Duke of Darkness by Anabelle Bryant Read Free Book Online

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.
    “As you wish, although I am sure we will be great friends. A bath is just what I need.” Alexandra walked across the room and picked up her travelling bag. “Shall I ring for you when I am ready to dress for dinner?”
    “Of course, milady. You will have a grand time at dinner. Viscount Fenhurst is expected as well as his sister, and they are lively company. Lord Fenhurst is His Grace’s very best chum. They grew up side by side. His sister, Lady Julia, was quite the tagalong through all their adventures. I suppose she still follows a bit now, but then that’s to be expected when you see the way she admires His Grace.” Tillie took a necessary breath. “But I keep you from your bath with my chatter.” The maid curtseyed again and left the room.
    Alexandra smiled in relief. She collapsed against the back of the door to enjoy the solitude. Then she fairly skipped to the next room and sank into the steaming hot tub of bubbles.
     
    Devlin stared at the Oriental rug and focused on the small leather bag resting on a makeshift holder. He arched both arms backwards in a long, swift stroke and brought the wooden club down through to completion. The ball shot forward, out through the opened terrace doors, as an enthusiastic bark sounded in the distance below.
    “Nice shot, I say. Have you improved or does my eyesight fail me?” Phineas Betcham, Viscount Fenhurst, strode into the study and veered left to the brandy decanter. “Reeston no longer bothers to announce me. This whole laissez-faire attitude with the servants is going to come back to haunt you some day.” He poured himself a healthy portion and settled on the brown leather sofa while Devlin set for another shot.
    The slice of the club sheering the air was the only sound in the room for the next moment. Then Devlin turned and smiled. “My staff is my family as much as you are, Phin. You know that. I can’t stand on tradition when there are many evenings Reeston might be in here chatting about golf instead of you.” He fixed another ball on the well-worn strip of carpet used as a beginning point. “Besides, they’ve all seen me through so much, what difference does a title make when you consider the bigger picture?” He glanced out of the terrace doors, lowered his head and took another swing. A series of deep barks could be heard after the ball launched.
    “Don’t tell me King is outside cheering you on?” Phin viewed him, amused.
    “I’ve taught him to retrieve the bags. Makes sense, doesn’t it?” Devlin angled his club against the corner of the sofa and walked to the sideboard to pour a drink.
    “You have entirely too much time on your hands, Dev.”
    “I know. Isn’t it great?” He chuckled, although his expression faltered. “And where is the lovely Lady