Page 27 of Stealing a Scoundrel's Heart
“Dukes are rarely refused entry.”
Alister interrupted the man whose cheeks were flushed red. “Rarely, you say. When have you ever been denied something you wanted?”
“Ha! Only a man who has never been married would ask such a foolish question.” His grace settled into the chair opposite the one Alister had occupied earlier. “Marrie returned to town with my wife three days ago.”
Alister downed his drink and poured another before taking his seat. Merely knowing Marjorie was close had restarted his heart that pounded against his chest.
The duke swished the amber liquid in his glass in a circle. “She’s changed.”
“Who has changed?”
“Marrie.”
His mind raced. Was she sad? Was she angry at him for leaving her like every other male in her life had? Alister leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and rolled his glass between his palms. “Is she well?”
“Marrie appears to be in fine spirits. However, my wife and sister are concerned…” He held up a hand to stop Alister from interrupting again, and said, “Let me clarify. They arenotconcerned about Marrie… their concern is for you.”
“Me?”
“Yes,you. And what concerns my wife concerns me.” The Duke of Fairmont lifted his drink and finished it off. “Don’t worry, I shan’t let you fail.”
He hadn’t slept in days, but his confusion wasn’t due to lack of sleep but entirely to the man’s ambiguity. “Fail what, or should I not bother to ask?”
“Fail to convince Marrie to marry you. Why else would I be here?”
“I’ve been asking myself that exact question. Your wife made it quite clear she didn’t believe I passed muster…”
“You fool. You were supposed to stay and convince her that you are more than worthy of Marrie. Instead, you ran.”
“Marrying Marjorie would subject her to living a lie. A lie that I myself cannot stomach.”
“Is this a lie of your doing?”
“No.”
“Would the Dartman estate have survived if it had landed in the hands of another man?”
“Perhaps.”
“I don’t agree. According to the Bow Street Runners’ report, the estate was in shambles. It was your mama who managed to hold on until you came of age, and since then both title and estate have flourished.” The duke placed his empty glass on the side table, stood, and looked down at Alister. “Whether you call yourself Dartman or Whalen, you are a noble gentleman. Maxwell saw to that. Don’t disappoint the man.”
Alister stood, and although he was taller it still seemed as if the duke was looking down at him. “I want the name of this Bow Street Runner.”
The door swung open with a swoosh.
Foxton marched into the room and stopped mere inches from the Duke of Fairmont. “You're not a member. Out.”
“Foxton. It’s been a while.”
“Not long enough.” Foxton motioned to the door. “I mean it—OUT.”
It had been a long time since Alister witnessed Foxton’s anger. Whatever occurred between the two wasn’t going to be settled with mere apologies.
The duke took a few steps toward the door and stopped. “Foxton, Marrie would love for you and Dartman to come by and pay a visit. I’ll expect you both at Fairmont Manor during the morning calling hours. Flowers are required, and my wife prefers sunflowers these days.” Without further ado, his grace exited, leaving Alister alone with Foxton.
“Marrie is back in town?” Foxton asked. “And residing with his grace?”
Alister slumped back into his chair. “Apparently so.”
