Marianne shook her head. “He is not attempting to charm me. And I do not wish to be charmed. We are simply playing our parts, and he is being chivalrous in his attempts to help me.”
“Chivalrous. I see,” Juliet laughed. “You highborn ladies certainly are different.” She smiled. “I wonder what Sister Bernadette would say if she could see you now. No. I know what she would say. She would say that despite your protestations, you are not only perfectly willing to be charmed, you also find him charming. I saw the way you looked at him yesterday before master Henry used your skirts as a napkin. You were quite taken.”
“I was not,” Marianne retorted.
“You certainly were,” Juliet said in a singsong tone. “Now it is almost two o’clock. You must go.”
Marianne wanted to continue to counter, to protest, but she knew that Juliet had won this particular battle of wills. Juliet was convinced that Marianne was fairly charmed by Lucien. As she made her way down the stairs to the waiting horse, she could not deny that perhaps there was a grain of truth in that assumption.
The way to the abandoned great estate was easier than she had envisioned. It was mostly a straight road through a copse and past a water clearing.
“Duck your head,” Lucien said, and raised his hand to hold back some branches to allow her passage so they wouldn’t whip intoher face. “I rode along this path once when I was a young boy with my grandfather, and I returned with my face utterly sliced and diced.”
“Goodness gracious,” Marianne said. “That must’ve been painful.”
“To my ego, yes. But I learned my lesson. Do not dash forth without looking first. My father was upset. Fortunately, my grandfather was able to rein him in.”
“Did he have a terrible temper, your father?” Marianne asked once Lucien had caught up to her.
He wet his lips. “I would not say he had a terrible temper. He was more disinterested, I suppose I could say. But when he did show an interest in me, it was usually to chastise me for something. Because he wanted me to be the ideal earl. And I was not suited to the title in his eyes.”
She tipped her head to one side. “So at that time was your father not earl?”
“No, my grandfather was. But we all lived together. My grandfather, much to my father’s chagrin, lived a very long life, and he died when he was five and eighty years old. My father was only earl for five years before he followed him in death. I dare say my father cursed his father for his longevity on his deathbed, though I am grateful for it.”
This was the first time Lucien had truly opened up to her about his life. “So you were closer to your grandfather.”
“I was. He was the dearest man. He could be firm when he needed to be and kind when the situation called for kindness. He made me who I am today —far more than my father did. My father was more concerned with appearances.”
“So was mine.”
“I heard. He married your sister off to a man old enough to be her grandfather. My father was of a similar ilk.”
Marianne swallowed. Was this the chance she hadn’t known she was waiting for? Should she ask about his wife? Surely this was some sort of sign from the universe, wasn’t it? “Was yours an arranged marriage?”
“I must say my marriagewasarranged. Although you should know—you were there when I arranged it.” He chuckled, and she couldn’t help but mimic the sound.
“You know what I meant. Your previous marriage.”
He grew serious, pulling his shoulders back as they rode on.
“It was an arrangement, yes. Made by my father when he was earl. As Earl of Wexford, he tried to secure the succession as best he could. At least, I have Henry, though,” he added quietly. “I suppose Henry came out of it, so...”
“What was she like? Your wife,” Marianne asked cautiously.
She noticed the way Lucien’s face darkened as he turned towards her. “Henry’s mother is not somebody I wish to speak of,” he said shortly. “There is much darkness surrounding her passing. I find it difficult to discuss her. Forgive me.”
Marianne’s mind whirled. Was this a sign that Juliet had been right and there was something sinister in his history with his former wife? Or was this a sign that he still grieved her death? Either could be true.
“I find it sometimes a relief that my father died. I know it is terrible to say,” Lucien said suddenly as they continued on. A clearing was coming into view. “Do you think that makes me a terrible person?” he asked, looking at her.
“No,” Marianne replied. “I at times feel the same. Although I could never say so to my sisters. My father was a difficult man to love, and I doubt that he truly ever loved me. Or my sisters. It would hurt them to admit it, but I think it is true. He wanted to be respected. He wanted to be wealthy. He wanted to be known, to be remembered. That always meant more to him than us. I think if he were still living, he would’ve done to me what he attempted to do to Evelyn.”
“Married you off to some horrid old man?”
“Yes. I think perhaps it might’ve been difficult for him with Nathaniel and Rhys as my brothers-in-law, but he certainly would’ve tried. I can imagine he would’ve taken me away toScotland and married me off to some Scottish laird at Gretna Green before anyone could do anything about it.” She sighed. “I have been thinking of him more of late. I think it is because I see you with Henry, and I see all the things that he was not as a father.”
“I try my best to be what Henry needs,” Lucien replied. “It is my duty after all as his father.”
