With a flickering smile, Penelope left the room, and Alice took in a bracing breath. She brought her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “You were saying?”
With the knit ball barely in the air, Atticus bolted over the manicured lawn to hunt the toy, his dark coat shimmering under the midmorning sun as he nosed around to find where it had fallen.
Ever since Benedict had told him about breaking the courtship with Alice, he could not concentrate on anything else. The resolve to never marry had been steadily eroding for days now, the dam crumbling at the bottom, and now, Benedict’s decision could damn well shatter it.
“Alice…” he murmured as Atticus dropped the ball at his feet. He lobbied it in the air again and the hound took after it. “Alice Landon, Duchess of Valhaven…”
The new name slipped smoothly off his tongue.
Not only would she have his name and eventually his child; he would bed her as often and as thoroughly as they wished. He would no longer have to deny his sexual attraction to her; scandal be damned.
There would be no hiding, no hesitation when she was with him. He would introduce her to the true art of submission and allow her to free herself in ways she did not know existed.
The thought of holding her trust, as fragile and delicate as it was, made a strong craving twist his belly. His loins stirred at the thought.
A wet nose pressed on his hand, and he quickly snatched the ball at his feet, throwing it at a distance so he had some time to think.
She was the most headstrong, independent, selfless, tenacious woman he’d ever met... yet he had to admit that he loved that about her. She had all the qualities to make a perfect Duchess and a mother—but there were drawbacks too. He might not sleep another restful wink knowing how apt she was at going off on her own.
“Your Grace?” Pushing aside his musings, Edward gave his full attention to Ramsay as the butler held out a note. “A message arrived, Your Grace. From Mr. Samuel.”
The hairs on the back of his head lifted ominously; Henry Samuel was one of the runners he had hired to keep a cursory eye out on Miss Elizabeth Thorpe and all matters concerning the Thorpe’s; the man was an ex-soldier, and he trusted him to take care ofTonmatters at his solid discretion.
If Samuel was sending him a message, it had to be bad. Taking the note, he scanned the brief letter. The hairs shot up on his nape and fury raced up his spine.
“Send for my carriage,” he ordered. “Now.”
Arriving at the back alley behind the London Gazette office, Edward waited until the runner, holding the troublesome Miss in custody, opened the door and shoved her into his carriage.
She had a blindfold over her eyes and her face was twisted in fury. “Whoever you are, I demand you release me at once! I will have you arrested and thrown into prison. My father—”
“Your father is a hen-picked shadow of a man who lost his spine to his wife years ago,” Edward’s icy tone slithered over her as he reached over and pulled the cloth from her eyes.
When her eyes focused and she looked at him—all the color drained from her face. “Y-your Grace—”
“If you dare walk into that newspaper or any other news outlet to spread malicious lies about how your cousin was snubbed by a rich lord, you will find yourself in the worst poison you could ever be in,” Edward warned her. “I will not hesitate to make your life an eternal terror. Do you understand me?”
She licked her lips. “And… and what if I tell them that you kidnapped me?”
Edward almost felt amused. “You have no leverage here. All the mediocre finery you currently enjoy can vanish as soon as I—” he snapped his fingers, “—do that.”
Eliza soured, “Why do you have such loyalty to my impoverished cousins anyway?” She crossed her arms. “They are not worth the roof over their heads and the clothes mother puts on their backs.”
Cold anger turned his insides into ice. “I am loyal to my brother, and if he is marrying into your family, I will make sure no scandal darkens his transition.”
She huffed. Her eyes glimmered with rage, her red lips taking on a malicious curve. “I doubt he will be joining the family. Those two girls are curses; Penelope looks like a pug and ran Rutledge off whilst Alice has no sophistication or grace to be a marchioness.”
Crossing a leg, Edward muttered, “It matters not what qualifications they have or do not; you will not interfere with anything that goes on with either of them or I will not be so generous with you. This is your first and last warning,Elizabeth.”
“How did you know what I intended to do anyway?” she asked, sullenly.
“That is none of your concern,” he muttered. “But I will know if you eventhinkof stepping a toe out of line. Now, on your way.”
He rapped on the door and the footman opened it, pulled the Miss out of his vehicle and she headed off. Edward had no faith that she would listen to him, and soon enough, she would try again, trysomethingagain—but what exactly…
“Where to, Your Grace?” his driver asked.
“Whites, please, Jones,” he replied, then reconsidered. “Actually, take me toPurdey & Sons on Princes Street. I have a purchase to make.”
