Page 3 of Married to the Ruthless Duke

He handed it over to his friend, who scanned it quickly with a frown.

“Do you think they’ll try to—” James asked.

“I am certain they would,” Alexander responded with a nod. “That’s why I need to marry. And quickly.”

“Will Honeyfield’s girl be wise enough to manage your family?”

“I certainly do hope so,” Alexander replied. “If she isn’t, she’ll have to learn quickly.”

“But it’s not fair to put such pressure on the girl.”

“It isn’t, but she’ll learn to live with it as I have.”

James glared at him, shaking his head. “I didn’t think you the type to put someone through something so horrible.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” Alexander spat.

Guilt was not a feeling he was accustomed to, and he hated how his friend’s words gutted him. He knew dragging a girl he didn’t know into his family’s mess was unfair and the most heartless thing to do, but the benefits he had to gain from the business deal and giving his family a new target far outweighed the guilt he felt.

“You’re a ruthless bastard, Blackhill.” James laughed darkly at last.

“That’s all I’ve ever been.”

“Mate…”

“I will see you tomorrow,” Alexander announced, rising from his seat, rudely interrupting his only friend’s attempt to comfort him.

He didn’t need it. Not now and not ever.

He wasn’t the sad little boy he had been when his father had died and his stepmother had packed up her things and left with his step-siblings.

No. He was a man grown now, forged from the fires that would have broken lesser men, a formidable force to be reckoned with.

Even if he claimed repeatedly that he didn’t care for the ton, he was ecstatic about their fear and admiration of him, and he derived even greater pleasure from evading his family’s attempts to trap him in scandal, since he refused to waste any more of his hard-earned money paying off his half-brother’s gambling debt.

Not that his half-sister was any better with her constantly racking up debt in the modiste’s shop and jewelers, but he tolerated her excesses, as she wasn’t tarnishing their family name.

“I will see you tomorrow then,” his friend bit out, rising from his seat. “Hopefully you’ll be in less of a pissy mood.”

Alexander watched his friend leave through the window of his study, which overlooked the front of his home, smiling at the obscene gesture his friend made before stepping into his carriage.

His thoughts drifted to his soon-to-be wife, Miss Helen, daughter of the Viscount Honeyfield. He wondered if she was as beautiful as the mythological bearer of the name. James had described her as a beauty and a social butterfly, but he wondered at how she remained unmarried at twenty.

Perhaps she was like the other debutantes and marriage-minded mamas trying to trap a duke, so they could raise their family’s social standing.

“Your Grace,” his man of affairs, Foley, greeted, stepping into his study.

“Yes, Foley?” Alexander asked, returning to his seat.

“A letter arrived for you.”

Foley presented the small envelope to Alexander and stepped out.

Alexander’s eyes widened when he looked at the seal on the envelope. The Earl of Frampton had written back to him. Anxiety welled within him as he searched for a letter opener.

When he finally found it, he slipped into his seat, hoping for a positive response to his request to have dinner with the man. He frowned as he read the letter. The Earl had declined his invitation to dinner, which was an expected outcome but one that stung, nonetheless.

He crumpled the paper and threw it in the fire, deciding he had to go see the Viscount Honeyfield and secure the marriage license as quickly as he could. The reports on the man had come in quickly and had shown his nearly impoverished state. He would have to be a fool to turn down a marriage proposal from a man of Alexander’s standing.

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