“Please tell him I’ll be with him shortly. As you can see, I’m not fit for company,” Alex replied with a dismissive nod.
“Yes, sir,” Alfred said with a bow before he strode off.
Twenty minutes later, Alex presented himself in the drawing room, freshly bathed and dressed from head to toe in cotton and wool in a brown as sober as his mood.
“Ah, Cartwright,” Lord Cranford said upon his entrance, slowly rising to his feet with the help of a mahogany cane, his bare hand proffered in greeting. “I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you by calling without an invitation.” His jowls quivered from the force of his smile, which stretched across a small narrow face unbalanced by the leftward hook of his nose.
Alex forced a smile, taking the earl’s hand in a brief handshake. “I hope you weren’t terribly inconvenienced by the wait,” he said, smoothly evading the question.
“Think nothing of it. I passed the time comfortably. I hope you won’t mind if I sit. My knees have been paining me all day. A sure sign of rain tomorrow.” The earl renewed his place on the brushed velvet sofa and although Alex would have preferred to stand, he followed suit and took up a seat in a wing-backed chair. There wouldn’t be anything particularly pleasant about the coming conversation.
“Can I offer you something to drink or perhaps something to eat?” Alex asked.
Lord Cranford dismissed his offer with a negligent toss of his hand, the diamond on his signet ring glinting as it caught the sunlight pouring through the window behind him. “Your man saw to my needs. I couldn’t eat another bite.”
Which meant his wait had been considerable, possibly over an hour. Better to get the damn thing over with. “So to what do I owe to this call, my lord?”
The earl cleared his throat, straightened his legs with a slight wince and shot a look about the spacious drawing room before returning his gaze to Alex. “Cartwright, how long has it been since you began calling on my daughter? Three, perhaps four months?”
“No more than three months if I remember correctly,” Alex replied blithely. He hadn’t been wrong in his thoughts. The earl had come to press his own suit.
“Yes, yes indeed. Just as I thought. One might consider three months ample time to decide on the suitability of a person might one not?” he said, inclining his head toward Alex as if to compel him to agree.
“Indeed, I believe three months might be more than ample time to make a judgment on such matter.” It certainly had been for him. Alex thought of the emerald betrothal ring in his master suite upstairs. He’d purchased it with every intention of asking Lady Mary for her hand three weeks ago. But a day’s delay had slipped quickly and all too easily, until soon he could count the delay by weeks instead of days. Now, given the change in circumstances, he was more than a little relieved he hadn’t gone through with it. A betrothal would have been a nightmare of a predicament to extricate himself from.
Lord Cranford made a pleased sound, like the purr of a tiger, deep in his throat. He smiled again, showing off a row of white, slightly crooked teeth. “Ah, very good. I’m happy to hear. Then I assume I can expect a call from you before too long. I’m sure you know my Mary comes with quite a substantial dowry. Not to say, my good man,” he hastened to add in a jovial tone, “that you are in need of it. Why, to your fortune, you no doubt see it as but a paltry sum.”
Alex’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile or a frown. When had thirty thousand pounds ever been considered paltry? The earl was being coy. “My lord, am I being pressed to fish or cut bait?” he asked blandly.
A wash of red suffused a complexion that probably hadn’t been touched by sunlight in years. The earl appeared taken aback and didn’t speak for several moments, eyeing Alex as if attempting to gauge the true inference of the question.
“What I’m attempting to convey, my lord, is that my daughter is much sought after.” He said it with all the pomposity of a father who knew his daughter’s worth.
Indeed, thirty thousand pounds.
“Many men have already approached me for her hand. She is of course, partial to your attentions, but she won’t wait around forever. I’m merely urging you to press your advantage.”
In other words, you have the advantage because you are excessively wealthy and heir to one of the oldest and most powerful dukedoms in all of England. Alex had long since become familiar with aristocratic speak: the polite way to express one’s single-minded ambition for money and position.
Alex tempered a wry smile at the earl’s equating three months to forever as he was certain it would not be well received. “Then I would urge your daughter not to refuse any further marriage offers on my account.”
Lord Cranford’s eyes widened and his jowls shook this time from the force of his inhalation. Bending his knees, he clambered unsteadily to his feet without the assistance of his cane or a wince even when his lower leg banged against the curved leg of the rosewood table. What followed was a silence that strained every bit of civility in his narrow-eyed countenance.
“Are you telling me you have no intention of asking my daughter for her hand?”
Alex pushed to his feet and with his half foot height advantage had an eagle’s view of the bits of pink scalp peeking through the earl’s gray thinning hair.
“I don’t believe we would make a good match.” Another face appeared in his mind’s eye One with dark gold ringlets and eyes the blue of the Mediterranean Sea. How apropos she’d returned and resumed where she’d left off—wreaking havoc on almost everything in his life. But good God, this time he’d make sure she paid.
Alex could tell by the venomous look in Lord Cranford’s brown eyes that the man would like nothing better than to be his physical superior. His hands, much like the rest of his slight frame, shook with rage. “Not make a good match? You insolent little cur, you won’t find another better than my Mary.”
“Then I shall consider that my loss.” Lady Mary was lovely and would have made an adequate wife, carrying out the duties of a duchess with aristocratic aplomb. But she certainly wasn’t irreplaceable. No woman was. Many others would fill the role just as nicely. What annoyed him was the inconvenience of having to begin the ordeal of a courtship again after he’d concluded the whole affair with her.
“You are a—”
“And while I understand your anger, beg I remind you, my lord, I made no promises to either you or your daughter.”
“You are nothing but a—”
“I will bid you adieu before you say something you will no doubt come to regret.” Alex turned to one of the footman who never ventured far when he entertained guests—although that itself was a rarity—and now stood framed in the opening of the drawing room. “Please see the earl out.”
While Lord Cranford sputtered in growing affront, Alex quietly departed.
Five years ago, he would have felt more than a pinch of remorse, for despite his avowal to the contrary, his manner would have led any parent to believe marriage would be the result of his attentions to their daughter. Today he couldn’t summon up any emotion beyond irritation. And Lady Mary would hardly suffer. As her father had been eager to point out, she had a litter of men vying for her hand.
Alex made his way to his study, a place where he could bar the outside world from entry. But he didn’t bar the door, he merely closed it, instinctively crossing the room to the sideboard. He pulled himself up with a vigorous shake of his head just as his hand reached for the crystal decanter, the fingers of his other hand already curved in anticipation of the glass.
The decanter was empty. The glass was naught but a decorative piece of etched crystal. Both had gone unused for two years. Alex abruptly dropped his arms, curled his hands into fists and strode over to the black leather armchair.