Winning a Lady's Heart (Danby #1)(7)

Her mother glanced at a point over Alexandra’s shoulder. “You engaged in a mere flirtation. He brought you flowers. Wrote you poems.”

Alexandra’s eyes slid closed, as if the action might dull the aching pain. “He did not write me poems, Mother.”

Her mind went to a particular moment. I will not waste your time putting inadequate words to paper. There are no words sufficient to capture your beauty.

Her lips twisted cynically. What he’d probably meant was she wasn’t capable of inspiring any man into putting pen to paper.

Her mother’s hand danced about the air. “When this scandal is behind you, you will find a man worthy of the Marquess of Tewkesbury’s daughter. Pembroke was never deserving of you.”

A bitter laugh trapped in Alexandra’s throat. “How simple you make it all sound.”

But she didn’t dispute her mother’s words. A man who’d paid court to her, who’d snipped a lock of her hair to always keep it close and then so callously wagered on her name in the books at White’s, was certainly no gentleman. Mother was correct; Nathan hadn’t been worthy of her.

That reality brought no solace to Alexandra. It just hurt her all the more. How could she have been so wrong about him? How could she have given her heart to one so calculated and cruel? Her faulty decision shook her to the core, rattled her already limited self-confidence.

Which only served as another aching reminder of one of the reasons she had fallen in love with Nathan. He hadn’t looked at her and seen a too-plump young lady who danced with two left feet, a clumsy clod, as her father had called her. He had respected her mind, enjoyed their witty repartee. He had called her beautiful.

And she’d been fool enough to believe him.

She had staunchly defended his suit against her father’s bellowing condemnations of the match. Her father had reminded her that she was no great beauty and threatened that Nathan would just make light of her name.

In the end, her father had been right.

No, there was little comfort to be found in this entire situation.

In fact, the only thing she found comfort in was that it would be at least another week before news of her scandal reached all the way to Yorkshire—and her grandfather’s ears.

Her mother’s voice broke through Alexandra’s unhappy thoughts. “We received a missive from the duke this morning.”

Alexandra collapsed against the pillows and flung a hand over her eyes yet again. “That isn’t possible.”

“My dear, I thought you would know by now, the duke makes it his business to know each family member’s business.”

Alexandra sat up and shoved her fingers through her hair. Yes, she did know that. Fortunate for her, she’d always managed to escape the duke’s notice.

Until last night.

“It has been less than twelve hours.”

Her mother arched a brow. “Alexandra, you’ve been sleeping all day. It is nearly two o’clock.”

Alexandra’s eyes flew to the chintz clock across the room. She squinted to make sight of the numbers. Good Heavens, her mother was correct. Since she’d cloistered herself away in her room at ten o’clock the evening before, she’d lost track of time.

“Still, the only way he could possibly have found out so quickly was if he had a man present at Lord and Lady Williams’s,” she protested.

“My dear, haven’t you already learned your grandfather has eyes and ears wherever his offspring are scattered?”

Be that as it may, Alexandra would venture there was no way her grandfather had such firsthand knowledge of her far more interesting cousins who were off in France, America, or on the high seas. No, only she and the other unfortunate souls who happened to call England home were so closely scrutinized.

There was a firm knock at the door. Before Alexandra or Mother could respond, the door opened. Olivia sailed into the room with the aforementioned missive in her hands. She waved it about.

“My, the duke is fast. I’d imagine he has assigned someone to monitor each member of our esteemed family’s activities.” She gave a mock shudder. “I fear the day I receive my missive is not long off.”

Their mother gasped and snatched the note. “Olivia, do not even jest about such a thing!”

Olivia caught Alexandra’s eye and gave a sly wink.

“Come now, Alex. Open it up,” Olivia prodded.

Alexandra squinted. The glint of the silver tray reflecting in the sun’s beaming rays nearly blinded her. It seemed to rain in England nearly every day. Why, why, on this one day couldn’t she receive a day that matched her spirits?

Alexandra didn’t say anything. She didn’t make a move to accept the missive. Instead she stared at the note as though Olivia came bearing a tray of plague-infested rodents with a taste for blood.

Alexandra groaned and covered her eyes.

“I’m not reading it.” She shook her head for good measure.

“You are not a coward, Alexandra. Your actions last night are proof of that,” Olivia offered supportively.

She flinched at the reminder of her antics in Lord and Lady Williams’s ballroom—and card room.

Not that she needed any reminder. She’d been sure there had been a hint of agony in his clear blue gaze, but it had faded so quickly, she’d convinced herself it had merely been her own feelings reflected back at her. The nearly indecipherable expression worn by Nathan would haunt her until she drew her last breath. What had he been thinking? Had he felt any regret?