Page 30 of His Arranged Duchess
He hadstillnot put his clothes on. In fact, at some point, he had dropped the linen shirt he had been holding and was now standing with his hands on his hips, chest rising and falling with each angry breath.
Hewasangry, Frances noticed, to her surprise. Not the heated sort of fury that might make her wish she had not confronted him, but something colder and sharper.
“So you wish to hold this over my head, do you?” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You know my need for an heir, and you’d hold it against me?”
“We had a bargain,” she insisted. “You would earn my trust. We would get to know each other. And now I feel that I know you less than I did when we first stood at the altar.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Yes, it is! I thought you would be… that is to say, I wanted…” Frances floundered a little. Whatdidshe want? Perhaps she should have thought about thatbeforeshe came storming in here. Sighing, Frances felt some of her anger trickle away. She held her arms out to either side, a little helplessly.
“You humiliated me, Lucien. I came home, and it was so clear that everybody knew what was going on and pitied me. You should have seen the way Gray avoided my eye. And then those women were here, and I caught the way they looked at me. And Mr. Holton treated me like a guest—an uninvited one—in myown home. As if I don’t already feel like such an intrusion. I washumiliated.”
There was a short silence after that. Lucien held her gaze, his stare unwavering. Then he gave a long, slow exhale, shoulders deflating. She saw that his skin was breaking out in goosebumps, no doubt from the chill of the room. She found herself fighting the urge to run her fingertips over it.
“I did not mean to humiliate you, Frances,” he said at last, voice low. “Please believe me. I did not invite Benjamin, and while I would have welcomed his presence, I certainly didnotinvite those women. Frankly, I cannot remember their names. I was as unfriendly and sharp as politeness allowed, but they seemed to ignore it altogether. I know that I should have asked them to leave, but I was taken by surprise, and then it was too late. And while Benjamin can be something of a trial, heismy friend, and I do care for him.”
There was a short silence after this. Frances held his gaze, green eyes meeting grey. She found herself wanting to find a seat, but there was nowhere to sit except for the bed, andthatwas out of the question.
“I see,” she said at last, her voice wobbling. “I… I don’t mean to prevent you from entertaining your own friends in your own house. Ours is a marriage of convenience, and so I have no right to tell you how to behave. But those women…”
“Those women, or any like them, will not enter our home again,” Lucien interrupted firmly. He took a step toward her, andFrances found that she struggled to breathe again. What was it about the wretched man that he seemed to steal the air from her very lungs? Why did he have tolookat her in that way?
“I did not mean it,” Lucien continued, “but I am not the sort of man who refuses to admit his faults. While it was unintentional, Ididhumiliate you. I ought to have been firmer with Benjamin. I should have explained the situation earlier, instead of letting this fester. I am sorry, Frances.”
She blinked, taken aback. An apology? She hadn’t expected that.
“Think nothing of it,” she managed at last, feeling ungracious.
“Now, let us focus on the problem at hand. You say that I have not earned your trust, and that you know me less than you did when we first met.”
“I shouldn’t have said that,” Frances mumbled. “It’s not true and is probably impossible in any case.”
“Quite. But tell me, please, what I must do to win your trust.”
There was a long silence after that. Frances dragged her eyes from the ground—when had she dropped her gaze?—and stared at him.
His earlier words came back to her with a hammer-blow force.
“Now, I intend to be a suitable husband and will not share your bed until you wish it, but make no mistake. This is not a love match. I am not wooing you. I am simply going along with your wishes until we both have what we want. This marriage of ours, my dear, is one of convenience. You must never lose sight of that.”
It would be easy for a silly young woman to stare in the duke’s clear, steady, grey gaze and see what she wanted inside those eyes. She might see love or at least the potential for it. But hadn’t he warned her against such a thing?
He had told her, clearly and plainly, that no matter how loving he may seem to be, it was only to achieve his own aims with the least discomfort and inconvenience to herself. He was a patient man, that was clear, but nevertheless one who would do whatever was necessary to get what he wanted.
And what he wants is an heir, not me.
Swallowing thickly, she hastily compiled a list in her head.
“Well, you will have to make me laugh, at the very least,” Frances said, as firmly as she could manage. “You must care about my interests. You mustn’t order me around. You are to ask me questions about myself, which you havenotdone, and I expect a…”
In the blink of an eye, Lucien lunged forward, coming almost nose-to-nose with her again. She gave a squeak of alarm, wobbling backwards, but he saved her from falling, catching herby both forearms, his cool fingers pressing against the insides of her wrists. He was so close that even by candlelight, she could see traces of gold in his grey eyes.
“Now, my dear duchess, I am not sure we need all of that,” he murmured, his gaze dark and intense. She could feel the warmth of his breath, the heat coming from his body. Her heart hammered, and desire knotted itself in her gut.
“I…” she squeaked, but words would not come. A slow smile spread across Lucien’s face, his grin wide and white and wolfish.
“Cat got your tongue? Oh, dear. You see, the thing is, Frances, I don’t need all of those things to impress you. I rather think that you already desire me more than you’d care to admit.”
