“Yes, Your Grace,” Jenkins said, clearing his throat. “Back to Ashbourne House, is it?”
Alexander turned to him and blinked as if newly remembering he was there. “Yes,” he said shortly. “And let’s be quick about it. I have work to do.”
“Well, well! If it isn’t the Duke of Ashbourne himself!”
Alexander didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, and his smile grew, his spirits instantly lifting. Perhaps all he needed was a friend after all. He spun around, a grin on his face.
“Stewart Stanhope, as I live and breathe! I didn’t realize you were in London. It’s good to see you, old friend. It’s been—what? Two? Three months?”
“More like six,” Stewart replied. “You know how it is. Business is just that—busy.”
Alexander groaned. “I’m glad someone’s is,” he muttered.
“That bad?” Stewart asked with a wince. “I mean, we all knew about your cousin’s propensity for the card tables but…”
Alexander put on a bright smile. “I shall find a solution soon enough, I’m sure. Perhaps you’d care to join me for dinner? Maybe you’ve got a suggestion or two. I shan’t deny that I am in need of a little company as well as sound advice at the moment.”
“That sounds like a great idea,” Stewart said. “It would be good to catch up with an old friend.”
“Then that’s a…” Alexander trailed off as he caught a flash of blonde hair across the road. Blonde hair that would have once set his groin stirring, a visceral reaction that would have him leaping across the road to pull her into his arms. Blonde hair that he, for so long, lusted after.
He remembered the night of the masquerade ball, when she had led him out onto the balcony. It had been dangerous—very much so—but she had pushed him against the wall and cupped his manhood, all while whispering lewd words into his hot mouth. He should have known better then, realized what a witch she was, but he had wanted it.
Goodness, I had wanted it.
But no more. She had broken him in more ways than one. He squinted, his body frozen and tense as he waited to see if it was truly her or if his mind was playing tricks on him again. It wouldn’t have been the first time. The woman turned, her blue eyes glittering like the ice that was in her heart.
Yes, it’s her!
Wide-eyed, Alexander gasped then dived quickly into the waiting carriage. He slid down on the seat, his hand raisedagainst the side of his face in the hope that she wouldn’t see him—and if she did, that she wouldn’t recognize him. It felt as though his heart would burst from his chest, and he tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. But thankfully, his loins remained distinctly unstirred.
Stewart ducked his head, his hand leaning on the roof of the carriage, and he frowned. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Whatever’s the matter?”
Alexander carefully lowered his hand, peering over the top of his fingertips. Yes, she was still there. With a look of consternation, he nodded in her direction, hoping he would not have to explain himself. She might hear his voice across the way. Stewart followed his gaze.
“Ah, I see.” With a nod of understanding, Steward climbed into the carriage after Alexander, and the coachman shut the door behind him. “You’re still hiding from her then?”
“And everything else,” Alexander muttered, sliding even further down in his seat. If it were only her he’d had to worry about, life would have been a lot easier.
He reached blindly for his cane and tapped the roof to signal his readiness, and then he kept a wary eye on the beautiful woman through the window as the carriage slowly rolled forward, the horses preparing themselves for their work.
“Oh dear. You are in a bad way,” Stewart said. “Seems to me that you need more than a little dinner.”
“Several thousand pounds should do it,” Alexander said and then immediately regretted it. It was uncouth to discuss money so openly, but he and Stewart had been friends since their first day at Eton all those years ago. He felt more an extension of himself than a peer. “But let’s not discuss that. I have a few… er… investments to follow up on. Some property options.”
“You’ll sort it, old boy,” Stewart replied, shifting with discomfort at Alexander’s frankness. “If ever there was a man who could get a duchy out of a sticky situation, it’s you, my friend. Among the best and brightest at Eton, you were.”
“And always with you by my side,” Alexander reminded him.
“Well. Us wonders of nature need to stick together, don’t we?” He laughed at his own joke, and Alexander felt a touch of the lightness that had once made up his being. He smiled at his friend, grateful that he had bumped into him at all.
“Your humor knows no bounds,” Alexander retorted.
Stewart gasped, his hand to his chest in mock horror. “You mean to say you don’t think of me as a wonder?”
Alexander chuckled but didn’t reply. Instead, he turned and looked out of the window, watching the world pass by. Now that they were safely out of sight, he had straightened.
He rested his chin on his hand, his thoughts once more consumed by how drastically his life had changed since he became duke. He had always known it would be a challenge, and he’d always enjoyed a challenge. But now he worried that this might be the first challenge to break him. The first challenge he would lose.
