“Bollocks,” he snapped out to no one in particular.
“Your Grace?”
He gripped his hands at his sides and faced the butler. “What is it, Jones?” he barked.
Jones did not respond to the harshness he was faced with, but only said, “I am sorry to bother you, sir, but you have a visitor.”
Alexander fought the urge to snarl in response and tried to regain his composure. “A visitor. I am not expecting anyone. Who is it?”
“The Earl of Martingale, Your Grace.”
Alexander swayed slightly. “The Earl of Martingale is dead.”
“Er, thenewestMartingale, Your Grace. He says he is Lady Marianne’s cousin.”
Alexander smashed his teeth together so hard that his ears rang. He stared at Jones, then let his gaze slip down the hallway. So Marianne’s cousin was here. Which meant the man must have gotten wind of her scandalous arrangement with him. That he had come to save her was promising. At least she wasn’t as alone in the world as she seemed to think. Perhaps this was better. Alexander could send her back with her cousin. Send her away where he couldn’t hurt her and she couldn’t dissolve all his walls.
He ignored the sting in his heart at that thought and nodded. “Yes, of course I’ll see him.” The moment he said the words, he shook his head slightly. Since he was scarred, he’d been uncomfortable meeting strangers, and yet today he was so focused on Marianne that he’d not given that a thought. Odd. “Er, where has he been put?”
“The green parlor, Your Grace.”
He nodded again, his feet somehow reluctant to move even though the solution that now presented itself was exactly what needed to happen. For Marianne. For himself.
“Lady Marianne will be returning to the house shortly,” he said as he forced himself to walk. “Send her to join us when she does. Until then, I would like privacy.”
“Of course, sir,” the butler’s voice said, fading off as Alexander made his way down the long hallway to the parlor where his guest awaited. The door was shut and he drew a long breath before he opened it and joined the man who was now Earl of Martingale.
As he entered the room, the man at his fireplace turned and Alexander took the measure of him. He was older than Alexander by fifteen years. He had a round face with thinning hair and a ruddy complexion.
Of course, he felt the man take his measure, as well. There was no mistaking the stare, the curiosity as Martingale looked at his face. Slowly, Alexander closed the door behind himself before he moved forward.
“Lord Martingale,” he said, extending a hand cautiously. “Good afternoon.”
He expected Martingale to refuse his offer, but the man stepped forward and shook his hand firmly. “Your Grace,” he said as his gaze flickered once more over Alexander’s scarred face. “I realize I was not expected.”
“I suppose Ishouldhave expected you,” Alexander said with a grim frown. “Considering the circumstances.”
He motioned to the chairs before the fire and the men sat down. Martingale leaned forward, draping his elbows over his knees. “The circumstances, Your Grace?”
Alexander shifted. Where was this man’s righteous anger? His desperation to come to the defense and aid of his female relative? Where was his drive to save Marianne from the clutches of a man who would ruin her?Hadruined her. Martingale should be calling him out right now, not sitting with bored politeness in his parlor.
Yet here Martingale was able to meet Alexander’s eyes easily and there seemed to be no anger in his countenance or attitude. But the only reason he would have come here was for Marianne. The two men didn’t know each other otherwise.
“I assume you have come here on behalf of Marianne,” Alexander said carefully.
Both Martingale’s eyebrows lifted. “You think I’ve come to rush to the aid of my cousin? Hardly. I’m pleased to have her gone.”
Alexander stared at the man in shock for a moment as he tried to process those words. “You—you cannot mean that,” he said at last. “You must have guessed the nature of my arrangement with her.”
Martingale smiled, but there was no warmth or generosity to it. “You’ve made her your mistress, yes? I can hardly blame you. My cousin is quite comely. I should have thought of that myself, honestly.”
Burning anger flared in Alexander’s chest and he gripped the armrests of his chair to keep from flying across the space between them. “I am surprised to hear you say that.”
“She never made a good match, one that might have raised our family fortunes,” Martingale said with a shrug. “She knows that she is to be on the street in short order. Making a bargain with you may be the first intelligent thing the chit has done in years.”
“If you haven’t come to stand up for Marianne’s honor, why are you here?” Alexander asked, barely able to remain civil in the face of this man’s coldness and cruelty.
Martingale leaned back in his chair, folding his fingers together with a smile. “Marianne’s leaving has saddled me with another problem all together. Her sister.”
