Lucian’s frown intensified. “I don’t understand. What did I have to do with it?”
Southbury blew out a breath. “Lady Mary had her sights set on wringing an offer from you. I assumed you knew.”
Lucian shook his head. “I had no idea. I barely knew who the chit was before that night.”
“She certainly knew who you were,” Southbury told him. “At our wedding ball, Gemma had managed to negotiate a truce with Lady Mary. Gemma agreed to ask you to dance. Lady Mary expected you to reject her, and once Gemma was duly humiliated, Lady Mary agreed she would leave the other girls alone for the remainder of the evening.”
Lucian sat in silence for several moments as he considered what he’d just been told. It was practically nonsensical. But he had to admit that it actually fit with what he’d heard Gemma and Mary say to each other that night. It was all becoming more clear.
Lucian wiped a hand over his face. “You’re saying Gemma knew she would be humiliated by asking me to dance, but she still did so?”
Southbury nodded. “Yes. She had no hope that you’d say yes. Lady Mary had dared her. No doubt she intended to report it to the ballroom. Apparently, you had quite a reputation for never dancing with any of the debutantes.”
Lucian’s jaw locked. The thoughts he’d had alone in the study before Gemma had entered came back to him. “The irony is that I had just decided I would begin asking young ladies to dance.”
“Gemma couldn’t have known that.” Southbury shrugged. “The problem is she’s impatient. Instead of waiting for you to return to the ballroom, she went looking for you. She shouldn’t have done that. She regretted it immensely later that night.”
Regretted it enough to…vomit? Lucian considered everything he’d just heard. He’d known Southbury since they were lads in school together. The man wasn’t a liar, even if his story would paint his own sister in a better light. More to the point, the story he’d just told was ludicrous enough to be true. If Southbury had invented it, it would be less convoluted. Which left only one conclusion. Gemmahadbeen telling the truth when she’d told him she hadn’t wanted to marry him any more than he’d wanted to marry her.
So, she was neither a cheat nor a scheming liar.
And here he’d been treating her like a pariah the entire time they’d been married. Fuck. He shook his head. He was precisely the pompous, arrogant, holier-than-thou ass that Gemma had accused him of being. He’d hurt her. Hurt her, refused to listen to her, and pushed her away…to the point that she now wanted adivorceof all things.
Damn it all to hell. There was only one thing to do. He had to find a way to make it right.
O
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Even Later that Afternoon, The Duke of Grovemont’s Music Room
Gemma was playing the pianoforte when her husband came home. She had no idea where he’d gone or what he was up to. And frankly, she didn’t much care. She only hoped wherever he’d been, he’d spent time contemplating the two choices she’d left him with. She already knew how she would handle the divorce.
First, she would hire a solicitor. One who would assist her not only with the legal aspects, but one who could explain the details to Griffin and Mama. They wouldn’t like it, but they would see reason after she explained how unhappy she was in her marriage and how unfairly she’d been treated by her husband. Griffin and Mama loved her. They wanted her to be happy. They would understand once they had a chance to consider it all for a while.
Next, she would convince Grovemont to agree to the divorce. Of course, it would also be the most difficult part. The man was an ass, and he particularly disliked anything that made him or his family look bad. A divorce would be especially appalling to such a man. But she would just have to make him see that a divorce, especially one she was quite willing to assume theblame for, would be far less embarrassing than having his wife go about telling anyone who would listen what an awful husband he was. She didn’t relish doing such a thing, but she would if it was the only way to convince him to comply. Hopefully, it would embarrass him more to have his wife traipsing around town speaking ill of him than to grant her a divorce for crimcon. Of course, indicating that the marriage had never been consummated would probably be best. Time would tell which option he preferred.
Finally, after Grovemont agreed to the divorce, she would go to Griffin’s estate in the country for a year or two. Just until the scandal died down. Time healed many scandals. By the time she returned, there would be some other scandal, and everyone would forgive and forgetherlittle indiscretion. After all, as long as she wasn’t in search a new husband, no one would care much what she did. At least that was what she would have to tell herself to get through this plan because, otherwise, she might lose her nerve, and sherefusedto lose her nerve.
Even if it meant she was exiled to the countryside forever, she would not remain married to the Duke of Grovemont. It was undeniably painful to think she would probably never have the chance to marry for love, to have children and a home of her own. It was excruciating to contemplate. But it was also the price she had to pay for her recklessness. She hadn’t meant to, but she had been the one to make the mistake, to force Grovemont to propose. It was still her fault, and she had to take responsibility for it…even at the cost of her own happiness.
She was determined, but she had also taken Cecily’s advice and written to Lady Clare Handleton. Clare was a spinster and Meredith’s closest friend. She’d been ruined during her first Season by a titled man who’d refused to marry her. Ever since, she’d been unwelcome in most of the homes owned by members of Society. Of course, Clare was welcome in Meredith andGriffin’s home, and having a duke and duchess as close friends had garnered her a bit of respectability. But Clare had never married and was still treated poorly by most members of theton. If anyone knew what it was like to weather a scandal, it was the woman the papers had nicknamed “Scandalton.” She only hoped Clare would write back soon. Time was of the essence. She couldn’t get away from Grovemont quickly enough.
When the door to the music room opened and Grovemont stepped inside, Gemma nearly missed a key. She scowled. What in the world did he want in here? He could clearly hear she was playing. It had better not be some new rule or demand he intended to impart. She had no patience for his ridiculous decrees today.
Lifting her nose in the air, she ignored him. She continued to play her sonata until he came to stand directly in front of the instrument. He smiled at her.Smiled. And, frankly, it looked…genuine. It wasn’t falsely tight or strained in the manner they usually smiled at each other.
Gemma narrowed her eyes.Whywas he smiling? She’d never seen him smile. Not like that.
No matter. She turned her attention back to her sheets and finished the piece before she allowed her fingers to come to a rest atop the ivory keys.
Grovemont’s clapping echoed through the large room.
She narrowed her eyes toslits. “Did you want something?” she asked tersely.
“I want to say good morning,” he replied in a voice that sounded nearly jovial. “I failed to do so before I left today.”
She arched a brow over her still-narrowed eye. He was up to something. Feeling guilty over failing to say good morning? Not likely.
