Rogue in Red Velvet (37 page)

Leverton grunted. “It’s often the way. So you have a rival. A dead one. They’re the worst, or so I’ve been told.” He took another scalding gulp, as if gathering strength. “Why, Alex, when you could have anyone you chose?” At least they were back to Alex. “I’ve a good mind to forbid the match. I want you married to some pretty young thing, not a scrawny widow.”

Alex held his temper by a thread. If he lost it, he’d lose the argument. People who lost their tempers always did and that had been a lesson he’d learned the hard way. “She’s hardly scrawny, father. She’s my choice and now the Downhollands have made her their heir, you can’t complain about her portion, either.” He shrugged. “I’d have taken her with nothing.”

“Still, Alex, you could have done so much better for yourself.”

“No I could not.” He tested the coffee pot but it was nearly empty and he didn’t feel like ringing for more. “She’s everything I want. She’s a partner, father. Remember what that’s like? You told me that you wouldn’t marry again because you had the children you needed and you didn’t want to weaken the estate by having more. But that’s not the only reason, is it?”

He hated the stricken look on his father’s face but he carried on. “You didn’t want to replace my mother. I’m the eldest and I remember what it was like. You adored her. I want that, father. I’ve always wanted that and all your talk of practicalities hasn’t deterred me. That’s why I waited for so long. I’ve met perfectly charming young women, who would have made me excellent partners but none of them moved my heart. This one does.”

His father got to his feet a trifle unsteadily. “Then there’s nothing left to say. I wish you well, my son.”

* * * *

Early the next day, Monday, they met at the offices of their men of business. They were ushered into the largest room in the place, which wasn’t as large as Alex’s drawing room but was already full.

He sought out Connie first, looking perfectly lovely in a gown of apple green. Fresh and beautiful, as if they hadn’t spent the night loving each other. Today she wore her hair unpowdered and it glinted in the sunlight streaming through the admittedly dusty windows.

He took her hand and bowed over it, dropping a soft kiss on the back and turned, retaining her hand to place on his arm.

Mr. Mills, who still had to get his name on the board but was the sharpest knife in the drawer in this place, had already laid out the contracts, big, crackling monstrosities of documents which Alex didn’t intend reading. “Outline the agreements and we’ll take it from there.”

All of it was ordinary, in his world but Connie gasped quietly once or twice at the sums mentioned. He guessed she hadn’t realized how much the Downhollands were investing in her, especially as they preferred to live modestly. But Downholland had a finger in many pies and most of them had proved fruitful. When children were mentioned, she blushed adorably and he lifted her hand to his lips, an acknowledgement that they’d do their best.

His father behaved, even greeted Connie with a kiss on her cheek and a gruff, “Do you have plans for the wedding?”

“That’s next,” Alex admitted. “We marry tomorrow. I’ve already sent word to the vicar.”

His father didn’t seem surprised but he was the only one in the room. The others exclaimed and when Connie opened her sweet mouth to protest—he saw it in her eyes—he was tempted to stop it with a kiss but instead, he said, “Tomorrow at ten. That wasn’t empty rhetoric when I said it before. I won’t wait any longer. I have the special license ready. If anyone else protests, I swear I’ll carry her off in a closed coach to Gretna Green.”

The earl raised a bushy brow. “You might have collided with Dankworth. He made a botched attempt to make off with Miss Stobart last night.”

“He abducted her?” Connie said, startled. Abduction seemed to be Jasper’s weapon of choice.

“I said he tried,” his lordship said. “Mrs. Stobart had decided to break off the connection and she put a watch on her daughter. Dankworth had a coach further up the street but all the doors were barred and guarded.”

“Who told her?” Alex said suddenly.

“Who do you think? Winterton, of course. That man knows everything and is everywhere. Or it seems so sometimes.”

The earl shrugged and moved toward the huge desk on which lay the documents they had to sign. As a caveat, he added, “Dankworth must have known it was all up. He used the coach to flee to the docks, where a packet took him abroad. Winterton tells me it was headed for the continent. I don’t doubt his august relative aided his escape.”

He’d gone. Alex had planned to take care of the man but with less finesse than Julius had shown. He’d planned a little more brutality. But if the Duke of Northwich had become involved that demonstrated intent. It was tantamount to a declaration of war. Interesting times lay ahead.

They signed and Alex felt the weight lift off his shoulders. Another hurdle jumped. One more and she would be his, to love and to cherish for the rest of their lives. Both of which he fully intended to do but not always at the same time.

“If my future bride is in agreement, I’d like to attend Lady Franklin’s ball tonight,” he said.

“It’s one of the biggest events of the season,” his father remarked.

Alex smiled down at Connie. “I want to declare my intentions in public, sir.” She would spend her time until our wedding in perfect comfort and happiness. He would ensure it. He no longer had to hide how he felt about her and so he smiled at her, his heart in his eyes.

The happy sigh came from Lady Downholland’s direction.

Lynne Connolly

Lynne Connolly lives in England with her family and her mews, Jack the cat. She comes to the USA every year to visit her publishers and readers. She was born in Leicester, England and was brought up in a haunted house. She is part Romany, and in her spare time, she loves reading the Tarot as her grandmother taught her, and making and filling dollhouses.

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Copyright © 2014 Lynne Connolly

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First Electronic Edition: August 2014

ISBN-13: 978-1-61650-564-6