Harriet nodded and stood. “I must be off. I’m supposed to be meeting with Mr. Dawkins. Father should be gone for a while, but I’ll send more money to you soon. I’ll return shortly.”
She dreaded returning home and confronting Alexander about money. And Philippa.
Alexander returned home from Philippa’s, still not feeling altogether himself. Upon his arrival, he asked after Harriet, and when he was informed she was out, he decided to skip breakfast. If there was no hope of her presence in the breakfast room, then there was no point in trying to choke down rashers.
He ought to go to Hawthorne and see what they could do to help Philippa. He’d been quite neglectful of all his business as of late. Perhaps a day of work would do him good.
Alexander stopped short in the entryway at the most unwelcome sight of Mr. Dawkins. Something about the man made him angry, and it wasn’t just his wife’s admiration.
“Mr. Dawkins,” Alexander greeted him, not meaning for it to come out so gruffly. The man sketched a bow, the manner of whichalso bothered Alexander, as everything Mr. Dawkins did always would.
“Lord Alexander.”
“Are you here to meet Lady Alexander then?” Alexander asked, gathering his hat and gloves.
“I am.”
“I’m afraid she’s out.”
“Yes, your butler informed me. I was just leaving.”
“You’ve been here quite often these past weeks.”
“The dictionary is almost finished; it’s due to the publisher at the end of the week.”
“How is it coming along?” Alexander was not one to make idle conversation with men, and he couldn’t be sure why it was that he was doing so now, other than the thought of Harriet spending her days with the man. And the way she had saved the man’s letters. And the portrait of him.
“Well enough. Lady Alexander has been quite a help to me. Very organized, although I find ladies usually are, aren’t they? Well suited for this kind of work.” Mr. Dawkins laughed a little uncomfortably, clearly trying to figure out where the conversation was going.
“She’s quite wonderful, indeed,” Alexander replied, not trying all that hard to keep the threat out of his voice. The man hadn’t done anything—at least that he knew of.
“She has proven quite capable of carrying out all the little tasks I give her,” Mr. Dawkins agreed, offhandedly.
“I would like to remind you that she is my wife, Mr. Dawkins. I won’t have you trying anything untoward under my roof. Or under any roof.” Then he added, rather stupidly, “Or out of doors!” Alexander couldn’t help himself. “I don’t care that you two thought to marry. She is mine.”
To Alexander’s eternal shock, Mr. Dawkins let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Marry? You believe I thought to marry her?!” Something twisted inside Alexander, embarrassment perhaps, or defensiveness.
“Don’t do me the discredit of acting as if I’m stupid. I have seen how many letters were sent between the two of you; she told me of your intention to become engaged after the Dunleys’ ball. I’m not so worried as to disallow her to be in your company, but I will command you to watch yourself around my wife.”There. Alexander felt rather satisfied with himself.
“Letters? Between us?” Mr. Dawkins let out that annoyingly sharp laugh again and his face settled into something snider. Something altogether more natural for the man. “Evidently, you don’t know your wife as well as you think. Throughout ourheftof correspondence,” he mocked, “I thought her a man.”
At Alexander’s stunned silence, he continued: “I assure you, your wife holds no interest for me romantically and never would have—even if I had known her identity.” The idiotic man laughed again, as if Harriet were beneath him. “I’m sorry she operated under such delusion for any amount of time, though I hardly encouraged it.”
Though he was glad to hear it, that most manifestlywasinsulting. His hands curled into fists and some part of him longed desperately to push the man against the stone entryway wall and pummel him mercilessly. Whowouldn’twant to marry Harriet? This man was supposed to be intelligent?
“You utter blackguard,” Alexander growled, trying his best not to hit the man. Only, Dawkins clearly mistook his meaning.
“Honest. I didn’t even answer her missives at first, but she started sending so many words that I worried she’d write her own dictionary if I didn’t answer. Of course, come to find out, not only is she a woman, but a peer. I assumed it would be worse to insult a lady than to allow her to believe she’s helping. If you’d rather, my lord, I’m happier than I can say to sever ties with your wife.”
The miscreant. Alexander couldn’t stop himself then. He grabbed the miserable caitiff by the lapels and hauled him up against the entryway wall. He pulled his fist back only for Presley to choose that precise moment to clear his throat. Alexander had the sneaking suspicion his butler had been watching the entire exchange.
“My lord? Your appointment,” Presley intoned. Alexander reluctantly released Dawkins.
“Get out of my house. Do not come back,” Alexander spat at him. “You will not contact my wife again. If you so much as think of her in passing, I will ruin you. And I will make that ruination an exceedinglypainfulprocess.”
“Very well, Lord Alexander. I wish you luck informing your wife of this.” The man donned his hat and strolled out of the house socarelessly that Alexander had to fight the urge to run after him and punch him squarely in the jaw for being so cavalier about losing Harriet’s help.
Alexander slammed the door behind the awful man and tried to get his breathing to return to normal. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Don’t say anything, Presley. Don’t you dare.”
