What the hell was taking so long? he wondered, throwing the paper back on the attorney’s desk. He got up to pace when the door opened and Mr. Hampton, followed by another man, entered the room.
“By God,” the man said loudly, his bright blue eyes looking at him. “There is a remarkable resemblance.” He held the portfolio in his hands and gave Alexander a hearty handshake. “This is a pleasure, sir. A real pleasure.” He rubbed his hands together. “We’ve got ’em, Hampton. I think this time we really got ’em.”
“Your father’s firm,” Mr. Hampton explained. “Mr. Crowley is not on the best terms with Mr. Tinkerman.”
“I see.”
“I think you are right, young man. We don’t have to have proof, though this is damning on its own,” Crowley said, shaking the portfolio. “We only have to make them think we have enough proof and pray they don’t call our bluff.”
“There is always the grave,” Alexander said.
“The grave?” Crowley boomed.
“The grave where my father must have deposited an empty casket. That alone will prove I did not die.”
Crowley smiled grimly. “True enough. But it doesn’t prove that you are the missing boy, just that His Grace is a bloody scoundrel and lied about his son’s death.”
“Yes, sir.”
Crowley, a stout man with a florid face and shockingly thick white hair, came right up to Alexander and peered up at him as if he were quite far-sighted. “Yes, yes,” he muttered. “There is no doubt you have Kingston’s blood in you, but we must be prepared that they will claim you are illegitimate. What of your mother? Will she recognize you?”
Alexander shook his head. “I left when I was just ten years old.”
Crowley looked at him shrewdly. “And no doubt you’d like to spare her for now, am I right? Yes, then. Yes. We’ll find your death certificate, see what it says, try to dispute it. Do you know your cause of death?”
“No, sir, I do not,” Alexander said with a mild grin.
“No matter, no matter. We’ll find it.” Crowley had a habit of repeating himself which Alexander found appealing somehow. “This might take some time. Weeks or months. And then we’ll have to present what we have to Kingston’s solicitor. I’d like to avoid having to go through an official inquiry. Yes, I’d like to avoid that.”
“Do you think we can avoid one?” Mr. Hampton asked.
“You know the House of Lords. They’d vote in favor of Kingston even if they’d witnessed Mr. Wilkinson’s birth and watched him grow up. If it comes to that, we have little chance of winning. I want you to be aware of that, Mr. Wilkinson. At best, we win. At worst, you are rejected or the title ends up in abeyance.”
Alexander breathed harshly through flared nostrils. It was not uncommon for a title to be held in abeyance for years. Once, a barony title was held in abeyance for more than a century. And yet, testifying before the House of Lords was a terrifying proposition. “I would have difficulty testifying before the House,” he said. “I truly don’t know if I could manage it. It is possible that I could hurt my case.”
Crowley gave him a quick, almost fatherly smile. “Then we’ll try our best to avoid that.”
“Yes, that would be best,” Alexander said, swallowing heavily.
“Now, sir, where are you staying so that we can keep you apprised of the investigation?” Crowley asked.
“I am staying at the Hotel Thornton, but I must travel to Nottinghamshire tomorrow.”
“I would recommend against it,” Crowley said. “I want to gather up as much evidence as possible before going to Kingston and I’ll need you here in town.”
“You misunderstand. I will be visiting a Miss Elizabeth Stanhope.”
At that, Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. “Hathwaite’s fiancée?”
“The notice in the
Times
is premature,” Alexander said, his voice uncharacteristically hard.
Crowley gave him a look of exasperation. “You have a tendre for the girl?”
“I plan to marry her.”
Crowley rubbed a hand across his forehead. “This complicates matters. Indeed it does.”
Alexander looked from one man to another. “I don’t understand.”
“It gives you a more nefarious motive for attempting to attain your title. That you wish not only to obtain the title but to humiliate your brother, who as you know is, as of this moment, Kingston’s legal heir.”
“I have no wish to humiliate anyone. I love her and wish to marry her. And, because of her father’s agreement with His Grace, I must be named heir if we are to be married. It is that simple.”
The two solicitors were silent for a long time, until Hampton spoke up. “We could use this in our favor,” he said. “Star-crossed lovers, meeting by fate, kept apart by a powerful and malevolent force.”
Crowley smiled in understanding. “The duke.”
“Go on your trip,” Crowley said, “but return here forthwith. No doubt that announcement in the
Times
is motivating this visit?”
Alexander felt his cheeks redden. “Yes, sir.” He had to see her, had to touch her, had to hear her tell him she loved him. Seeing that notice had shaken him, more than he cared to admit.
“With any luck, young man, that notice will be valid. You are, after all, the true Lord Hathwaite, eh?”
Crowley gave him a wink, and Alexander forced a smile. Even though things were proceeding far better than he’d hoped, he still could not help feeling that nothing would turn out the way he planned.
Chapter 20
When the Mansfield Hall butler opened the door to Alexander one day later, the only indication that he recognized him was one slightly raised eyebrow. Indeed, Alexander little resembled the man who’d left the estate two weeks prior, the shaggy-haired artist’s assistant with his common, sometimes paint-stained garb. The man standing before him was dressed as a gentleman, the cut of his clothes impeccable, if not conservative. His boots were shined, his hair was neatly cut, his jaw freshly shaved. The young man even wore gloves, in which he held an expensively engraved calling card, not one of those pedestrian blank ones in which people penciled in their own names.
Nonetheless, Cobbs took the card, and bade Alexander wait outside while he went in search of the baron.
Alexander stood on the marble landing and gazed back at the estate, a small smile of triumph on his lips. How different he felt now, wearing fine clothes and knowing that his goal of attaining his title, and his bride, were closer than ever. The door momentarily opened, revealing Lord Huntington, scowling at him from the shadows of the house.
“I thought you might come,” he said gruffly, and backed into the house, indicating that Alexander should follow him.
“The engagement notice was a bit ... jarring,” Alexander said, “given that I intend to marry your daughter. How is she?”
Huntington grunted and led Alexander to his study. “She’s still abed, but improving a bit each day,” he said, preceding him into the room.
The baron waited until Alexander and he were seated before continuing on. “I have been put in an extremely difficult situation, and I cannot see a good resolution.”
“I understand. I want only to see Elsie before returning to London.”
Lord Huntington let out a growl, but his eyes held less malevolence. “What news have you?”
“I have little to report,” Alexander said, unwilling to disclose information to a man who very well might be in Kingston’s camp. Certainly the news that Alexander had hired a rival firm to represent him—a firm that believed him to be the true Kingston heir—would be information much coveted by his father.
“I am sorry for you, then,” Lord Huntington said, seeming to mean it. “I will allow you to see Elsie only because I do believe she would have me murdered if she found out you were here and I sent you away.”
Alexander grinned and stood up. “May I go now, sir?”
Lord Huntington smiled indulgently and motioned with his hand, dismissing Alexander.
Alexander certainly hadn’t expected a warm greeting, and he was gratified that Lord Huntington was—if not welcoming—at least indulgent. His new boots tapping loudly on the polished floor, Alexander walked hurriedly to the stairs, then took them two at a time, his heart singing.
Elsie was so sick of being sick. Her bum hurt, her head hurt, her eyes hurt. The only consolation she had was that her birthday ball had been suspended and she’d not had to face Lord Hathwaite and accept his proposal in public. How could she when she so loved Alexander? This sickness, as horrible as it was, had at least saved her having to lie and pretend in front of everyone she knew.
Though she had made up her mind not to marry Lord Hathwaite, she was filled with doubts. It was all well and good to want such a thing with your heart, and quite another to condemn your family to a life of humiliation and destitution. At odd moments, a terrible rush of fear would hit her, and her heart would race almost painfully in her chest at the thought of the future and what it would bring.
No matter how she tried, she could not come up with a solution to what she would do if Alexander could not prove himself heir. How could she marry Lord Hathwaite when she loved Alexander so desperately? How could she marry Alexander when it would mean certain ruin for her family?
She stared pensively out the window, wishing she was strong enough to go outside to the garden and breathe fresh air. Missy had refused to open her window, fearing that the cool air would make her worse, and Elsie was hardly strong enough to make the trip to the window, never mind open it. How vexing.
“Would you want to go out to the garden?”
She gasped at the familiar voice, that beloved form, standing at the threshold to her room. “Alexander,” she cried, lifting her hands to him. “Oh, I cannot believe you are here.”
She was in his arms, his wonderfully strong familiar arms, in a second. She breathed in his familiar scent, then pulled back.
“What have you done to yourself?” she said with mock scorn.
Alexander smiled. “I have made myself quite debonair, don’t you think?”
“Quite,” she said, running her hands through his shortened hair and frowning. “I hardly recognize you.”
With that, he pulled her closer and kissed her gently. “A reminder, then, of who I am.”
Elsie pulled him close, unable to let go. “Why did you come? Do you have news?”
“I had to come when I saw that apparently you are planning to marry someone else,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
Elsie lifted her head pertly. “I have no idea what you are speaking of.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “It was quite disturbing to see that the woman I love is engaged to another man.”
“Nonsense,” she said. “You
are
Lord Hathwaite, after all.” She watched as his eyes brightened.
“I’m starting to believe that it may happen.”
“It will,” she said firmly, then pulled him close again, needing to feel his arms around her. Just having him here made her stronger. “Have you heard anything?”
Alexander hesitated and shifted his eyes away briefly. “Nothing concrete, but I am more optimistic than I was when I left. I have hired a solicitor who has promised to investigate my claim.”
Elsie smiled uncertainly. “It is more than a claim, Alexander. It is the truth.”
“I know that and you know that but I don’t want to give you false hope. It could be that I will not be successful and then we shall have to face the consequences.”
Elsie shook her head, not wanting to hear any such thing. “But you seem happier, more optimistic.”
“Yes. Of course.”
Elsie scowled at him, and felt much like a child who wasn’t told precisely what she wanted to hear. She frowned fiercely when Alexander laughed at her.
“All right then, you have tortured me with your frown and I fear I must divulge something to you before you throw yourself from a cliff completely despondent.”
Elsie clapped her hands, immediately appeased.
“The solicitor I hired is from a very prestigious firm, and though they have been exceedingly cautious about making any promises, they are optimistic we will succeed.”
“Really? Oh, Alexander that is wonderful news.”
“I haven’t told your father because his loyalties are with my father, which I quite understand,” he said, when she frowned. “And I didn’t want to tell you and put you in the position of lying to your father. But I can see that you will pout my entire visit, so there it is.”
Elsie wrinkled her nose at Alexander making him chuckle. “Which firm did you hire?”
“Hampton and Crowley.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know many solicitors, other than our own. A Mr. Tillings, a very dour man whom I have vowed to make smile once before he dies.”
“They are a rival firm of my father’s and apparently quite respected.”
“However did you afford...” She stopped, her cheeks growing pink.
“It is a valid question, and my future wife should be apprised of all my finances. And for that reason, I shall tell you.” He kissed her lightly. “For more than twenty years my father has been paying for my room and board at Wickshire. The director has been placing those funds in an account for me on the chance I would one day return. He has also provided documentation proving that my father’s secretary brought me to the asylum, as well as an accounting of the payments.”
Elsie was stunned. “For twenty
years
? But you’ve been gone from there since you were ten years old.”
“Apparently my father was unaware I had left.”
Elsie saw through the nonchalance of his tone to the pain he tried so desperately to hide. “Do you mean to say His Grace didn’t know you had left? All this time?” Alexander shook his head and she thought her heart might break for him all over again. Alexander had been so thoroughly abandoned, the duke hadn’t even made a single inquiry in all that time. “Honestly, I could thrash the man.”
“What say we get married, instead?” Alexander said, smiling. “I think that will do far more harm to him than a thrashing from you.”
Elsie realized that he had changed in the past weeks, seemed more confident, and certainly smiled more easily. If possible, he was even more appealing. He became suddenly serious as his eyes scanned her face, and Elsie felt self-conscious and quite aware of how horrible she must look. Her hair was in a simple braid, her nightgown quite wrinkled.
As if sensing her sudden discomfort, he asked, “How are you feeling, love? Certainly not up to thrashing anyone just yet.”
She self-consciously touched her head and her cheeks flushed. “Getting better, but it’s taking far too long,” she said. “Sometimes I feel as if I will never be as I was.”
“You are far better, and far lovelier than the last time I saw you.”
“I daresay, anything is an improvement from that,” Elsie said, laughing.
Alexander pulled her in for another kiss; it was as if he simply could not stop himself.
“I wish we could make love,” she said, her heart aching. “I wish we could start the rest of our lives now. How long can you stay?”
Alexander shook his head regretfully. “I must return to London tomorrow.”
“So soon?”
“I wouldn’t have come at all if that notice hadn’t run.”
“I am sorry for that. It must have been terrible to read it.”
“Only as bad as a knife to my back, love,” he said, teasing.
Elsie wrinkled her nose. “That is not at all amusing.”
“Can I play the piano for you to make up for my heartlessness?”
“I don’t think I have the strength just yet to go downstairs,” she said, frustration welling up in her. She was so tired of feeling helpless.
“Of course not,” Alexander said, then swept her up into his arms, kissing her soundly as she laughed in delight. It seemed forever since she’d felt so utterly happy.
He effortlessly brought her down the stairs, her arms wrapped around his neck, and he stole kisses along the way. “What shall I play for you?”
“Something happy.”
“And have you seen the mural?”
Elsie shook her head. “My father covered it so that it will be a surprise to me. When I am better, he hopes to unveil it at a ball because my birthday ball was cancelled. It’s extremely maddening. I’m dying to see it, even though I saw it when it was nearly complete.”
“It’s a bit different,” Alexander said mysteriously. “I think you’ll be pleased.”
“How could I not be? It was beautiful even before it was finished. A masterpiece.”
“Worthy of kings?” he teased.
“Or at the very least a future duchess.”
He sat her on the sofa, then pushed the entire thing across the room so that she was near to the piano. When she was settled, he returned to the piano and pounded out a rousing rendition of the American song,
Old Susannah
, making Elsie laugh. Never had she seen Alexander so animated, so handsome in his confidence. It was as if he were another man entirely.
He stopped and turned, his smile wide, looking so beautiful, Elsie felt her heart nearly stop. “I’ve missed you so much,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “It’s been difficult having you away, wondering where you are and if you are all right. I hate this uncertainty, this unending longing.”
Alexander immediately went to her, going to his knees and drawing her close. “Have faith in me, love. Promise me, please. It’s all I have.”
Elsie wiped her tears, angry with herself for giving in to the doubts that assailed her. “I’m a ninny,” she said stoutly. “You know I promise to wait for you. I’m simply growing impatient and maudlin. I wish your father would just accept you so we could marry tomorrow.”
Alexander smiled, fortified by her words. Though he would want to die if he could not marry her, at least he knew she loved him, at least he knew she would wait for him until all was lost. That thought would carry him through the next difficult weeks. “How very coincidental that I have the very same wishes.”
Elsie gave him a watery smile. “Now. Play me another. A polka, if you please.”
Alexander stood and gave her a very gallant bow. “Of course, Mademoiselle.”
After a brief concert, Alexander settled onto the couch next to her, pulling her close. Elsie rested her head on his shoulder, feeling completely content. He was here. He loved her. For now, that was all that mattered. They didn’t even stir when the door to the ballroom opened and her father stepped into the room.