Winning a Lady's Heart (Danby #1)(6)

A grimace of pain twisted his lips and he paused beside the street lamp, laying his head along the icy black length. He softly banged his forehead over and over, but it was of little use; the agony did not lessen.

What had he done?

It meant nothing that the decision to scratch his bloody wager in the book at White’s had been out of love for her. Now he wished he’d been the self-serving bastard everyone always took him for, because then he would still have her.

Until the day he drew his last breath, the haunted expression in her cornflower blue eyes would be with him, reproachful yet pleading. There’d always been a momentary hesitation of hope, an uncertainty in the reality he’d allowed her to believe.

That moment, not even two ticks on a clock, had filled him with hope that she must know his love for her was so great that the wager had been nothing more than a calculated lie. He’d held on to that two-second gleam of hope.

However, he’d been far too convincing in his deception, for the trusting sweetness and innocence that had first drawn Nathan to her had died a very public death at his feet.

Each day he’d been fortunate to have her in his life had been greater than the next. For four months, he’d dared to believe that he, the son of a filthy, gambling, lecherous bastard, could be happy. For four months, he’d lived with laughter. Nathan had waited with bated breath for a thief to rob him of the joy Alexandra brought to his life.

A mirthless laugh escaped him as a puff of white air. It had turned out her father, the Marquess of Tewekesbury, was the thief who’d absconded with his happiness.

His fists balled tightly at his side. Even thinking about the fat, condescending man made him grit his teeth in agitated fury. Except he couldn’t simply lay blame at her father’s feet. Nathan had complied with the marquess’s duplicity.

And what was worse was knowing. For all the pain his wager had cost him, Nathan would probably do it again, because her happiness meant more to him than even his own.

So maybe he wasn’t such a selfish bastard after all. No, he was just a miserable one.

“Ahem.”

Lost in the agony of his own doing, Nathan’s body stiffened at the unexpected interruption in the dead of night.

He lifted his head from the pole and he spun around to face a tall stranger, smartly dressed, with a wide-brimmed black hat.

“I said ah—”

“I heard you,” Nathan snapped. “What do you want?”

If the man had come to speak to him about what had transpired at Lord Williams’s, by God, he would draw his cork.

The man reached into the front of his cloak, and Nathan immediately went into a defensive crouch in preparation for an attack.

Instead of brandishing a knife, however, the man withdrew a thick ivory velum envelope with Nathan’s name scrawled across the front.

“Lord Pembroke.” The man extended his hand.

Nathan stared from the stranger to the unfamiliar scrawl, his heart picking up its rhythm. Alexandra!

Without stopping to consider the stranger in front of him, Nathan ripped into the envelope, his heart plummeting with disappointment. It wasn’t from Alexandra. Really, what was there for her to say, anyhow?

He resumed reading the brief missive, his eyes dipping in confusion.

Pembroke, I want you at Danby Castle within the week. This is not a request.

The Duke of Danby

“His Grace requires your presence posthaste.”

“I’m sorry?” Nathan asked, dumbfounded by the note from Alexandra’s grandfather.

“I said His Grace—”

“I’ve ascertained as much,” he drawled.

The stranger bowed low and continued walking down the pavement.

Nathan blinked at the immediate departure. “Who are you?” he called after him.

The unknown man didn’t even turn around. His words carried on the midnight quiet. “I’m the duke’s eyes and ears.”





A series of harsh, staccato raps penetrated the fog of Alexandra’s sleep. She tugged her pillow over her head, willing the sound away.

“Go away,” she muttered, the fabric of the pillow muffling her words.

Then, mercifully, the knocking stopped. She closed her eyes. She willed her body back to sleep, but then remembrances of last night’s scandal intruded and sleep was forgotten.

She groaned, wishing it had been nothing more than a horrible nightmare, wishing Nathan had never…

“It is time to face the day, my dear.”

The pillow was dragged from her head and she threw her hand across her eyes to blot out the bright rays penetrating the room.

“Mother,” she mumbled, by way of greeting.

The mattress dipped as her mother claimed the spot next to her.

“You’ve sulked long enough, Alexandra.”

“Is that what you think this is, Mother? Sulking?” Alexandra blinked and popped up. She threw aside the coverlet. “Is that how you see it? I had my heart broken.” She enunciated each word slowly. The admission alone felt like her skin had been ripped into with a smartly delivered lash.

“You destroyed your social image, Alexandra.”

Surely she’d heard her mother wrong? That was what Mother was focused on? Should Alexandra really expect anything different? Emotional outbursts and plebian sentiments such as love were scoffed at by Society. And yet—“I loved him, Mother.” She bit out each word, willing her to understand.