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“Madame DuPres told me,” Smitty answered his unasked question. He extended a package to Drake. “Under the circumstances she was very kind about hurriedly gathering together some necessary garments for Lady Alexandria. She told me to assure you that the wardrobe she designs for her ladyship will cause her to outshine all of London.”
Drake took the carefully packaged articles of clothing. “The carriage should be here at any moment. I will get Alexandria.”
“Very good, my lord.”
Alex was drying her hair when Drake exploded into the cabin. She started.
“Drake? What is it?”
He tossed the parcel onto the bed. “Dress quickly. We must go.”
Alex had never seen her husband so unsettled. He looked positively gray.
“Drake?” She dropped the towel, her damp tresses forgotten. “Please tell me.”
His tormented gaze met her caring one.
“My father is dying. We must go to him at once.”
“Oh, Drake.” She walked over and placed her hand on his arm, feeling his fear and his pain. “I’m so sorry. Of course … I’ll be dressed in a minute.”
Her tenderness was like a soothing balm for his raw emotions. “Thank you.” The words were said simply, humbly, but with a wealth of meaning that even he didn’t fully comprehend. “I’ll wait for you topside.” He stood a moment longer, watching as his wife tore open the parcel and began to don the flowing gown. It was a willow green muslin of the latest style, but Alex wasn’t even seeing it in her haste to get ready. She was nothing like any woman he had ever known, possessing none of their shallowness. And she was his. She would remain so.
He left, softly closing the door behind him. The future had lost no time in finding them.
The carriage ride was silent. Several times Alex glanced at Smitty, a thousand questions on the tip of her tongue. Apparently he was a close friend of the family’s, for he was traveling with Drake to Mr. Barrett’s side. That warmed her heart. It was just like Smitty to be there for Drake.
Drake was staring out the window with unseeing eyes. Alex sensed his distress, and yet she felt helpless to relieve it. She only prayed that the reports of Mr. Barrett’s condition had been exaggerated and that they would arrive home to find him improved.
She knew their destination was Berkshire. She had learned that from Smitty at the onset of their ride, his information imparted in a clipped tone. She forgave him his shortness of temper and chose to remain silent for the duration of the ride. The trip was not a long one, as Berkshire was not far west of London, with the Thames forming much of its northern boundary.
In spite of herself Alex was curious. At last she would meet Drake’s family.
The carriage veered sharply to the left and passed through formidable iron gates. Alex frowned. That was odd. She peered out the carriage window and saw acres of plush green grass, exquisite flower gardens, and endless rows of towering shade trees. She sat up taller, squinting into the distance, aware of Smitty’s odd expression as he watched her reaction.
And suddenly it dawned on her. An estate of such grandeur would have any number of tenants who lived and worked here. Drake probably came from one of those families. She considered this new possibility. No doubt they lived in a small, cramped cottage devoid of luxuries. Her heart reached out to her proud husband. No wonder he was so uneasy about bringing her here. He thought she would scorn his way of life, look down upon his meager income. Well, she would show him otherwise. She would work right by his side, doing whatever a tenant’s wife was supposed to do, and…
“Allonshire.” It was the first word Drake had uttered since they left the docks. Alex looked over at him and followed his gaze.
“Oh, Lord …” she breathed, transfixed by what her unbelieving eyes were seeing.
Just ahead of them and to the right was the most awesome structure Alex had ever beheld. It was a Gothic mansion, each turret soaring higher and higher into the sky, a breathtaking fantasy of endless size.
The mansion sprawled as far as Alex could see, so she had no idea where the tenants’ homes might be located. Far in the background rose the chapel’s steeple, which marked the mansion’s end. Alex could not begin to imagine how many hundreds of rooms Allonshire contained.
To her complete confusion the carriage pulled up directly in front of the wide stone steps leading to the front doors, then stopped. Bewildered, she looked from Smitty to Drake for an explanation.
Drake seemed to come back to the present with a start. Wasn’t it ironic that everything was converging into one horrible moment of truth? He gave a humorless laugh and reached for Alex’s hand.
“Come, wife,” he told her. “The moment of realization has arrived.”
Blindly she followed him up the steps, staring in astonishment as he flung open the front door and ushered her in. A flustered uniformed butler hurried toward the entranceway.
“I beg your pardon,” he began, and Alex wanted to weep with pity for her poor husband, “but all deliveries are to be made—”
“I’m flattered by your assessment of my appearance, Humphreys,” Drake interrupted, eyeing the servant, who was now as white as a ghost.
“My God,” he breathed, staring at Drake’s bearded face.
