wasn’t aware that we had a falling-in.”
That quip made her father glare at her. “You don’t make it easy on the poor fellow. You hold him at arm’s length. He’s trying to court you, but you’re too obstinate to see it.”
“I am well aware of the fact, Father. You have made it too blatant for me to misunderstand. You wish me to marry the duke.”
“You say it with such disdain, as though he were a common laborer, when he is the furthest thing from it.”
She thought back to her young friend Gabriel, the butcher’s boy, and realized that they had shared something remarkable—the same sadness, the same loneliness, despite their stations being so opposite. “I am not at all opposed to a common man, if he were to feel a genuine sense of affection for me.”
“Affection!” Her father’s thick mutton chops twitched in irritation. “Good God, child, are we back to that? Those fairy-tale thoughts were amusing when you were twelve, now they are downright mortifying. Marriage is an institution—”
“Rather like one of those asylums for lunatics,” she mumbled, unable to help herself. She didn’t want an institution. She wanted a marriage. A friendship. A loving partner.
Her father sighed deeply, but did not bother to address her thoughts and instead began to talk to her as he had so many years ago, as she lay on her bed, sobbing into her pillow after he had turned away the only friend she had ever had—Gabriel. Depriving her of that friendship had destroyed her, frozen part of her heart and soul. How wretched her father had been—how horrid it was to see her friend leave, and never, ever return. Internally she had railed against the injustice of it all, but she had been powerless then to take charge of her life, and her future. And now, here she was years later, still just as powerless, still enduring the same lectures on duty and the responsibilities of a female of her class.
“Now, Lucy, must I remind you that every station in life has its obligations, and the daughter of a marquis’s obligation is to marry well, furthering their nobility, and riches. You were put on this earth, girl, to marry a duke.”
How many times had she heard that particular lecture? Her entire existence in the world was based on matrimony and breeding. A harrowing thought, one that made her feel pity for all the other unborn daughters of the peerage.
“You won’t find a better man than Sussex. His reputation is impeccable. His bloodlines impeccable. He is well-respected, connected, titled and as rich as Croesus—”
“And as cold as the Arctic.”
“The man is conscious of propriety is all. As all gentlemen should be,” he reminded her.
“He only looks at me to pick me apart and draw attention to my flaws.”
“The man is a paragon, he can’t help it.”
“No, he cannot, but I don’t have to marry him. After all, I would not suit his ideas of an ideal wife.”
“Of course you would. You come with an enormous dowry, from a long and noble title. Your son will inherit not only a dukedom, but my title as well. Not to mention the fact you are a very lovely young woman. What more can a man want in the way of a recommendation for marriage?”
Finally she forced herself to meet her father’s eye. “Is there anything other than commodities to recommend our union, Papa?”
Stonebrook flustered and gripped the head of his walking stick with his gloved hand. “Come now, it’s time you gave a serious thought to marriage, Lucy. I won’t live forever, you know, and I would like to meet my maker knowing you’ve been set up in a proper home.”
“With someone to love me? Someone who will give me solace when you are gone?” she asked quietly, which made her father grumble and shift his weight on the seat.
“With someone who will keep you safe and fed, and well in hand,” he growled.
Of course. Well in hand. Someone to control her, to make her live in the confines of polite society, just like her parents had done all her life—like her father continued to do. To Stonebrook Sussex was the ideal candidate for her husband. It didn’t matter that they had not a flicker of attraction, or affection for one another. Why, Lucy still recalled the night Sussex had informed her of the fact that once they were married, there would be no more séances or anything of the like. Then he had kissed her, and she had felt nothing but his firm lips pinched into a straight line as they mashed up against hers. It had not been the stuff of dreams. In fact, his grace had been stiff and rigid as he held her, leading Lucy to believe that he had felt the same thing she had—distaste.
“I’ll have Sussex and his sister to dinner, and you shall see, my dear. His grace will make you a fine husband.”
“And am I to have any say?” she asked.
“No,” her father answered, “after that debacle two weeks ago we cannot trust your judgment. You will marry Sussex just as I wish. And you’ll be happy. You’ll see, my dear. Ah, here we are,” her father said with a great air of relief. “I see the footman is already opening the gates. Good,” her father muttered as he pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and flipped the lid open with his thumb.
“Father, we are not done with this conversation, and I am perfectly capable of walking up the drive,” she said, annoyed by the fact her father kept glancing at his watch.
“Nonsense. Won’t be but a minute and I’ll be on my way.”
“I am not a child,” she mumbled as she watched the rivers of drizzle snake down the carriage window. From the corner of her eye, she saw her father turn his head. He was watching her from beneath his bushy white brows, and the thick mutton chops he was so fond of twitched with aggravation. While watching her, his lips thinned, and she could almost hear his thoughts. Yes, you are, or you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into trouble a fortnight ago.
Trouble, Lucy mentally snorted, wasn’t the beginning of what she’d gotten herself into. She’d been impulsive and headstrong, and yes … childish.
“My dear, I worry for your health is all,” Stonebrook said as the horses pulled the carriage up the sloped drive of Black’s town house. “You’ve not been yourself for months now, and while I know you would wish to have your mama here for these sorts of discussions, surely you must know that Lady Black would listen and help you with anything that might be troubling you. If it is Sussex, then may I suggest you talk with your cousin about it? Isabella will affirm what I’ve always believed, that you and the duke will get on well.”
Lucy hid her grimace. Her father had no idea what had happened all those months ago with Thomas, and she prayed he never would. He would never understand, never credit the notion of love and unbridled passions. That he was fobbing her off onto Isabella was very typical of the sort of parent he had always been.
“Ah, look, there she is now, waiting for us.”
Sitting forward, she saw Isabella standing just inside the covered alcove of her new home. She was looking radiant, and carried the expression of a woman well-loved—and loved passionately. A bitter tang of envy resonated through Lucy’s soul. She wanted the very same thing. And she would have it.
“Uncle. Lucy,” Isabella called as the footman opened door. “Come in.”
“I
