“I’m not finished! I was completely alone after they died. And you did nothing—nothing—to demonstrate that you cared in the least whether I lived or died.”
“Well, you lived. And now you seem determined to plague me at every turn.”
For a long moment she was silent. Red-faced and blustering, her uncle still gave no indication that he realized he’d done anything wrong. Perhaps that was the most telling difference between him and Lucien: The earl took responsibility for his misdeeds. And lately he’d worked to correct them.
In addition, all of the slights and manipulations and barriers she’d fought against—all of them put there by the duke because he disliked her family so much—apparently she’d made them all up. Monmouth didn’t hate her; he simply didn’t care about her. “I only wanted a piece of your heart,” she said slowly.
“Ha! My heart and my purse, you mean.”
“No. You won’t apologize, will you? Not even to the memory of my mother, your own sister.”
“Shemarried that damned painter, against my wishes. I don’t owe her—or anyone else—an apology.”
Abruptly her long, burning anger at him—at his whole side of the family—sputtered and died. She didn’t want to be a part of this family. She’d found the family she wanted.
“Well then, Uncle, I am sorry,” she said. “And I forgive you, because you obviously can’t help being the heartless man you are. If you could help it, you wouldn’t be such a fool.” Alexandra turned for the door.
“I will not be insulted!” he bellowed at her back.
“Have you come back to beg for money, cousin?”
Alexandra paused. Virgil Retting stood on the landing, leaning over the railing to sneer at her. “Good day, Virgil,” she said, and continued down the hall.
“You’ll never get anything from us, you know, you strumpet.”
That was enough of that. Squaring her shoulders, Alexandra slowly turned to face him again. “Virgil, I doubt you have the intelligence to understand me, but I’ll give it a try anyway.”
“How—”
“I don’t like you,” she interrupted. “You’re a fool and a conceited idiot of no significance. If you were a pauper, you wouldn’t have a friend to speak of. If you were a rat, I wouldn’t feed you to a snake for fear of giving the serpent a sour stomach. Now, good-bye, and good riddance.”
“How dare you!”
She walked down the hallway and out the front door, Shakespeare at her side. The hack she’d hired still waited in the street, and she gave him the next direction and climbed in. Her uncle might have been completely incapable of recognizing his own stupidity and of apologizing for it, but thankfully she was not.
“My lord, you must…amend this amendment,” Mr. Mullins said, waving sheets of parchment in the air. Half of them escaped, and went flying about the garden like a miniature fleet of sails.
Lucien shook his head and resumed planing the cellar’s new window frame. “No. One more word about it, and you’ll be looking for other employment.”
The solicitor scrambled to recover his paperwork. “But…it makes no sense!”
“Mr. Mullins, do not make me repeat myself.”
“Yes, my lord. Of course. But what…what about this construction you’re doing?” The solicitor gestured at the half-repaired window. “You have sufficient funds to hire a score of workers for Balfour House.”
“I broke it, and I’ll fix it.” Eyeing Mr. Mullins, he returned to his task, daring the solicitor to contradict his lie. He couldn’t very well explain that if he didn’t keep himself occupied, he would go insane, or that by repairing the cellar window he felt some absurd connection to Alexandra.
It had been five days since he’d ridden away from Miss Grenville’s Academy. If she’d left there immediately after reading his letter, she could have been in London by yesterday. Of course, as far as he knew, she might be still at the Academy teaching spoon etiquette.
Just in case she chose to come, though, he would be ready. The gold room’s furnishings were back where they belonged, as were the other household objects she’d managed to acquire for her cellar dungeon—though if he had any say in the matter, she would be occupying the master chambers with him. He’d rented a house and servants for Rose and Fiona, so his damned aunt would be as far away from Alexandra as he could get her and still allow him to keep his word to Rose about assisting with the wedding.
In addition, he’d acquired a special marriage license from the Archbishop of Canterbury. If Alexandra did return, he was not about to give her another opportunity to escape. That nagging “if” was the same reason he’d scarcely left the house since he’d arrived back in London. He wasn’t about to risk missing her.
“Very well, my lord.” The solicitor sighed. “I do hope you understand I have always had your best interests at heart.”
Lucien glanced sideways at him. “That’s why you’re still here. At the moment, though, I’m beginning to find you annoying. Go fetch Vincent, will you?”
Mr. Mullins bowed. “At once, my lord.”
