.
When Justin was summoned once again to Avon’s house, he went with little fear since he was not only sober, but thought his plans for Alex very good.
He’d also read the papers that morning and was pleased with the story that had been attached. His name had been mentioned as Alexandra Smith’s escort into high society.
The article had also mentioned Alex’s work with the children at the orphanage, citing her use of the toy store as a way to collect donations for children at Best Homes so that they would have gifts on Christmas Day. She was giving back to the place she’d grown up, even though she didn’t have to. She was being painted just as saintly as the woman who’d founded the homes, and Justin was glad to be the one whose arm she held through the next portion of her life.
In fact, needing to please Avon had little to do with it. Being close to Alex was reward enough. He’d spent half the night obsessing about her mouth and the boldness with which she’d kissed him. It had been unexpected but welcomed in every way.
He could still feel her hands on him and remembered the determination that had been in her eyes before she’d placed her lips on him.
He was sure he was the luckiest man alive to have been kissed by her. He was undeserving of her favor, but he wanted it again. He wanted everything she wished to give him. His only regret was that it had been far too short. He’d not gotten to touch her skin, her hair, her face. His hands had gone to her hips to pull her closer to him and that connection had been enough to make Justin weep.
He felt as though he’d been missing something and, like the goddess she was, Alexandra had breathed life back into his body, making him whole and perhaps even cleansing him.
He was still dirty, he knew. His hands and soul were corrupt, but he didn’t feel it as strongly when she was near. That kiss must have been the cure for all his failings, the answer to his prayers.
Holding her had been better than he’d thought it would be. It was like holding sunlight and a kiss from the stars, light shining into the darkest and most foul parts of his soul.
He raced up the stairs to Avon’s front door and thought he couldn’t wait to see her later that morning, hating that calling hours were so late. He’d woken with her on his mind and couldn’t get her out.
He didn’t want her out.
He wanted her deeper, embedded in him.
He wanted…
All of her.
If the kiss meant anything, he hoped it meant she wanted the same.
He’d undoubtedly be mocked for taking on a bride who lacked both wealth and status, but he’d grown used to mockery. He didn’t need the ton’s approval. What he needed was someone as bright and warm as Alexandra.
His Alexandra. His morning song, a woman with the gift to start and still his heart. Justin had never thought himself a poet, but for Alexandra he’d be anything she wished.
He was shown down a hall he knew well and didn’t hesitate to enter.
Avon was sitting at his desk, holding a cloth to his mouth, but he moved it away as he met Justin’s eyes. “You’re cleverer than I thought you. Had I known all it took was a pretty face to get you in order, I’d have sent my courtesan around weeks ago.”
The fact that a man like Avon still kept courtesans upset Justin’s stomach, but he didn’t bother telling the duke that Alex was more than a pretty face. Instead he asked, “How do you know what she looks like?”
Avon grunted to clear his throat and frowned. “You think anything escapes me? You’d not have offered to escort her had she had the face of a donkey.”
Justin wasn’t sure on that account. Yesterday, he’d been so full of fear, but today… He simply smiled at Avon and asked, “Why have you called me?”
Avon lifted a thin hand and pointed a curved finger to the chair in front of his desk. “Tell me your plan for the girl.”
Justin hesitated, as one should when dealing with Richard de Gray. There was always more going on in his mind than he let on, and he always saw more than a man wished to show. Justin knew he’d have to be cautious with him and slowly moved forward to take a chair. Once he was settled, he didn’t waste time, knowing it best to keep his answers as precise as possible. “I plan to escort her to various parties and balls around London. Any dinner invitations I receive shall be extended to her as well.”
“And to what end will you do all of this?” Avon asked.
Justin took a moment and said, “Well, to see that she is properly married.” Though he had no intention of telling the duke that he was thinking of marrying the woman himself.
Avon watched him closely. “You think a man would want to marry a bastard?”
Justin flinched, but it was quick, and he righted his face before his next blink.
Still, the term the duke had used to describe Alexandra burned in his belly. “I think there will be men of the ton who find her enchanting.”
“Enchanting,” Avon’s eyes widened. “Are you enchanted?”
“You already know she’s pretty,” Justin replied as answer. “I plan to give her a dowry as well. If the new Lord Wint wishes to repay me when he returns to England, so be it.”
Avon nodded and said, “The party was glad to read your story in the paper.”
Justin had suspected as much, though he’d not been able to confirm it since Avon had barred him from Bellamy’s.
Avon leaned back in his chair and said, “You may go.”
Justin jumped from his seat, bowed, and walked toward the door.
He was stopped by Avon’s final words.
“See that she doesn’t marry anyone in the party. Once the novelty of Mary Elizabeth Best wears off, Ms. Smith will once again be nothing more than a viscount’s by blow.”
Justin turned to him and met Avon’s eyes.
He knew.
Justin said, “I plan to leave the party.”
“You can’t,” the duke said. “We need your vote.”
He shook his head as his heart raced. “What happens if I leave anyway?”
Avon smiled slowly and cruelly. “Then I’ll blackball you from Bellamy’s.”
He’d suffer, but not greatly when he recalled that he’d have Alex. There were other clubs he could join, though none were as good as Bellamy’s.
The duke must have seen Justin come to his conclusion, because he went on, “Countess or not, the lady will suffer as your wife. She’ll not be welcomed in my home and thus, not in many others.”
Justin thought that was bad, but then he recalled the way Alex was with her family. “She already has all the approval she could ever need.”
“From whom?” Avon asked. “Christmas Smith? I’ll ruin him along the way as well. I’ll ruin them all, every child that came from that orphanage. And I’ll lay the damage at your feet.”
Justin blinked. “Why?” His feelings for Alex made him feel brave. “What do you gain from ruining me?”
Avon lifted a brow. “I gain your compliance.” He said it as though the answer were clear.
“The ton would shame you,” Justin tried.
“The ton would thank me.” Avon eased himself to his feet and said, “If you think that Alexandra becoming known to the world doesn’t frighten the peerage, then you are sorely mistaken. They’ll only accept her because it’s their God-given duty, but make no mistake—Lord Wint was not the only one with a bastard or two. What happens if another name is revealed from that diary?”
Justin had not thought of this, but the more he did, the more he began to wonder why he’d not thought of it before. Of course, there would be an uproar. Best Homes contained, at last count, over three hundred children. He was sure that most of the young ones who came in had no noble blood to claim, but it didn’t mean that Alexandra was all that rare. Justin could think of a few men he himself had heard claim a bastard or two. Some kept their second families in apartments where they could visit. Others abandoned them. How many of the latter had ended up just like Alexandra?
Justin was sure that Lord Wint hadn’t known about her because of the sadness he always glimpsed in the man’s eyes whenever Justin would visit, as well as a conversation he’d heard as a boy about them possibly adopting. Lord and Lady Wint had been more than just friends of his father’s. They’d been friends to him as well, and he often saw the longing look in their eyes when they looked at Justin, Lady Wint especially.
They’d known what his mother was like. She hadn't hidden her distaste for her oldest child.
Gerard had once suggested it was the reason Justin had sought out a woman like Mrs. Lydia Shaw. He was looking for the comfort that had been lacking him in his youth. The conversation had ended with Justin delivering Gerard a facer.
Gerard had gotten in his own blows, and they’d not spoken to one another for the rest of the day.
It was about as long as they’d ever gone without speaking, because the two were much too close to let anything like a misspoken word come between them.
Besides Justin, Gerard kept few other friends. At one point in his life, there had been a few others, but Avon had chased them away until only Justin remained, taking whatever Avon threw at him. Avon was like sandpaper with the ability to wear a man’s soul down to the very marrow. Avon repeatedly reached Justin’s marrow, but after living with a mother like Christine, Justin could withstand him.
Would withstand him.
Avon went on, “You can’t have the girl. Have your way with her, surely, but give her to someone else. A Whig, preferably.”
Justin knew he was a Tory but couldn’t recall what a Tory believed to save his life. This was reason enough never to drink again. He’d allowed Avon to influence him during his grief. They’d had a conversation that Justin could not remember. He sometimes even feared what he may have revealed during the discussion, and now he was stuck. Avon would destroy everything if Justin didn’t obey, and Justin could not have such a thing on his conscience. Alex’s family didn’t deserve to suffer because of him.
Before Avon could read him anymore, he bowed and left, his mind racing just as fast as his feet.
Perhaps he could simply keep her unmarried until Avon died. Yet while the man grew weaker every day, Justin doubted men like Avon died without the whole world feeling the repercussion.
Justin didn’t know what to do.
He barely knew what the right thing to do was, but he knew he’d have to take things slow with Alex.