Page 45 of The Defiant One
"Well, that was the plan, but the situation went a bit . . . awry."
"How?"
"Why, the lady locked up her own brother and arrived in his place. It would have been injurious to both her and Andrew's honor had he not agreed to fight her. Oh, don't look so appalled, my dear. Somerfield managed to free himself and arrived just in time to take his rightful place on the dueling field. It was only when he attempted to murder Andrew that I thought it timely to intervene." He smiled, obviously pleased with himself. "Celsiana herself declared that she would marry our brother if only I would spare hers."
"Oh, dear God . . ."
"It all happened rather quickly . . . I daresay the lady is as unconventional in her behavior as our brother is in his. But ah, the look on Andrew's face when she, instead of Somerfield, stepped down from the carriage . . . it was beyond priceless. Our poor brother didn't even have time to recover from his shock before she was insisting that he fight her."
"She didn't!"
"She most certainly did."
"And did he?"
"He most certainly did."
"Oh, Lucien!"
"Have no fear, Nerissa. She appeared to be an accomplished swordswoman, though she could not, of course, have hoped to match Andrew in skill or strength. Still, I thought it prudent to suggest that the two of them fight till first blood only . . . though Somerfield was determined to fight for far more than that when he reclaimed his place on the duelling field."
"Oh, dear God . . ."
Nerissa, recovering, took a deep bracing sigh and faced her brother. Everything was falling into place. "So you would have killed Somerfield knowing his sister would do anything to save him."
"But of course."
"And you were doubtless the one who arranged for the whole village to turn out, so that you'd have plenty of witnesses for whatever manipulation you had planned."
"And why not? They see so little in the way of entertainment . . ."
Nerissa, tight-lipped and angry, pushed back from her desk. "Lucien, what you have done is not only upsetting, but totally incomprehensible. Why? Why? Though I do not condone your actions, I can understand your tricking Gareth into marrying Juliet so that her baby could have its proper name; I can understand your giving Charles the push he needed to offer for Amy when his confidence was at an all-time low; but this — this is heinous! It is cruel sport indeed! Andrew is a dreamer, a loner . . . different! He doesn't need a wife! He doesn't want to get married! He simply wants to be left alone!"
"So he has informed me. But what's done is done, I'm afraid," said Lucien, looking anything but contrite.
"And I suppose the next life you're planning to manage is mine?"
"Only if you don't do a good job of managing it yourself."
Nerissa swept up her letters and slammed her chair back against her desk. "Do you know something? I hope that someday, after you've schemed and manipulated all of our lives to your liking, you'll get a taste of your own medicine. That some woman will bring you to your knees. Because when that happens, I'm going to be the first one in line to celebrate your long-overdue downfall!"
Real amusement shone in Lucien's black eyes. "I can assure you, my dear, that it will never happen."
"Ohhhhhh! You are insufferable!" Nerissa snapped, and turning on her heel, marched from the rooms.
Lucien remained where he was, waiting for her angry footsteps to diminish before he allowed his smile to fade. From far away a door slammed, and he let out a sigh of infinite weariness as he picked up her discarded pen and replaced it in its holder.
Contrary to Nerissa's hopes, no woman would ever bring the Duke of Blackheath to his knees.
His time, as he well knew, was running out.
Chapter 14
The carriage was halfway to London.
The effects of the aphrodisiac had long since worn off, leaving only an awkward and very uncomfortable silence in its wake — and no small degree of mutual resentment toward he who had given it to them. Andrew brooded in his seat, one arm outstretched across its back, refusing to look at Celsiana as he chewed his bottom lip in private, sullen contemplation.
Opposite him, Celsie, mortified by her recent wanton behavior, sat with the rigidity of a setter on point, her legs clamped together, her arms tightly crossed, her gaze directed out the window.
