Page 76 of His Arranged Duchess
“Frances, I… I don’t understand why you are so upset. This is good news, surely? I’m not a murderer!”
“It is the principle of the matter.”
“What principle?” he shot back.
Frances did not laugh. She removed her hand, looking him straight in the eyes.
“The fact of the matter is, you did not consider me important enough to be told the truth. You didn’t—don’t—care whether I consider you a murderer or not. I simply don’t matter.”
He recoiled. “That’s not true.”
“No? I told you the greatest secret I have, Lucien, and you saw fit to let me continue believing the same lie as the rest of the world. If you had any feelings… If you cared about me and my opinion at all, you would have told me the truth. I’m a fool, aren’t I?” She gave a short, mirthless laugh, holding out her arms. “You told me quite plainly that all this was a means to an end. You told me that you were notwooingme, and yet here I was, believing that I was being wooed. I’m a stupid girl, and nothing more.”
“Frances…” he tried to lay a hand on her arm, but she whisked it away.
“An heir,” she said steadfastly, looking up at him. “That’s what you wanted. That’s what you needed. So, we should get it over with, don’t you think?”
Before he could respond, Frances lunged upwards, fitting her lips to his.
It was like kissing a statue. He didn’t move, even to duck down to her level, so Frances clamped her hands on either side of his face. She half-expected the familiar rush of desire to appear, but it never did.
Hollow. That’s how it feels. Hollow.
Gently, he wrapped his fingers around her wrists, sliding her hands away.
“Not like this, Frances,” he murmured, his voice soft and his gaze sympathetic.
No, not sympathy. It waspity, and Frances’s blood boiled at the sight.
“I don’t know how you dare,” she whispered, yanking her arms free. “You lied to me, Lucien.”
“I did not lie. You simply never asked the right questions.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!”
“Frances, please.”
“I am offering you me, plain and simple, for tonight only,” Frances snapped, refusing to meet his eyes clearly. “Let us get it over with.”
He shook his head. “No. Not like this, Duchess. I want you… I want you to want me. I want you to want me the way you write about me in your stories.”
She tilted up her chin, meeting his gaze squarely at last.
“Then my offer is rescinded. I can’t do this anymore, Lucien. I’m so very tired. I have had quite enough, and I think this whole charade has gone on entirely too long. Don’t you?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Frances suspected that he simply did not have anything to say.
She sighed, a long and deep sigh that seemed to dredge up from the pit of her stomach.
“Goodbye, Lucien. I am going home. I shall take the carriage, but don’t worry, I will send it back for you.”
“Frances, please.”
“Go back to the box,” she insisted. “I imagine that Benjamin is still there. You should spend time with him. You have neglected your friend since we were married.”
Not waiting for a reply, Frances turned on her heel and strode down the hallway.
This time, she was not followed.
