Page 60 of His Arranged Duchess
“You mustn’t say that,” Aunt Emily cried, sitting beside her and taking her hand. “You have me. You have Uncle Cass. You have yourmother. She’d set fire to the whole of London to keep you warm. And as for your uncle and I… Well, we don’t give a fig what Society thinks. You are our niece, in blood if not in name, and we love you. We love you, and we always will.”
“Well. That is a surprising speech.”
Both women spun around, nearly jumping out of their skins. Frances gripped the arms of the chair, feeling almost faint.
Lucien stood there, his riding cloak flaring around him. He was flushed, as if he’d been riding, and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He’d appeared in complete silence.
Frances knew, without having to ask, that he’d overheard the majority of their conversation. The last part, at the very least.
At that moment, a flustered-looking maid appeared, red-faced.
“Your Grace, I said… oh, I beg your pardon,” she gabbled, when Aunt Emily rose to her feet. “I tried to tell him he couldn’t go straight in, but he said that he had to speak to his wife and that he wouldn’t be stopped. I couldn’t stop him!”
“You aren’t in trouble, Joan,” Aunt Emily responded clearly. “The duke here is the one at fault, forcing his way into a place where he is not welcome. You may go, Joan.”
The miserable maid bobbed a curtsey and disappeared. Lucien remained. Aunt Emily turned her cool stare on him.
“You may go too. How dare you listen in on our private conversations?”
Lucien clenched his jaw, and a muscle jumped in his cheek.
“No offence, Duchess, I would like to speak to my wife.”
“You--” Aunt Emily began, but France laid a hand on her arm, cutting her off.
“I will speak to him, Aunt,” she said softly. “In private, please.”
Aunt Emily seemed to deflate a little.
“As you wish,” she murmured. Shooting a poisonous glare at Lucien, she strode past and out into the hallway.
Silence descended. Lucien stared at Frances, and she stared right back.
“I will assume you overheard enough of that conversation to understand that a great secret hangs over my head,” Frances said at last.
He nodded slowly. “I do. Is it time for the truth?”
Frances closed her eyes. “I think it is.”
He pushed the door closed behind him and took a step forward. For a moment, there was only a tense silence between them. Lucien let the silence sit, waiting patiently for her to speak first. Frances breathed out and began:
“I suppose you know that Cassian was never meant to be the Duke of Clapton. He had an older brother, whose name was Matthew. Matthew became embroiled in a scandalous relationship with a young opera singer.” She opened her eyes and threw a wry smile at Lucien. “My mother, of course. I imagine you guessed. I have heard the story many times. They were in love and planned to marry. The former Duke of Clapton, Cassian and Matthew’s father, was said to be a cruel man, and ruthless. He broke apart the relationship and managed to force my mother to marry a rich older man, Baron Rawdon. Mama told me once that she truly believed that Matthew would be happier without her. She believed with all her heart that her sacrifice would be worth it in the end, for him at least.”
There was another silence.
“And was it?” Lucien asked at last.
Frances shook her head. “He died. He fell from a bridge and drowned. It was said that he died by his own hand, the day my mother married the Baron. My mother lost the love of her life, and Cassian lost his brother. But Mama was already with child, not the Baron’s. That child was, of course, me.”
Lucien inhaled sharply, even though he must have already realized this from his eavesdropping.
“So, you see,” Frances continued doggedly, “I am not legitimate. I am—to use a vulgar term—a bastard. The Baron was kind enough to me and to Mama. I have no idea whether he knew I wasn’t his child or not, and they never produced any other children. Cassian—UncleCassian loves me because he adored his brother. He and Mama have always been close. When the Baron died, we learned that he was not as wealthy as we believed. The bulk of his estate went to the next heir. I was left with virtually no dowry, and Mama had a small widow’s jointure which barely covered our living expenses. So, Uncle Cassian began to supplement Mama’s jointure with an allowance. I received an allowance from him, too, and he gave me a substantial dowry. The world assumed the dowry came from the Baron, and we are in no position to tell them otherwise.”
The air seemed to grow still after this speech. Frances felt breathless.
Have I ever said all that out loud? We never discuss it. All of this must go unsaid. It must be hidden. It is my shame, even though it all happened before I was born.
“You have lived a lie,” Lucien murmured, half to himself. Frances glanced sharply at him, searching for judgment in his voice.
