The sight of it sent a slow burn through his chest that spread steadily outward.
Alexander’s voice, when he spoke, remained perfectly calm.
“I believe,” he said slowly, “that my wife has already asked you to leave.”
Silence fell across the room at once.
For a moment, neither of them seemed quite certain how to respond to the interruption. Then Esther recovered first.
“Your Grace,” she said quickly, dipping into a shallow curtsey that managed to appear both polite and faintly irritated at the same time. “How fortunate that you have joined us.”
Alexander did not return the pleasantry. His gaze remained steady.
“Lady Cliffhall,” he said evenly, “the Duchess has requested that you depart.”
Cliffhall cleared his throat behind his wife, shifting his weight slightly as though attempting to soften the moment.
“We meant no disrespect, Your Grace,” he said, spreading his hands with the mild air of a man who believed himself perfectly reasonable. “We merely wished to speak with you regarding an important family matter.”
Alexander took one slow step forward into the drawing room.
The movement was unhurried, yet it carried enough quiet authority that both visitors instinctively shifted their attention fully toward him.
“I do not wish to hear it,” he said, his voice now dangerously calm, “You came to my house to lecture my wife? When she explicitly told you to leave?”
“We came,” Lady Cliffhall replied stiffly, lifting her chin slightly, “because it is our duty to ensure that Diana fulfills her responsibilities.”
Alexander said nothing. He simply looked at her as the silence stretched. Under the weight of his gaze, Lady Cliffhall’s confidence began to look less like authority and more like stubbornness clinging to its last foothold. Behind her, Cliffhall shifted faintly, clearing his throat as though he had suddenly become aware that the air in the room had changed.
Alexander’s expression remained perfectly composed. “You will leave this house immediately.”
Cliffhall shifted again, visibly less comfortable now than he had been only moments earlier. He glanced briefly at his wife before attempting a conciliatory tone.
“Your Grace,” he began carefully, “perhaps we could?—”
“No.” The single word cut through the air with finality. “You were asked to leave once already by the Duchess,” he said, his tone calm but unmistakably cold. “You ignored her, but you will not ignore me.”
Lady Cliffhall’s composure wavered for the first time since he had entered the room. The rigid certainty in her posture faltered slightly as she opened her mouth again, clearly struggling to regain the confidence that had carried her through the earlier confrontation.
“We meant no harm,” she said quickly.
“That,” Alexander replied, “is irrelevant.”
Alexander stepped aside then, moving just enough to clear the path toward the front door, and lifted one hand in a simple, unmistakable gesture.
“Good day.”
For a moment, it seemed as though Lady Cliffhall might attempt to argue further. Her lips parted slightly, and her gaze flicked once toward her husband as though searching for support.
Then she looked back at Alexander, and whatever she saw in his expression caused the last of her resistance to crumble.
Cliffhall was the first to move. He muttered something that sounded vaguely like an apology while gathering his hat and gloves from the side table, his earlier confidence replaced by the uncomfortable haste of a man suddenly eager to be elsewhere. Lady Cliffhall followed a moment later, her curtsey noticeably deeper than the one she had offered earlier.
“Our apologies, Your Grace,” she said stiffly.
Neither apology sounded particularly sincere, but Alexander had already turned his attention away from them.
The couple retreated toward the door with hurried politeness, their footsteps echoing faintly through the hall before the front door opened and closed again a moment later.
