Hewas not involved in any aspect of the trade, of course. He was the titular duke, and the primary investor. He provided a lump sum and would later reap the reward of interest returned, as was proper.
Belle had betrothed herself with the tailor.
This was... not proper, and the reason their mother was more fearful than ever that Alexander might make an inappropriate match. Any misstep could ruin the family beyond repair.
It wasn’t as if Belle’s “flagrant disregard” for the unblemished reputations of her family wascontagious, for heaven’s sake.
Alexander knew the rules. Unlike Miss Finch, he did not break them.
He made them into a game.
As a young boy, rule-following had been stifling, boring business. So he’d assigned points to each Do and Do Not, commensurate with his desire to do the opposite. The more he longed to bend a rule, the more points he earned for following it.
His running score was in the millions.
Mother’s eyes flashed up at him. “You must choose wisely, Vale.”
“I know.” He let out a slow sigh. “I know.”
Happiness had naught to do with the matter.
He must content himself with “winning” the game. The satisfaction of having successfully followed the rules, exceeded his mother’s high expectations, and made a decision that would reflect favorably on the dukedom for generations to come.
His family—existingandfuture—depended on him.
“You’re a good man, Vale,” his mother said. “If your father could see you now...”
He nodded stiffly.
Father had taught his only son to follow in his footsteps from the moment Alexander could toddle. Expectations for a future duke had been drilled into him from birth.
Alexander was raised in his father’s image because that was how his own father had been raised. He came from a long line of exemplary dukes, and was expected to continue the tradition with his own heirs.
It was his duty.
For all thirty of Alexander’s years, he strove to live up to his father’s example. To be the sort of duke that would have made his father proud.
He would not stop now.
He wouldneverstop doing everything in his power to be the best man, duke, and future husband and father he could be.
One day, his children would be emulatinghim.
As well as their mother.
“I’ll choose a duchess by Twelfth Night,” he promised his mother. “Someone worthy of the title.”
She gave a sharp nod. “See that you do.”
The moment she strode away, Alexander’s sister Belle sneaked up from behind and grabbed hold of his arm.
“You know why Mother marched over here, don’t you? She saw you whispering with Cynthia Louise. Excellent work flying right past me in the ‘unacceptable match’ race.” Belle cackled. “I love it. Cynthia Louise is everything I never dreamt you’d choose.”
“Ididn’tchoose her,” he said stiffly. “She’s helping me choosesomeone else.”
“Mm-hm,” said Belle. “MayhapMotherbelieves that.”
“I cannot make impulsive choices,” he told her in exasperation. “The dukedom is onmyshoulders. I cannot besmirch—”
