The Duke's Daughter (10 page)

‘Mama, I don’t want to marry Avery Fox,’ Lucy replied. The thought of being bound to a man who would resent her presence in his life filled her with dismay.

The duchess wrapped her arms around her eldest daughter and kissed her hair.

‘I’m afraid you don’t have any say in the matter anymore, Lucy. The moment you went into the garden to meet with Mr Fox alone you set events in motion. I suspected you were up to something this evening, but even I hadn’t thought you would go so far. Unfortunately, your uncle arrived not long ago and is now aware of what took place this evening. There is nothing else to be done. The Bishop of London holds the moral heart of this family under his command and he will make certain that no disgrace comes to it.’

When Rose returned to Lucy’s room she found her mistress seated on the edge of her bed, the betrothal gown held limply in her hand. Lucy handed her the gown and stood silent while her maid worked on the long line of buttons up its back.

A short ten minutes later she descended the stairs. Carefully making sure she held her head up high and kept her steps even and sure, Lucy went to face her fate.

The first sign that something was amiss was the silence.

By rights there should have been a hum of activity on the ground floor. A buzz from the dining room. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw Alex and David standing side by side. As she approached, her two brothers exchanged a pained look. David offered her his hand.

‘Where is everyone?’ she asked.

‘The party is over; Clarice and Millie are sitting with Mama upstairs. Everyone else has gone home,’ David replied.

Everyone.

Hope flared in her heart. Perhaps the senior men of her family had seen sense and were no longer pressing for her and Avery to marry. A gush of air escaped her lungs. Relief.

‘Thank God,’ she whispered.

Alex and David shared another grim look.

‘It’s not over, Lucy. Avery has refused to offer for you, but Papa will have his way,’ Alex said.

At that moment, she wasn’t certain which hurt more. The fact that she would eventually have to go through with the marriage, or that Avery had left without asking for her hand.

He must truly hate her.

‘Ah, there you are,’ her father said, coming out of his study. He beckoned to her.

Once she was inside his study, he closed the door behind him. Seated on a low leather couch by the fire was her uncle. The bishop rose from his chair and came to her.

‘You may think me harsh in pressing for this union, but trust me, I have only your best interests at heart,’ he said. His stern countenance reflected the seriousness of the situation.

Turning to the duke, he gave a nod of his head.

‘I leave the rest of this up to you and Langham.’

The duke closed his eyes. ‘Yes of course; goodnight, brother.’

As the door closed behind her uncle, Lucy fixed her gaze on her father. The steely look on his face said it all. There was no point in pleading with him; it was evident his mind was made up.

‘Alex tells me Mr Fox refused to offer for my hand and that he has already left.’

‘Yes on both counts, but Mr Fox will return. It shouldn’t take long for Langham to convince him of the need for the two of you to marry,’ the duke replied.

She searched her father’s face, hoping to find a crack in his grim facade.

‘Papa, you cannot mean it. You must reconsider. I do not want this union, and neither does Avery. He has made his position clear.’

Her father dragged his fingers tightly through his hair. In the hour or so since she had seen him last, he had visibly aged. Worry lines etched his face.

‘Unfortunately, I have not changed my mind, Lucy. You put us all in an impossible situation and there is only one logical course of action to solve the problem. As soon as Langham sends word that Mr Fox has agreed to marry you, we will begin wedding preparations.’

A little over half a mile away, Avery sat outside on the balcony to his room and stared up at the cloudy London sky. He drew back on his cheroot and blew large puffs of smoke out into the air.

‘Bloody hell,’ he cursed.

The night had been a complete disaster. What he had assumed was going to be a relatively sedate affair had turned into his worst nightmare.

He laid his head back against the Portland stone wall of Langham House. The French doors leading back into his bedroom were closed firmly behind him. Since Lady Alice had made it clear he was not to smoke within the confines of the house, Avery had taken great pains to ensure no smoke drifted in from outside.

If he had his way, he would be sitting back in the pub at the Queens Head in Lambeth, several drinks into a long night of getting seriously drunk. He had remained at Langham House only due to the overwhelming sense of obligation he felt toward Lord Langham.

‘You must adhere to the rules of polite society, Avery, and offer for Lady Lucy’s hand. You have no choice,’ the earl pleaded upon their return to Mill Street.

He snorted. What did he care for polite society? And who the devil were they to tell him how to live his life? All the
ton
seemed to care about was ensuring people like him did exactly what they were told. To control his life even more than the army had done.

As for Lucy, he was convinced she had played him for a guileless fool. He slowly clenched the fingers and thumb of his damaged left hand, tightly winding them together. The pain of her deception burned deep.

Lord Langham had at least won part of the argument, with Avery reluctantly agreeing to stay on at Langham House. He hated himself for having allowed his newly found taste for the finer things in life to have played a part in his decision.

Outside of this house, he had few prospects for making his way in the world. His mangled left hand discounted him for manual labour, while his lack of formal education meant he would struggle to secure a coveted position as a clerk. London was full of former soldiers, all seeking to make a living. Many were able-bodied, but many others had lifelong injuries far worse than his own. He knew he had no right to self-pity. How many of those men would be clambering over him to marry the daughter of a duke?

‘All of them,’ he muttered.

During the heated row he had endured with Lord Langham, he had been forced to concede that Lucy was not to blame for what had transpired in the garden. What on earth had possessed him to haul her into his arms and kiss her like that?

He shook his head, knowing full well why he had let his hands roam over the feminine curves of her body. Why he had succumbed to her enticing lips. It wasn’t just the gown which had seized his imagination. From the very first time he set eyes on Lucy, everything about her had stirred his manly desires.

She was possessed of exactly the kind of feminine physique which Avery found sexually alluring. In any other circumstance he would not have shown restraint with a young lady who offered her charms so willingly. He would have revealed the depth of his need.

It had been an eternity since his body reacted to a woman in the way it had with Lucy. A number of the girls at Lord Rokewood’s estate had made their interest in him known once he was sufficiently recovered from his battle wounds. With his tussle of dark hair and bedroom smile, he was soon fighting off the amorous advances of several servant girls.

Not that he put up any form of struggle. Appreciating a woman’s body and bringing her to the pinnacle of sexual pleasure was something he had learnt early in life. His virginity was lost not long after he joined the army. In the bedroom or the local barn, he was a master of the art of seduction. Nothing gave him more satisfaction than to hear a woman climax under the attention of his heated body.

An image of the soft cream skin of Lucy’s breast entered his mind. It had only been a glimpse, but it left his body hard and hungry. Perhaps a marriage to her wouldn’t be the worst thing which could happen to him. Lucy was a bright, intelligent girl. He sensed she would learn quickly about desire and passion. He could teach her a great deal more than just how to kiss.

He forced the lustful thoughts from his mind. Marriage to Lucy would be the gravest mistake of his life. Not only was he a man incapable of love, but if she ever discovered the truth of what he had done at Waterloo, Lucy would hate him. Knowing he could never truly love her would sentence them both to a lifetime of endless torture. Lucy at least deserved better than that in her life.

He took a brown glass bottle of ale from his jacket pocket and pulled the cork out with his teeth. The badly brewed beer went quickly down his throat. The spice of the hops cleansed his tired palate. No matter how fine a wine cellar Lord Langham maintained, nothing tasted better than the cheap beer Avery kept secretly stashed in his room. Along with his newly acquired fine tastes, he still held fast to some old ones.

Wiping his moist lips with the back of his gloved hand, he immediately regretted not having purchased more bottles on his early-morning shopping trip. He pulled out the few remaining coins from his pocket and examined them.

‘Nothing will be achieved by getting yourself toad-faced,’ he said.

He put the coins back in his pocket and flicked his cheroot over the side of the balcony and down into the street. Then, getting to his feet, he glanced over the side of the balcony, relieved to see there was no one below whom he could have hit. One solitary carriage made its way along Mill Street, the clip clop of the horse’s hooves echoing against the stone roadway.

‘Not my night for making good choices,’ he muttered.

He opened the door leading back to his bedroom and went inside. With Lucy’s brother David resident under the same roof he knew tomorrow would be a full day of recriminations.

‘So he is still refusing to announce the betrothal?’ Alex asked.

Lady Caroline nodded her head.

It was now three days since the ill-fated dinner party and Avery Fox had refused all entreaties for him to visit at Strathmore House.

‘I don’t know what sort of game he thinks he is playing at,’ Alex added, slowly clenching his fist.

‘I think that is very much the root of the problem. Mr Fox does not see this as a game. He is being coerced into marrying your sister and he has obviously decided that no matter what anyone else says, his answer is no,’ his mother replied.

‘How is Lucy?’ Alex asked.

‘Who knows? She has spoken fewer than a dozen words to me and has spent most of the past few days holed up in her room. She refuses to see visitors and has not once left the house.’

‘Poor Lucy, she must be going out of her mind,’ Alex replied.

If anyone had actually asked Lucy what she thought of Avery’s steadfast refusal to marry her, she would have informed them that she fully supported his position. But since she was not currently on speaking terms with pretty much anyone who had been at the dinner party, her opinion remained her own.

As long as Avery held out against those who continued to demand their marriage, she clung to the hope of avoiding a loveless union.

‘A cunning wench,’ she whispered.

Her fingers instinctively went to her lips. Lips which Avery had kissed. His hot, passionate embrace had been magical. Memories of the warmth and strength of his arms around her still lingered. Whether he admitted it or not, she knew he had enjoyed their encounter. He had willingly kissed her.

In the garden, before he uttered those devastating words of rejection, and crushed her heart, he had wanted her. She knew it.

If only they had not been discovered. Given time she could have shown him she was far from a scheming young miss. That she was worthy of his love.

‘Oh, don’t be so ridiculous, Lucy! He hates you. He told you so himself. Just be grateful he doesn’t care for the opinion of others. You have been spared,’ she chided herself.

As is the case when two opposing forces of equal strength push against one another, nothing moved. Avery’s stubbornness was matched only by Lucy’s. Neither was prepared to capitulate and so things remained at a standstill.

On the morning of the fourth day of the stalemate, Avery answered the door of his bedroom. Ian Barrett stood on the threshold. Avery took one look at his former commanding officer and sighed. He didn’t need to ask why Ian Barrett was paying him a visit. Someone had decided that the only way to break the impasse was to apply a stronger force.

‘May I come in?’ he asked.

Avery stepped aside and waved him in.

Ian turned to Avery and raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, it certainly is a humble abode, if that was the look you were attempting to achieve,’ he said. His gaze fell on the pile of dirty shirts and the half-eaten breakfast which remained on the sideboard. Strewn across the floor were books and scattered pieces of paper.

Avery let the remark go unanswered. He owed so much to Ian, including his life. He would never be able to bring himself to the point of showing him disrespect.

‘It is what happens to a room when one decides to bunker down and wait out the siege,’ he replied.

His answer was an honest one. He had refused all attentions from his valet and was now sporting a scruffy four-day-old beard.

‘And how long do you intend to stay in your room? I can’t see Langham allowing this sulk of yours to continue. Hiding away like this is childish to say the least,’ Ian replied.

He dropped his hat and gloves onto the small table by the door and turned to face Avery.

‘You are only doing yourself and your reputation irreparable damage by behaving toward Lady Lucy Radley in such a heartless and cavalier manner. The
haute ton
protects its own. Once this becomes public knowledge they will close ranks against you. I’m surprised that the Radley family have so far managed to keep it quiet. These things tend to get whispered among the servants and shared between the houses very quickly.’

What was it Lady Alice Langham had said? Gossip was the currency of the ton.

‘But aren’t I supposed to be one of them now? I mean, one of you,’ Avery replied.

Ian shook his head.

‘My family has held the title of Rokewood for nearly three hundred years. We have served as part of the royal Privy Council for most of that time. Only my brother’s illness precludes him from being a close confidant to the Prince Regent. I am Albert’s heir and know all the important families, yet even after all that, I am considered an outsider by many. Avery, my good man, to them . . . you are nothing.

‘If you are not born into the upper echelon of London society, if you do not move within their circles and abide by their rules, they will not hesitate to destroy you.’

Avery scowled. What did he care about the
ton
? He didn’t need or want to be in their good graces. He held fast to this opinion.

Almost.

‘I couldn’t care less what London society thinks of me. They can all go to the devil,’ he replied.

Ian snorted and Avery knew he had disappointed him with his response.

‘Don’t be a fool, man! You might not give a tinker’s cuss about them, but you will hurt others. In fact you are already hurting innocent parties. Apart from the lady in question, other members of the Langham and Radley families will suffer. If you don’t agree to marry Lady Lucy, she will be ruined. Her younger sister Emma will therefore be tainted by her sister’s reputation. David and Clarice will likely lose the acceptance of their marriage they have fought so hard to win. Is that what you want? The Lieutenant Fox I knew is not that sort of man.’

A hundred foul curses streamed through Avery’s mind. By calling his honour into question, the major was attacking him at his weakest point. At that moment he was unsure as to whom he hated the most. Himself for allowing his stubborn nature to further corrupt his honour, or Ian for knowingly exploiting it to its fullest.

‘And this is why you are here?’ he replied.

It pained him to think that Ian would treat him thus. Worse still, he knew that he was right. He rubbed the palm of his hand across his beard and yawned. Sleep had not come easily to him over the past days as his conscience continually gnawed at him. Added to that were the constant nightmares which came with sleep. Nightmares which revolved around that fateful night in the garden with Lucy. Of the harsh words he had said to her. Of her despair.

The current situation was not a tenable one. He could not spend the rest of his life holed up in his bedroom. Nor could he allow Lucy to be ruined as a result of his inability to control his lust. This was one tight spot out of which he could not fight. Escape was impossible.

‘Shall I call your valet to come and clean you up?’ Ian asked.

His disapproving gaze ran over Avery’s not-so-clean shirt and generally unkempt appearance.

Avery sighed. If preserving Lucy’s honour was all he could give her, then it would have to do.

‘On one condition,’ Avery replied.

He felt the invisible noose tighten around his neck.

‘Yes?’

‘That once I am presentable, you accompany me to Strathmore House. If I am going to my doom, I want you beside me.’

Ian Barrett headed for the door.

‘I was always going to come with you. You struck a poor bargain, Lieutenant.’