Alexandra

Chapter Twenty One

Richard would be lying if he said that, some mornings, he couldn't even find it in him to rise from bed because he'd spent the night before tossing and turning while thinking of his father. On more than one occasion, he had even cried into his pillow like a little boy. It had not been his proudest moment, to be sure.

To have spent fifteen years in abject admiration of someone else, someone you loved beyond anything else only to have that person cruelly snatched from you was not only devastating, but jarring for it turned one's existence upside down.

His father had been everything to him, and losing him had been the single most awful experience of his life, worse than anything Mrs. Cree had ever done, for his father had helped him forget Mrs. Cree and her cruelty. The old witch was probably still living a long and healthy life while his father had been snatched up. It certainly was only the good that died young, for he couldn't imagine anyone better than George Kensington.

The one constant ray of light that he now had was Alexandra. She always found ways to keep him busy, from riding to planning a rout party with him on a day he was feeling particularly sad. The party was never mentioned again.

He could still remember vividly the day of his father's funeral, when she'd accosted him in the abandoned study. He'd presumed that no one would truly care much anymore, but she had marched in and informed him that she would be there for him. She'd looked so beautiful, too, in the dim glow of the fire. It made her skin look warm and her bright hair like spun gold.

When Cassandra had mentioned the wedding, he had felt incredibly tempted to truly plan it, instead of breaking the engagement as he was sure she was expecting. He wanted to see her walk down the aisle to him, looking as beautiful as he was sure she would, joining him at the altar and becoming his wife. It would be the start to a beautiful future, but not one that he would ever presume possible.

It was only with her that he ever thought he would be alright.

There was a sudden knock on the door to the study, and Worth showed his father's solicitor, Mr. Townsend, in. Ever since the week after his father's death, Mr. Townsend had been coming every day to brief Richard on matters regarding everything from the will to the estate to the tenants. Before he could even blink, Richard found himself in possession of a Dukedom he barely knew how to manage.

His meeting with Mr. Townsend ran on for about two hours and, by the end of it, Richard was tired of hearing of rental agreements and tenant disputes. Moments after Mr. Townsend took his leave, another knock sounded on the door, and he sincerely hoped the solicitor hadn't forgotten something that would take another hour to discuss.

Fortunately, it was Alexandra. She was bearing a tray with two cups of tea on it, and he wondered why she would be serving tea. His unasked question was soon answered when she said, a mischievous look in her eyes, "There's a dash of that whiskey you left in the library in both cups." She informed him, and his mind immediately went to the time quite a few months before, when she'd suggested that he pour some whiskey into his tea if he truly wanted to drink some. That had been the first time he'd confided in her, and had found her to be the perfect confidant.

He wasn't an alcoholic- although for a while it had appeared he was well on his way to becoming one- but he did enjoy a good whiskey. He knew Alexandra didn't approve of it when he drank exceedingly large amounts, but even she indulged in small quantities every now and then, although he knew she preferred ratafia or sherry.

He accepted the teacup she offered gratefully, and his first sip told him that when she meant a dash, she truly had meant just a dash. He didn't mind, though, because he was indulging more in the memory of the last time than the beverage itself.