Rose O’Leary. He’d had no idea she even existed days ago, so how come she was filling his every waking moment? When he had caught sight of her today no power on earth could have stopped him approaching her, even though he knew it was madness. His dark brows drew together in a frown. What was her history? All the market manager had seemed to know was that she and the child had arrived in Consett some years ago. But from where? How could he find out more about her? Did he want to find out more when any relationship between them was impossible?

The answer was instantaneous and he groaned inwardly. She had shaken him to the depths of his being and the ironic thing was, she was completely unaware of it. Not only that but she had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him, and he couldn’t blame her. What the hell was he going to do? If he hadn’t seen her again today he might just have been able to put out the fuse that had been lit inside him when he first saw her in the market, but now it was too late. He closed his eyes for a moment, and again he asked himself, what was he going to do?

The answer to this in the immediate here and now came in the form of the footman knocking on his door and calling, ‘I’m sorry, Mr Alexander, but the mistress wonders how long you will be?’

‘I’ll be down in a minute.’ He breathed in and out slowly a few times, telling himself to relax. He had this evening to get through and it wouldn’t be easy with his mother’s eagle eyes watching his every move with the girls she’d lined up for him downstairs. The slightest interest on his part would have her hearing wedding bells, he knew that. Thank goodness Lawrence was here to take the edge off the evening, but that in itself was another problem; he would have to make sure his friend curtailed his alcohol consumption for Estelle’s sake as much as anything. Lawrence hadn’t been physically violent with her but the old saying that you always hurt the one you love was certainly true in his case, and words could do more damage than any blow.

Resigning himself to a tense and stressful evening, he left his rooms, and as he descended the staircase he could hear that someone – probably one of the Conway or Charlton-Smythe girls – was sitting at the grand piano in the drawing room playing a Christmas carol while the rest of the assorted company joined in. As he opened the drawing room door to the strains of ‘God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen’ and a host of bright faces turned towards him, he forced a smile to his lips. He had never felt less merry in his life.

Chapter Eighteen