Addicted to the Duke (Imperfect Lords #1)(12)
“I promised Mother on her deathbed that I’d choose a man worthy of me. She and Father, separately, were two lovely individuals, but together they did not work. He sailed away and left her here. She was lonely and sad for most of her life. I want a man who I can be myself with. A man who will include me in his life, his work, his duties and responsibilities.” She sucked in a deep breath. “A man I can love and who will love me.”
Her aunt put the last ring away. “A worthy stance. Life doesn’t always work the way we want. Choosing to remain unwed, well, it can be just as lonely on your own.”
“Do you regret not marrying?”
Her aunt’s face was reflected in the mirror. “I did until you came into my life. Life can be hard, cruel, and disappointing. But for some it’s filled with light, happiness, and love. I wasn’t one of the lucky ones. I’d be alone if not for you.”
Did she want to end up alone? Honestly? No, yet, “Even when you marry you can end up alone. Look at Mother. Why would His Grace make such an awful husband? Surely he would be preferable to becoming a spinster, or worse, killed so Fredrick could steal my fortune.”
Her aunt’s faced filled with pity.
“Is it because he’s a renowned rake? Is that it? You think he’d hurt me with his infidelities?”
Although she was stuck in Wales, Hestia had been able to catch up with the gossip through her best friend, Constance, who was now married to Viscount Hogarth and lived in London. Constance posted the gossip sheets dutifully to her every week. Constance, through her husband, also helped keep her informed of Alex’s life each season, since he took such great pains to avoid balls and other soirees, and if she had to admit it—he avoided her.
Oh, she knew Alex was a rake—he did love the ladies—but then what handsome, rich young man didn’t? He was no different from most of his bachelor peers.
What annoyed her immensely—no, what hurt her immensely—was that he had been nothing but a perfect gentleman with her. Her friend Constance said it was the curse of friendship. Constance’s theory was that Alex merely thought of her as the young lady he saved, and the atypical friendship they developed sailing home meant he did not see her as a romantic prospect.
Her aunt continued. “Have you ever wondered why he acts the way he does? He’s almost thirty years old. What drives him to bed countless, nameless, faceless women and never commit to any of them? He’s damaged…” Her voice faded as if she’d realized she’d said too much. “Life and the things that happen shape us. Look at you.”
She knew what Eliza was saying. After being kidnapped in the Mediterranean, on her return home she’d been shunned and talked about by society, having people make jokes, and living with the nightmares of her capture. That had changed her; she was no longer so outgoing. She was more cautious when meeting people, worried how they’d judge her. She was also more aware of how evil the world could truly be and she liked the safety and anonymity of their estate in Pembrokeshire.
If she were completely honest, this trip scared her more than she wanted to admit. Was Alex afraid? Did a man as big and as strong as Alex get scared?
“Alex may be fighting the demons of his past, but he’s still a better man than many I know.”
Her aunt laughed. “Don’t be silly. You hardly know any men, let alone really knowing Alex. You remember the man who saved you. You were infatuated with him because of the harrowing experience you endured at such a vulnerable age. I’ll admit he’s turned out better than I expected. On his father’s death he stepped into the ducal role and surprisingly is doing his duty responsibly.”
“That does not sound like a man who is ‘damaged,’ as you put it.”
“Your father has concerns about His Grace. When you find him, he can advise you.”
Hestia rose and walked to the door. “You know I saw much while I was held prisoner. If there is something I should know about Alex that might be indelicate, I assure you I am worldly wise enough to hear it.”
When her aunt’s lips simply firmed and she remained silent, Hestia sighed and walked out.
There was only one person to ask about why her father, who loved Alex like the son he never had, did not condone a match. She would have to coax the truth from Alex himself.
If demons drove his need to bed countless women, she could understand that. She was driven to make each day count too. Life could be altered in the time it took to snap your fingers, and by people or events you had no control over. Look where she was today. Fredrick had altered the path of her life with his actions.
Men bedding numerous women simply for spite, or because they could, was not Alex’s way. If he was haunted by his past, she was too. Perhaps they could help chase away their ghosts together.
Hestia’s mind whirled like a tornado. Since Fredrick had arrived at Pembroke with the body that was supposed to be her father, she felt as if her world was being ripped from her grasp. She hated this feeling of losing control. Her dreams at night constantly reminded her how helpless she’d felt as Murad’s captive, and she’d sworn she would never allow herself to feel the victim ever again. Yet once more she was setting sail into someone else’s voyage. For years she’d thought her father selfish, and her current predicament reinforced this conviction.
Alex was going to have to return to an area of the world that held painful memories. Guilt gnawed like a starving rat. She knew it wasn’t fair to Alex to ask this of him, but he anchored her. His presence calmed her, and she trusted him to keep her safe. She admired him more than any other person she knew and she freely admitted to herself that he owned her heart.