“They can go hang for all I care.”
“This is not the Ashmore I know.”
“Ashmore is a fake. He doesn’t really exist and you, my beautiful, wild, wonderful Lucy, were the first and only person to realise that.” He laughed, as if freed from invisible iron shackles. “You have helped me see the truth of who I really am.”
“No. Please. I beg of you, let it be.”
He dropped his hands. “I’m too old for you. You should have a season. Is that what you want? I would wait for you, if you wanted that.”
She shook her head and said thickly, “I don’t want a season and you are not too old.”
“I’ve never been in love before, Lucy. Not like this. And I know, despite your resistance, that you are not indifferent to me.” His voice was hoarse.
She choked up. “I’m not even fit to be a gardener’s wife, and you know it.” Why wouldn’t he see reason?
“Quit putting yourself down.”
She forced herself to harden up, retreat deep inside herself behind a shell. “It is true. Do you know how many disreputable proposals I receive in London, after I have been on stage? Almost daily. They were outbidding each other.” Her voice turned hard. “Now, if you were to join the ranks of the bidders, I might consider it.” She felt her lips twist into a cold smile.
Henry recoiled. “You misunderstand. I am not offering for you to be my mistress, but my wife.”
A stony mask slid over her face. “I would be better off as your mistress. If you can outbid the Duke of Malwich, who offered quite a considerable sum, jewellery and a house in the bargain.”
His cheeks flushed. “Stop talking like that, it doesn’t become you.”
“You’d better get used to it because that is how we talk, we actresses. Your father would have been familiar with that kind of talk.”
“Why are you like this, Lucy? I offer you my heart and marriage, and you throw it back in my face?”
The look of pain in his eyes nearly broke her, but she held on to the last remnants of her strength. “Because, maybe, I don’t want marriage but freedom. Freedom of the stage, with all its glitter, glory, fame, and money. It’s amusing to have the powerful dukes of the realm bid over my favours. Why tie myself down to only one? You think you know me. But you don’t. And lastly, you’ve forgotten one thing.” She drew a shaky breath before delivering the killing thrust. “I don’t love you. Sure, I was fond of Henry the gardener. But the duke? Not nearly enough to fetter myself to a lifetime of boredom and duty.”
Henry’s face went stark white. “I see,” he said after a long and heavy pause. He nodded once, as if he ought not to be surprised at this revelation. “Then there is nothing left to be said.” For a flicker of a second, Lucy saw bleak anguish in his eyes. Then his gaze shuttered, and he instantly transformed back into the marbled ice duke. “Forgive my imposition on your time. Your servant, ma’am.” He bowed stiffly.
Lucy closed her eyes to shut out that vision. “I apologise for everything, Your Grace. Please believe me, none of this was my intent. The scandal will blow overeventually. I never intended to hurt or harm anyone.” She suppressed a sob. “Least of all you.”
But he’d already left the room.
Chapter 23
Several months later. Miss Hilversham’s Seminary, Bath.
Lucy saw the engagement announcement inThe Times.
She shouldn’t have been so surprised. After all, it was to be expected.
She stared blindly at the striped wallpaper until the maid asked her, timidly, whether she should take the tea service away since her tea had gone all cold.
“Yes please, Martha.” Lucy took a shaky breath and folded the newspaper into smaller and smaller squares.
The Duke of Ashmore and Lady Louisa Whitehall would live happily ever after. It was best like that. Really. For everyone involved.
She swallowed and swallowed, but hot tears spilled onto her cheeks.
Blast and drat.
There was a quick knock on the door, and Pen stuck in her head. “They’re waiting for you in the classroom.”
“I’ll be along in a minute.” Lucy scrubbed the tears away with her hand. Pen hesitated, then went over to her. Wordlessly, she knelt down next to Lucy’s chair and laid her head on her lap. Lucy choked. She put her hand on Pen’s black hair. She understood it was Pen’s way of comforting her.
