Sins of a Duke (15 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Lucan calculated that he had lain in the same position for almost six hours. Staring at the ceiling, wondering how it had all gone so bloody wrong. How could he have sunken so low as to take his revenge on a young lady that had been as sweet as Marissa? “How do I fix my fool-hardiness,” he said softly to the Reverend who had been sitting beside him in silence for the past hour.

The Reverend got up and drew the drapes allowing sunlight inside the library. Lucan cursed, and draped a forearm over his closed eyes. Imbibing so liberally upon his return had been foolish. For the second time in a decade he had gotten drunk. He looked at the bottle of brandy on his oak desk and swore then and there that never would he allow it to happen again.

“So the lady turned from you the minute you confessed what you had done,” Ainsley murmured. “I had not expected that, my friend. I can now only beg your forgiveness for what my action has wrought. I was foolishly playing matchmaker.” He ended on a grimace.

Lucan slowly stood and rang the bell. He ordered a pot of tea and some sandwiches to be delivered to the library, then moved across the room and sat behind his desk wondering how much to share with his friends. He observed Ainsley closely. The man did look contrite. His method to get Lucan to recognize his feelings for Constance was unorthodox to say the least, and it would take some time for him to forgive Ainsley the censure he caused society to levy against her.

Lucan grimaced, he was the guiltiest culprit of all. All the pain, anger and hate she felt led directly back to him. “I did not get to confess my shame.”

That had both his friends giving him their undivided regard.

“I do not understand,” the Reverend said with a frown. “If Lady Constance is not aware of the role you played in her downfall from society why did she reject you, and more importantly, why did you not confess all to her as you had planned?”

Lucan leaned back in his chair, clacking his fingers against the surface of his desk. “I did not confess because the lady was already aware. It is on the basis of my sins she has rebuffed all affections I hold for her and refutes them as lies.”

“Good God man,” Ainsley rasped. “How did she find out? You have been most discreet.”

“It hardly matters now,” Lucan said. “I have injured her beyond repair and I do not know how to fix it. What can I do to regain her good opinion?”

“I doubt you ever had her good opinion,” the Reverend countered. “She saw you in a romantic light as do all the young ladies of society. For her to so easily discredit your offer of marriage when it is the best thing for her under the circumstances does not speak of a young lady that had affections for you.”

Lucan launched to his feet and walked over to the windows. He was silent for a few moments reflecting on Constance. How she laughed, her strength of character despite being faced with such adversities, ones he had wrought. Her passion as she had expressed her contempt for his behavior. Despite having declared her love for him. Despite being so ruined, knowing society would never forgive her, she refused his hand. She refused a duke, when being married to the wealth and status he controlled would have made her sins forgotten. “She reacted as a lady who was wronged,” he said to the room at large. “As a woman who had been hurt and betrayed, and I cannot shy away from it or condemn her for it. I must either choose to move on or to fight for her.”

“And what will you do?” Ainsley asked as he moved to stand beside him.

“I want her. I realized far too late that the thought of her not in my life…at this time I cannot imagine such a future. Mayhap in time it will fade…”

“So you will fight for her?” Ainsley murmured, sounding pleased.

“I will try my damnedest and the lady still may not have me.”

“I do not believe her brothers will allow you close to her for courtship, and if Lady Constance has hardened her heart against you, how will you get the opportunity to soften it?” the Reverend asked.

Lucan was silent, thinking on Constance’s words to him.

“I do not believe I will ever be able to convince her of my affections.” No, her pain had been too real, too deep. “But I will give her what she most wants before I depart from her life.”

“And that is?” The Revered asked.

“Her place in society where she belongs,” Lucan said softly. As he made the vow, it traveled though his mind and heart. He doubted Constance would want him ever again. In fact, he realized it might be best for him to stay away from her. For he would only cause her more pain. But this he would try to give her, in the hopes that one day he might be able to absolve himself of all his sins against her.

…

It had been three days since Lucan had seen Constance. The clawing emptiness and regret he felt inside had not abated, and his dreams were filled with images of her devastation.

He had never loved another in a romantic way, though he wondered if the feelings swelling in his chest and roiling in his mind were love. He’d certainly had a few lovers in the past to chase the loneliness away. He had never kept a mistress, and he would never do so. He’d never held any deep attachment to a female outside of his family, but what he felt for Constance was more than warm affection. He loved her.

It damn well hurt, the thought of never seeing her eyes sparkle with delight, of not hearing the throaty chuckle that spilled from her lips whenever she was amused. The idea to never taste her lips or feel her passion again was unbearable. It had been less than a week, and he could only hope the clawing need burgeoning inside of him daily for her presence would eventually fade.

There was a sound, and he turned to see the Dowager Duchess of Ellington strolled into her domain. He admired her cool aplomb. His call on her had been unexpected, and it was not as if they socialized. He had been waiting for almost an hour in the drawing room while she readied to receive him. He had waited with a patience that he himself admired.

Lucan needed someone powerful and influential, someone who commanded the highest respect of the rest of the peerage. Someone he did not own. But someone he could offer something that they needed. That was what drove him to the home of the dowager duchess after making several rounds to those that did owe him.

“Mondvale, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” she drawled as she moved to sit on her chaise. She was clad in a dark blue gown, lined with buttons from her neck down and an elaborate hairstyle which piled her hair high on her head. The lady even had strands of pearls draped across her throat. Lucan now understood why he had waited so long for her to make an appearance.

“It is said you are very skilled at forcing society to accept another, to forgive indiscretions. I require your service,” he said without indulging in inane pleasantries.

She stiffened. “Indeed?” cool brown eyes assessed him with something akin to admiration. “Speak, Mondvale.”

He walked over and sank onto the sofa directly across from her. “Lady Constance Thornton.”

Lucan doubted he needed to say much more.

An elegant brow arched. “You cannot simply require my service and it is given. And from the rumors that are in circulation this was not merely an indiscretion, Your Grace. I encourage people to overlook another’s minor indiscretion, this young lady is…” She gave an indelicate shrug as if to indicate he should draw his own conclusion.

“You are correct in your assertions, Lady Ellington. I do not want society to overlook any indiscretion; I want it be known there was
none
. I want her elevated.”

She sucked in a harsh breath. “What you ask is impossible, Your Grace.”

“You are influential, a member of the Marlborough house set. If anyone can do it, it is you. I want Lady Constance to become the toast of the season.”

Lady Ellington’s smile broadened. “You are nothing if not ambitious. The young lady is ruined. And if the rumors are to be believed, it was by
your
hand.”

“The rumors are not to be believed, and you have the influence to see it done. That is what I require of you, Lady Ellington.”

“It will cost you, Your Grace.”

He met her gaze, taking her measure. She returned his stare unflinchingly confident in her societal power. He thought of the secrets he knew of her, the ones she thought were carefully hidden. Yet, Lucan hesitated in pursuing such a path. He did not want anything related to Constance to be achieved via blackmail. He knew a few of the scandals the dowager duchess tried to bury, and the amount of debt her son was busy incurring, along with the opium he dabbled in. Lucan had made it his business to know everything about her because she was powerful in the eyes of the
haute monde
. “I will be indebted to you, Lady Ellington, for repayment whenever you desire,” he offered.

Surprise chased her features, then she nodded, her eyes calculating. “What is Lady Constance to you that you will try to restore her reputation, after the damning article in the scandal sheets?”

He smiled fleetingly at her audacity. “That, madam, is not your concern. Can you do it?”

Lady Ellington hesitated and his gut tightened. He wanted to keep this clean, so he hoped she would not test his ruthlessness, for she would lose.

“It cannot be me alone that is seen aiding her. Others will be necessary as well. I recommend—”

“You will have the Earl of Blade and his family’s full support. Lady Prescott will also be at your disposal. I require utmost discretion.”

“I would also recommend Lady Vivian Ashford.”

Lucan frowned, thinking of what he knew of Lady Ashford. She had not made it into his black book at all. He only dealt with those he held secrets about. Before he could question her the dowager duchess expounded.

“Several years ago Lady Ashford was known as The Paragon. She helped me at one time with a delicate issue I had, and she was very efficient. She moves within society, smoothing out scandals and stopping gossip where needed. It would be good to have her on your side, if you wish to succeed.”

He nodded. “It will be done.”

Lady Ellington smiled at his arrogance. “If I have your permission I will speak with Lady Ashford. She is no longer referred to as The Paragon, but she is very gracious and is influential in many circles. While I do not believe you will need to offer Lady Ashford any compensation for her aid, it would be wonderful, however, to let it be known that the Duke of Mondvale will be available if she ever needs your assistance.”

“You have my permission.”

The speculation grew in her gaze, and then a slow smile of admiration lifted her lips. “I see. I will make my rounds in the morning, Your Grace.”

He stood and sketched a small bow. “It is very important, Lady Ellington, that it is understood that any words or actions that threatens Lady Constance’s happiness, that any hints of her illegitimacy, will meet with unimaginable consequences.”

“I see,” Lady Ellington murmured. “Should I indicate a wedding soon? An alliance between Calydon and Mondvale.”

He willed his body to relax. “No. Our names must not be linked under any circumstances while you move through society. In fact, it is best you paint me as unworthy of Lady Constance as subtly and delicately as possible.”

Lady Ellington rose to her feet and dipped in a shallow curtsy. “I understand, Mondvale.”

He titled his head in acknowledgment and walked away. This was just the beginning of his atonement.

The hardest thing would be facing Constance again.

Chapter Eighteen

Over the course of three weeks, the whispers around Constance had started to change. Her moniker evolved from her being the
Beautiful Bastard
to
the Untouchable One
. Young men and titled lords who had before ignored her, afraid of tainting their names, now became intrigued.

Invitations to balls and soirees arrived in tidal waves from the same people who had not long ago shunned her as undesirable. At first she had been skeptical, but she had accepted a few invitations and had been stunned at her reception. She was received with the greatest of cordiality by Lady Blade, whose musicale Constance attended. The countess and her daughter Lady Elisabeth had made every effort to converse and entertain her. Their efforts had been remarked upon on several occasions, before a few of society’s matrons had found one matter or another to comment to Constance.

Callers had been slower, but they had presented themselves to Lord Radcliffe’s townhouse all smiles and charming grace. A few young men had tried to invite her on carriage rides, but she rejected them all. Lord Litchfield proposed once again and she refused him as gently as possible, to his outrage. He had gotten a bit nasty, referring to her as soiled goods. His profuse apology a few seconds later had fallen on deaf ears, and she had not seen him since.

Her most surprising callers had been influential ladies of the
haute monde
, more acquainted with her mother than herself. The only lady that had seemed genuine and caring had been the beautiful Lady Ashford. She had been so warm and sincere, and within a few minutes Constance had relaxed with her. Constance had even dined at Lady Ashford’s London home, where she met Lady Ashford’s dashing and somewhat roguish husband and their children. At first, Constance had been apprehensive, but the earl had charmed her, especially with his vivid and gripping tales of his adventures in Africa.

She had then attended Lady Prescott’s soirée only at Jocelyn, Phillipa, and Lady Ashford’s encouragement, and it was there she noted that the whispers had faded. The first young man to have requested her hand for a dance had been severely embarrassed by her rejection. It had not been intentional for her to walk away without responding. Her shock had been simply too great. Constance had, of course realized, what was happening. Someone was influencing her acceptance into society, but the joy of being received so well meant nothing to her. It had been a startling admission to realize the folds she would have desperately wanted to be accepted into a few months ago, were now inconsequential. She had no interest in men, especially those now seemed eager to court her.

Sebastian and Anthony noted the shift, had even mentioned they believed Lucan had something to do with it. Her breath had caught, and she had worked to hide all emotions at that declaration. Despite the pain that lingered in her heart, she missed him fiercely. But it was the dreams that tormented her. Wildly inappropriate dreams of her splayed open to him, while he poured champagne over her skin and licked her.
Everywhere
. She would awaken in shambles of twisted need, between her legs throbbing in a desperation she did not understand. Constance only knew she ached for him, that in the nights when everyone slept, she wept for what they could have been.

“Constance.” The warm tones of her mother had her closing the volume she had been reading.

“Yes, Mother?”

“You have a personal invitation.”

Her mother handed her a peach vellum paper with Constance’s name elegantly scrawled across its back. She reached for the letter opener and slit the seal, curious as to its content. She read it in silence, her heart thumping.

“What is it my dear?”

“It is an invitation to Lady Ellington’s annual ball.” The dowager duchess of Ellington’s invitation was most sought after.

Constance gave it to her mother who scanned the short but very personalized invitation, before handing it back to her.

“Would you like to attend?” her mother asked as her usual wont for all invitations they received of late.

Constance felt very ambivalent about it. Her mother showed some excitement, and Constance had to remind herself she was not the only party affected. While Lucan had ensured most of society’s scorn was directed at her, her mother had been affected as well. Her hand trembled, and she clenched the invitation in her hands. When would it abate? The pain that came whenever Constance thought about all she had endured and the knowledge that the man who had kissed and touched her so intimately was the same one who had encouraged society to shred her. She pushed the bitter thoughts from her mind and smiled in what she hoped was an excited manner. “Yes, I believe I will.”

Her mother nodded in approval and sipped her lemonade. “I believe it would be wise, my dear, to accept a few dance partners at this one. Even if it is only Lord Litchfield.”

“No,” Constance said firmly. On that she would not budge. While she did not rebel against society for seeking to forgive her perceived infractions, she had not forgiven them as readily as her mother.

“Constance,” her mother said with an exasperated sigh. “You must not behave foolishly. I have heard several young men referring to you as the Untouchable One, and in admiring tones. I need not remind you how swiftly the tide of society’s opinion can change. Lord Litchfield has tried at least twice this week to walk with you in the park, and you have refused him. He is an exceedingly agreeable man. With a good fortune and connections and I can see you having a good life with him.”

“I do not care about society’s opinion nor for the regard of Lord Litchfield.”

“Then what
do
you care about?” her mother snapped, slamming the glass of lemonade on the center table. “Sebastian has secured a bevy of invitations for you this week, and you have rejected them
all
. You have pleaded with him to not secure an invitation for you to the Prince of Wales’ annual country house party. This indifference you display cannot continue.”

Constance closed her eyes and gathered her composure. “I care about purchasing winter clothes and supplies for the home Mr. and Mrs. Benton operates. I care about hiring a tutor to help them educate the unwanted children they so generously care for. Not balls, not riding, and not picnics, and certainly not suitors. And most of all, I care about Charlotte, mother. My only friend that you thought to dismiss from my life despite my pleas.”
And Lucan
,
I
care about Lucan
.

Her mother had the grace to blush and look discomfited. At every opportunity Constance inserted her anger at her mother’s actions against Charlotte.

“She endangered you. I could no longer, in good conscience, have her remain employed here. Your father agreed.”

Constance closed her eyes in frustration lest she screamed. “Charlotte did not endanger me mother. She acted as a true and caring friend by willingly following me into the club. I had been determined, and she understood. Instead you punished her for it. That is what I care about, the well-being of my friend. She needed this job, and you terminated her without any reference.”

She had argued with her mother on several occasions, ever since she received Charlotte’s note informing her that she was considering becoming the mistress of Marcus Stone.
His mistress
. Charlotte had not divulged the circumstances that led her to entering such an arrangement no matter how Constance had inquired. She had promised to send money and sell her diamonds if Charlotte needed, but her friend had refused. Constance had never felt so helpless. But she was soothed by Charlotte’s daily letters, which indicated she was at least safe, and she even seemed happy.

“Please excuse me, Mother. I have a bit of headache, and I need some fresh air.” Constance rose and exited the parlor, heading for the entrance that led to the gardens. Charlotte had encouraged her to travel with Anthony and Phillipa on their grand tour, and Constance had been in firm agreement. There was nothing for her in England, and she badly needed space to heal and forget Lucan. She only prayed with distance the tormenting dreams that left her so needy would dissipate, and she could move on with her life.

…

Lady Ellington’s annual ball was a crushing success. Lucan stepped out tonight for the first time in weeks, wanting to observe Constance’s reception for himself. He had been careful to ensure he was not seen at the same social gathering as her over the past few weeks, not wanting their names to be linked. After only being inside the glittering ballroom for a few minutes, the soft whispers of voices referring to her as the Untouchable One reached his ears and infuriated him. He drifted through the crowd, skillfully staying in the background listening. While he was angry at her new moniker, he felt pleased with the other whispers he heard from Lady Prescott to a group of other high society ladies lounging by the refreshment table.

“Lady Constance is a most extraordinary young lady. In character and in her mind. So elegant and well poised,” Lady Prescott murmured.

“Indeed,” the Countess of Blade affirmed. “I have always thought her well-mannered and intelligent.”

Lucan made a note to forgive Lord Prescott his debt at
Decadence
, and to gift Lady Blade’s daughters horses sired from his much coveted thoroughbred champions. Heat rippled over his skin, and instinct had him slipping behind a column as he discreetly scanned the crowed room. When he spied Constance, need drove the air from his lungs. Draped in a silver gown, low cut enough where he could see the swell of her breasts, the lady looked exquisite. Floral designs embroidered the hems of her dress and sleeves, and similarly in her hair that was plaited to appear like a crown on her head, and rubies dripped from her ears and throat. She was oblivious to the many admiring and envious stares of young ladies and gentlemen. In fact, the look on her face was sheer boredom.

“Beautiful isn’t she?” an intense voice asked from beside him.

Lucan glanced at the Viscount of Belfry, trying to ignore the flare of hot jealously that filled him at the look of hunger in the man’s eyes. But Lucan needed to do better in masking his emotions. The only reason Belfry could possibly have to mention Constance was because he must have seen the naked desire Lucan stared at her with. He needed to be more discreet, but to look at her without being able to touch her hurt.

“She is,” he agreed, forcing his limbs to relax.

The man gave him a probing look, and Lucan could see the knowledge of the rumors in Belfry’s eyes. Lucan could also see the speculation.

“Lady Constance has yet to favor any man with a dance, perhaps she is waiting for a request from you,” Belfry insinuated slyly.

Lucan forced himself to chuckle disarmingly, very much aware of the way several ladies and lords were suddenly attentive and trying not to be obvious. A few even had the temerity to step closer. “I have tried, but the lady refused me. Said I am not fit to lick her shoes,” Lucan drawled.

Everyone went quiet and a young lady gasped.

“And as she should,” a hushed voice carried to him. “He is a libertine. I always said she was a young lady of good sense.”

“A very
rich
libertine with a dukedom. A fine catch I would say,” another voice rebuffed. “But it is evident she is a young lady of good sense, despite circumstances that were certainly not her fault.”

Lucan’s lips curled in disgust. This was what he wanted, opinions of her shifted, but society was all too fickle. He walked toward the terrace and was surprised to see Belfry ambling beside him.

“Then you have no intentions toward the lady?” Belfry asked.

The look he dealt the man had Belfry tugging at his cravat in agitation.

“I meant honorable intentions,” he muttered, face scrunched in discomfort. “I mean no dishonor to Lady Constance, Mondvale. I merely wondered if the lady is free for a twirl in the garden,” Lord Belfry said.

Lucan smiled. “You may have better luck than everyone else. The lady is generous, I am sure she will afford you a dance.”

Belfry nodded eagerly and strolled over to Constance.

Lucan discreetly watched as she spurned the advance of the fifth man to seek her hand in a dance. She gave Belfry a vacant smile and after a few seconds the man departed, his face flushed in obvious embarrassment. What was the minx doing? Was not this what she wanted? She had railed at him that she had no friends, saying he had torn her from all she held dear, so why was she not basking in her restoration? Lucan needed her to be happy. He needed to know that he had brought good into her life, more than he needed his next breath.

He slipped onto the terrace, keeping her in his line of sight. She had yet to see him and he wanted it kept that way. Ainsley stepped from the shadows and walked over to him, and they stood in silence watching her reject partner after partner.

“What the hell is she doing?” Lucan growled in frustration, though he felt a deep sense of admiration in her actions.

“In the last three weeks Lady Constance has received over two dozen invitations to balls and picnics. She has attended only four events. The Countess of Fairclough sent an invitation to her daughter’s debut ball, and Lady Constance said no,” Ainsley informed him.

Lucan gritted his teeth. Why wasn’t she blasted heading out? He had been working so hard, pulling in favors to turn the tide against her and it was all for naught? “Is she doing well otherwise?”

As a favor to him Ainsley had attended each event as a guardian. Watching her from the shadows and reporting to Lucan his perception of how she was being received. Ainsley also served to smooth out any negative talk Lady Ashford and the Dowager Duchess had not reached.

Ainsley sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “You could go and visit her, Lucan, invite her to ride out with you. Better yet, she is standing right across from us. Go ask her to dance. She may be tempted to accept you,” Ainsley suggested.

Lucan glanced at him wondering if he jested, but his friend’s mien was contemplative. “I am sure you jest.”