ROMANCE: MY ALIEN KING: Scifi Alien Invasion Abduction Contemporary Romance (Paranormal Fantasy BBW Alien Contact Anthologies & Collections Book 1) (49 page)

Crawford manor

The next day. Afternoon

“—And then he drank his wine in a single fluent motion, and did not spill a drop, despite having turned the glass practically upside down!” Rose practically rose from the kitchen table as she spoke. The smell of tea was strong in the air. Surrounding her were three of her best friends: Anne, Marie, and Helena. The first two have been married to their respective husbands for well over a year. Helena was due to do the same within the month. All of them were genuinely interested in every little detail about the Duke, as if things were different.

“I’m not surprised at all!” Marie said after Rose had finished her sentence. “They say he knows all sorts of things, both good and…
less so.
” She spoke in an ominous tone, as if the subject was something she was not supposed to mention.

“Marie!
Shush!
” Anne visibly objected. “We’ve talked about this before! Drop it this instant!”

Helena did not speak for the moment. She merely had the look of slight annoyance.

Drop it? What in the world did Anne mean? Marie, too, for that matter…
“Erm, care to fill me in, ladies? I am afraid I am a bit out of the loop on that one!” She tried to keep her tone polite, but wasn’t sure how much she’d succeeded at that.

In response, all three of the girls shared a confused look, before going into a bout of collective silence.

“Oh, come on!” Rose said. “Let us not play this game, we are not eleven anymore! Helena? How about you? Care to share a little bit of that secret wisdom of yours?”

“The Duke…” Marie spoke instead of Helena. “He appears to be a bit of an enigma. Oh, he is right and proper in all ways that matter, and outright
amazing
in everything else, but the men seem to think there is something…
off
about him. He disappears from time to time, or drifts into a violent of dark mood only to snap out of it in the blink of an eye. He is often late to meetings that take place practically down the street from
his own house
. Things like that, you know.” Marie seemed to be genuinely uncomfortable speaking about this, and it showed.

The tardiness…?
Rose remembered the way she and her parents were forced to wait the previous evening. She did not want to think ill of her betrothed, but what her friends were talking about was quite peculiar.
Worst of all, it fits together in a strange way.
But why would Thom—why would the Duke act that way? Is he in distress of some sort? Perhaps he was in debt; not impossible with his taste in interior decoration.
No, no, that would be impossible!
Rose’s father was a man of numbers. If the Duke was in any sort of financial danger, the Lord Crawford would be the first to know.
But what could it be, if not something like that?
The questions kept piling up, and she did not have a single answer.

“And then, there are those rumors,” Anne added, and both Marie and Helena practically slashed her with their stares. However, she ignored them and continued talking. “They say that a man of his description has been seen in all parts of London, both extravagant and incredibly poor. They say that he frequents brothels, partakes in illegal substances, and who knows what else.” The other two girls still gestured for her to shut up, but Anne nevertheless continued. “However… none of this needs to be true, or even likely. A man like Duke Thomas Moore appears to be so perfect that any little piece of misdemeanor of his can spawn not one, but a veritable chain of venomous rumors. We all know the way it goes, after all.”

Rose was dumbstruck. She did not know how a lady was supposed to react after hearing something like that. She did not know if a lady was supposed to hear something like that
at all
.
Or maybe they are all making a jest at my account?
She gave them all a quick gaze. No, they would not have pulled it off so perfectly. They were not capable of something like that.
This will need looking into.

“Rose?” Helena finally said something. “Are you alright, dear? I apologize, we should not have spoiled your mood with foul hear-say. I am certain that it is nothing more or less than that!” She tried to sound sincere, but failed miserably in the attempt.

“No matter, Helena,” Rose replied in a composed tone. “I know what I am to do. Fear not, my friends. Your company is appreciated and you have helped me immensely, but for now I would like to be left alone. Chester will see you out, as usual. Next week, the same day, I presume?”

The three young women nodded and rose quite slowly. It was apparent that they were not too keen about being practically driven out, but knew better than to make their disapproval known. It was, after all, their own fault.

“Goodbye, Rose!” They exclaimed as they left her line of sight.

“Goodbye, everyone!” Rose shouted back.

I need to make preparations. There is little time.
She turned toward the stairs that led up to her room, approached them, and proceeded to climb them at a wicked pace.
Thomas had said that he was to be at the reception at Pryce’s tonight.
She would be there was well, only this time she will not be reared by her parents. All of her attention would be focused on her Duke. And should he disappear under mysterious circumstances, she would be there to see it with her own eyes.

But what shall I do if he does exactly that?
The answer did not come to her easily. Or at all. But one thing was certain: she would get to the bottom of this.
I will settle for nothing less.

Pryce manor

That evening

Not unlike a peacock, Duke Thomas Moore strode between the rows of London’s wealthiest and most well-known inhabitants. Although from the way everyone looked at him, one might assume that
he
was the star of the show, and it wouldn’t be far from the truth. Yet his mind was only partially within the moment, for the beauty he had promised to marry was completely occupying his thoughts.

She is the one,
he told himself. There was no doubt about it whatsoever; everything about her served to incite every positive emotion within him. He wanted her to be his, and he wanted it to happen as soon as possible.

“He is so handsome!” One woman whispered behind his back, forcing his mind back into reality.

“They say the interior of his mansion is more expensive than the mansion itself.” A man quietly said when the Duke passed him by.

“I wonder if what they say is true…” Another woman said in a hushed tone.

Saying nothing, he merely chuckled and continued walking.
All the rumors are true, my dear. All of them and none at all.
Although they did tire him from time to time, Thomas was mostly amused by all the guesswork and rumors that surrounded everything he did. They confirmed that he was playing his role perfectly.
Shower them with unimportant things and they will miss everything that matters. It never fails to work.

“I heard that he killed his own father, to finish the work he started when he was born!” Another man blurted out, behind his back of course.

Why, you sorry excuse for a poorly put-together human being!
Thomas turned around within an instant, his face contorted into a grimace of rage. Instinctively, he pulled on the side of his glove in an attempt to toss it at the man’s face, but regained control over himself just in time for it not to get noticed. “Excuse me, sir, did you just say something? I am afraid I’ve found it hard to discern what you are saying due to that unfortunate lisp you appear to have!” he crowned his statement with a wicked grin.

The man turned red within a heartbeat. For a good while, all he could do was stare at the Duke. The eyes of the entire chamber were heavy upon the two of them, and only Thomas was the one who seemed to enjoy the moment. Finally, after taking a deep breath, the man managed to speak. “I was merely making note of a peculiar fact, Duke Moore. A peculiar fact about the manner in which you’ve taken control of your family’s riches. Dreadful thing, I am afraid.”

He dares mock me?
The Duke had few taboos, but this was one of them. His family and what they’ve left him were beyond sacred.
And this… this clown  assumes to know something?
It took all the self-control he could muster not to respond with aggression. “You are interested in the way our family had accumulated its fortunes, dear sir? I am afraid that it’s nothing as fanciful as the way your own house began. Not all of us have had the privilege to drag ourselves from the dreck and dung of the rookeries over the course of two generations, after all!”

If the man was red before, now he was crimson. His grin now even wider, Thomas gave him a good ten seconds or so to come up with a retort, but when that didn’t happened, he turned around and continued his stride.

“No, young Thomas.” The fact that the man had resorted to using the Duke’s first name was a clear indication of just how angry he was. The feeling was more than mutual. “I am implying that you have… ahem,
creatively
removed your father from the equation so you could grab hold of your rather sizeable family fortune and live the good life without any outside intervention. Correct me if I am wrong, please.”

You will die for that remark, slime!
Every muscle in Thomas’ body tensed up as far as it would go. He could feel his teeth clench, his nostrils widen, and his eyes narrow. He was in a killing mood, and this fat rodent was all but asking for it.
Not now!
he screamed at himself from the inside.
If you attack him physically, if you call him out in any way now, the illusion will be shattered, the masquerade ended!
He knew that his inner voice was right. It was not about revenge but
justice.
And killing this swine was no justice. Merely an act of sheer anger.
He was glad that he knew the difference, even at a time like this. It set him apart from the rank and file that prowled the streets of London at night.

“Do you have any proof, sir McArthur? Like the proof the sheriff had back when he arrested your father for smuggling? The proof that just happened to be ignored because of the massive financial injection that your family was giving to the crown? That kind of proof? Or are you referring to something
less tangible
?” He did not turn when he spoke. He counted on his veneer of disinterest to incite the man into a greater level of rage. Incidentally, that is exactly what happened.

“Aaaaaaaaaargh!” Lord McArthur was timely subdued by the surrounding men before he could as much as lay his hand on the Duke. By the sound of things, he was foaming at the mouth as well. Beyond himself with anger, he kept spouting insult after insult as they dragged him out, the kinds of which one could only hear down in London’s poorer parts.
It appears that you can take the man out of the rookery, but you cannot take the rookery out of the man.
Knowing that he had won, Thomas allowed himself a slight chuckle.
It will take him a while to recover from that. Good. I do not like seeing him at parties.

Even though he had just done a good deed, this victory felt hollow for Thomas, and he had a good idea why.
Regardless of the positive outcome, this was vengeance, not justice.
His thirst for justice still strong, he knew that it was time to leave. It was getting late, and although his absence would most certainly be noted, no one should be particularly surprised.
I was just insulted, after all. It stands to reason that I might take my leave.

Having straightened his back and greeted the nobles closest to him, Thomas took a step forward and did his best to disappear into the crowd. This was not easy for one of his looks, but he somehow managed to do it anyway.

Time for the mask to come off,
he told himself as he was nearing the exit.
In there, I am the Duke. Outside, I can become what I really am.

He was not aware of the fact that he was being followed.

The streets of London

Minutes later

Where in the world is he going?
Rose asked herself while she did her best to pursue the Duke without him noticing it. She had covered herself in a black, hooded shroud to try and keep herself as inconspicuous as possible, but even so, this was no place for a woman. Doubly so in the middle of the evening.

Still, Duke Thomas Moore obviously had something of import to do in one of London’s poorest and most dangerous neighborhoods, and she was determined to learn what it was.
What matters to my fiancée matters to me as well.
What could Thomas possibly be doing, however, was beyond her.

They’ve long since left anything remotely resembling civilization, and Rose was befuddled to see what horrible places still existed in the city she called home. Shoddy, rotting buildings replaced the shining masonry that surrounded her back in the West end, and well-lit streets gave way to mercilessly dark corridors.
I hope I never have to learn what lurks in these shadows.
She tried forcing herself to stop thinking about the danger, but her body refused to listen. A trickle of blood slid down her chin as she walked; a clear indication of just nervous she was.
Perhaps I should abandon this quest and turn back?
She turned around carefully. All that was behind her was utter darkness, and her heart skipped a beat at the very thought of walking through that alone.
Indeed, there is nowhere to go but forward.
Somewhat steeled by the knowledge that she had no other option, Rose turned back toward the Duke’s trail and proceeded onward.

Not long after, the sound of what seemed like an argument got to her ears. Her interest piqued, Rose took a few more steps forward before she hid behind a corner and focused on listening.

“I'm tellin' you, you've got da wrong man, sir! Now get out of me way ‘fore I make yew regret talkin' ter me! Whazzit gonna be, eh?” A man whose voice was unfamiliar to her said angrily. The way he formed his words was a clear indication of his low birth and even lower aspirations.

“And I say to you, scum, that I have been stalking you for weeks now, merely to be certain of what I already knew!” The Duke’s voice was next to be heard. “There is hardly any doubt. You are the degenerate slime responsible for the string of murders and robberies that’s been plaguing London for the last several months! Now, be a man and look your end in the eye!”

The sounds of clashing swords soon followed, causing the back of Rose’s throat to tighten.
Are… are they fighting?
She asked herself as she tried to rise from her prone position, only to get mercilessly stopped in the attempt by some relentless force.
Wha—What is holding me down?
She turned her head toward the source of the grip, only to have her scream stopped in her throat. There was a man, ugly, dirty, and stinking of cheap alcohol. He was covered in something that just barely resembled clothing, and his face appeared more similar to patchwork than actual skin. It was difficult to tell, but it appeared that he was grinning as he held her down.

“Now, then! Isn't dis a lovely little lass! Highborn, even! Rippin' your expensive clothes ter shreds an' playin' wiv what's underneath’ll be damn pleasing! Know what I mean?”

He—No way! He cannot!
She took a deep breath and prepared to let out the loudest scream she could, but the man’s filthy hand was quick to cover her mouth and make it impossible. Instead, all she could produce were muffled groans, and even those could only be heard by herself.

“Ah, I see you know what I'm talkin' about, love! Don't worry! It'll only 'urt da first hour or so! Know what I mean?” As he spoke, the arm he held her over the shoulder with pulled had at the fabric, ripping through her dress and causing her breast to almost drop out. Her face growing red, she tried to place hand across her chest, but the man was quick to grab her by the wrist.

“Nah-ah! Uncle Jack'll be 'avin' no false modesty 'ere!” His voice practically grated her ears. “We'll do this proper, an' to the enjoyment of all relevan' parties. And by that I mean me, of course!” He tossed her hand to the side. She did not try to put it back on her chest.  Then, he caught the fabric around her other shoulder and ripped that up as well, causing her ample bosom to stick out in a lewd fashion.

“Oh, would you look at them puppies! Damn, deese tits are so fine it's no wonder they call yo’r kind 'highborn!'” He was just about to grasp one of them with the palm of his hand, when all of a sudden, his expression changed. No longer akin to a rabid beast, the man now appeared to be in genuine pain. Then, a split second later, something shiny, long and red protruded from his chest, moved around a little bit, and went back the way it came.

“What—What da bloody hell!?” Was all the man managed to say before he rolled his eyes upward and fell to the side, releasing his grasp over her mouth. Behind him stood a masculine figure, bloody but seemingly uninjured. It was her betrothed; the Duke, as beautiful as he’d ever been. Her savior.

He is so perfect…
All she wanted to do was rise and embrace him. To join her lips with his own, and melt in his embrace as the world disappears around them.

Instead, she fainted, and the world around her disappeared in a much less pleasant manner.