objections, Alexandra panicked. Were she to stay, she knew she would live a life of regret and remorse forced upon her by a decision she had never made. The thought of that bleak future caused her heart to ache. If she knew her father as she believed she did, he probably courted Henry still. She hoped they lived happily ever after.

“So, I will return tomorrow morning and we’ll be off to the modiste. Devlin says you are to have whatever you want. Can you just imagine, Alex? Think of the gowns!”

Alexandra’s eyes flared with compunction. Caught in the web of her own thoughts, it appeared her entire week had been segmented into an overwhelming list of appointments at the dressmaker’s, milliner’s and boot fitters. Devlin must have sensed her hesitation because he interjected without pause and politely escorted his friends to the door.

“A bit of a whirlwind, isn’t she?” Devlin returned and pulled the bell pull to summon Reeston. “I hope she hasn’t monopolized all your time this week. I thought you would enjoy a rematch.” She watched as Devlin picked up the white queen from his marble chess board and tossed it playfully in his left hand.

“Oh, I doubt Julia left even one minute of my daily schedule unconsidered. I only hope I have the stamina to endure the rigours of her plans.”

Alexandra took a few steps closer, her hair once again loosened by the silver combs sliding out of place. She pushed back the thick coil at the base of her neck in hope to forestall the inevitable. She couldn’t know that Devlin stood there watching her, wondering what it might feel like to slide his fingers into the silky lengths of her hair, to pull out the pins and combs and bury his face in its glorious waves. Instead, she slanted him a sceptical glance and waited as he tossed the queen, his eyes intent on hers. Slowly his expression changed. The fire cracked in the box and the air around them became charged with unsaid emotion. Her breathing slowed and she warmed from the inside out.

Someone had to breech the silence and dispatch the unsettling feeling that the two of them were forging some type of relationship, yet she was reluctant to do so. If only when she stared into his eyes she could read the dark emotion she saw there, but his gaze remained indecipherable, lost in a wary sweep of lashes. With the next breath she gasped, broken from the spell as he tossed the white queen in her direction. Her laughter punctuated the moment as she caught the queen with ease.

“Well then, I suggest you get plenty of rest, Lexi.”

The intensity of his gaze never wavered and he stared at her, perhaps looking for some kind of acknowledgement that she didn’t hear the raw need in his voice. But she did hear it. Some kind of unnamed emotion laced his words as they stood motionless with only firelight to cast flickering shadows between them.

When he spoke again, his voice fell low and husky. “Julia is a force to be reckoned with when she is on a mission, and you are her favourite project at the moment.”

“I am not altogether sure I will be able to rest knowing my fate for the morning.” She attempted to keep the mood light-hearted, but an unfamiliar current whispered through the room. She reached forward and extended her arm, offering him the chess piece.

At first she didn’t think he would take it. He stood there and stared at the ivory piece lying in the palm of her hand for several heavy heartbeats, making little inclination he would move at all. But then he came forward with a powerful stride, and his left hand snatched the chess piece while his right grasped her hand underneath. He brought her palm to his lips in one smooth movement, yet the kiss he placed there was slow and deliberate, almost tender. As he withdrew, the line of his beard brushed the pads of her fingertips and her fingers curled in reflex as if to capture the caress and hold it safe.

She didn’t see his eyes as he excused himself with nothing more than a curt goodnight. She didn’t have to. Something had changed in the time they’d remained in the study. Alexandra could not name it, but she knew without a doubt it existed.

Chapter Ten (#ulink_29eecb86-7588-534f-8791-2eda00225251)

“Reeston.” The butler reversed mid-step at the sound of his name and pivoted as Devlin entered the main hall. “I expect Derwent at any moment. I will be in my study. Show him up directly.” He strode towards the mahogany staircase and only paused as Reeston replied.

“Of course, Your Grace. Shall I have a room prepared? Are we to acquire another house guest?”

It served well that his back was turned to his butler’s droll enquiries and Devlin stopped an appreciative grin with sufficient speed before he spun to counter the jest. His mood seemed much improved of late. For that matter, so did the butler’s. It would appear his ward was not only lovely, but infectiously kind. Her ever-affable nature affected everyone who came in contact with her, whether they liked it or not.

He offered the servant a belated nod. “No, but it is a matter of great importance. We will take coffee. Send it up immediately. I hope this meeting is not a waste of my time.” The latter was said more to himself than anyone else, but then he raised his voice as he remembered another directive that need be given.

“And do not allow Fenhurst to interrupt us. This is serious business. Somehow whenever Phineas enters a room, things go awry.”

“Very good, Your Grace. If Lord Fenhurst arrives, shall I suggest he spend time with Lady Alexandra in the gardens?”

“No.” It may have been a dose of male competitiveness that invaded his tetchy answer. Devlin did not ponder it further. Instead, he made his way up the stairs and into his study. He settled behind his desk set to accomplish the accumulated paperwork, but Derwent arrived less than ten minutes later. The solicitor appeared more at ease than the last time he’d visited, and he took a seat after accepting a cup of hot coffee.

“I received your reply to my enquiry and expect you have answers to share. As I expressed in my letter, if I am to serve as Lady Alexandra’s guardian I need to know as much about her background as possible. Does she have any family? Brothers or sisters? If so, why doesn’t she ever speak of them? What circumstances brought her to The Willows? That sort of thing.”

A palpable impatience laced his words. He’d hardly dispensed with pleasantries before requesting the results Derwent uncovered. Meanwhile the solicitor did not miss the cue and replaced his cup in the saucer before he reached for the packet of papers he’d previously set beside the leg of his chair.

“I am afraid there is not much to share, Your Grace. Apparently, your aunt was not one to ask many questions. Her staff has been kind enough to speak to me on your behalf, but they knew very little about your ward. Grimley noted your aunt had no desire to pry into Lady Alexandra’s background and that she sensed the young lady possessed a good heart and a gentle soul.” Derwent cleared his throat after the last bit.

Devlin would be hard put to argue with his aunt’s assessment, although it would have been prudent for Min to insist upon knowing more before she welcomed a stranger into her home. He cursed himself for the umpteenth time for not being more diligent in his visits. Had he ventured to The Willows at any time in the past two years the situation today might be entirely different. The notion gave him pause. Then he blew out a short breath and continued to interrogate the solicitor.