“You are a duke. No one would dare insult you.”
“To my face,” he muttered.
“You have the connections to help introduce Lucy to the right suitors. Besides, having been away for the past year has only made you more interesting. Mysterious. Lucy deserves to be settled safely. This innuendo that was printed in today’s scandal sheets will damage her reputation unless it is corrected immediately. Only a respectable marriage can save her now.”
Hart nodded tightly, already regretting his part in this. He had his own investigation to pursue. He did not need to add matchmaking to his list of to-dos.
Chapter Four
Lucy sighed. Whywas she here? She had every intention of hanging on to her anger. She’d planned to let him rot in his bad decisions. She really had. But then this morning, as she took her morning constitutional, she had somehow ended up in front of his house. She handed her gloves and parasol over to Mr. Townson. “Where is he?”
“This way, Miss Middleton.” Townson turned and led her up the grand staircase to the first floor.
The house was the same as it always had been. Simple, elegant furnishings throughout. Tasteful landscapes dotted walls papered in muted tones of beige and gold. Perhaps because the house had lacked the presence of a duchess for so long was the reason the décor felt so staid and dull. When Lucy had her own home, she would fill it with color, fresh flowers, and interesting pieces of art collected from her travels.
Townson stopped in front of Hart’s study. “One moment, please.” He knocked and then slid inside, leaving her in the corridor.
Since when did she need to be announced? It wasn’t as if she were a stranger. Lucy crossed her arms with a huff. This was a bad idea, but someone had to look out for him. He’d looked terrible last week. Unkempt, his hair a wild, long mess only partially concealing the spiderweb of thin white scars that snaked from his temple across his cheek and disappeared into the stubble covering the lower half of his face. But the scars weren’t the most distressing part about his appearance.
It was the bleakness in his eyes that had been hard to see. Hart had always carried himself with a certain self-possessed swagger. His gaze always cool and confident. Many thought him arrogant or intimidating, and it was his due as a duke. But Lucy knew if one looked closely, they could see the ever-present twinkle of humor in his eye or catch the slight quirk of his lips when he was amused. His cynicism led to a dry sense of humor and to his fait accompli outlook on life.
She tapped a foot on the floor. What was taking so long? As though her impatience could be felt through the door, it opened, and Townson held it wide for her to enter. Lucy entered the room cautiously. Hart stood behind his desk tugging down his cuffs. When he glanced up, wariness radiated from the deep, misty grey of his eyes. He had cut his hair, and although still too long for current fashion, the dark swoop of hair across his forehead suited him.
“Good morning, Lucy. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
Lucy wandered slowly through the room toward the large mahogany desk that dominated the space. She ran her fingertips over the back of an upholstered chair, which sat along with its pair in front of a large fireplace. The perfect spot for brandy and smokes. As she looked around the room, she again noted that nothing had changed since this room had belonged to Hart’s father. “Everything in this house is the same as it always has been. Won’t you ever redecorate to suit your tastes?”
“This was never meant to be mine, so I guess I never put much thought into how I would like it to be.” He watched her as she moved closer. “I guess I will leave it up to my future duchess to do with it as she pleases.”
Lucy continued to wander through the room not ready to have to answer the inevitable question of why she was here. She stared up at a hideous stuffed boar’s head mounted on the wall. “Are you planning to marry then?”
He shrugged. “Well, I must. It will just be a matter of finding someone to tolerate me.”
“You are fairly intolerable,” she teased.
Finally, she came to a stop in front of the desk. Hart stood stiff and still as though he didn’t know how to act. She tilted her head; how strange. Who was this new man? And what had he done with the old Hart?
Curiosity had her asking, “Care to go for a stroll with me?”
“I don’t think so. I have a lot of things to do.” He waved a hand at the papers strewn over the desk.
“I won’t take no for an answer. You are far too pale and thin. Have you eaten this morning?”
Hart’s glance slid to the left. She followed his gaze to a tray laden with slices of ham along with toast and jam that sat on the side table. “I became engrossed in the ledgers, and I forgot to eat.”
“I see.” She pursed her lips. “First a walk in the sunshine and then food. Let’s go work up an appetite.”
His mouth opened then closed, and she wasn’t sure she had convinced him. But then he came around the desk and snatched up a walking stick that leaned against the end. Townson was standing guard right outside the door as they left the room. His bushy eyebrows raised high when Hart said, “Get my things. Apparently, we are going for a walk outside.”
Once outside in the bright sunshine, Lucy’s mood improved tenfold. She was just helping a friend in need. This was not more than that. He clearly needed someone to look out for his health. She would assure herself he was recovering, then she could leave him alone with a clear conscience. For a moment, she tipped her face to the sky so she could feel the sun on her cheeks.
Then she pushed open her pale blue parasol. “Shall we hoof it to Green Park?” Looking down at his walking stick, she frowned. “Or do you need to stay closer to home? Have you hurt a leg? I don’t remember your leg being one of your injuries.”
“No, the legs work just fine. It’s the eye. The stick is to help navigate my blind spot.”
Lucy nodded and came to stand on his left, the opposite side of his bad eye. “I knew you would figure out a way to cope. You’re not one to give up.”
He harrumphed from next to her.
