Alexander did not answer because it was true.
He had never met a woman who challenged him so sharply and dismissed romance with a raised brow, but kissed him like she was falling apart. She insisted it meant nothing, but her body said otherwise. Likewise, he had never met a woman who made him feel unsteady, unprepared, and entirely out of his depth.
“So, tell me, Alex… what would you do if Miss Dowell were to change her mind?”
“About what exactly?” Alexander said with a raised brow.
“About love.”
Alexander’s breath caught. He had not let himself imagine that possibility. He stared at the floor, jaw clenched, heart pounding with something he didn’t want to name.
“She is a stubborn woman; she will never change her mind about it.”
But even as he spoke, he remembered the way they held onto each other after he deflowered her. And when she opened up to him about her family, he felt an unfamiliar yet satisfying warmth settle over him. She had wanted him as much as he wanted her. But Alexander was her first. Surely, it was lust that intrigued her and not love.
“You will never know, Alex. Love can change even the coldest hearts of the most prominent intellects in this world.”
Spencer picked up his ledger and continued reading it. His silence left Alexander with a provocative question.
What would I do if Theodora Dowell fell in love with me?
Both the question and answer terrified him.
* * *
“Good day, Your Grace,” Mr. Carson greeted Alexander as soon as he stepped through the front doors of Hawthorne House. “You have several letters waiting.”
Alexander pretended to remain calm as he shrugged off his coat. He was exhausted from spending the entire day trying to keep his composure. “Thank you, Mr. Carson. I shall take them in my study.”
Mr. Carson nodded and handed him the small stack of envelopes. Alexander accepted them, then hesitated. He opened his mouth to ask the question he had been asking for two days now.
“Any letters from?—”
“No, Your Grace,” Mr. Carson gently cut him off with the practiced efficiency of a man who had served him since childhood. “No letters from Miss Dowell have arrived.”
Alexander’s jaw tightened and he clutched the pile of letters so tightly that one of the seals popped off.
“I see,” he muttered.
But he did not understand any of it. He had expected a note, a line, or even a single word.Anything.But Theodora’s silence stretched on, and with each hour it grew heavier.
“That is all Mr. Carson.” Alexander nodded at his butler stiffly and walked towards his study.
The house was silent and he missed having Rosalind around. Although she didn’t speak much, it calmed him to know that she was nearby. Tomorrow he would head out to Wiltshire with an unsettled mind thanks to Theodora. Feeling frustrated, Alexander pushed open the study door, lit a lamp, and sat heavily at his desk.
He set the letters down and sighed deeply.
Theodora, what have you done to me?
He picked up the envelope with Rosalind’s handwriting on it, opened it, and scanned the contents.
Alexander chuckled. His sister had sent him a list of things to bring when he visited her. He shook his head as he went through it.
“You are insufferable, Rosie,” he murmured, smiling at himself. “I am not your errand boy.”
But he folded the letter carefully and set it aside. He would bring her everything she asked for and more. He always did and always would. Alexander skimmed over the remaining envelopes of invitations, requests, and dull obligations until one specific envelope caught his eye.
It bore no seal nor a sender’s name. Just his own title and name were written neatly on the front in familiar handwriting.
