The Governess Game (Girl Meets Duke #2)(77)

“He’s not getting biscuits,” Nicola said, incensed. She whipped the plate from the table, guarding it. “After what he did to Alex? Not even the burnt ones.”

“But he’s sorry now. He’s clearly here to make amends. The poor man looks wretched.”

Chase wasn’t certain how to feel about that. “I don’t have time for tea and biscuits, thank you. I’ve something for Alex. She’ll want to have it at once.”

“Leave it, then,” Nicola said. “We’ll give it to her.”

That was an entirely reasonable suggestion. One he didn’t have a ready excuse to work around. He decided to try the truth. “Please. I need to see her. Speak with her.”

“See, Nic?” Penny said. “He’s miserable.”

“I’m miserable,” Chase agreed. “So, so miserable. Also ashamed, regretful, desperate, ready to grovel on hands and knees.”

“Don’t forget ‘in love,’” Penny said, smiling.

Lord bless Lady Penelope Campion for her indefatigable faith in romance. She had the most open, generous nature imaginable. Chase recognized the quality, because she was the sort of woman he’d always kept at a distance. A heart so completely unguarded was more easily bruised than a ripe summer peach. Someday, he would sit her down and give her a word of caution about being too trusting with devilish gentlemen.

But not today.

Nicola finally answered his question. “Alexandra isn’t here.”

“When will she be back?”

“She won’t be. Not for some time,” Nicola said.

“She’s gone to—”

Lady Penelope’s reply was cut short. From throughout the house, what seemed like hundreds of clocks began to chime the hour. And naturally, the hour would be noon.

Within that minute of bonging and clanging, Chase imagined a hundred dire endings to Penny’s sentence.

She’s gone to the docks to catch a ship.

She’s gone to the Philippine Islands, to find her mother’s family.

She’s gone to grab the tail of her comet and soar away to a planet that deserves her.

She’s gone to someplace, anyplace where you aren’t, you contemptible bastard.

She’s gone to Malta.

It didn’t matter, he vowed. Wherever she’d gone, Chase would follow her, find her, pledge his love, and beg her to come home. Nothing would deter him. There was no journey too far. No obstacle too great.

“She’s gone to stay at Ashbury House,” Penny finished. “Across the square. Ash and Emma leave for the country tomorrow. They’re taking Alexandra with them.”

Ashbury House. Brilliant.

He would have rather gone to Malta.



Chase’s reception at Ashbury House was as he expected. And, quite honestly, no worse than he deserved.

The duke grabbed Chase by the lapels and slammed him against the wall.

“Listen, Ashbury. I know she’s furious with me, and for good reason. But I’m trying to make it right. Just—”

“I warned you,” the duke said in a fiendish whisper. “I told you what would happen if you hurt her.”

“Yes, I recall,” Chase choked out. “Something about my ballocks, a closet, and a demonic cat.”

“Oh, that’s only to start,” the duke growled low. “You clod of wayward marl.”

“I don’t have to stand for this.” Chase shrugged off Ashbury’s grip. “And I don’t need your permission to speak with Alexandra. You’re not her keeper.”

“I’m her friend. And you are not her anything.”

The words gutted him. Ashbury might be correct, but Chase had to see this through to the bitter end.

“That’s for Alex to decide.” Chase sidestepped him and lifted his voice. “Alexandr—ack.”

Ashbury tackled him from behind, wrestling him down to the carpet and clapping a hand over Chase’s mouth. “Shut up, you blackguard,” he snarled quietly. “Not another word. Or a set of shredded ballocks will be the least of your problems.”

Good Lord. Could there be anything worse than shredded ballocks? His stones retracted into his abdomen at the very mention. Chase could imagine only one sort of pain that could possibly eclipse that prospect.

Losing the love of his life.

Chase planted his boot on the floor, levered for the advantage, and flipped them both. He straddled Ashbury’s chest and stared down at his scarred face. “I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt on Alex’s account, but now I’m angry. I may not have a bloodthirsty cat, but I know a girl who can make a small bowel obstruction look like an accident, and I have a great deal of experience giving eulogies.”

“If you so much as—”

Chase planted his hand on Ashbury’s face. By pushing the duke’s head into the carpet pile, he lifted himself just enough to call out. “Alex!” he shouted. “I need to speak with y—”

A set of duke-ish, entitled teeth sank into the heel of his hand.

“Fuck.”

Chase jerked his hand away, and Ashbury made use of the momentary confusion to reverse the power once more. Scrabbling with knees and elbows, they rolled across the carpet no fewer than three times before colliding with a table.