Duke of Darkness (9 page)

Unable to fashion more out of her hair than a messy twist, she combed it out and left it unbound. Then with a pat on the head for her sleeping pup, she glanced again in the mirror, and hurried from her room in search of Devlin.

Downstairs, the house stood silent. A few servants swished through the hall as they performed their duties, but the study, the library and the parlour all proved empty. The drawing room, sitting room and foyer were the same. She continued down the narrow hallway to the back kitchen and dared a curious glance.

Cook leaned over the stove stirring a huge pot of something delicious. Alexandra’s stomach erupted in applause. She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it in a belated gesture, realizing the impropriety of addressing the servants in the kitchen.

“Sit down and stop second guessing yourself, my dear. I can hear your stomach growling from across the room.” Cook turned to Alexandra and smiled. Her plump apple cheeks were rosy from the heat of the stove, her hair wrapped in a neat bun with a metal spoon stuck through to hold it in place.

“I am sorry. I missed dinner and—”

“Stop sputtering and sit.” Cook placed a basket of warm rolls on the table. Steam rose to entice her forward and she needed no other invitation.

“My, don’t you look lovely. I imagine His Grace chose that gown for the colour of your eyes.”

“He is very generous,” Alexandra answered between mouthfuls, but the bread and steaming soup tasted so delicious, she did not wish to pause long enough to speak.

“Oh, that he is.”

Cook hesitated, as if further explanation stalled on her tongue. Then with a decision made, she pivoted and gave the pot on the stove her complete attention.

“Have you worked at Kenley Manor long?” Alexandra nudged her bowl forward in a subtle hint for more soup. Cook turned and clucked in appreciation, ladling another portion into the bowl.

“Oh, yes. I’ve been here since His Grace was a wee lad. Cute as can be then, and now a fine cut. He’s had a hard time of it and the years have not been kind, but watching him mature into the man he is today is my privilege.”

Alexandra viewed the prideful emotion of Cook’s expression and her heart squeezed for the little boy that struggled in his upbringing. Did she dare ask? She’d heard soft-spoken murmurs in some of the stores as she’d shopped. Her curiosity piqued and prompted a few questions, but Julia stymied any bid at discussion of the subject. For such a wordy girl, it was one topic her new friend refused to acknowledge. Cook eyed her with interest and Alexandra grasped the opportunity.

“What do you mean?” Alexandra wiped her mouth with her napkin and rested her spoon in the empty bowl.

Cook made no immediate reply. She cleared the dishes, washed and dried her hands on a towel near the sink, and finally faced her.

“It is not my place to say, but this I will share. A man who lives through that much pain should never have to be hurt again.” Her voice dropped low, tinged with sadness. “By anyone.”

Alexandra didn’t know what to make of Cook’s statement. The words held a forlorn message of warning. She nodded her head in acknowledgement and accepted the sugar biscuit offered. Then she wrapped another in a napkin for Henry and thanked Cook for the delicious meal before she slipped from the kitchen.

Once upstairs, restlessness permeated the quiet. All through the day she had wished for nothing but silence, and now with her wish granted, she was anxious for conversation with someone. No, not someone.
Devlin
.

She hurried from her room again and down the long hall. In the front foyer, Reeston replaced wilted flowers. She rushed upon him as if a drowning victim who grasped the end of a thrown rope.

“Reeston!”

“Milady, is everything all right?”

“Yes, I did not mean to alarm you. Is His Grace about? I haven’t spoken to him in days and I wish to thank him for his generosity.” She glanced down at her new dress and then back to Reeston, a smile on her face.

“Charming, that shade of blue. I’m sure His Grace chose it to coincide with the lovely colour of your hair, if you don’t mind me saying so.” Reeston cleared his throat in sharp dismissal of the remark.

Alexandra’s smile broadened. “Why, Reeston, thank you. How very nice of you.” She placed her hand on his arm. The briefest of smiles appeared before he returned to the vase with renewed interest to again separate the wilted blooms.

When he spoke, she startled. “Have you checked the roof, milady?”

Had she misheard? “The roof? Did you ask me if I checked the roof?” Bewildered, she waited for Reeston’s explanation. Yet he didn’t speak, his hands busy removing ruined roses from the bouquet.

After a long pause, he peered over his shoulder, a twinkle in his eye. “I assume you checked the rooms on all three floors. Perhaps you stopped by the kitchen for a snack, and find yourself in need of conversation. Therefore, I repeat: have you checked the roof? His Grace grows restless at times. He enjoys admiring the stars and claims it helps him think. Always has been one that doesn’t like to be closed in.” Reeston turned from the vase, satisfied with what he’d accomplished. He gathered the wilted flowers and prepared to take his leave. “Try the first room on the third floor. His Grace will have left the window open. He always does. No regard for the weather, that boy.” And with the parting statement, the butler strode away.

Amused by Reeston’s admonishing tone, Alexandra scurried up the stairs. True to form, the window stood open. She walked across the room and cautiously poked out her head. Devlin’s boots met her view. He sat atop the eaves, reclined at a comfortable angle, his hands folded behind his head and his feet crossed at the ankles. Her imagination soaked in his image, silhouetted in the fractured blue-black moonlight like a mystical god of the underworld. Her heart did a little hiccup and she faltered, afraid she would cause him to slip if she startled him. His deep timbre reached for her as she debated what to do.

“Coming out?”

“No, I could never. I prefer my feet planted firmly on the ground.” She turned a smile in his direction. “Or the carpet, for that matter.” She thought she heard him chuckle. “I’ve come to thank you for the gifts. I’ve never seen so many gowns, hats, gloves and accessories in my life. It was very generous of you. Thank you.” She hoped she didn’t sound foolish; that he might think her frivolous, excited over a new pair of slippers. When he made no reply, she poked her head out a little further and discovered she could sit on the sill without leaving the safety of the empty room.

“Do you come out here often? It seems a little …” She searched her mind for the right word. Nothing surfaced.

“The night air clears my head of all the business of the day, and I enjoy looking at the stars whenever London offers me the opportunity. Tonight it is terribly clear. Breathtaking, actually. Do you not favour stargazing from the rooftop?”

“It seems a little reckless, for a chance to be closer to the sky.” She turned to Devlin with a grin, sure he would hear the amusement in her voice even though he remained above her.

She heard a creak and rustle as his right boot scraped against the eaves closest to the window. He changed position, and sat up now, with one foot braced on the wooden trim lining the roof and the other folded behind him as a prop. He was a good ten feet from her, but she could see his face more clearly in the light of the full moon.

“Your hair looks like a halo in the moonlight, Lexi. It’s very becoming, like an angel come to earth.”

A shiver of anticipation shot through her and settled deep in her chest. When he called her Lexi, she warmed inside as if his words caressed her heart. Their eyes met in a direct stare and her heartbeat tripled. His compliment combined with the agitated reaction of her pulse diminished any attempt at a response. Instead, the silence stretched with unbearable intimacy as he reclined above her, outlined by moonlight like a sketch in her notepad. Tonight she would draw him like this, propped on the rooftop, under the stars, as if he’d materialized from a secret in the night heavens.

“Cinnamon?”

He reached into his waistcoat pocket and she could not keep the smile from her face.

“Of course.”

His hand shot out and tossed the small tin towards the window, but fear overrode her better judgement and it skimmed across her fingers and fell with a tinkering noise to the ground below.

“I’m sorry, Devlin. I’m afraid my precarious seat ruined my eye for dexterity.” She glanced to the ground as if wishing alone could return the candy box to the roof.

“It’s no matter. Pity all the wasted candy, though.”

He turned a charming grin, his teeth a flash of white in the evening darkness. Lord, he was handsome. His strong jaw and broad shoulders, the hard line of his chin and the slight tilt of his head.
And his lips
. Her tongue flicked out to coast over her own as she swallowed a groan. Before her, this man, otherworldly and mysterious, stirred her blood with yearning, as if he were a forbidden fantasy, silhouetted in the blue-black light. Her pulse kicked up a notch and the remembrance of his beard, rough and intriguing, caused sultry warmth to melt through her.

“So what have you and Lady Julia been doing these past three days? I’ve hardly seen you other than the occasional meal. Her carriage arrives and sweeps you away until late in the evening. Should I be concerned? What does she conspire?”

Alexandra dragged her attention to Devlin’s polite questions. “Julia is a force among society and she’s been busy. The party is arranged, and she will arrive for luncheon tomorrow equipped with a list of suitable bachelors.”

She thought she heard him snort, but she might have been mistaken.

“That should prove entertaining. I will ask Phin to accompany her. He would not want to miss it. What else has she planned?”

Some undecipherable tone laced his words and she wondered if he was having fun at her expense. “Julia considers herself an expert on every subject.” She definitely heard him snort this time. “She’s taken it to the extreme to educate me on every aspect of the marriage game from etiquette to kissing.” Once the words were out, she regretted them. If only she could scoot back inside the house and close the window behind her.

As soon as the statement was uttered, his chin jerked up and his eyes stared into hers with such intensity the hairs on the back of her neck pricked to attention.

“Kissing
is a very interesting subject. Exactly what did Julia tell you? I will need to know everything. I couldn’t have my ward misinformed in any area as significant as kissing.”

He may have tried for a playful tone, but something in his stare warned Alexandra to tread with care. His eyes glinted with a dangerous gleam. Had she done something wrong?

“Just girl talk, nothing more. First kisses, worst kisses.” She forced a laugh that sounded exactly that.

Devlin unfolded from the eaves and moved across the tile work with the grace and agility of a panther, without a care for the excessive height on which he strode or the slippery surface where he walked. In a breath, he crouched beside her, perched dangerously close to the edge.

“Come in, I’m worried you’re going to fall straight off the roof.” She’d already witnessed the candy tin as it dropped three storeys to the ground and the image of the same thing happening to Devlin made her voice tight and high pitched.

“Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself. If you’re taking advice about kissing from Julia Betcham, you are going to need all the help you can get.”

He was less than a foot from her, a mere twelve inches, dark and dangerous, and more than a little angry.

“What is that supposed to mean? She is acting as my friend.” Alexandra raised her chin a notch, confused by his reaction and well on the way to anger as well.

He moved closer still and his eyes bored into hers. A muscle ticked on the side of his jaw and his mouth hovered so close, she could smell the scent of cinnamon.

“Friend I’m sure, but I doubt Julia can contribute anything of importance to a discussion about kissing. One needs to practise in order to achieve that goal. Phineas would have her tarred and feathered were he to catch her doing that.”

“So you haven’t kissed her, then?” The question had riddled through her brain the entire afternoon, every minute since Julia intimated it true.

Devlin smiled, if it could be called that, his tight quirk of the lips. “Good God, no.”

His incredulous tone sent a balm of relief flooding through her and she sagged against the window frame. Ridiculous how time stalled while she waited for his response.

“Now, as long as we’re having this tête-à-tête about kissing, who were your first and your worst?” His voice sank to a deep growl, his tone betraying the carefree question.

She matched his obsidian eyes and offered an honest answer. “Henry, both times.” She wouldn’t give him more than that.

This time he did laugh, a hearty, male sound that echoed from the top of the roof. “Dogs don’t count, Darling.”

He thought to have a bit of fun at her expense, but he owned that blind misconception. She slid from the ledge and shut the window with a bang. Let him figure a way out of that one.

Chapter Twelve

Phineas entered the study with a smile on his face and a lovely woman on each arm. Noticing from the corner of his eye, Devlin refused to offer his friend the attention he sought. He glanced to the carpet, lined up another shot, and brought his club back with a swift stroke. The leather ball sailed through the open French doors.

Phineas cleared his throat. Twice.

Devlin turned, his look of indifference a warning he was in no mood to be trifled with.

“Excellent shot, Dev. That ball was a goner.” Phineas released his grasp on both women and advanced neared the terrace.

“Actually, your body was not aligned when you completed your swing.”

The room fell silent with Alexandra’s comment, every head in the room fixed on the lady in question.

Devlin strode to the settee where she now reclined. She wore a day gown of pale rose silk with white velvet trim, the colour accentuating the creamy smoothness of her skin, and reminding him of the sugar biscuits he ate too often, more than delicious. “What did you say?” Had he heard correctly?