He cleared his throat. “I have no wish to argue the vagaries of human emotion at this time of the night, Strathmore. I need to return to Lark House and continue overseeing the inquisition of my staff. I trust you will keep the ladies safe until my return?”
Strathmore inclined his head. “I will protect them with my life.”
“Let us hope it does not come to that,” he said grimly, another chill seeping into the very marrow of his bones.
He would fight these villains and bring them to ground, or he would die trying. Either way, he would do everything in his power to see they could never again harm Hazel, or anyone else.
“How long haveyou been in love with my brother?”
The Duchess of Strathmore’s question gave Hazel such a shock, she almost tripped on the sumptuous carpet of the guest chamber she had been given. After escorting Lady Beaufort to her chamber first, the duchess had accompanied Hazel. Fortunately, she had waited until they were ensconced in the room, away from the vigilant ears of Lady Beaufort, to pose the query.
Hand flying to her heart, Hazel spun to face Lucien’s elegant sister, who watched her with a knowing air. “I am not in love with Arden,” she denied, though part of her knew it was futile.
Still, how strange it was to think someone whose acquaintance she had just made that evening, a woman whose company she had been in for less than a half hour’s time, could see the truth so plainly, when it had taken Hazel herself weeks to discover it.
“You are,” the duchess countered. “I could see it in the way you looked at him. But you need not fret, because he is in love with you as well.”
This assertion shocked her even more than the first.
But what left her most stunned was the sudden, almost painful rush of longing the duchess’s words brought to life within her. ShewantedLucien to love her. But that was foolish yearnings, the product of her reckless heart. She ought to be wise enough to know such an impossibility could never come to fruition.
“It does not matter,” she told the duchess, careful to keep the sadness from her expression and her voice both. “Arden and I are two very different people, from two vastly different places.”
“What has any of that to do with love?” demanded the duchess.
Lucien’s sister possessed the heart of a true romantic. She also had the lack of caution of a person who had been given everything she wished her whole life. As the daughter of a duke, she had undoubtedly been coddled and spoiled. What must life be like for a woman who could be anything she wished to be, who was assured of her role in society, her place in life, who had never had to struggle or fight? Hazel would never know, because she had been destined from birth to have to claw her way through the world. She had been born to be nothing, but she had made herself into something.
“Love is an impractical emotion for a woman like me,” she explained. “And I am a woman who does not dare be impractical. I hold your brother in the highest regard, Your Grace, but I am no fool. I do not belong here in your gilded world. I am but a fleeting visitor, though it is a visit I will never forget.”
Indeed, she would cherish the memory of the arrogant duke who had stolen her heart for the rest of her days. He had awakened her from sleep. He had shown her passion with his touch. He had worshiped her with his body. And she would always love him. Always.
“Forgive me,” the Duchess of Strathmore said, moving toward her in a silken swish of amethyst skirts. “I must argue with your fatalism. I know you must be weary after your travails this evening, and the hour is late, but do you think we might sit for a moment?”
“Your Grace,” she protested, “I am already imposing upon you enough by my presence here in the middle of the night. I would not dream of importuning you further.”
“Nonsense,” said the duchess with a friendly smile. “And you must call me Violet. I insist.Your GraceandDuchessare far too formal for us, for I think we shall be fast friends, you and I. Do you not agree?”
Her air was easy and light, and she possessed none of the starch and sternness that were the hallmarks of her formidable aunt. She made Hazel forget the disparity in their social classes.
“As you wish, Violet.” Hazel smiled back at her, and relented, allowing herself to be led to the chamber’s seating area. “And you must call me Hazel.”
What would it be like to belong to Lucien’s family? To have this brilliant, lovely woman as her sister? To have Lucien as her husband?
She banished the questions, for they were a moot point.
“This is far better.” Violet settled her skirts into place and sent another tentative smile in Hazel’s direction. “I find myself becoming tired so easily in my delicate condition.” She laid a hand over her belly.
Comprehension dawned on Hazel. Lucien’s sister was going to have a babe. “Good heavens, I had no idea! You ought to be in your bed, getting rest. Not here with me.”
“Nonsense.” Violet waved a dismissive hand. “I am perfectly well, but do keep it a secret for now, if you please. I have yet to tell Arden, and I want to surprise him with the news he is to be an uncle.”
“I will not breathe a word,” she promised.
An odd thought wound its way into her mind then. She could have a babe of her own, even now. This thought, like the questions and longing rising in her heart, she quashed.
“Thank you.” Violet’s smile faded. “I want Lucien to find the same happiness I have, Hazel. For so many years, he has closed himself off to anything other than duty. First me, then the Home Office. He has carried so much weight upon his shoulders. He deserves love. He deserves a life and family of his own.”
“I hardly think seeing us together, for but a few minutes this evening, could suggest either Arden or myself is desirous of a future together,” she said stiffly.
