“Lucy, slow down.”
But there was no stopping this storm.
She blew into the tea shop and was utterly unsurprised to see the lady sit down at a table with none other than the duke himself, Damien.
And she should have expected the next move, yet somehow she hadn’t. So when Damien’s hand caressed the woman’s, and his lips brushed her cheek, her heart really shouldn’t have stopped in place. It should have kept right on pumping. Blood. Because that’s what the body needed. Blood. Oxygen. Food. But in this moment she had nothing she needed. And everything she didn’t think she wanted was being ripped out from under her.
If she had been the impulsive kind, she might have shouted something. She might have burst into tears. But no…she did nothing of the sort. She jutted her chin out, turned on her heel, and left.
The only thing she felt guilty about was poor Mirabelle who had no clue what was going on. And she didn’t have the heart, orthe words, to tell her. Her own heart was a smooshed up mess, smothered, stomped on, laying decimate somewhere near the realm of her feet. And words? Those were all locked up in her mind. Fighting each other. Scrambling around. Some crawling to get out. Others punching another in the face. It was pure anarchy.
And that’s why as she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, she didn’t cry. She didn’t move. She didn’t even hardly think. Just to remind herself that this was exactly what she wanted. Right? She didn’t really ever intend on leaving Mirabelle. This was her home. Her future. Spinsterhood. A sisterhood of spinsterhood in a spinster’s cove. It was lovely. Just lovely. A manless future full of dreams.
This was what she wanted.
All the passion and pleasure and none of the commitment. She had been raised by her mother. Men didn’t stick around. Well, that wasn’t true. The only men that did stick around stuck to everything. And by everything she meant women. And by all of this she meant that men weren’t loyal.
So what had she learned? Nothing new.
Except…
Her fingers drummed on the coverlet. Yes. If she was going to learn anything, she was going to write it down. That was the whole point of this, to write.
So she did. She wrote down every last sordid detail until she couldn’t write another word. And it was done. And then she did lie down. And she did cry.
Chapter 8
“So that’s the whole story. Now you know everything, Mirabelle.” Lucy sighed in relief of having told her friend all that there was to know about her and Damien, and though she expected a somewhat more surprised look, all she got was fingers drumming against a tea cup. “Did you want to say anything?”
“Oh…erm…yes, well. It is a bit awkward—”
The blood drained from Lucy’s face. She suddenly knew what her friend was about to say. How had she not predicted it earlier? Mirabelle may have encouraged her to explore, but she wasn’t turning her house into a brothel. Of course she was going to ask her to leave.
“I’ll pack my bags. I’ll find somewhere else. I’m so sorry—”
“No, no. It’s not that. It’s just well…I have to rush to say this as guests will be arriving at any moment…but, I well, I already knew that you two…you know…”
“You did?”
Mirabelle nodded.
“How?”
“You weren’t exactly quiet…”
Oh dear God in Heaven.
And the two just looked at each other helplessly, finally they burst into laughter. “I do hope you find your peace, Lucy.”
“You always know just what to say, Mirabelle.” She reached across the table and squeezed her friend’s hand. “Now what’s this about guests?”
The knock on the door preceded an answer, and Mirabelle just wiggled her brows. Once the guests entered the room, she gave two couples a large hug.
Turning to Lucy, she made introductions. “My cousins are here. This is Seraphina and Sebastian. And this is Lenora and Edward.”
And before anyone could say or do much more, a flurry of activity fell upon them. The door opened to several more people.
Lucy could hardly keep track of the people, but she thought she caught a few names. Arthur, The Duke of Ashbourne and his wife Bridget (the one with the glasses). Gregory, the Duke of Wellingford, and his duchess, Mary (who had left the kids at home). And finally, three single men: Tristan Sinclair and Alexander Devereaux (partners in the whole gold rush), and last andleastly, being dragged in by his collar, Damien.
