Lucas stared across the fine carriage that had been sent to retrieve him. Diana was looking straight ahead, her gaze inscrutable and her hands clenched in her lap. She looked as though she were being led to the gallows, not to his fine home a mere hour’s drive across the city from her own.
Of course, that was how he felt about this shift, too. He had no interest in returning to the ducal home and the ducal life. That was what he’d been avoiding for years. Almost a decade, actually. A decade since the moment that had blown his life apart and exposed the lies beneath.
“Are they accustomed to you bringing home a mistress from time to time?” Diana asked, her soft voice cutting into his thoughts.
He jerked his head up. “I…” He hesitated. To tell her the truth was to reveal some of that exposed nerve that was his family and his past. But he had promised not to lie anymore. “In truth, I do not go here often,” he admitted.
She tilted her head in surprise. “Even when you are in Town?”
“I have a townhouse near Piccadilly,” he said. “I prefer to spend my time there.”
“But you are coming here because it is—”
“More public,” he said. “It will make it look to our traitor as though I have given up my life as a spy and shifted to the life duty dictates.”
“After the extent of your injuries, I suppose that makes sense,” Diana said. “Have you ever thought of doing it in truth?”
“I have no interest in being Duke of Willowby,” he said, his tone far harsher than he had intended.
She did not recoil from it, though. Instead, she leaned in, reaching out to take his hands in hers. “But youareDuke of Willowby.”
He almost laughed. Almost let the whole story fall from his lips as she massaged his hands. Luckily, the carriage turned into his drive and then pulled up to a stop. It silenced any foolish confession that might have fallen from his lips.
He straightened and tugged his hands away. “And now we play our roles.”
She was slower to sit up, and her expression was troubled as the door to the carriage opened and revealed a footman. She went out first, smiling at the servant in thanks before she turned back and helped the man as Lucas eased his way down the short stairs. He saw the servants who were lined up outside to greet him exchange looks, and his cheeks flared.
Whether they were wondering at why the prodigal son had returned or marveling at his fall from physical prowess, either option was difficult. He didn’t like their whispers and their judgment.
Diana slid her arm through his and whispered, “Steady on.”
He glanced down at her, surprised that those two little words had cut through the anxiety and emotion. Suddenly he cared a little less about the others. There was her and that was enough.
She guided them up the stairs, careful to make it appear that he was bearing all of his own weight rather than leaning slightly on her as he quietly greeted the servants. When they reached the top step, his father’s butler, Jones, awaited them. Lucas pressed his lips together. He and Jones had never seen eye to eye.
But to his surprise, the butler actually seemed pleased to see him. “Your Grace,” he said. “How good to have you home, sir.”
Lucas stepped into the foyer and looked around with a sigh. Home. This place had never been home. Nor had any of his father’s estates. He had never spent a moment of his life feeling wanted there. Feeling loved. He’d hardened himself to the reactions those facts created, but he recalled them well. Recalled the pain of being so young and knowing he was despised by a man who was supposed to care for him.
“Jones,” he forced himself to say. “May I present Miss Oakford.”
The butler’s gaze slid to her, and Lucas felt her shift under the scrutiny. Of course she would. Being labeled a mistress was something she claimed to be able to handle, but that did not mean she would enjoy the exercise.
Still, Jones managed admirably. He bobbed his head in welcome. “Miss Oakford,” he said. “We shall endeavor to do all we can to ensure your comfort during your stay.”
“Thank you,” Diana said, her voice very small and even meek.
Lucas didn’t like it, but he pressed on. “I do apologize for deciding to come so suddenly. I hope it did not create too much work for the staff.”
“No, Your Grace,” Jones said as he took gloves and hats from them. “Since your mother was already staying here, it really required nothing.”
Lucas stiffened. “Ah, yes. The duchess. Is she still in residence?”
Now the butler looked uncomfortable. “Er, yes, Your Grace. She is packing up for a move to the dower house, but she is still here. She wanted to see you when you—”
“I see her. You may go, Jones.”
Lucas glanced across the foyer as the butler left and found his mother standing there. He buckled just a fraction at the sight of her. The last time he saw her, it had been at his father’s funeral. When she’d stood at his casket, snow and rain swirling around her furs, her dark gaze narrowed on him. He’d never felt so lost in his life.
