Duke of Darkness (23 page)

“Reeston is entirely too good to me.” Devlin gave the perfectly ordered room a cursory glance to ensure his eyes did not deceive him.

“Good morning. It is I, Bickerstaffe, here to escort the lovely Lady Alexandra to the Royal Gardens on this fine day.” Phineas moved forward with a flourish and a bow. Alexandra giggled. Devlin skewered him with one brow arched.

“No bother, Phin. The role was not meant to be played. You are released from your responsibility.” He imparted the news and an unexplained relief swept through him.

Phineas appeared crestfallen.

“I’d enjoy your company very much, Phineas. Would you be so kind as to take me shopping instead? That is a favour I would truly appreciate.”

Devlin stifled a grumble. Lexi seemed oddly anxious to leave the estate. She hadn’t mentioned needing anything from the shops and he would just as soon have every keeper send their wares to Kenley Manor for her perusal rather than lose the day in her company. Besides, why hadn’t she asked him to escort her?

“It would be my honour and pleasure, milady. Shall we leave straightaway?”

Devlin cleared his throat. Loudly. Alexandra and Phineas turned in his direction, their faces alight with laughter, but neither seemed to understand his intent.

“Just let me retrieve my things.” Without another word, she swept from the room to gather her reticule. Devlin shot his friend a warning glare meant to cancel any afternoon plans.

“Don’t look at me like that. She asked me. What am I supposed to do? Refuse?” Phineas could not keep the triumph from his voice. “Let’s not forget a few weeks ago you wanted her out of your life permanently. I doubt one afternoon will make a difference.”

Devlin deepened his scowl, but made no reply.

“Why do you look so different this morning? What is it? Let me see …” Phineas approached, his speculative perusal as condescending as a mother inspecting her child before Sunday mass. “That’s it.” He snapped his fingers with the announcement. “You’re wearing a navy blue waistcoat.”

“Your attention to my wardrobe alarms me.” Devlin strode to the chess table. Every piece was placed exactly where it belonged. He moved the white queen to the centre of the board, then with a slight quirk of his lips, placed the black king on the square beside it.

“You always wear black, Dev, the clothes you don are a shadow of yourself. Besides, there’s almost a pleasantness about you this morning, aside from your scowl.” Phin squinted his eyes and drew back slightly. “You didn’t …?” He waved his hand to substitute the words left unsaid.

That comment crossed the limit and Devlin pivoted in Phin’s direction with a dark glare of warning. “No.” The single word forbade further discussion and he changed the subject in an effort of distraction. “So when will you return? Are you to visit the shops and back? You’re not in the mood for mutton cutlets, are you? The restaurant you prefer is clear across London.” Ridiculous that he needed to give life to his jealousy by voicing the questions.
Infuriating that he barely breathed in wait of the answers
.

“I really can’t say when we’ll return. As Bickerstaffe, I am at Alexandra’s disposal for the day. Her wish is my command, and all that.”

When Devlin darkened his scowl, Phin amended his comments. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring her back as soon as possible. I am sure Julia will want to visit. She was beside herself with concern when I told her the old lord arrived to snatch Alexandra away to Brentwood. To be honest, I was alarmed as well. What happened? It all but consumed my thoughts after I left.” Phin checked his appearance in the hall mirror and did not turn until Devlin’s curt command cut across the room.

“Stop thinking about Alexandra.” He dismissed Phin’s smile with a well-chosen expletive and launched into a quick explanation of the Addington situation. He just finished as Lexi returned to the room. She wore a pale blue pelisse and a huge smile. It wasn’t her secret smile, the sultry look she had sent him all morning over breakfast, but he grumbled despite the acknowledgement. He wanted all Lexi’s smiles for himself. One should not be wasted on Phineas.

They left him bereft soon after. He possessed no talent for sharing, but it would appear he needed to learn. He selected a golf club from the bag and walked to the terrace, intent on driving the revelations far from his mind.

Lexi deserved a man without conflicted emotions and a disturbing past. God knew he deflected emotion and buried his feelings for so many years it would prove a miracle if he experienced anything akin to affection. But no, that wasn’t entirely true. Lexi evoked the heat of desire to a dangerously deep vein of possessiveness that took hold whenever he thought of her belonging to another. He swung the club with precision and a ball launched from the terrace. He watched it soar through the air, lost in the sky, and beyond his control. An unexpected sense of trepidation passed through him and he stifled the cautious thought that chided him to guard his heart as much as open it.

“I would like to visit the silversmith, Phineas. Is that possible?” Alexandra climbed into the carriage and placed her packages upon the bench seat. She’d visited the milliner and purchased an abundance of blue velvet ribbon, but her main reason for requesting Phin’s escort remained ahead.

“Your wish is my command. I will instruct the coachman to take us there at once.”

A few words later they were rumbling down the crowded London streets, a comfortable silence within the coach and a delightful addition to their friendship. She raised her eyes and caught Phin staring at her.

She smiled, and a genuine laugh of surprise bubbled out.

Phineas returned her grin. “He loves you, you know.”

The words were tossed with such careless aplomb, she almost missed them. Still, when comprehension dawned, any ready response evaporated on her tongue. She took a breath, locked the words in her heart, and turned the key.

“He will resist it. He may even deny it, but do not doubt him. Devlin and I have shared decades and he is far from ignorant. He will find his way. It is his first time, you know. It may take him a while.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Her heart pounded in wait of his answer.

“He is a dear friend; a man who has seen only disappointment and disapproval in his lifetime. He openly complains I live more at his home than at my own, but he would be alone otherwise. It is past due he has someone who cares for him and offers him the type of kindness I cannot. I’ve often worried it would not happen.” He exhaled deeply as if to punctuate the importance of his words and, perhaps, signify the depth of his concern.

“You are a good and honourable man. Any woman would be lucky to have your attention. And Devlin has been most fortunate to call you his closest friend.” She reached forward with her gloved hand and squeezed his where it rested on the bench.

Silence ensured; the only sound, the rattling wheels against cobblestone and the chaos of the city streets. Then the carriage slowed and she turned to Phineas with a genuine smile.

“Come along then, I am intent on purchasing the finest cinnamon tin available and I’ll need your expert opinion.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Alexandra had never attended a real ball. Oh, she’d gone to formals and gatherings, but according to Tillie, the Hasselby’s end-of-the-season ball was the event that fuelled London until the social season returned.

She turned and admired her reflection in the full-length mirror. Devlin would be pleased. Her silk gown fashioned in the latest style displayed a daring neckline, the deep vee not to be outdone by the back, strung with ivory seed pearls. The topaz colour complemented her complexion and hair, styled to fall over her shoulders in waves of yellow-gold and amber. She smiled with anticipation as Tillie fastened the diamond pendant around her neck and adjusted a last button.

“You look like a fairy princess, if I may say, milady.” All evening had Tillie rattled about the guest list, the decorations, the menu and the music, so it struck Alexandra as humourous that the maid might ask permission to give her a compliment.

“Thank you, Tillie. I feel like a princess.” Would Devlin agree? Would he kiss her again? Thoughts of their intimacy were never far from her mind. Often she stopped whatever she was doing to recall the nuance of his hands on her body, his lips on her …

“His Grace will think you the prettiest lady in the ballroom. That should give them all something to talk about.”

Tillie’s forthright comment sobered her considerations. “I would much rather they did not talk at all.”

“Oh, they’ll talk. They always do, milady.” Tillie gathered the unused hair pins atop the vanity table and swept them into her open palm. “It has been ages since His Grace attended any affair and never has he escorted a lady, never mind one as lovely as yourself. Every man in the room will set his interest in your direction. I hope His Grace is prepared.”

A delicious shiver of anticipation rippled through her at the words. She so hoped Devlin would find her appearance pleasing. A tinge of jealousy would not hurt the cause.

“Now off with you. Do not keep His Grace waiting.”

Her new silk slippers seemed to glide with little effort as she moved down the hallway. Something intangible danced in the air, full of promise and excitement, an evening spent in Devlin’s arms. Would the sensation build as the night progressed?

She paused at the top of the stairs for a much needed breath, meant to level her skittering nerves, but the oxygen served to fuel the rapid beat of her heart instead. She cast her eyes downstairs to the foyer where Devlin and Reeston conversed and her heart stopped altogether. Devlin, insanely handsome, as no other description served, stood in wait at the foot of the stairs. His appearance took her breath away. It wasn’t the cut of his expensive burgundy waistcoat or the rarity of seeing him in cravat and cuff links. Nor his hair, glossy black, swept over his collar an inch or two to lend him a rakish quality that caused her fingers to itch with impatience. She could not single out an attribute. His strong features, the line of his jaw, the set of his eyes, all made her stomach flutter with desire. It was everything, and the only thing. It was completely Devlin, waiting for her.
Her
.

He sensed her atop the staircase and lifted his eyes. Their gaze met and held.

Reeston exited and for the lifetime of a minute, they stood captured in a portrait of each other’s appreciation. She forced her feet to take the stairs until she reached his extended hand. He pressed a kiss to her satin glove and the heat of his mouth through the fabric ignited every pinnacle of sensation she fought frantically to tamp down.

“You are breathtaking. I will be the envy of every man and woman at this ridiculous event.” He waggled his brows. “Are you sure you truly desire to go?”

Joy flooded her heart. “We still have not shared a waltz, Your Grace, and I have my heart set upon it.”

“Then a waltz you shall have, Lady Alexandra, one type or another.” And he smiled, quite wickedly, and walked her to the coach steps to hand her up.

They’d only ridden a few feet but the air grew more charged with each revolution of the carriage wheels as if filled with anticipation and promise and sensual suggestions of things that could be done across a velvet seat or within the privacy of the little room.

An unexpected rut jostled the coach and their knees rubbed. Their eyes met to communicate similar thoughts, wishes and secrets. The silence was unbearable and undeniably pleasurable at the same time.

“Are you all ruffled and precious under that exquisite gown?”

His voice sounded tight and a little strained. “I believe so, Your Grace, but you are invited to discover whether it is true later this evening.”

He choked promptly thereafter, and cleared his throat. He reached into his pocket and produced a small box tied with her velvet hair ribbon.

“This is for you.” His fingers twined with hers as he placed it in her hand.

She flicked her eyes up and smiled before she pulled the ribbon free. Inside the box, a pair of teardrop diamond ear bobs, the perfect match to her necklace, glinted and winked in the swaying lantern light. Her breath caught at their beauty and the sentiment intended. Then her eyes watered and she struggled to reclaim her composure.

He noted her reaction, her soft gasp of surprise, and when she did not readily respond, he reached forward and placed his hand over hers. “If you don’t like them, I can choose you something else.” Did he worry he disappointed her? The preposterous assumption cleared her emotion.

“No, they are beautiful ...” She faltered, at last able to harness her feelings. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything. Save me a waltz, that’s all I ask. Although I fancy I will have to fight through a crowd of gentlemen who wish to fill your card this evening.”

“I rather doubt that.” She fumbled with her reticule, her fingers shaky, and produced the small wrapped package she’d kept hidden there.

“I have something for you also.” She leaned forward and propped the little box atop his left knee.

“You have a gift for me?”

His incredulous tone struck Alexandra as odd, as if he hadn’t ever received a gift. A pang of sadness sliced through her heart. Perhaps he hadn’t.

“Yes. Unwrap it. It has been so very difficult for me to keep this secret. I am terrible with presents. As soon as Phineas helped me purchase it, I wanted to rush home and gift it to you.”

He smiled at her whimsical explanation and unwrapped the box. Inside, a small silver tin engraved with the likeness of a chess king lay on a bed of cotton. It was filled to the brim with the cinnamon candies he favoured. He cleared his throat and lifted his eyes before he spoke, his voice tinged with vulnerable emotion.

“How thoughtful. I promise not to drop this one from the roof. I … I will treasure it. Thank you.” He smiled down at the gift in his hand and placed a candy in his mouth. Then with a rush of unexpected movement he leaned off the seat and captured her lips in a quick embrace, the burning scent of cinnamon passed from him to her with the impulsive expression.