Alexander began to unravel his sleeves. His coat was slung over a chair next to the ring. He picked it up and hung it over his arm. There was no way he would attempt to put it on with his rib in so much pain.
The three women looked at each other. The brunette, Diana, stepped forward and ran her fingers up his shirt before snaking her arm around his neck.
“We missed you, Your Grace,” she whispered seductively.
“If it is a challenge you are up for, my friends and I can help with that,” Selina, the blonde, added as she twirled a strand of her long hair between her slender fingers.
Alexander waited for the familiar rush of heat and excitement to fill his veins, but, surprisingly, nothing happened.
He gently removed Diana’s arms from around him and placed a soft kiss on her hand. “Not tonight, my doves. I have something I need to attend to.”
The ladies pouted but he did not regret his decision.
“You know where to find us, Your Grace,” Selina said in a sultry voice when he walked away from the sirens.
As Alexander made his way towards his carriage, thoughts of bewitching green eyes and blushing cheeks filled his mind.
“What a peculiar little sorceress indeed.”
* * *
“Welcome home, Your Grace.” Mr. Carson, Alexander’s loyal butler, met him at the front door. “Did you enjoy your evening at the party?”
Mr. Carson caught on quickly to Alexander’s habits and pastimes when he became the Duke of Hawthorne. And the elderly man had learned not to inject any opinions.
“My goodness, Your Grace, what happened to you!” His housekeeper, Mrs. Weller, on the other hand, did not learn that sentiment.
Mr. Carson gave Alexander a look of solidarity but leaned in and whispered. “Your sister has kept her up with worry.”
Mrs. Weller’s face puckered. “I may be old, but I am not deaf,” she spat at the butler before turning towards Alexander. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I am very worried about your sister. She did not eat much today and now I see you and you look like you were attacked by ruffians.”
“Just one,” he murmured.
Despite her older age, her eyes were still bright with little crinkles in the corners as she tutted over his appearance.
He took her hands to stop her from inspecting his injury. “Mrs. Weller, I am fine. I promise. Is Rosalind in her room?”
Mrs. Weller shifted on her feet. “No, Your Grace. She was feeling a bit cold, so we set her up in front of the fire in the parlor.”
He nodded to both of them before walking down the hallway to the parlor. The room was lit only by the fire, and his sister was propped up with pillows and blankets in her favorite reading chair.
He took in her features as he approached her. The light from the fire deepened the hollows of her cheeks. His heart squeezed. Though no physician had a diagnosis for what ailed her, no one could look at her and avoid seeing that she was in pain.
“Rosie?” He knelt in front of her and laid his hands on her knees.
Her eyes stared into the fire only a few feet away, yet they looked as if they were staring into the abyss. She made no movement to acknowledge his presence or his words.
“Rosalind?” He shook her knees a bit which seemed to snap her from her thoughts.
“Alexander, when did you return?”
She sounded weak.
“Not too long ago.” He perceived the bags and dark circles that formed under her eyes. “Mrs. Weller said you did not eat much today. Shall I fetch you some cheese or biscuits?”
Rosalind’s head barely moved. “I am not hungry.”
“Rosie, you must eat something.” Alexander pleaded, “Please. For me?”
