Page 85 of The Legend of the Betrayed Duchess
“I am pleased I was able to help,” Lucy said as she folded the covers back on the bed so her Grace could take a nap.
The Duchess put on her pouty, pleading look. “My dear Lucy, do you think it possible that you might be able to stay on assisting me? I believe I have found some pocket money that I could use for wages for you. I know I treated you badly before, but you have no idea how much I have come to rely on you.”
Lucy turned from the bed and stood straight and engaged the Duchess with a firm gaze. “Your Grace, it is a very generous offer, but now that I am considered a member of this family, I need to pursue my writing.
The Duchess continued her pout and said, “But it was Matthew who brought you into the family. However, he is now gone… and…”
“And you think the new Duke will not accept his decision? If you will excuse me, I think you are mistaken.”
Her Grace flopped back into her chair and sighed.
“Your bed is ready whenever you want to take your nap. Now, if you will excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.” And she walked out the door.
Lucy was livid as she headed back to the ballroom. She was not going to be persuaded to attend to the Duchess any longer than was necessary. Perhaps she might not have a dowry, but she was still independent, and she decided to redouble her efforts on her writing. If she could pull together three more chapters, she believed she might be able to persuade her publisher to give her an advance.
But she was interrupted in her thoughts by Beaumont who came over and offered. “Miss Lucy, might I prepare a plate of food for you from the buffet? There are some quite delightful petit fours and some fine strawberry jam tea cakes. Or perhaps you would like something to drink?”
Lost in her own thoughts, Lucy, just stared at him briefly, before answering. “Nothing sweet, thank you. But a small plate and perhaps a sherry would be suitable.”
As he left to fetch her food and drink, she considered—if indeed she had no dowry, then she might well need to consider an engagement with Mr. Goodwin. As her brother had, so rightly, pointed out, Beaumont was to be titled, he had money, and he seemed unconcerned whether she had a living or not. But could she love such a man? That was another matter upon which she must dwell. As handsome and eligible as he was, she also found him to be boorish and insensitive at times.
As Lucy wandered over toward a free table where she might take her refreshment, she caught sight of George talking with Miss Priscilla. They appeared to be in an animated conversation, and Miss Goodwin smiled and threw her hair back, from time to time, in a most appealing way.
After seating herself, Beaumont appeared with her refreshments, placed them before her and sat opposite.
“Lovely service,” he said, grappling with what to say.
“Yes, you expressed that to me already,” Lucy said taking a piece of ham and dipping it in a dollop of mustard on the plate.
Beaumont laughed. “I did. That is so. But you catch me stumbling for words to express how much I value your company. It seems you are always running away from me. Am I that repellant to you?”
Lucy considered carefully before she spoke. “Not at all, Mr. Beaumont. But, until recently, I did not expect to receive the attention of any fine gentlemen. For all intents and purposes, I was considered more a part of the staff in this family than a member of it.”
“But that has all changed since you were reunited with your brother, and thus I am happy to offer you my suit. I know we have not interacted all that much, but I am hoping you will allow me to get to know you. My admiration for you is sincere, and I hope that you will begin to warm up to me as well. I think we would make a splendid couple and I hope you can find your way to open your heart to me. It is my intention to bring you nothing but joy.”
Lucy looked away at his open declaration. “I shall certainly consider your suit. However, you realize I just lost who to me was like a father, and I cannot consider an open suit until I have experienced a suitable time of mourning.”
“Yes, I can quite understand. But you will offer me some hope?”
“I shall, Mr. Beaumont.”
He sat back in his chair, with his hands on the table, and smiled broadly. “That is all I can ask for—for now.”
* * *
George was finding it difficult to concentrate on his conversation with Miss. Priscilla. She was telling him about her London friends and how much she missed them. He knew none of these people, and they had no meaning for him at all.
He could not help, from time to time, glancing over at Lucy. How lovely she looked with her hair pulled back, revealing her fair face set off against the black of her dress.
But he could not forget what he had just learned about Harold. And although he did not want to judge the man until he had the incontrovertible proof from Sir Cuthbert, still—he could not help but run through the many implications in his mind of what it would mean if Harold were guilty of what Sir Cuthbert had accused him. And what would the implications be for Lucy? He could not help but think she would be devastated by the revelation.
And still, he was plagued by the onslaught of new responsibilities he was encountering as the new Duke. There was no one he could turn to to discuss all of these conflicting thoughts and emotions. His one best ally was Lucy, and he could not yet tell her of these new circumstances. His mother and sisters would never understand and, of course, Harold was at the heart of the problem, and he could not confide in him.
What was to be done about Harold if the accusations were true? There was another problem to be solved.
“Then, my friend, Alice, said she had no idea how she was going to go to the Cosgrave ball without an escort. What would you have done, Your Grace?” Miss Priscilla asked.
George heard his name and snapped back from his rambling thoughts.
