Regency Surrender: Powerful Dukes. Laurie Benson
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‘So now you are free to pursue the lovely Miss V?’
‘She is an unmarried woman. I’ll not ruin her.’
Hart eyed him closely. ‘Perhaps you should marry her, then.’
‘What? You are talking about marriage? You who repeatedly defile the sanctity of such a union all over Town?’
‘Well, I am not talking about me. You are too honourable to have her any other way, and you have a disturbing need to get leg-shackled again. Why not now? Why not to her? Once you get over this obsession with her you can find amusements elsewhere.’
‘She is an American.’
‘She is hardly running around in animal skins.’
‘So I should throw away centuries of the Lyonsdale bloodline to marry an untitled woman who isn’t even English? How do they even raise their children in America?’ Just the idea of it was making him sweat.
‘Do you believe that if you marry her you will create green dwarf children with pointed ears? She is pretty, appears intelligent, and she comports herself well. I am sure her children will follow suit. If anything, she is the one who would be making a sacrifice. After all, your children could resemble you.’
‘I am a duke. It’s not done.’
Julian’s eyes drifted to the doorway and he clenched his jaw. He wanted her—more than anything. But it was his lot in life that he could not have her.
‘Very well. However, it makes no sense to me why you would want to remain this frustrated.’
‘I am not frustrated,’ Julian replied, more loudly than he had intended.
Hart grinned in triumph.
Spinning on his heels, Julian cursed his friend as he walked away.
* * *
Later that evening Julian sat at his desk and stared at the blurred writing on the paper in front of him. He should have been focusing on memorising the words he had written, since he would be delivering them to a chamber full of his peers in a few days’ time. Instead he was continuing to mull over Miss Vandenberg’s reaction to him at the museum. It had been apparent that she couldn’t wait to leave his side. She was an unmarried woman, and he had tried to kiss her. Of course she had been insulted by his actions. Hart’s assessment of their encounter had been all wrong.
Julian was not in the habit of apologising for anything. This time he needed to make an exception.
A low knock on his door broke the silence of the room. His mother stood in the doorway, dressed for her evening engagements. He motioned for her to enter and she took a seat across from him.
‘You are working late, I see,’ she said, adjusting her gloves.
‘I am memorising a speech.’
‘I hear you are expected to give an address this week. I hope the vote is in your favour.’
‘Thank you.’
She shifted a little in her chair and glanced down at her hands, folded in her lap. ‘You have brought nothing but honour to this family. I am very proud of the man you have become.’
‘Thank you,’ he replied, taken aback by her unusual praise.
‘I’m aware that you do not appreciate me pestering you to find a suitable bride, but I only do so because I’m interested in what is best for you.’
‘And you believe what is best for me is Lady Mary Morley?’ He sat back and crossed his legs, knowing it was time to begin showing an interest in the girl.
‘I do. She is from a prominent family, and she has been trained in how to comport herself as a duchess.’ His mother leaned forward in her seat. ‘Lady Mary is graceful, accomplished, and she appears robust. Since she is but seventeen, she should have many years ahead of her to bear you a number of children. She will be an asset to you—not a hindrance. Surely you must see she is an ideal choice?’
On paper, she was—but she wasn’t someone who could stir his soul and make him ache when he had to leave her. She wasn’t Miss Vandenberg.
He looked at his mother’s hopeful expression and knew she believed she was guiding his actions for the benefit of the Lyonsdale name. And they both knew the family’s reputation meant everything. He recalled what Miss Vandenberg had said in the library about the bond between her own parents. Was it possible he could eventually have that with Morley’s daughter?
‘Were you eager to marry my father?’
His mother’s eyes widened momentarily before she caught herself. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘When you were told you would be marrying, were you eager to do so?’
Julian didn’t miss the uncomfortable expression that crossed her face. ‘I do not recall. I am certain the thought of becoming a duchess in one of the most prominent families in England was pleasing. But I honestly do not recall being eager for anything in my life. I find such strong emotion rather base and vulgar.’
‘Were you happy being married to him?’
She shifted again on the chair. ‘I do not understand why you are interested in such things. People in our position do not concern themelves with happiness. We strive for contentment, and I was content being married to your father.’
Julian rubbed his chest, relieving some of the tightness that was gripping his ribcage. He glanced at the portrait of his father, visible beyond his mother’s right shoulder. Had he ever heard his father laugh? Was that what being married to the wrong woman did?
He shook his head as he buried those questions in his subconscious. ‘Was there something else you wanted to see me about?’
She took a breath and appeared relieved at the change in subject. ‘Actually, there was. I heard from Lady Jersey that Finchley is reconsidering his vote. I thought that might be of interest to you.’
‘I appreciate you taking the time to inform me. I shall speak with him tomorrow.’
‘I understand he has been known to dine at White’s.’
Julian wished that he could tell if she was interested in his affairs because she truly wanted to help him, or because she wanted another accomplishment of his to place in the family annals. It would have been nice to believe she did it out of a fondness for him.
‘Thank you, Mother.’
She turned away. ‘I am glad I could be of assistance.’ When she’d reached the doorway, she turned back to him. ‘I trust you to make the right decision. I will say no more about Lady Mary and defer to you.’
He watched her turn into the hallway before he sat back in his chair. Staring once again at the portrait of his father, he studied the pair of solemn green eyes that looked back at him. Since he was young, Julian had looked upon the life his father had led as a blueprint of the way a duke