Hector paced back and forth, wishing there was some easy solution for what he was feeling. If Benedict came back to town, there would surely be a confrontation. He still couldn’t believe his brother had abandoned Alexandra at the altar.
Of course, it shouldn’t really be shocking. It was exactly the kind of thing Benedict would do.
He put the thought out of his mind and poured himself a second drink instead. His friends were right. He was only causing himself trouble by focusing on these things. Benedict would return or he wouldn’t, and there was nothing Hector could do about it either way.
And in the meantime, there was Alexandra to think of. Alexandra to enjoy.
Perhaps he’d ask her for another dancing lesson. And when he did, he would pull her close, let his hands wander to her hips, and enjoy that flush of color in her cheeks and that indignation in her voice at his impropriety.
That was a better idea than boxing. That was what he should have done today all along.
He put his cup down. “I’m goin' to go,” he said.
“You’re going to leave?” Gabriel looked up at him. “We just arrived.”
“Aye, but ye willnae fight me, so why am I here? Better to return home and see what fun I can find there…since, as ye are well aware, I am so in love with my wife.” He grinned. “Perhaps we can box again another day.”
“Perhaps we can,” Theodore said. “If you remember to bring your wits to the ring with you next time. There’s no pleasure in defeating an opponent who isn’t paying attention.”
“I’ll remember that.” Hector turned and headed for the door.
Thoughts still battled in his mind—thoughts of his brother, and of what might happen when they came face to face once again. No doubt it would be unpleasant, and Hector couldn’t deny that he was dreading it.
But Alexandra would take his mind off things, as she so often did, and he would make the most of that fact.
He hurried toward his horse and mounted quickly, riding for home, already daydreaming about the pleasure of his wife’s company.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“This manor is so lovely,” Penelope enthused, flitting happily about the room. “I’m so pleased you’re married—and I just can’t believe it’s to a duke.”
“How is marriage treating you, Alexandra?” Evelina asked, meeting Alexandra’s eyes. “Your wedding day was so fraught with the unexpected. I never saw you married to this man. I never dreamed that would be the result of that day.”
“It’s been all right,” Alexandra confessed. “Better than I might have expected.”
“Yes, we saw what a good time you were having at the ball,” Margaret teased. “You and your duke put on quite the performance. The whole of London is talking about it—how the hard-hearted duke has found true love at last in the softening influence of his beautiful new bride.”
“A performance,” Alexandra insisted. “As you say, Margaret. Nothing more than that. I merely wished to help my new husband overcome the rumors society likes to spread about him.”
“They do have plenty to say against him, don’t they?” Penelope said. “You know, my friends have asked me about him.”
“What do they ask?”
“Whether he is as beastly as everyone says he is,” Penelope said.
“Oh, and what do you tell them?”
Penelope smiled. “I tell them nothing,” she said. “I refuse to answer the question. It’s not anyone’s business, really, is it?”
“You’re not going to fit in well among thetonif you refuse to participate in gossip, little sister,” Margaret teased.
“And should I perpetuate gossip that affects Alexandra?” Penelope shot back. “I’ll do no such thing.”
“It’s all right,” Alexandra said. “This is what we were dealing with at the ball—trying to make sure that we control what people see when they look at us. There will always be assumptions made, of course, but we want everyone to know that we are happy.”
“Is that why you referred to him as yourlove?” Evelina teased her.
“Well, what would you have done?”
