Chapter 35
Alexander stared at the other man for a long moment. George looked uncomfortable, putting his eyes anywhere but on the face of the Scotsman.
“Lord Godstone is a persuasive fellow and he, and his allies, have played on my prejudices when it comes to you. But the fact is that I knew many a fine officer in the Scottish regiments. And many a fine ranker as well. In fact, it was a Sergeant from your city that once saved my life, when my horse was shot from under me and a swarm of French dragoons descended upon me,” George said. “It is not right for me to judge you. Go, Godstone lives at the north side of Berkeley Square. Speak to Violet. I cannot say that I have hopes of her accepting you but it will be her decision at least.”
Alexander gave a tight-lipped smile. He could not think of a reason for Ambrose summoning Violet to his house. No reason but one. And it fitted with what gossip said of Ambrose’s character. A man who regarded the conquest of women as aleisurely pursuit. His hands did not unclench from fists as a wave of jealousy stormed through him.
She would not simply abandon any feelings she had for me, in favor of a blue-eyed smile. But Ambrose is and always has been a good match for her. Together they make the perfect couple for the Ton. Society would fete them.
He turned to leave, then stopped. “Lord Ravendel. I thank you for the information and give you some in return. Lord Godstone’s position within the Tory party is not as solid as he would have everyone believe. I know that he is being talked of as a future Prime Minister, but it will never happen.”
George finally looked at him, frowning.
“I have uncovered proof of business dealings that will reflect very badly on Lord Godstone and his opposition to the Child Slavery Bill. I would ask for your patience for just a wee while, then I will show you all the proof you need.”
“Very well, Your Grace. I will wait for that keenly,” George said slowly, wide-eyed and still-faced.
Alexander left the room, striding back through the house, his mind moving almost as fast. Would Ambrose have the good grace to admit defeat? Or would he lash out in his death throes, causing as much destruction as he could before finally submitting? Alexander feared that it would be the latter, feared what damage might be done. To Violet’s reputation, so precious and, in this society, so fragile and vulnerable. A woman couldbe destroyed with a few well-placed rumors. As he stepped out of the front door and strode towards the waiting carriage, the driver pulled his hat down low, hunching in his seat at one look at the face of his passenger.
“Berkeley Square and don’t spare the horses,” he commanded as he entered, slamming the door behind him.
The journey was frenetic and mercifully short. The driver took his instructions to heart and left a trail of cursing road users in his wake. Alexander paid him extra as they drew up before the extravagant palace that was Ambrose’s London home. Alexander barely saw it, though a small part of him noted the positions of and numbers of chimneys protruding from the building in clusters. As a boy, that would have filled him with dread, knowing that such a building would mean dozens of dangerous climbs and hours of working in cramped conditions, barely able to breathe and then thrashed if he didn’t work quickly enough.
A man in uniform stood beside the door and had moved to stand in front of it as Alexander approached. His first instinct was to hurl the man bodily down the steps but he knew that such an action would confirm in the eyes of all that he was nothing more than a barbarian, with no place in this heart of civilization. Instead, he stopped before the man and looked him in the eye.
“The Duke of Lorchester, Alexander Fitzgrant to see His Lordship,” he said, remembering his tutelage.
The man bowed and what followed was a well-rehearsed ritual that ended with Alexander being admitted to the house, fuming with impatience and trying hard not to show it. The opulence of the house meant nothing to him. He neither considered it a mark of accomplishment nor aspired to the same himself. For every old master that hung on the walls, Alexander thought of how many hungry families could be fed for a year for the money paid for it.
He was presently asked to accompany the man who had manned the doors on the inside of the house and was led to an impressive library. There was his nemesis, Ambrose Devereaux, at his ease on a chaise, sipping wine. Opposite him sat Violet, also with a wine glass in her hand. She looked very at home in this room, with this man. Once again, Alexander wondered at her presence here.
Have I lost her? After only just finding her, have I thrown away the best thing to happen to me since I arrived in this god-damned city!
“Lorchester, old chap. This is not precisely the best timing for a social visit,” Ambrose said. “And I conduct Parliamentary business in Westminster. Not in my own home.”
“Quite…old chap,” Alexander said, mimicking the other man’s colloquialism and putting on his finest English accent. “But I felt sure you would see me. Lady Violet, I had stopped first at your home but was told by your Uncle that you were here.”
A flash of irritation crossed Ambrose’s face at this but Violet frowned.
“You went to my house…looking for me?”
“Aye, lass. I did,” Alexander said gently. “I had hoped to grovel before you and beg for your forgiveness.”
Violet’s eyes went wide and her mouth opened, half forming a smile. Then her eyes darted to Ambrose and the smile faded. “There is no apology necessary, I am sure, Your Grace.”
“Aye, there was, lassie. I did not behave well and should not have taken it out on you. That was inexcusable. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Did you come here to apologize to Lady Violet or to have a discussion with me?” Ambrose said. “If it is the former then may I ask that you do so somewhere else. Like Lady Violet’s home, perhaps?”
“I will, Lord Godstone,” Alexander said, turning to him and resuming his English diction.
His confidence was surging now. Looking into Violet’s eyes, he had seen the hope there, had caught the beginnings of a smile when she discovered that he had been searching for her.
“But before I do, there was a business matter that I wished to discuss with you.”
“Then I must ask you to make an appointment. For at the moment, I am not available for business discussions, certainly not without the presence of my solicitor. Now, Lady Violet and I were having a rather intimate conversation. I must say that we have become much…closer since that conversation began. Far closer than any other man could expect to be. So, if you will excuse us…?”
Alexander’s eyes narrowed at the barely veiled insinuations. He did not want to believe that Violet would choose such a man as this but was aware of his credentials and the things which the two of them had in common. The look on Ambrose’s face was pure, vicious triumph.
