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William had poured three glasses of brandy and insisted they toast to his happiness.
In a way, it was as if a burden was lifted from his shoulders. It was what he’d always wanted. A family like the Torringtons with demonstrations of love aplenty. Valuable time spent together and always knowing they would stand with him. Vivian was already basically a member of the family, and she was well-liked by the Torringtons.
Alex blew out a breath. The following week, he’d go to London to find out what the pair of interlopers were up to. They would no doubt be showing up at the estate manager’s office first thing with forged certificates of his untimely demise and some sort of Will and Testament.
Thankfully, his mother was under guard. Probably in a sour mood as he’d demanded she remain at home and not attend whatever myriad social affairs she’d been invited to.
She’d promptly sent a note, blaming him for tempting someone to murder him.
Some women did not have maternal instincts. His mother was not a bad or unkind person. She was someone who considered him more of an acquaintance than a son. Often when they’d spent time together, it was as if she wished to be elsewhere. No doubt he reminded her of the husband who had betrayed her. Then again, her marriage had never been a happy one. Theirs had been an arranged marriage, forced upon two young, incompatible people by their parents for social gain.
When there was a rap at the door, he called for whoever it was to enter. He sat up, then fell back upon seeing the duke enter.
“I want to ensure you will be at breakfast. I have decided that you will wait until her parents arrive to declare your intentions. Until then, I will assure Vivian and her sisters all is well.”
“Do you think they are unassured?”
At fifty, Reginald Torrington has been married to the love of his life for just over thirty years. They’d married quite young, he on the crest of twenty and she at seventeen. Both remained handsome and youthful. Alex had often caught sight of them exchanging secret looks or lingering touches. Each time, he’d found it warmed his heart to know they loved each other so much.
When young lads, he and William had often teased them. They’d replied with, “One day you will find someone you will love and won’t care if you are teased about it.”
“Did you hear me?” the duke asked with a frown.
“I will do as you wish. However, I would like to speak to her in private.”
“With a chaperone, of course.”
“Uncle...”
“Your aunt or Clara, you decide.”
“My aunt,” he finally replied, doing his best not to roll his eyes at the idea. It wasn’t as if he were a boy who could not control himself.
“Now,” the duke said, “be sure to look your best. Her parents will be arriving late morning.”
“Did you and Aunt Theresa spend the night here?”
“Of course,” the duke replied. “We had to be here this morning.”
With a final nod as if proud of himself, the duke walked out.
“Chaperone. Look my best,” Alex mumbled as he slipped from the bed. Instead of dressing, he put his robe on and stared out the window. “This is an informal house,” he said to the view. “Why should I worry about how to dress?”
He was acting like a spoiled lad. At that realization, Alex’s reflection showed his eyes widening. Spinning around, he went to search out his clothes for the day.
* * *
“Did you sleep well, darling?” his aunt called out as he entered the dining room. Everyone was there at the table. Every pair of eyes but Vivian’s was directed at him.
“Very well, thank you, Aunt Theresa,” he said, nearing and placing a kiss on her cheek. “And you?”
Her eyes danced with mirth. “I couldn’t sleep a wink. Too excited about everything.”
Everything.
Alexander lowered to the empty seat across from Vivian. She pushed her food from one side of the plate to the other, refusing to make eye contact. “I suppose everyone is waiting to hear what I have to say about last night’s occurrence,” he started.
“Alexander,” the duke warned. “We can discuss it later.”
