Page 70 of His Arranged Duchess
Lucien had finally given in to Benjamin’s pleading and met him at a club. Not White’s, or Baxter’s, or anywhere respectable. The place was called The Mermaid, and he imagined that as the day wore on, the clientele would become less and less respectable.
The food, at least, was good. The two men were taking breakfast together, and judging by the strange concoction in Benjamin’s glass, the place also offered hangover cures.
“Is that a raw egg?” Lucien muttered, peering into the glass. “If anything will make you sick,thatwill.”
“I know my hangover cures, old friend,” Benjamin responded with a grin. “This will work. Now, I didn’t only invite you here to inflict the delight of my company on you. I’ve found something out.”
Lucien lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Oh, indeed. I was concerned about that scene last night, with that fellow Lord Easton. So, I made some enquiries. He said some odd things, did he not?”
Lucien stiffened. “Benjamin, please do not dig around in this. It’s trouble. If I wanted your help, I would ask for it. I don’t want you getting tangled up in it all.”
“Aha!” Benjamin crowed triumphantly. “So, thereissomething to get tangled in! Anyway, it’s too late now; shall I tell you what I discovered?”
Lucien sighed. “I suppose you had better.”
“Excellent. Right, well, of course I knew that Lord Easton had been going to marry your duchess, only to be booted aside at the altar byYour Grace.”
“I did not boot him aside. I gently pushed him out of the way.”
Benjamin chuckled. “Mm-hm. Anyway, he was remarkably stung about the whole thing. He swore revenge, according to friends and family members, you know the sort of thing. In the end, he bribed a woman who used to work at Baron Rawdon’s house—as a nursemaid, or something—and she told him a juicy little secret about the duchess’ lineage.”
Lucien swallowed thickly. He could feel Benjamin’s eyes on him, waiting for his response.
“I think he plans to hold it over her head,” Benjamin added. “He’s going to be trouble, I wager it. What secret is it, anyhow? I couldn’t find out. Or perhaps you didn’t know, either?”
He cleared his throat. “I knew, Benjamin, don’t fret. And it’s all in hand, I can assure you.”
Was that a flash of disappointment on Benjamin’s face?
“You truly don’t mind about whatever it is?” Benjamin asked, leaning back with a faint frown between his brows.
Lucien took a sip of his drink. “Not a bit of it.”
“Oh. Well, that’s a relief, isn’t it? A weight off my mind, to be sure. Poor Lord Easton, thinking that he’s got all this power when in fact he has none at all. Oh, well. Now, to business.”
Lucien chuckled. “To business?”
“Yes. Miss Geraldine—you must rememberher, from Paris—is back in London, and is throwing a fabulous party tonight. I can get you an invitation quite easily. You simply must come.”
“I’m afraid I can’t, Benjamin. I have previous arrangements.”
Benjamin’s face fell. “Why not? What arrangements?”
“I plan to spend the evening with my wife. I have a surprise for her.”
There was a little silence after that. Benjamin did not quite look Lucien straight in the eye, preferring instead to swirl brandy in his glass. Lucien leaned forward, trying to catch his eye.
“Ben? You aren’t upset, are you? Have I offended you? I am sorry, and we’ll do something else another time. To be truthful, I don’t much care for large and crowded parties these days. I’d rather do something quieter, perhaps just you and I.”
“Perhaps,” Benjamin responded, giving a brittle smile. “It won’t be the same without you there. But, as the little cat’s paw you are, you must jump when the Duchess clicks her fingers, ha-ha.”
Lucien did not feel much like laughing at that, nor at being called acat’s paw, but it was clear that Benjamin was disappointed he would not be attending the party, so he smiled anyway. To be honest, he wouldn’t want to attend a party without Frances. She had set the bar too high with her begging, and her little breaths…He could never attend a party again without her image against those pillars occupying his mind. Without wanting to repeat what happened.
There had been no repeat of the intimacy between him and Frances once they returned home. After dancing until dawn, it seemed, they rattled home in their carriage, half-asleep, and stumbled into their respective beds. He had not seen Frances that day, except in passing in a hallway. She’d smiled shyly at him, and he’d smiled back, feeling nonsensically like a nervous schoolboy.
I want to spend time with her. I want to see her. I… I truly want her company. How strange—when did that come about?
