Page 62 of His Arranged Duchess
Frances jumped to her feet, beaming. Was it possible to be so happy after being so thoroughly miserable? She wanted to sing and dance, to laugh aloud and recite her favourite poems at the top of her voice.
Instead, she took Lucien’s hand in hers and towed him towards the door.
“Come, then. You can meet my family properly.”
I’m not afraid of Lord Easton after all. He’s a silly man, spreading unpleasant rumors. I won’t listen to him, and nor will anybody else. I’m safe. I’m sure this whole business will simply blow over. What a fuss about nothing!
CHAPTER 21
The art gallery was full, as usual, the following day. People came from all over London to take in the masterpieces. Lucien weaved his way easily through the throng, barely glancing at the artwork on the walls. He’d been here often enough to know each piece by name.
Heading straight to theAnonhallway, where only paintings by that famous artist were hung on the wall, Lucien glanced this way and that, looking for the man he’d come here to meet.
It was not easy to spot him.Anon’sworks were easily the most popular in the gallery. However, the Duke of Clapton stood a full head above most men, and he was also standing very still in an ever-moving stream of people. Lucien made his way over and stood shoulder by shoulder beside the man.
“This is one of my favorites,” Cassian said, without glancing at him.
“Woman In The Window,” Lucien read aloud. “It is certainly a popular work. I imagine it is hard to choose a favorite work, especially when one’s wife is the artist.”
The duke gave a brief, wry smile. “You would be correct. Now, you summoned me here for a reason. Can I ask what that reason is?”
“Of course. To begin, I might as well tell you I do not have much time. My wife and I are attending a masquerade ball at Lady Quince’s home, as part of a series of couples’ outings I have planned for us to undertake. I shall have to return home to dress soon enough.”
Cassian’s eyebrow quirked. “I am glad that you were able to carve out a little time for me in your busy schedule.”
Lucien ignored the sarcasm.
“My concern is Lord Easton. I have it on good authority that he will be at Lady Quince’s tonight, and I am sure that he will make trouble.”
Cassian’s expression darkened. He knew, of course, about the poem, just like he knew that Lucien had been informed of Frances’strue birth.
“I will make enquiries as to how Lord Easton might have discovered the truth,” Cassian said at last. “I am quite sure that he did not know our secret before, as he would never haveagreed to marry her had he known. At the very least, he’d ask for the dowry to be doubled, or even tripled.”
“I can’t understand why the man would make so much trouble about it now,” Lucien muttered. “Can’t he let the woman go?”
Cassian aimed a level stare at him. “No. He cannot. Some men can’t, you know. She spurned him, and he hates her for it. He wishes to make her suffer.”
“Not if I have any say in the matter,” Lucien muttered darkly. “Make your enquiries, and I will help in any way I can. The secret is mine now, too.”
He turned to go, but Cassian’s hand shot out, gripping his shoulder in a painful grip. Lifting an eyebrow, Lucien glanced back at him. Cassian’s face was a smooth mask, but his eyes glinted.
“If you hurt my niece in any way,” he said softly, “I shall make you suffer. Do not mistake me, Lucien. I am not a man to be trifled with.”
Lucien held his gaze for a long moment, neither man blinking. He shrugged his shoulder roughly, and Cassian’s hand fell away.
“And nor am I,” he responded coolly. “But you have nothing to fear. She is my wife. Mine, and I will protect her. I have no intention of hurting her, I can assure you of that.”
The Duke of Clapton was not cowed one bit.
“See that you do,” he responded.
Lucien did not answer. He turned on his heel and strode away down the art gallery. A quick glance down at his pocket watch made him grimace.
Late already. Not a good start.
Frances eyed her reflection and bit back a grin.
Well, Mama was right about blue suiting me, at least.
