“Of course he was not,” the duke barked.“He did not even ask her.”
“Do remember what the physician warned you about being too excitable, Percy,” Her Grace said. “And do not allow yourself to get even more so now by jumping down my throat, which I see you are about to do. Remember that it is I who would be left behind if you were to bring a heart seizure and a premature demise upon yourself. I have always told you I wish to be the first to go.”
Lucas closed his eyes briefly. His grandfather drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair but did not explode into further wrath. He gazed broodingly at the duchess instead.
“What did you talk with her about?” he asked, addressing Lucas though he was not looking at him. “Did she say specifically that she will not marry you? It seems hard to believe if you did not even ask her. Did she say what it is about you to which she is averse? How could any woman in her right mind say no to you?”
“Perhaps, Percy,” Her Grace said, “she has an attachment to someone else.”
“If she does,” he said, “her brother certainly knows nothing of it.”
“She has waited a long time for a Season in London,” Lucas said. “At first she was held back by the death of her father. Then, just when her family was coming out of mourning for him, hergrandmother died. She is here at last, and she is attracting a great deal of admiring attention. She cannot be blamed for wanting to enjoy herself for a while and for choosing to take her time before she favors one potential suitor over all others. You do not wish me to delay in my choice, Grandpapa. If I am as eligible as you say I am, then there must be plenty of other ladies whowouldwelcome my addresses. I have been invited by Lady Abingdon to join an evening party to Vauxhall next week. I have not yet sent an answer.”
“I will arrange for a few more introductions,” Her Grace said. “Jenny and Kitty will be disappointed.”
There was nothing to say to that. Lucas did not even attempt an answer.
“Did you take roses?” his grandfather asked abruptly, apparently unwilling to let go of the idea of Lady Philippa Ware as his grandson’s bride.
“She called it perfect,” Lucas said.
“It?”His grandfather picked up immediately on the singular pronoun and looked at his grandson with a frown.“It?”
“A single rosebud,” Lucas said. “Peach. Her favorite color.”
“A single rosebud,”Her Grace said. “How very romantic.”
“Hmph,” His Grace said.
“Are you quite, quite sure you have no feelings for her, Luc?” his grandmother asked.
Ah, but he had never said he had no feelings for her. His emotions were still feeling raw from that kiss. A laughablychastekiss. But it had shaken him to the roots of his being. For he had tasted beauty and sweetness and had felt a yearning deep in his very bones, or perhaps in hissoul, that he did not know quite how he was going to shake off. It was the irony of ironies, perhaps, that he had fallen hard for the very woman he had once insulted quite unforgivably.
Perhaps this was a just punishment, this feeling he would describe as emptiness if only it were not so very painful.
“I like her sufficiently, Grandmama,” he said carefully, “to choose not to pester her and risk distressing her.”
“Ah,” she said, and smiled rather sadly at him.
“You had better go break the news to Jenny and Kitty,” his grandfather told him.
He supposed, Lucas thought as he left the room and closed the door behind him, that at least part of the heavy depression he was feeling was caused by the fact that he had told the story of what had happened twelve years ago for the first time and, he fervently hoped, the last time. It was all fresh in his mind again, as though it had happened yesterday. Except that then he had been a boy of fourteen and now he was a man of twenty-six. He had been little more than a child and quite unequipped to handle the enormity of what he had overheard. Pure emotion had overcome his judgment, and all the blame had been heaped upon Stratton.Stratton. Satan.The names had become interchangeable in his mind so that even eight years or so later he had believed that the children of Stratton must be the spawn of Satan, or at leastsoiled goods.
She—Lady Philippa Ware, that was—had been the victim of her father’s promiscuity just as much as he had. The man had actually taken a mistress home to the country with him one summer, titillated, no doubt, by the danger involved, hoping to get away with it. He had brought disaster and humiliation upon his family instead. Lady Philippa had suffered. And then, just perhaps when she was recovering her spirits and her hopes for the future, along had come the Marquess of Roath—himself, that was—and with a few ill-chosen words, which ought never to have been spoken aloud even if he had thought them, had destroyed any vestiges that hadremained to her of confidence in herself and her own worth. And then the final blow—the sudden death of her father.
Lucas knew just howthatfelt.
His own part in her tragedy was all too terrible to bear. But bear it he must. And he must do the only thing hecouldto atone. He must stay away from her.
Yet that had not been an unrequited kiss. Inexperienced though she undoubtedly was, she had very definitely kissed him back.
He paused outside his sister’s sitting room and then resolutely opened the door and stepped inside.
“Well?” Aunt Kitty asked, her hands clasped to her bosom.
Chapter Fifteen
It had not seemed possible to Philippa during the first couple of weeks of her come-out Season that her life could be any busier than it already was. She was wrong. Entertainments multiplied and were presented on a far grander scale as the stragglers of thetoncame to town at last and settled in. A pile of invitations was delivered daily to Stratton House by the morning post, addressed now to the earl and countess as well as to his mother and sister. More were delivered by hand later in the day. Sometimes it was difficult to decide which should be accepted and which refused—with regrets. It was hard to decide how many could reasonably be fit into each day. There was little time left over for simple relaxation or for ordinary daily activities like letter writing and leisure reading and even just family conversations. Sometimes there was too little time even for sleep since balls and even many parties continued long into the night and sometimes intruded upon the dawn.
