The Third Duke's the Charm (15 page)

It was impossible not to laugh. “Unfortunately, Lucien is one of a kind.”

“You are falling in love.” Lily’s voice had gone soft and her eyes held a knowing look.

That would be extremely ill-advised. “Am I? It has never happened to me before so I don’t know the signs,” she replied flippantly.

Lily splashed a little more sherry into her glass. “You are glowing, my dearest Viv, and I recognize that particular dreamy look when his name is mentioned. Tell me, how often do you think of him? A hundred times a day?”

Oh dear. Probably. Especially after they had lain together. Well, she certainly couldn’t get
that
out of her head.

But in love? She certainly hoped not because though she’d always told herself she wished to marry a man who captured her heart, the reality was different than the daydream. If she fell madly in love with Lucien and he never reciprocated with the same depth . . .

The idea of it made her feel vulnerable and uncertain so she dismissed it as much as possible, but Lily was still looking at her expectantly. She settled for saying, “I
like
him.”

“Always a good start.”

“He’s much more than I expected.”

“Much more what?”

Now that was a question.

“More interesting,” she responded, not quite sure where the answer came from, but it was true. “Like a rare blossom I’ve never seen before. Though I suppose no man would like being compared to a flower.”

“Oh dear,” Lily murmured, “I fear you really are falling for him, Viv.”

Chapter Fifteen

What a
beautiful day.

Was he actually whistling? No, ridiculous, he didn’t whistle, not just because the sky was blue and the green leaves on the trees reminded him of a certain young lady’s eyes.

Surely he was looking forward to his wedding with far too much enthusiasm. Weren’t most men reluctant to give up the freedom of bachelorhood?

Perhaps it was the memory of soft, smooth skin, the whisper of a sigh, the silken feel of her hair.

The first inkling he had that he was in trouble was the sensation of someone right behind him. Lucien spun around, but he wasn’t quite fast enough to escape the blow. It caught him under the right ear, and he stumbled, stunned with both surprise and pain, wondering just what the devil was going on.

The second forceful impact sent him to his knees.

Considering it was only late afternoon on a prestigious street, he had a hard time believing footpads would assault him, but apparently so, for the third strike made the world start to fade into darkness.

***

“Stockton is unforgivably late.”

Vivian glanced at the clock, as she had for the past hour, and tried to ignore the censorious tone of her mother’s voice. “I don’t know that it is unforgivable to be delayed for some reason.”

“A short note would have been courteous.”

“I have no idea what his daily schedule is, but perhaps he is not in a position to be able to send one.” She smoothed her skirt of flattering blue tulle and tried to ignore her mother’s growing impatience. “Do go on with Father and we will join you. There’s no need for you to be late on our account.”

How odd it was to phrase it that way, as if she and Lucien were one entity, which she supposed they would be soon enough.

Well, in a delicious erotic sense, they had been already.

Her mother’s face clearly reflected indecision. “I have no desire to be late for the theatre, but then again, letting him take you for a short drive is one matter and leaving you with him without a chaperone in the evening another.”

Actually, afternoons were just as dangerous Vivian thought with a measure of amusement that shockingly lacked maidenly regret over her seduction. She hadn’t yet seen him since that wicked picnic and had to wonder if it would be at all awkward. After all, the man had seen her naked, kissed her breasts, touched other scandalous places as well.

And it had all been intriguingly wonderful.

“I am going to be alone with him quite often in just a week,” she pointed out calmly. “I am certain he has a good reason for his tardiness and will feel all the worse for making you late as well.”

Considering she knew her mother wanted to be part of the usual observations over who was wearing what jewels, whose gown might be cut too low, and what gentlemen escorted certain ladies, it was an effective argument. Especially when her father said decisively, “She has a point, my dear. If I must attend this confounded entertainment, let’s depart so at least I do not miss the beginning of the first act and am lost throughout the play. Everything is settled between her and Stockton.”

His dismissive attitude could be an annoyance now and then, but at the moment she was more than glad of it. “I agree.”

Not true.
Everything
had not been settled between them, but they would be married soon enough.

Upon her parents’ departure, she left instructions with the footman at the door to come get her at once when Lord Stockton arrived, and went to the library where she’d been reading a paper on the latest in fertilization techniques that she thought might interest Lucien.

When another hour passed she started to become concerned. If he had a need to cancel their plans for the evening, surely he would have sent some sort of missive with his apologies. Or perhaps he’d assumed she would go with her parents when he didn’t arrive on time and was at the play even now.

The clock ticked on. She finished the paper, and wandered aimlessly to the shelves, picking out a novel.

By midnight she gave up and went upstairs, changing into her nightdress and dressing gown, struggling with the tiny fastenings on her new gown herself so as not to have to call her maid. It was embarrassing enough as it was without the entire staff knowing her fiancé had neglected to keep their appointment. Though, she thought with resignation, everyone would know by morning anyway.

She drifted off to sleep at some point and for some reason dreamed of moonlight shimmering off water and the sound of lapping waves.

***

His head ached abominably, his mouth was dry as dust, and when he attempted to roll over, his entire body protested. Lucien opened his eyes, or he was at least fairly sure he had, but there was nothing but pitch darkness.

What the devil is this?

It took a few moments before he realized his hands were bound, that the slight rocking motion indicated he was on a ship, and bewilderment mingled with fury. He jerked at his bonds without success for a few frustrating, frantic moments before he realized it was futile, lay panting in the stygian darkness, and attempted to try to remember just what the hell had happened.

Nothing unusual that he could recall: lunch at his club, a meeting midafternoon with two partners in a business venture that lasted well into late afternoon, and then stepping out onto the street.

The next memory was . . . blackness. Rather like what he was experiencing now, with no recollection of how he’d gotten to where he was at the moment. The place vaguely stank of dead fish.

How could that be?

Taking in a deep breath, he fought for calm when the truth was his bound state made him want to kill someone, preferably the person who had tied him up. Quickly he tried to stifle the murderous flicker of anger, well aware it would get him nowhere.

He’d been attacked. His mind acknowledged that, even though he didn’t really remember it. The pain thrumming through his skull told him he’d been the victim of some sort of violence, and since he was tied, it wasn’t too much of a leap to that conclusion.

Why?

That wasn’t as easy to answer. He tried shouting, but it was useless and his dry throat made it difficult. There was a point when he could swear he heard someone moving above and he managed a croak, but . . . nothing.

Except darkness.

Cold. He was shivering because someone had taken his coat.

Lying there, he thought about Vivian and her soft sable hair, the gift of her infrequent smile, how she’d embraced him . . .

How they had made love, both passionately and tenderly, and he had been the one to learn more of a lesson in his estimation, for her willingness and innocence had taught him a great deal about the quest for knowledge that no person should lack.

Weren’t they supposed to go the theatre? The vessel rocked and he groaned, his aching head making it difficult to think.

Yes, they were. He was supposed to escort her along with Sir Edwin and her mother.

Damnation
.

However puzzling and infuriating this all was, it was nice to think someone might notice his absence.

It was gratifying to know Vivian would. Eventually his father would, of course, and Charles, and his secretary; Mrs. Donaldson would wonder, but he was confident Vivian was intelligent enough to know immediately that something was wrong.

With that modicum of comfort, he closed his eyes and let the darkness consume him again.

***

That the duchess had planned a small gathering in her honor was not the perfect scenario considering the circumstances.

By all accounts, Lucien’s absence the night of the play was noted and almost two days later Vivian still had not heard a word from him.

Where are you
?

Of course the subject came up.

“Your mother said you and Stockton would be joining them at the theatre,” one of ladies present said to her finally, the question pointed, speculation in her eyes. “Our box is directly across and I’m afraid I didn’t notice you in attendance.”

What was worse? Vivian wondered. Having everyone know Lucien simply hadn’t shown up to escort her as promised, or speculating that instead of attending the play they’d had an illicit tryst?

She pasted on a false smile and answered the question at hand. “I actually have no idea what detained him, but he was unable to fit it into his plans after all. How was the performance?”

Lady Kreystone, who was not known for her tact, had openly inspected her appearance upon her arrival to the point of it almost being insulting. “The play was merely adequate. If you don’t mind me saying so, you are such an unusual couple.”

Vivian was no stranger to that tone. The very slight derisive edge had been cutting her for years. However, she had new confidence she discovered, for she didn’t want to cringe and leave the room, but instead looked right back. “Lord Stockton and I? How so?”

“Yes, Esther, how so?” The Duchess of Eddington, dressed in her usual drab gray, managed somehow to sound condescending and mildly inquiring at the same time.

The room went quiet, all the conversations stilling.

Quite an art
, Vivian thought with some amusement as even the brazen Lady Kreystone suddenly seemed to contemplate her answer with due weight, as if the reminder she might have been outré came as a surprise.

“Well,” the countess was able to gather her wits enough to say, “Stockton is so very . . . fashionable.”

“It seems to me Miss Lacrosse looks quite fetching in her gown. Did I mention Madam Gardon is her modiste? I took her there myself for the fitting.”

Faced with the choice of pointing out it wasn’t her clothing that was unfashionable—at least not any longer—Lady Kreystone apparently decided to not mention she meant Vivian’s reputation in general. “Did you?” she murmured instead. “It is quite lovely.”

There was nothing like being intimidated by an expert. Vivian said cheerfully, “I wouldn’t have selected it on my own, but I probably spend too much time thinking about plants.”

It obviously truly pained Lady Kreystone to not reply to that, so it was a tribute to the duchess that she only managed to mutter, “There are worse hobbies, I suppose.”

“Promiscuity. Venality. Social ambition. Certainly some of the
ton
’s most celebrated ladies have
those
sorts of hobbies.” The duchess picked up a gleaming silver pot. “More tea?”

At that moment, Vivian decided she was starting to like the overbearing Duchess of Eddington more and more. Lady Kreystone sputtered into her cup and shook her head at the offer as several of the other ladies twittered behind their hands in the background at the set down.

Lillian happened to be present, which was a help. She interjected, “I feel certain the marquess has a good explanation. Perhaps he forgot a prior appointment. He is about to be married, for heaven’s sake, and that can make any man absent-minded. Your Grace, the pastries are simply delicious.”

Lucien was not the absent-minded type, but Vivian was doing her best to conceal her growing anxiety. To forget their engagement for the theatre was one matter, but to not even send an explanation the next morning was another thing altogether. She’d even penned a short note inquiring after his health but not gotten a response.

“I also think that must be it.” The way the duchess spoke invited no more speculation. However, as everyone rose to leave and the gathering wound to a close, she drew Vivian aside. “Stockton’s father is one of my dearest friends.”

“Oh?”

The duchess made a small sound that could even have been dry laughter. “You needn’t look so startled, young lady. We are not quite of an age, but he and I have known each other for a long time. After all, he is a peer. He was at one time a very charming young man.”

A victim of serious misgivings already, Vivian simply nodded. The duke was too intimidating to think of that way, but then again, he did look quite a lot like his sons.

“Lord Stockton is really not the type of man to deliberately embarrass you.”

“I wouldn’t think so either.”

“Then you are more astute than most girls I know.” The duchess waved a dismissive hand. “But I already knew that or my interest in you would be nonexistent.”

That was reassuring but hardly solved the problem. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“There is no need to thank me. Your parents obviously trusted you would be at the theatre or your mother wouldn’t have so unfortunately mentioned it and caused a flurry of whispers. What happened?”

“I don’t know.” It was the truth. “I waited and he did not appear. I sent him a note yesterday, and he has not replied. I am starting to worry some accident might have befallen him.”

“Surely you would be notified.” The duchess frowned. “Everyone knows you are engaged. Even if there was an emergency I would think he’d pen you a quick excuse. This is all very strange.”

It was. That was what bothered her the most. They hadn’t quarreled in any way; in fact, the last time she’d seen him was the afternoon of their picnic. An insecure part of her wondered if she’d disappointed him in some way, but casting back, she didn’t think that the case at all unless he was a very clever actor. The way he’d kissed her before he’d delivered her home had been both tender and ardent, and he’d whispered how much he was looking forward to their marriage.

Or perhaps she was just too naïve to know the difference, but even if her lack of experience had given him a disgust for her, she still didn’t think he would ever just suddenly snub her. Considering the long-standing friendship between their families, he would be courteous enough out of respect for his father to sever their engagement properly . . .

No. It didn’t make sense.

He wouldn’t do that, she reminded herself firmly. He was a gentleman and he had taken her virginity. He would marry her regardless.

“Very strange,” she agreed, horrified to hear the slight wobble in her voice.

The duchess must have heard it as well, which was mortifying, for she actually patted her arm. “We will get to the bottom of it, my dear child, never fear.”