Anabelle Bryant - Duke Of Darkness

She raised her eyes to his face. Devlin stared back with such clarity he likely never slept at all. A shiver passed through her with the realization, still she couldn’t look away. His eyes, framed with lashes black as midnight and twice as thick, held her with hypnotic strength as if striving with unsettling intensity to peer inside her soul. Mortification crept up her neck and further to her ears in the form of a deep blush.

He cleared his throat with an audacious chuckle.

Luckily Henry interceded with a sharp bark, a clear signal the dog needed to make use of a nearby field.

Devlin tapped the carriage roof and signalled to stop. Once outside, he spoke to the footman and Alexandra hurried down the steps and into a grassy area with Henry, although she swore she heard Wharncliffe’s laughter chase after her.

He waited by the stairs to hand her up when she returned.

“Just Henry can ride atop with John. Your dog will be in good hands and it will allow the pup fresh air.”

He handed Henry atop the seat before she objected, although it did make sense and would serve Henry well. Having begun the trip so early, they’d travelled more than halfway to London, and it was as if Devlin read her thoughts when he mentioned his intentions.

“I’ve advised the driver to travel straight through if that is agreeable with you. Given your lack of maid or chaperone, and the haste we make in an effort to return to London, I thought it best to complete our travels as soon as possible.”

He handed her into the barouche and settled on the other side. Again good sense prevailed. The sooner she reposed in the privacy of her own bedchamber, the sooner she could plan the next step in her life. No matter Aunt Min’s well-intended gesture, Alexandra knew with assurance she would salvage the situation yet.

Devlin reached into his waistcoat pocket and produced the same tin she’d puzzled over earlier.

“Cinnamon candy?” He enquired in an amused tone. Could he read her mind? Divine her thoughts? There was something persistent and unsettling about how neatly his questions aligned with her own.

The next afternoon, Alexandra’s restless anticipation escalated as the carriage approached Kenley Manor. She would give her little finger to exit the confinement of the coach and breathe open air. They’d travelled at a breakneck speed through the night, with only necessary stops. After much effort, she’d found an awkward form of sleep, and settled into a fitful slumber, but now the remnants of their haphazard travel wore her temperament to the bone.

His Grace appeared no better. He’d deliberately dozed during the day with the intention of staying awake throughout the night. She could only assume he did so for a measure of safety, but she hesitated on drawing any obvious conclusions. She’d never mixed much in society, yet prided her ability to decipher the male mind, her father and Addington simplistic in their thinking. Yet Devlin proved something altogether different; the man’s reasoning as mysterious as his appearance. She would need to work harder to decipher his manner of consciousness.

At least Henry proved no bother and found a comfortable blanket and a new friend on the top bench with the footman.

The barouche made a turn onto the long drive leading to Devlin’s estate and Alexandra could no longer contain her impatience. How she yearned for a hot bath and a comfortable bed. With restless anticipation she peered out the window, the drive lined with walnut trees, their leaves a mottled green. There was not another house for as far as the eye could see, the property so expansive. Right at the center stood Kenley Manor, if one could label the large building as a single household. Her breath caught and she dismissed it as need for fresh air, yet with each revolution of the carriage wheels, her mind spun faster.

Brick upon brick, the home rose to the sky, each level marked by varying sized windows, the tallest at the top to accommodate the high ceilings indicative of the most opulent rooms. Concrete balconies complimented the upper sash windows, a few overlooking a cobblestone walkway, and pilasters outlined the massive front doors. The grounds were impeccably manicured and instead of appearing over-run by the verdant green ivy that crept up the north wall, the blanket of green appeared perfectly placed.

She exited the coach and a line of servants assembled to angle up the manor steps in a makeshift processional that echoed a formality she’d never have paired with Wharncliffe. Again, she amended her thoughts. He was a member of the aristocracy, after all.

Much to her surprise, Devlin had sent a messenger ahead and she was introduced to each member of the household. Considering the series of events that led her to Kenley Manor in the course of two short days, her heart softened at the unexpected gesture.

Perhaps her stay would not prove so terrible. She glanced over her shoulder to see her new guardian in discussion with Reeston, the butler. He held Henry captive at his side in an attempt to prevent the pup from tearing through the long hall on an adventure to explore the new surroundings. Henry’s tail wagged with furious enthusiasm. Such a striking contrast, the angry little white pup in the arms of the dark duke. His butler said something and a smile graced Devlin’s lips. For an odd moment, he appeared vulnerable and her breath caught. He must have sensed her attention as he turned in her direction. His eyes caught hers and held for longer than was proper, her heart hammering in her chest triple time. Surely everyone on the steps could hear it. With a little gasp of surprise at her sudden rush of emotion, she averted her attention and followed the housemaid upstairs.

Chapter Eight

Tillie was the most talkative individual Alexandra had ever met. The petite maid, whose dark brown curls bobbed with as much energy as her conversation, spoke non-stop all the way to the west wing, quite a distance from their point of origin. Oh, it was refreshing to hear everything the young girl shared, but to have it rattled at such speed and quantity after the long confinement of her travels was enough to send Alexandra to bed for the night. But of course, that would be unacceptable. Tillie had already informed her of the menu, the guests in attendance, and of the expectations for the evening. The young maid was a force to be reckoned with, of that Alexandra was sure, yet she meant well and possessed the smile of an angel.

“Well, here we are. It is a wonder His Grace ordered this wing opened for your arrival. No one stays in this part of the estate. Well, not since his parents.” Tillie paused and took a much needed breath, although the silence lasted only that long. “In you go, then.” The maid pushed open the door and stepped aside as Alexandra entered a large guest bedroom decorated in varied shades of pink. Floral tapestries decorated the walls and evoked an instant smile.

“I’ve gone ahead and arranged for your bath in the next room, milady.” Tillie opened the compact travelling valise placed on the bedchamber floor. How a footman had visited her room so quickly caused Alexandra to wonder at the efficiency of Wharncliffe’s servants. Impeccable, of course, in tune to his clothing. She set her personal bag on a wooden chest at the foot of the bed.

“Please, Tillie, you must call me Alexandra. Everyone does.” Well, almost everyone. A sudden flash of Devlin’s amused grin shot to mind. She pulled the pins from her hair and ran her fingers through the knotty mess. It would present a challenge to untangle her hair in any semblance of order before dinner. She hoped Tillie was as skilful with the toilette as she was in information dispersal.

“I could never do so, milady, but I thank you for your kindness.” The maid curtseyed and turned to leave.