Page 2 of Never Doubt I Love (Calloway #3)

Was it possible to disinherit oneself from one’s family? Alexander Bailey wanted to know. Could he change his name, move far away, pretend he was nothing but a common man with no relations? That question had been plaguing him more and more lately, and as he stood in the corner of an overly crowded music room, straining to hear the pianoforte over the dull roar of conversation, he had never considered the prospect more.

The poor girl at the instrument was putting on a good show of contentment as she stroked the keys with what Alexander assumed was moderate skill, but anyone with half a heart could see her tears threatening to sprout from her eyes. Someone should have warned her that a musicale attended by Lord Hugh Bailey, the Duke of Tipton, would consist of nothing but raucous pandering to His Grace’s love of jabbering.

Alexander had been trying to ignore the duke all evening, but one could only avoid one’s brother so well.

The girl at the pianoforte finished her piece, her hands trembling above the ivory. She seemed to avoid lifting her eyes for fear of realizing no one had truly been listening. Given her young features, this was likely her first Season. This moment could make or break her.

Alexander brought his hands together in applause, and though he was on the opposite side of the room, the sound made the performer jump in alarm and look up. Thankfully, a few others in the room joined in, though they likely had not realized anyone had been playing to begin with, as they were paying all their attention to Hugh.

The girl rose to her feet and sank into a wobbly curtsy before rushing to rejoin her mother, though not without a curious glance toward Alexander.

“Ill-advised move, Alexander,” a low voice said just behind him.

Alexander had been expecting his younger brother, Charles, so he did not so much as flinch, keeping his focus on the toe of his hessian. If he remained outwardly aloof, most people generally avoided him. If only the same could be said of his brothers.

“What move might that be?” he asked, keeping his voice disinterested. He knew better than to indulge, but Charles had already been in a bad mood before leaving the house; perhaps letting him feel important would improve that.

Charles scoffed. “Letting yourself be seen showing interest in a chit with absolutely no value.”

For being a third son, Charles had always possessed an alarming sense of self-importance. Born barely a year after Alexander, he had spent his life trying to prove to anyone who would notice that his worth was above that of anyone else he encountered. The only person he ever showed deference to was Hugh.

Hugh, who was glaring at Alexander from among his ring of admirers.

“You could damage His Grace’s reputation, being seen with something like that,” Charles added.

Alexander straightened his jacket, standing taller. He had learned early on that the only way to survive the torment of his brothers was to show no fear. At this point, almost nothing scared him. “I should think politeness would reflect well on Hugh .”

He had also learned that Hugh hated being called anything but his title, so he made it a point to do so as often as possible. It was a small rebellion, but it gave him some measure of power. Unlike Charles, Alexander refused to be completely ruled by his brother. At twenty-five, he was a grown man with his own life.

Outside of the fact that he was entirely dependent on his brother’s money, of course. He held back a sigh; his life had never been his own, no matter how much he wished it were.

Charles pulled out his snuffbox and placed a pinch of powder on the back of his hand to inhale. “I only came over to offer advice, Brother. His Grace and I have been worried about your inability to find a wife.”

His unmarried brothers were worried, were they? It was Hugh who should have been worried, he being without an heir. He had become the duke nearly ten years ago and, while he may have sired a few children over the years, had yet to procure himself a wife to legitimize any of them. It should not have been very hard to convince someone to agree to his suit, when all he had to do was tell a woman he was a duke. Surely she would say yes.

Heaven help the woman who said yes.

“I am touched,” Alexander muttered. “But as I have not been trying to find a wife, the fact that I do not have one should not be so surprising.”

How could he think of bringing someone into this depraved family of his? No lady deserved that, and he already felt guilty for his mother being trapped within it. At least she was holed away in one of the many unentailed properties, alone but at peace. For once. She had never had that while Father was alive.

Alexander envied how she had managed to so thoroughly tuck herself away from the eyes of the ton . Sometimes Society forgot she even existed, acting as though she had passed when her husband did.

Charles clucked his tongue, puffing out his chest as he surveyed the room. “Not looking for a wife? Too many mistresses to keep you distracted, eh?”

Alexander fought back a grimace. He wished he could convince his brothers to stop treating women as playthings. He had tried once; after what had happened then, he knew it was fruitless to try again.

Perhaps Alexander would approach a man of business and see about removing himself from the Bailey line so he no longer had to endure such horrid comments. He could be happy away from his brothers, if entirely poor.

“Oh look,” Charles said with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “You have an admirer.” Laughing loudly, he slinked back to Hugh’s side.

It was the girl who had played the piece on the pianoforte. She and her mother must have approached the evening’s host for an introduction, as all three were heading Alexander’s way. He watched them out of the corner of his eye, making sure not to actually look at them.

Though he hated being impolite, Alexander would not allow the girl to be scorned by the whole of the room when Hugh decided a connection to someone of her low standing would injure his reputation. Reputation was everything to Hugh. So, without a glance in the ladies’ direction, he crossed to the other side of the room and out onto the terrace.

Blessedly cool air washed over him, easing his tense muscles as he crossed to the wall that lined the terrace. He hadn’t realized how difficult it had become to breathe inside the house until he took his first full breath in probably hours.

If only he could have stayed in Derbyshire and avoided the Season. But Hugh had commanded his appearance at every event, as it would not do to have the brother of a duke look down on Society’s customs. One must be social during the Season, just as one must associate with only those of a similar standing. That had been ingrained into Alexander’s mind his whole life.

“Had enough as well?”

Alexander stiffened, standing up straight and turning to find a man leaning against the side of the house near the door.

Squinting, he tried to discern the features of the man but could make out very little in the darkness. “Beg your pardon?”

The stranger laughed. “I would have thought a Bailey would want to be in the middle of all of that nonsense inside. Personally, I came for the music.”

“Forgive me, but I—”

“Nick Forester.” The man held out a hand and stepped forward, throwing his features into relief from the light inside.

Alexander’s eyebrows shot up. The only person more well-known than Hugh was Nicholas Forester. “We have met,” Alexander said stupidly.

Forester grinned. “Your first Season, was it not? It had to have been five or six years ago, back when I actually cared to meet people.”

It could have been, but Alexander had been a different man then. He tried not to think of those years when he’d acted more like Charles and followed Hugh like a lost puppy. He had been too young and naive to fully realize how awfully he treated others. “I remember,” he said instead of speaking the truth. Men like Forester delighted in being remembered, and Alexander was nothing if not skilled at appealing to a man’s vanity.

Forester’s eyes wrinkled as he fought a smile. “You don’t remember.” It was not a question. “I forgive you. I can hardly blame one of the Rowdy Duke’s loyal followers for forgetting a mere mister.”

“Is that how he is known?”

“You have never heard the moniker?”

“No. But, then again, I only ever associate with my brother’s followers.” A shudder ran through Alexander as the words left a bad taste in his mouth. “Unfortunately,” he added as an afterthought, even if speaking ill of his brother was dangerous. He couldn’t keep the word from slipping out.

Laughing, Forester leaned on the wall, looking out over the garden. “Ever thought of finding yourself some new friends? No offense to His Grace, but his acquaintances lack a certain...” He waved his hand. “Appeal.”

Alexander nearly laughed, though he held it back. He should not insult his brother any more than he already had, especially around someone as influential as the man in front of him. “They are rather an amusing bunch,” he said, hoping that was innocuous enough. “If a little... loud.” He said that right as the gathering in the music room burst into laughter. Good timing, that.

“That is precisely why we came out here,” Forester said, lifting his eyebrows.

That caught Alexander off guard. “We?”

Forester’s expression took on a dreamy quality. “For the music. Do you hear it?”

Though he had to ignore the people inside, Alexander caught hints of soft, feminine voices on the breeze. The ethereal sound sent chills through him, pulling him like a siren’s song to the edge of the terrace. “What is that?”

“My wife and our friend. Their voices suit each other, do they not?”

One of the ladies sang with confidence, her voice deep and smooth, as if made from crystal, like the sound of a wet finger run along the edge of a glass. The other was more timid but no less beautiful, its softer timbre and airy quality reminding Alexander of a summer rain.

Apparently he waxed poetic when put in strange situations. “They are quite talented,” he agreed. “But why are they down in the dark garden? Alone?” What sort of man was Forester to leave his wife unprotected when there were men like Hugh about?

But Forester laughed. “My wife can handle herself, I assure you. As can Miss Calloway.”

“Calloway?” Alexander knew the name well, though he had never met the lady. Lord Calloway did not run in the same circles as men like Hugh and Charles, so neither had Calloway’s sister. But for the last month, Alexander had not been able to enter a ballroom without someone talking about Miss Olivia Calloway and her enormous dowry, among other assets, and he had to admit he had been rather curious about the lady. She had made quite a splash with her entrance last month.

“Have you met her yet?” Forester asked, lifting one eyebrow and studying Alexander a bit too closely for his liking.

Alexander tucked his arms behind his back. “I have not had the pleasure.”

“Then, I shall introduce you. I think you will—”

“Thank you, but I should return to my brother. He will have noticed my absence.” Heat rose up Alexander’s neck as he considered how like a cut direct that might have sounded. He hadn’t meant it that way, but he would do well to remember that anyone who made his acquaintance would also have to make Hugh’s acquaintance. Better to save the poor girl from the Rowdy Duke’s wandering eyes.

Forester glanced toward the door to the music room. “His Grace keeps you on a short lead, does he?”

Alexander gritted his teeth. That was not a question he could afford to answer. “It was a pleasure to meet you again, Mr. Forester. Do give my compliments to the bearers of such lovely voices.”

As he slipped back inside the house, he kept his eyes down to avoid having to interact with anyone else unless it was someone Hugh would approve of. Not because he had any desire to please his brother but because he had seen the consequences firsthand when he did not.

And he would not have his heart broken again.