Page 58 of His Arranged Duchess
It’s too large a bed for so small a woman. The poor dear must be lonely.
Biting his lip, Lucien recalled how she’d arched into his touch, how she’d stifled her gasps of pleasure to avoid being overheard. Did it give extra relish, he thought, to know that there were people a mere ten feet away? Some women would balk at that, but not Frances.
Wallflower, indeed.
He circled the bed and paused at something poking out under the pillow. Gingerly, he pulled out a notebook. Flicking through the pages, he found it half-full of close-packed writing.
It’s her story. This is a book. Here is chapter one, and the next, and here a whole passage has been scratched out and rewritten.
The gentlemanly thing to do would be to put the book back where he had found it and wait patiently until he was permitted to read it in its entirety. She had, after all, said that it was not finished.
Well, I don’t often do the gentlemanly thing in any given situation, and I don’t intend to start.
Lucien opened the book to a random page near the beginning and began to read.
Timon was a tall manwith dark hair swept back from a high brow. There was something almost wolfish about his features: a pointed chin, a long nose, and a wide, white smile that made one think of crocodiles. He was handsome nonetheless, and rendered more handsome still by a pair of large, grey eyes, streaked with gold. Austere and known to be dangerous, he was not a man anybody would wish to cross.
Or so Eleanor had been told. There was something alluring about the man, something that drew her towards him. He was undeniably handsome, but Eleanor had encountered handsome men before. What was it about him? She could not decide. Shewas sure, one way or another, she would discover where this magnetism would lead her.
At the beginning of the paragraph, the name ‘Timon’ was circled, and another name scrawled loosely in the margins. Lucien had to read it twice to be sure that his eyes were not deceiving him.
Lucien.
Biting back a smile, he carefully placed the book back.
She is certainly not dreaming about Lord Easton, then. Well, what was it that unsettled her so about him? I shall have to find out. Whatever her secret is, I shall ferret it out. Sooner or later, I’ll know the truth.
CHAPTER 20
“Ishould probably tell you,” Mama said carefully, her eyes on her breakfast plate, “but I am going back to the country.”
Frances flinched, sitting up straighter. “You’re leaving London, Mama? But why?”
Mama sighed. “I don’t love London like I once did. Once, I could never have imagined leaving. It would be like opening a vein and letting my lifeblood pour out. But now, with you gone…” she trailed off, shrugging. “I want peace, darling. And I don’t think I’ll find it in London.”
Frances set her fork aside with a clatter. “You’re… you’re leaving me?”
Mama slid her hand across the table, taking Frances’s hand. “No, darling, I’m not leaving you. It won’t happen soon, but…” shepaused, as if searching for the words. “I have bought Rawdon House.”
Now, thatwasa surprise. Frances stared at her mother in amazement. “You bought… how?”
They had been unceremoniously turned out of Rawdon House when the Baron had died and the next heir came to take the title and the estate. The man, the Baron’s cousin, had not been particularly friendly and made it clear that he vastly disapproved of his relation’s choice of wife. They had left in a hurry and had not returned.
“The estate is not doing well,” Mama explained. “Most of the land has been sold off, but the house remains, and the current Baron Rawdon wanted to sell it. For my part, I have been careful with my jointure and with the allowance your Uncle Cassian has given me. I invested it wisely, and now I have a rather neat return on my money. Enough to buy Rawdon House.”
Frances sat back in her seat, absorbing this. She had good memories from that place, of course. She had known nothing but happiness and kindness. The Baron was a mythical figure who had visited rarely and was always extremely awkward around her. She thought he hadtriedto be kind, but did not always hit the mark.
Nevertheless, Frances's days had been full of laughter, sunshine, and Mama. She wondered now if Mama’s days had been just as happy.
As if reading her mind, Mama smiled and squeezed Frances’s hand.
“I’ll be glad to go back. That house wasmine, and I was quite happy enough, considering. But I should like to know that you, my darling, do not resent me for leaving.”
Frances forced herself to smile. “Of course I don’t resent you, Mama. I want you to be happy, and Lucien and I can visit all the time. I shall miss you terribly, though.”
Who will I turn to for advice?
It was a terrifying thought, the idea that Mama would suddenly not be there. Frances swallowed it down. She would think about that later.
