How to Lose a Duke in Ten Days (13 page)

Benson bowed stiffly to acknowledge her request, then turned to Lucas. “Lady Evelyn is entertaining in the parlor.”

“Show her to my study, then. I won’t be a moment.”  

Benson led her down the corridor, to Lucas’s study, bowed, and left her. She wandered about the room, twitchy and impatient. Heavy mahogany furnishings, and blue velvet dominated the room, giving it a hard, austere look—a reflection of the man himself. 

She moved to stand behind his desk, running her hand over the soft leather backrest of his chair. She imagined him sitting here, late into the night, buried in his work. He was driven beyond all reason, and now she understood why. He’d molded himself into the man his father was not—driven, successful, merciless.   

Biting her lip, she glanced down at one of the papers on his desk. It looked like a map of some sort. She picked it up and instantly recognized the territory—it was Northumberland, where a large coalfield was situated.

And a mine her father owned.

Dread knotted in her stomach. What could he possibly be doing with a map of her father’s coal mine? She sifted through more papers, and came across plans for steam-powered locomotives and more maps. 

Peeking out from beneath the debris was a letter. She recognized the wax seal instantly. It was a letter from her father to the duke, dated two weeks prior.  She scanned the contents of the letter quickly, her heart sinking lower with every word.

… If she is still unfavorable to the match, then I will sanction your method of seducing her into compliance. But she is a clever girl and I love her dearly. I don’t want her hurt. You must convince her that your affection is genuine…

Pippa blinked, rereading the words.

No, it wasn’t possible. Why would Lucas do this?

The maps. He wanted her father’s coalfields, of course. When her father died, ownership would revert to her…or to her husband, should she marry.

God, she’d been such a fool.

Lucas was shrewd and utterly ruthless. As much as she wanted to believe his actions had been genuine, she knew, deep down, that this had all been a plot, just a scheme to further his ambitions. 

And her own father…so desperate to be enfolded into the
haute ton,
he would allow her to be used and manipulated so cruelly. That betrayal cut her deeper than anything. 

She felt sick. Her head swam as she spun on her heel and rushed out of the study, her cheeks burning with fury. It had all been a lie, all of it. The loving caresses, the passionate lovemaking…

And she’d fallen for it.

She flew down the corridor, past Benson, and out the front door. Briskly, she walked the two blocks to her father’s town house, too infuriated to care if anyone noticed her out on the street unchaperoned. She should have insisted Lucas’s driver take her home, but the very idea of being inside
his
carriage made her want to scream. 

Minutes later, she arrived home and hurried straight to her bedchamber, closing the door behind her. It was there, in the safety of her own space, that she comforted herself the only way she knew how.

She slid down onto the floor and cried. 

*   *   *

When Lucas returned to his study, Pippa was gone.

He wondered at her absence, but decided she must have had an appointment to keep, or some such.

Setting the box with the emerald necklace down on his desk, he lowered himself into his chair and ran his finger over the velvet lid. He’d seen the necklace in a shop last week and the stunning emeralds had reminded him of Pippa’s eyes. He’d decided it would look stunning against her petal pink skin and even now, he couldn’t wait to see it on her. 

A knock sounded on the door, and Benson entered, a thick letter placed on the silver tray in his hand. “A letter arrived while you were out, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Benson.”

Lucas snatched the letter up and flicked the seal open as Benson backed out of the room and closed the door quietly behind him.

It was a letter from his investigator regarding Crawford, his sister’s suitor. With all of his focus trained on Pippa, Lucas had nearly forgotten about the investigation into Crawford’s affairs.

As Lucas scanned the letter, dread knotted in his gut, cinching tighter with every word he read. Enclosed with the letter was a marriage certificate. It appeared the late Earl of Durham had been married once before, to a woman who was still living, and from whom he had never been divorced.

Lucas pushed to his feet and called for Benson to fetch Evelyn as soon as she was free of her guests, which could be hours, God knew, but it couldn’t be helped. He wouldn’t risk upsetting her with a parlor full of people to entertain.

When she arrived half an hour later, she looked somewhat annoyed by his summons. “What is it, Lucas?” 

“Sit down, Evelyn.”

She paled at his stern tone, the irritation draining from her face. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“I’ve received news regarding Crawford.”

She swallowed, sudden fear flashing in her eyes. “Oh?”

“I’m afraid it’s quite impossible for you to marry him.”

“What? Why not?”

“I’ve just had a letter from my man. It appears the Earl of Durham married twice. His only son, your Stephen, is the product of his second marriage. And unfortunately for Stephen, his father’s first wife is still living. I understand she lives in a small hamlet in Durham.”

“I don’t understand. What does all of this mean?”

“The earl’s first wife still lives, which means your Stephen Crawford is a bastard. If anyone ever discovers the truth, he will have no title, no fortune. His reputation will be shattered.”

“No,” she breathed. Reaching over his desk, she snatched the marriage license from his hand. She scanned the document, disbelief washing over her pale features. “This isn’t true.”

“My man is very thorough,” Lucas said calmly. “He wouldn’t bring this to me if he wasn’t certain it was the truth. Fortunately, the newssheets haven’t gotten wind of this, so it appears Crawford is safe from detection for now. But it’s only a matter of time before someone discovers the truth. You understand now why I can’t allow the match.” 

She sank down into the nearest chair, the license dangling from her hand limply. She was in shock, surely, but she was resilient, and all of this unpleasantness would pass eventually.

“Does Stephen know?” Her voice was quiet, damaged. 

“It appears the first wife was paid quite handsomely to remain quiet. I don’t believe anyone knows the truth, including Crawford. I will say nothing of course, and I will do what I can to keep this quiet, but it’s only a matter of time before someone finds out, Evelyn, you must realize that.”

She nodded faintly, as though she were grappling to make sense of this new information. “This will destroy him,” she said quietly, her voice filled with sadness. “He will be horrified by this.”

“No one needs to know,” Lucas said. “Including Crawford, if you wish. But I must call on him directly and inform him of my answer regarding the match.” 

“No.” She rose to her feet and, lifting her chin, folded the license neatly. “It should come from me. He must know the truth. There’s no sense in hiding from it.”

Lucas blinked. Overnight, it seemed, his sister had blossomed into a mature, intelligent young woman. Gone was the helpless wide-eyed child she’d once been. Under his guidance, she’d transformed into a strong, decisive woman, one who didn’t shirk her obligation.

As her guardian, it was Lucas’s duty to approach Crawford with his decision. Alliances were matters best settled between men. But she was right; the news of his illegitimacy would be a shock, and it would be better coming from her.

He inclined his head to her. “Tell Crawford I will offer what assistance I can. I will call on him in day or two, after the shock has lifted.” 

With a nod, she flashed him a faint smile. “Thank you, brother. I’m certain your friendship will be of great comfort.”

But as she rose, and left the room, Lucas couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. She’d been too calm, too resigned to breaking off the engagement.  

She’d likely realized the impossibility of the union, and now only wished to make the cleanest break possible.

Lucas leaned back in his chair and contemplated that thought. 

Yes, surely that’s all it was.

Lucas paced the Welbys’ parlor.  After the conversation with his sister, he’d come to immediately call on Pippa. She’d left before he could give her the emerald necklace and he’d wanted her to have it for the engagement ball tomorrow. He yearned to see the look on her face when she opened the box.

Tea sat cold on one of the tables as he continued to pace, thoughts focused on Pippa.  It had only been an hour since returning from the country, and already he burned to see her again, to kiss her dewy pink lips.

At length, the butler returned. “I’m afraid Miss Welby isn’t at home, Your Grace. Would you care to leave your card?”

He stopped and turned toward the butler. Lucas knew damned well she was home. “Please tell Miss Welby I wish to speak with her.” 

“I’m afraid she is
not
home to visitors, Your Grace.” His words were polite, but firm.

“Did you give her my name?”

“I did, Your Grace. Would you care to leave her a message?”

Something was amiss. After what they’d shared just that morning, why would she refuse to see him now? A cold knot of dread tightened in his gut as realization slowly dawned. Perhaps he’d been too quiet and distant on the carriage ride home. Could that have upset her?

“No.” He pushed past the butler. “I must see her.
Now
.” 

His blood hummed with restless energy as he bounded up the main staircase, taking the steps two at a time. He stormed down the second floor corridor, opening and closing doors as he went. He passed two maids, who squeaked and moved aside, clutching their armfuls of linens as he swept by.

“Miss Welby,” he grunted. 

“Third door on the left,” the tall one said, before they both turned and walked briskly away. 

He found her door and knocked twice, fighting the urge to pound on the oak slab.  She wouldn’t open the door if she knew it was
him
on the other side. The impropriety of his presence here would be enough for her to insist he leave. 

“Come in.”

He slipped inside and closed the door quickly behind him, sliding the bolt into place. When he turned, she was sitting on the bed, her feet tucked up beneath her with what looked like a letter in her hand. She glanced at him, her eyes wide. It only took a moment for her confusion to burn into recognition. “What are you doing here?”

“I must have a word with you.”

Only then did he realize her eyes were swollen, red-rimmed, and filled with anger. No, not anger. Fury. The woman looked ready to flay him alive.

Rising to her feet, she advanced on him, the letter still clutched in her hand. “What right do
you
have to storm into my bedchamber and insist on speaking with
me
?”

“I feel I must apologize for my behavior after we…” He let his words trail off. She didn’t look in the mood to rekindle warm memories. “You didn’t merit such cold treatment.”

“
That
is what you wish to apologize for?” She shook her head. “And what of the scheme you and my father have orchestrated against me? What of
that
?”

She shoved the letter against his chest and he took it, the thin parchment crumpling under his hand. Glancing at the words, he realized instantly what had whipped her into such a passion, and it wasn’t as simple as his silence on the carriage ride home. A lead weight settled in his stomach and he suddenly felt as though he were sinking, drowning. 

He glanced at her, and what he saw reflected in her eyes gutted him.
Pain
. “Where did you get this?”

“I found it in your study this afternoon, along with countless maps of my father’s coalfields.” Tears filled her eyes. “You planned this all along. You conspired with my father to manipulate me.”

His chest hurt, and he suddenly felt as though his whole world had tumbled off its axis. “I never lied to you, Pippa.”

She made a disgusted sound. “You are a deplorable, dissolute, black-hearted cur…” The slew of epithets continued on until she was left breathless, her cheeks flushed with anger. “You are nothing more than a scoundrel.”

Before he could reply, her mouth went tight and she snatched an empty vase off of her nightstand, hurling it violently at his head. It missed by miles, exploding against the wall before shattering into a million little pieces.

What could he possibly say in defense?  It was the truth. He deserved every ounce of her rage and hatred. “I never meant to hurt you.” 

“You haven’t hurt me.” Her voice trembled, and a single tear slid down her cheek.  “I’m only angry at myself for beginning to believe you were kind and decent. But, as it happens, you are just as cold and unfeeling as the rest of the
haute ton,
who only find pleasure in making other people’s lives miserable.”

He stepped forward. “Pippa, please…”

She retreated a step, hand held up to halt his advance. “Just tell me, was
any
of it real?”

“Pippa, you must understand…”

Her gaze slid to a porcelain figurine that sat on a nearby table. But before she could reach for it, he lunged, pushing her up against the wall, his lower half pressed to hers, his hand pinning her wrists above her head. She fought against him, every breath sawing from her lungs in quick, shallow bursts. But her efforts were useless. Her strength was no match for his.

“Pippa, listen to me. What I feel for you
is
genuine. You ensnared me that very first night at the Tisdale ball. I have wanted you every moment since that night.”

He was expecting a hot argument, or at least another wave of epithets, so he was surprised when she grew silent, absorbing his words. She no longer struggled against him and he waited a moment before releasing her wrists.