That brought him up short. But… at least it sounded encouraging.
“Right,” he said quickly. “Tell me what I did.”
He could see the tears sparkling in her pale blue eyes. “Youdidspeak to my father two years ago! You did ask him for my hand! I heard it from his own lips!”
He ran a hand across his eyes.Thank fuck. He’d known she would discover that piece of information sooner or later. And he had an explanation he could give her.
It wasn’t what you would call a good explanation. Mostly, it involved the wordsIt seemed like the best course at the timeandLet’s face it, I’m an idiot.
But it would have to serve.
“That is… true,” he said hesitantly. “I…” He glanced around the foyer. The servants had discreetly slipped away.
Still, this seemed like a poor choice of location for such an intimate conversation. “Come. Let’s go somewhere more private.”
He took her hand and was pathetically grateful when she let him. He led her up the carpeted staircase and down the corridor to his bedchamber—theirbedchamber, if he had anything to do with it.
He led Rosalie to the foot of the bed, which one of the servants must have made up, and seated her there. He sat beside her, still holding her hand. She made no move to withdraw it.
He cleared his throat. “In order to properly explain, I should probably start with how I came to expect that the living at Stratford-Upon-Avon would be mine.”
She nodded crisply. “Very well. Go on.”
“Grandfather had taken a fall.” Lucian’s voice had gone gruff. “He awoke in the middle of the night and got up to relieve himself. There was a footman sleeping on a pallet in his bedchamber to assist him with precisely that sort of task, but, well, he forgot, and he tried to make it to the chamber pot in the dark. He tripped over something and went down hard.”
Rosalie said nothing, but her eyes were sympathetic, and she stroked her thumb across the back of his hand.
“It sent him into a rapid decline,” Lucian explained. “He couldn’t stand on his own and spent most of his days in bed.Dr. Hutchinson said it would be the beginning of the end, so I tried to spend as much time with him as I could. Grandfather’s memory seemed to take a turn for the worse. There were times he didn’t recognize me, or he thought I was my father.” Lucian swallowed. “But there was one hour when the fog just… lifted. It was as if he were his old self again.”
Lucian continued, “Lysander, being Lysander, summoned grandfather’s solicitor.” Lucian rolled his eyes. “There were some pieces of property that he wanted Grandfather to add to the entail, to make sure they went to him. On his way out the door, the solicitor mentioned that Mr. Weston was giving up the living at Stratford-Upon-Avon as he had been promoted to bishop. Grandfather would need to appoint someone new to the post. Once the solicitor left, Grandfather announced that he wanted me to have the living at Stratford-Upon-Avon.”
“When Grandfather said that, Lysander snorted. I know there’s a certain absurdity to the notion of me, of all people, serving as a parish priest. But I know how Grandfather meant it. He wanted to make sure I was taken care of. So, I nodded and thanked him sincerely and didn’t give it too much thought.”
Lucian looked down. “Grandfather died two days later.”
Rosalie squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”
He gave her a weak smile. “As was I. I was so occupied with my sorrow that I forgot entirely about the living. But then, six weeks later, I met you.”
Rosalie swallowed thickly, and he laughed. “Don’t be nervous. It wasn’t anything bad. I’d been so busy mourning Grandfather, and it was almost as if I’d been sleepwalking through my days. I was thinking all kinds of thoughts I’d never had occasion to think before. I’d been brooding over the fact that I no longer had any living family. Lysander hardly counts. I didn’t want to be alone in the world. For the first time, I foundmyself longing to start my own family, but I despaired, because I’d never met a woman I could even imagine marrying.”
He shifted on the bed, crossing his legs at the ankle. “And then, Tyrone made me go to that stupid party. I’d scarcely left my rooms in weeks.” He gave her a small smile. “And there you were. A young lady with a sweet smile and a tart tongue, who didn’t faint dead away every time I opened my mouth, and whose wit paired beautifully with mine. And within an hour, I was trying to figure out how on earth I would persuade you to take a chance on a scoundrel like me. I found myself sneaking into balls and garden parties—to which I hadnotbeen invited, by the by—desperate to see you. And, as I was trying to figure out how I could possibly make things work, I remembered that I did, in fact, have a living.”
“After that night at the ball, I went straight to your father.” Lucian shuddered. “For such a jovial man, he can beterrifyingwhen he puts his mind to it. You should have seen the glower he gave me when I said I wanted to marry you.”
Rosalie chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it. He never looks at me that way.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t. You’re his favorite. But he did soften toward me as the conversation went on.Slightly. And when I mentioned having the living, and that it generated eighteen hundred a year—not as much as he wanted, mind you, but he was willing to accept it—he grudgingly gave his approval. But that ‘approval’ was accompanied by a stern lecture about how I’d better secure the living, and I needn’t bother coming back there if I couldn’t, because he wouldn’t let a fortune-hunting blackguard within a thousand feet of his precious, perfect daughter. So, I needed to secure the living. Officially. But Viscount Valentine was the person with the power to grant the living, and Grandfather was no longer Viscount Valentine. The person who would determine my fate was?—”
“Lysander,” Rosalie said in unison with him. She cringed. “I have a terrible feeling I know where the story is going.”
Lucian inclined his head. “You probably do. So, I went to speak with Lysander. I knew I had to be careful. He’s always hated me.”
“Why is that?” Rosalie asked.
Lucian considered his words. “We’re very different people,” he finally said. “Obviously. But things worsened when we went away to Eton. He was the better student by far, and he was certainly more popular with our teachers. But I think he assumed that the other boys would admire him, both for his academic accomplishments and because he was due to come into a title and fortune. But titles are as common as cabbages at Eton. And also…” He waved a hand, struggling to explain. “Eton isn’t that kind of place. You’re admired for your prowess on the pitch, or for pulling pranks. The areas, in other words, whereIexcel. If you’re good at Latin, the other boys only care because they want you to complete their assignments for them.That’show the clever boys survive. But Lysander wasn’t willing to play that game. Add in the fact that he was a whiny little snitch, and he found that he was deeply unpopular. And it galled him that I was well-liked. He was the better student. The heir. Hedeservedto have everyone fawning over him.” Lucian shrugged. “At least, in his own mind.”
He continued, “I tried to act nonchalant. I knew that if he could sense how much I wanted the living, he would deny it just to spite me. He asked me dozens of questions. Why was I coming to him now? What had changed? Was I looking to marry? I told him I’d been too consumed with mourning Grandfather to give it a thought. I pretended that I only wanted the income. That I intended to hire a curate to perform the actual work. Which I might have done, at least for the first couple of years. Not to do the work for me, but to show me how to do a decent job.Naturally, I denied any intention to marry. I knew that would put you in the worst kind of danger.”
