Page 26 of His Arranged Duchess
“Well, the ladies have left.”
“How disappointing for you.”
He paused for a moment, frowning. Was that jealousy he saw in her eyes? Or was it simply disgust? Jealous or not, any woman might be angry at her new husband for entertaining strange women the day after theirwedding. It wasn’t a matter of feelings; it was a matter of respect, plain and simple.
“I didn’t invite those women,” Lucien confessed at last, leaning against the doorframe. He noticed that he was resolutelynotinvited in, but at least the door was open between them now. “Benjamin did. It’s the sort of thing he would do when he took lodgings together—invite ladies and gentlemen over for me to meet. There’s no malice in it.”
“I’m sure you believe that.” Frances shot back.
Something like irritation curled in the back of Lucien’s mind.
It’s not my concern what she thinks of me. Why should I care? I simply do not care. Pretty women are common. Why, I can think of half a dozen women prettier than Frances at this moment.
He paused, thinking, but struggled to summon a single woman to mind. There was something infuriating about this. Sighing, he knocked again.
“I did not mean for you to be so offended, Frances. Let me in, and we’ll talk about it.”
“No, thank you. I am reading.”
He pressed his lips together, tight. “Very well. Suit yourself. Benjamin will be joining us for supper. I haven’t asked him, but the lure of free food is generally too strong for him to resist. Will you be joining us?”
There was a beat of silence. Then, at last, she replied.
“No, thank you. I’ll take a tray in my room. If I’m allowed, of course.”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re the Duchess of Blackstone. You can eat your supper on the roof if you should choose. Well, suit yourself.”
“I will, thank you.” She closed the door at once with a resoundingbang.
Infuriating woman.
Turning on his heel, Lucien stamped down the hallway. He was inexplicably angry, red-faced and flustered in a way that was not usual. What was it about the wretched woman that bothered him so intensely?
Why should he care if she shut herself up in her room all night? Why should he care if she was offended over something foolish? If her feelings were hurt, well, that was her own matter, was it not?
Behind him, there was a faint squeak which sounded suspiciously like a door opening, just an inch. Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder.
Frances’s bedroom door was resolutely closed. He had probably imagined it.
Even so, Lucien wavered for a moment, eyes fixed on the door.
I want it to open. I want to see her again. How strange.
The door stayed closed, and at last Lucien had to move away down the hallway, leaving Frances behind.
It didn’t take him long to find Benjamin, who was now looking over the whiskey collection in his study.
Lucien pressed his lips together.
“Benjamin, you were impolite,” he said, without warning. “You should not have come here without warning.”
Benjamin blinked, a little taken aback. He turned around, lifting his eyebrows. “Well, why not? Aren’t we friends?”
“I mean, not with those two women,” Lucien clarified. “And why were you so rude? Don’t you dare deny it. Youwere.”
“Well, how was I meant to react?” Benjamin responded hotly, rising to his feet. “She came charging in here, glaring balefully around as if she were Medusa trying to turn us all into s-s-stone!”
Lucien deliberately did not acknowledge the stutter. It always made Benjamin worse when people drew attention to it.
