Alexandra

Chapter Forty-Four

Tristan arrived home that evening eager to see Alexandra. It wasn't raining. The problem at the gasworks was finally solved. And he was starving.

After poking his head into the most likely ground-floor rooms and failing to find his wife, he took the stairs two at a time, anxious to see how she was faring after this morning's mishap.

If it had been a mishap.

But right this moment he didn't want to think about that. He wanted to kiss Alexandra and hear about her day and share the success of his. Preferably over a large and satisfying dinner.

Vincent appeared, as he often did, to meet him outside his bedroom door. "Your lady is sleeping," he said quietly.

Concern—and guilt—slammed into him. "Is she not doing well?"

"Peggy says she's well, my lord, only weary. Shall I arrange for a tray in your room? She may not wish to dress for dinner."

As usual, Vincent knew instinctively what was right.

"An excellent idea." Tristan paused with his hand on the doorknob. "Do you know if she went visiting today?"

"She did. She took the carriage."

That was a relief. If she'd been well enough to carry out her plans to meet the villagers, she couldn't be feeling too poorly. But he wondered how her visits had gone. While the villagers were dependent on him and therefore didn't snub him outright, his relationship with them was rather strained. They didn't like having their lord steeped in scandal.

Then again, Alexandra had his servants eating out of her hand—literally—already. Perhaps she could bring the villagers around, too.

"Did Peggy go along with her?" he asked.

"And Ernest as well, my lord. And John Coachman, of course. I mean Charlie," Vincent corrected himself. They shared a smile. "Your lady is making a lot of changes around here, isn't she?"

"Positive ones, I believe." Tristan was gratified to hear Alexandra had followed his directions. He didn't know if he could handle any more excitement today. Now that her blasted investigation was over, he just wanted to see if they could settle into something resembling a marriage.

He turned and reached for the doorknob.

"She's not questioning anyone, either," Vincent added. "I know you were concerned about that, so you'll be pleased to hear that Peggy is doing it instead."

Tristan turned back. "Doing what?"

"Questioning the staff. Peggy came to me earlier, asking if I recalled anyone who might have worked here two years ago but has since left. She's compiling a list for your lady."

"Is she?"

"Yes. Isn't it clever of your wife to widen the search?"

"Quite." No one had ever accused Alexandra of being dull-witted. To the contrary, it seemed she was too bright for her own good. "She's not going to find anything, though. My uncle died in his sleep. Of a broken heart."

"Of course he did. But it's endearing that your lady wishes so much to prove otherwise."

Endearing, Tristan thought as he cracked open the door and slipped inside. That wasn't the word he would have chosen. Exasperating was more like it.

Why couldn't she stop poking around where she didn't belong?

She slumbered, huddled on her side beneath the covers, a small lump in his big bed. It occurred to him that now was his chance to dump her onto the floor. But he couldn't do it. Upset as he was to learn she was still pursuing her folly, after nearly losing her this morning he couldn't summon the anger he'd felt last night.