“I not only attempted, I succeeded. You have me to thank for your lovely, perfect wife.” Lucy continued her pacing in front of the fireplace.
“You tothank?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was the Duchess of Claringdon truly marching around his study asking for thanks for the mess she’d created in his life?
“Yes, you dolt.” Lucy paused to glare at him. “Are you honestly going to tell me you’d rather be married to Lady Eugenia Eubanks right now? You might have her dowry to spend in the clubs, but I hardly think she’d have made you happy. You looked bored as toast whenever you were with her.”
“My wife hasn’t exactly made me happy, either,” Hart drawled.
“Well, not yet,” Lucy replied. “That’s because you’re being such an idiot. If you would hear her out and allow her to explain, you could both get over this ridiculousness and be wildly happy together as you are so obviously meant to be.”
Hart opened his mouth to tell the woman to get out of his house, but Lucy kept going. “It’s high time youstopped acting like a spoiled child and began acting like a man who’s thankful for the gift he’s been given.”
Hart narrowed his eyes on the duchess. Spoiled child? The duchess was clearly insane. He’d let her say her piece and usher her out the door as quickly as possible. “I suppose there’s a reason you brought Lady Delilah with you today,” he said in an effort to hurry along their visit.
Delilah hopped up to sit on the edge of her chair. “Yes. I was hoping to apologize to your wife, but Lucy told me when we were nearly here that Lady Highgate isn’t home. Is that true?”
“Yes,” Hart replied through clenched teeth. “That’s true.” Perfect. Now he was going to be made to feel guilty by a precocious girl. Could the day get any worse?
“A pity. I did so want to apologize to her,” Delilah said, a crestfallen look on her face.
“For what, may I ask?” Hart replied, hating himself for asking, as it would no doubt prolong their visit.
“Go ahead, Delilah, tell Lord Highgate the truth,” Lucy prompted.
Delilah took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap. “That night in the duchess’s gardens, Lucy and I were watching. The moment we saw you kiss Meg, I ran around the corner and Lucy went back to get the others.”
“Yes, I remember,” Hart ground out. “Thank you for admitting you planned the entire thing.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. His headache was worse, throbbing behind his eyes.
“But what you don’t know is that Meg never knew anything about it,” Delilah continued.
“I find that difficult to believe, since I saw the duchess talking to Meg just before she went out to the gardens.Do you deny that, Lucy?” He gave the duchess a challenging stare.
“Of course I don’t deny it,” Lucy said. “I sent Meg out there.”
“I rest my case.” Hart allowed a smug smile to settle on his face.
Lucy stamped her boot-clad foot. “You rest nothing, you fool. The reason Meg went out there, the reason I was able toconvinceher to go out there, was because she had something she wanted to say to you. I merely made a mess of the timing and assumed she’d said itbeforeyou began kissing. Which you’d understand was quite an honest mistake if you’d known what she planned to say.”
“What she planned to—” A niggle of doubt swirled through Hart’s brain. Meg’s words from that night skittered through in his mind: “There’s something I must tell you. Something important.” He’d forgotten that until now. His next words came from a suddenly dry throat. “Shewasgoing to tell me something… before…”
“You nearly ravished her?” Lucy said. “Was that her fault, by the by? It looked quite mutual to me. She still has something to tell you, something quite important, but it’s not for me to say. I suggest you find your wife and ask her.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
“Lucy says I should talk to Meg.” Hart lay on the settee at his brother-in-law’s town house, a half-drunk bottle of brandy sitting on the floor next to him, within arm’s reach. Christian sat behind his desk not ten paces away, seeing to his paperwork and humoring Hart. Berkeley had just returned from a trip up north.
“Do you agree with her?” Christian did not glance up from his ledger.
“I don’t know. Should I?”
“That’s not for me to answer, old boy,” Berkeley replied.
“Damn it, Berkeley. I don’t know how to be a husband. You’ve seen my parents. They have no love for each other.”
“Yes, Sarah’s mentioned that. I suspect it’s why they were hell-bent on securing miserable marriages for their children… because they’re miserable themselves.”
Hart rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I never thought about it like that.”
“Yes, well, you should. Whenever anyone is hell-bent on you doing something, always ask yourself why.”
