Page 2

Chapter two

Alexander

Lord Alexander Dunham of Eldenwilde paced his study as he waited for the librarian to arrive.

It was not unusual for him to see the librarian, but it was unusual for him to be this nervous.

His palms were sweating, and he had a hard time drawing enough air into his lungs. As he continued to pace, one foot in front of the other, back and forth across his study, his mind raced.

If she didn’t agree to his plan, he wasn’t sure what would happen.

He glanced out the window, hoping to see her arriving, but there was still no one in sight.

His message had requested that she come as soon as she could, and she usually came very promptly. But he’d never had something so important to tell her before, and he’d never been waiting for her to arrive like this.

Rose stared at him and yowled in disapproval.

“I know,” he told her, glaring at her. “I know you don't like it, but I don't know what else to do.”

Rose ignored him, turning away.

Alexander sighed. “It's not as if I can see any other way out of it,” he said. “Believe me, I have thought through so many scenarios, I don't even know how to tell you how many there have been. But the fact remains that if I am not married, I am vulnerable.”

Maybe even if he was married, but he didn’t want to think about that.

“You know Lohndrey is coming back,” he said, his voice beginning to sound a little desperate, even to himself. “And if I don't have a wife, he's going to force me to marry his daughter.”

Rose looked unimpressed.

“I just can't. Not to mention the fact that it would then give him access to my estate, with his daughter as its mistress, and I can't be responsible for allowing a sorcerer access to an estate like that. My people deserve better from me. There is too much at stake for me to stand idly by—not when time is running out.”

If his father was to be believed, the sorcerer would be coming back with his daughter on the eve of his thirtieth birthday.

If only he could talk to Jenkins about it…but he hadn't been able to tell a soul.

Every time he tried, his voice would stop working. Over the years, he had tried to slip references to the curse into his daily conversation, but no matter what he said, it never seemed to click—not that he expected it to.

Since magic had been outlawed years ago, no one he spoke to on a daily basis had any reason to suspect that he was under a magical curse. It simply wasn't something that would be in the normal realm of possibilities.

But, as he had learned on that day so many years ago, magic was real. And even though it was outlawed, there were still people practicing it, like the sorcerer who’d had a need for vengeance against his family.

So now he needed a wife, and fast. Because if there was one thing he knew, it was that he could not marry the murderer’s daughter.

He stopped pacing and collapsed into the chair by the fire. Rose, sensing that he had stilled for a moment, followed him, jumped up onto his lap, curled up there, and began to purr. He methodically stroked her back and took a deep breath.

Getting married before his thirtieth birthday wasn’t something he’d planned on doing, but it didn’t seem out of the realm of the ordinary. And while marrying someone just for the sake of being married wasn’t his favorite plan, it seemed like the best option to protect both him and his people.

He could only hope that the sorcerer wouldn’t take it out on them—or his wife.

Hopefully, Beatrice would say yes, because of all the girls he knew in the region, she was the only one he could imagine marrying. None of the nobility were eligible—Lord Taylor's daughters and Lady Liliana Rendon were far too young for him. He could have gone to Riyel to find a bride, but he didn’t want to risk Lohndrey arriving when he wasn’t home.

A local bride was necessary, and Beatrice Montgomery fit everything he needed.

She was surprisingly well-educated, and she wasn't vapid like many of the ladies he’d met in Riyel. She was less afraid of him than the rest of the commoners, and at least they could discuss books if they had nothing else in common.

It didn’t hurt that she was beautiful, too.

But that was entirely inconsequential. She was the most suitable option, and if she turned him down, he would be stuck.

All he could do was hope that he would be persuasive enough to convince her that marrying him was a better option than staying a librarian.

He shot to his feet at the sound of footsteps in the hallway, displacing the cat, who let him know she was displeased by digging her claws into his shin.

But he didn’t pay attention to Rose.

Was she here already?

But when the door opened, it was simply Jenkins, who opened the door and frowned at him. “You’re going to ruin the floor with your pacing, my lord,” he said. “Why don’t you sit?”

Alexander shook his head, shaking the cat off and beginning to pace yet again. “How can I sit?” he asked. “You know what I’m about to ask her.”

“You know I don’t approve,” Jenkins said, a sour look crossing his face.

“I know,” Alexander said.

Jenkins had been there for the aftermath of the sorcerer’s first visit. He’d been there helping to extinguish the fire and had been there when his father and mother succumbed to their wounds.

But he didn’t know everything.

Jenkins hadn’t been there when Alexander’s father had told him, his voice cracking, that the sorcerer had forcibly bound him to a betrothal agreement before disappearing in the flash of fire and smoke that set their rose garden ablaze and mortally wounded his parents. He hadn’t been there to overhear that Alexander and his parents were cursed to silence about the whole matter.

He hadn’t been alone, wrestling with the fact that he was betrothed to a murderer’s daughter, for the past fourteen years.

The investigation into the fire hadn’t turned up any trace of the sorcerer, and if it weren’t for the fact that his voice wouldn’t work any time he tried to discuss it, he could almost pretend he’d imagined the whole thing.

“What will you do if she says no?” Jenkins asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I will do everything in my power to make sure that she doesn’t,” Alexander said.

From the corner, Rose muttered a yowl, and he turned to her and shook his head.

“That’s enough from you,” he said. “He’s already upset with me. I don’t need you being cranky with me, too.”

The orange cat let out another disapproving sound and turned her back to him.

“She’s an odd one,” Jenkins said, frowning at the cat. “It’s almost like she can understand you.”

“Yes, it is,” Alexander said, sighing at Rose’s antics. She could understand him, even if she didn’t like to let it on. But he needed to return to the matter at hand. “Regardless, it was my father’s will that I be married by thirty, and I must fulfill his wishes.”

He’d conveniently left out the fact that it wasn’t legally in his father’s will. His butler didn’t know better, and his lawyer had gone back to Riyel, so there was no one to contest his statement.

Jenkins frowned, but didn’t say anything else.

“I know it’s sudden, but I’m hopeful that we will have a good marriage,” Alexander said.

Hopefully it would be both good and long. He didn’t want to think of the alternative.

There was a rap at the door, and Jenkins took a deep breath. “She’s here,” the butler said, turning on his heel. “I’ll bring her in. Good luck to you.”

Jenkins disappeared and Alexander stood behind his desk, planting his hands into the firm wooden surface that had survived so many Lord Dunhams before him and would hopefully survive many more. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation ahead.

He could only hope that Beatrice would say yes, and once she had, that she would understand the importance of protecting his family's estate and the people who relied on him.

Barely a moment later, there was a rap at the door, and Jenkins opened it and announced Miss Beatrice Montgomery.

And there she was.

The librarian’s reddish-brown hair had escaped from its usual braid, and her cheeks and nose were a bright shade of red as she walked stiffly toward him, her arms tucked in the folds of her cloak. The cloak looked damp, and not the kind of damp that would appear in the space between a carriage and the front door.

Had she walked through the snow?

“Did I not send a carriage?” he asked, hurrying toward her and guiding her toward the blazing fireplace. “I’m so sorry, Miss Beatrice. I don’t know what I was thinking—or not thinking.”

“All is well,” Beatrice said, but her teeth chattered as she spoke, and she willingly went with him to the fireplace. “I enjoyed the walk. It was only the last few minutes where the cold got to me. You know I enjoy the exercise.”

“That doesn’t mean you should walk when there are six inches of snow on the ground,” he said, ushering her into his favorite chair. Shame filled him as he looked down at her shoes, which were soaked through. “May I take your wet shoes off?” he asked.

“I can do it,” Beatrice said, as Jenkins appeared with hot tea and a blanket.

“No, you hold the tea,” Alexander said firmly, looking at her red hands. “Would you rather have me send for a maid?”

“You needn’t trouble yourself,” Beatrice said as she began shivering.

Alexander nodded to Jenkins as he handed her the mug of hot tea, her fingers having difficulty curling around it, and laid the blanket over her lap. The butler understood his gesture and hurried out of the room to fetch a maid.

How could he have forgotten to send a carriage? He was about to ask her one of the strangest questions she had probably ever heard, and he couldn’t even be bothered to send a carriage to get her here safely.

“I apologize for not sending a carriage,” Alexander said.

“It is quite all right,” Beatrice said softly. “Please do not trouble yourself any further on my behalf.”

She smiled at him, and though he still felt riddled with guilt, Alexander almost smiled back. Something about her had a way of always lifting his spirits.

It was hard to be upset with anything when Beatrice Montgomery smiled at you like that.

“May I please take your shoes off so your feet can warm up?” he asked. He didn’t want to wait for a maid when she was still so cold.

“If you wish,” Beatrice said, glancing away from him toward the fire.

Alexander began unlacing her shoes, doing so carefully, not wanting to hurt her. His hands were large enough to wrap around her ankles, and the wet knots were more difficult to untie than he had expected. He had never been this close to her before, and looking up at her brown eyes, which sparkled despite how cold she was, made him feel discombobulated, his heart beginning to race.

He pulled off one shoe and then the other, just as a maid came bustling in. He quickly stood and distanced himself, gesturing to Beatrice’s feet, allowing the maid to do the more intimate job of taking off her soaked-through wool socks.

Once the maid had gone and Beatrice was sipping her tea, Alexander cleared his throat.

She looked up at him, her brown eyes questioning, but the words stuck in his throat. Not because of the curse, but because he could hardly believe he was about to say them.

There was no choice, though. He had to protect his people, and this was the only way he could think of to do so.

He didn’t want to look at her, but he owed her the courtesy of looking into her eyes when he asked the question. This was one of the biggest moments of his life, and perhaps hers as well.

Alexander cleared his throat one more time and blurted out, “Miss Beatrice, will you marry me?”