The Third Duke's the Charm (22 page)

“I know Charles will feel the same way.” She gently squeezed and then released Vivian’s fingers.

“There was a reason I told him before anyone else.” There was a slight note of apology in Vivian’s voice, the expression on her lovely face strained. “He was the most likely to understand.”

“He is distraught over his brother being gone, so I suppose it would be welcome news, and it seems fitting to me that you would go to him first.”

“He’s much more capable than his father gives him credit for.”

“I agree.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Louisa murmured, “The duke is noticeably weaker.”

He was. He rarely joined them for dinner now, and though she wouldn’t presume to actually inquire about his whereabouts, she suspected he slept for a great deal of the day. The slide into his illness had been gradual at first, but now it was a steep slope.

Her voice catching, Vivian said, “I need to go to London to see my parents. Having you guess the truth confirms that this is a necessary trip. I know you long to see Charles, but will you stay here with the duke?”

Her first reaction was to object. “He dislikes me.”

“I don’t think that is true at all.” Vivian shook her head. “He just doesn’t know you, and while he and I have our love of botany in common, the two of you have Charles in common. While he seems remote, he really isn’t. He is just not a demonstrative man. He is going to be delighted by your news.”

Truthfully, the idea of going to London held no appeal at all. Cheynes Hall was stately and enormous, but she found it also to be surprisingly warm, with the park of mature trees and well-groomed lawn, and naturally the gardens were spectacular. “I will stay,” Louisa agreed, “if you promise to bring my husband back with you when you return.”

Vivian nodded. “I think he and his father need to make their peace with each other. However, they are men, which I have noticed translates to a certain stubbornness. Luckily, they have us. Charles will come back with me even if I have to dose him with laudanum and bribe a footman or two to toss him in the carriage.”

Chapter Twenty-three

The
ship cut through the water, the sea not precisely rough but the wind brisk. Lucien leaned against the rail, relishing the sharp bite of the breeze and the salty air.

It was a simple thing, offered to everyone, but he appreciated the warmth and the light. Never again would he take sunshine for granted.

Needless to say this journey was infinitely better than his last one.

Colonel Landscomb had proved to be an infinitely valuable individual to know. He’d neatly arranged transportation to the closest port and some decent clothing.

So . . . he was going home.

Lucien had perhaps never understood how much England meant to him until the abduction. How much his father and Charles meant to him. How much Vivian enriched his life.

He also needed to warn Northfield that he was in imminent danger. Artemis’s real name was Hoffman and he’d rented a villa there for the past year, but he had suddenly departed, according to the servants, who were discreetly questioned by a friend of the colonel.

“My lord, the captain would like for you to join him for dinner in his cabin again this evening.”

It was quite a different voyage: wine, food, and no rats. “I accept the invitation,” he said with a slight nod at Terrance, the first mate who hovered at his side. Then he smiled dryly. “What else is there to do?”

“Aye, it isn’t a London ballroom,” readily agreed the young man, thin and earnest, his brown hair lifted by the wind, his face ruddy from the sea breeze. “However, you’ll be back there soon enough, sir. We are a day out, no more, and the weather is fair with a brisk wind.”

To hell with society.
He didn’t care about ballrooms in the least.

“I just want my life back,” he murmured, looking out over the glistening waves.

***

The interview went about as she expected. Vivian sat with her back straight, waiting for the reaction following her confession, and her father’s face was set and stern, but her mother’s expression was . . . aghast.

“How is this
possible
?”

It was, ironically, a beautiful day—one in which she’d much rather be out in the garden—but before long her condition would not be a secret, and so she needed to tell her parents. “Lucien and I—”

“We know how it is done,” her mother interrupted with a touch of hysteria in her voice. “Don’t condescend to me. How do you think you came to be? Dear Lord . . . this is. . . .terrible.”

“I wasn’t going to explain the mechanics of it all,” Vivian said haltingly, fighting to maintain some semblance of dignity. “I was going to say that Lucien and I expected to marry within the week. I suppose you can judge me, but it just happened, and frankly, I am delighted it did.”

“Delighted?’ Her mother thrust herself to her feet and stared at her. “What is wrong with you? First he seduces you, then the blackguard abandons you. This is a nightmare.”

She felt a curious calm. For too long she’d let her mother influence her into situations she didn’t want. “How can the blessing of a coming child possibly ever be a nightmare?”

“Vivian, have you lost your mind?”

“My dear.” To his credit her father put out a restraining hand. “Let’s discuss this in a rational manner.”

“What will my friends say?” She shook off his grasp and threw up her hands theatrically as she turned away in whirl of silk skirts and perfume.

“Nasty things, I’m sure,” Vivian responded dryly. “Perhaps you should choose different friends.” There. She’d actually wanted to say
that
for some time.

“Vivian!”

“Mother.” Taking in a breath, she briefly shut her eyes, then exhaled. “I’m not going to apologize. If I did it wouldn’t be sincere. I fell in love with him. Four seasons of having potential suitors call and all those dreary events, and I
loved
him. I love our child. How could you ever expect me to be sorry?”

It was a reasonable question to her mind, but she didn’t expect support, yet it came unexpectedly anyway.

“She means it.” Her father stood and paced restlessly. “Vivian means it.”

“This is your fault, Edwin. You have always indulged her.”

“I hardly call accepting her feelings on the matter indulgence.”

“You are so open-minded because of your friendship with the duke.” Her mother’s voice was icy.

“No. Because I’m her father.”

“I am her mother! That does not mean I countenance her bringing a bastard child into this world. I told you she should not have been allowed one moment alone with a man who hadn’t yet stood with her in a cathedral and said the vows. I shouldn’t have listened to you.”

“You liked him well enough when he was going to make me a marchioness,” Vivian murmured in a brittle voice, the argument not a surprise, but unwelcome nonetheless. “And if Lucien abandoned me, then he also left behind his estates, his fortune, his ailing father, and anything else he had in this world that he valued.”

“She has a point there,” her father said in a steely tone. “You might wish to exhibit the grace to be at least a little concerned for his welfare, my dear.”

Despite the incident at the duchess’s residence, Vivian wasn’t nauseous often, which she’d been told by the duke’s physician was a blessing. Some women suffered from continued bouts of illness, especially in the first few months of their confinement, but at the moment she was certainly queasy. It did not help to have her parents raising their voices and at odds all because of her.

“Lucien has several country estates,” she told them. “The duke has offered me whichever one I would like as a home, so you needn’t worry I will humiliate you by my presence, and truthfully, you are well aware I have never cared much for London. Retiring to the country on a permanent basis will suit me perfectly. I only came back to town so I could tell you my situation in person because a letter seemed too distant under the circumstances. I wanted to make my position quite clear.”

“You could marry.”

It was impossible not to stare. Her mother rushed on, obviously disregarding Vivian’s last statement entirely. “Buford is destitute, it is well-known. A substantial dowry might tempt him to overlook your condition. For that matter, Hovington is looking for another wife and he is considerably older. He might consider it. You are no ingénue, but you are pretty enough, darling. Men have always noticed and if it wasn’t for your resistance to anything remotely feminine and retiring— “

This was
intolerable
.

“No.” Vivian stood. “No. Never. Mother, I did not remain unmarried through four miserable seasons to suddenly settle now for an aging baronet, or a reckless wastrel. I waited, and I was right to wait.”

“Even if it turned out
this
way? You are ruined.”

As reasonably as possible, she said, “If so, how come I do not feel that way? Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to prepare for my journey back to Kent.”

***

Lucien walked up the steps of the ducal mansion in London at precisely four o’clock. The shock on the face of the footman as he swung open the door was a tribute to how his sudden return after so many weeks of absence was going to be received.

“My . . . my Lord Stockton,” the young man stammered. “It’s you. We thought . . . we were—”

He nodded and interrupted. “Yes, I can imagine . . . and no, I am not a ghost. Is my father in residence?”

“No. He’s at Cheynes Hall, my lord.”

Devil take it
. “My brother?”

“Lord Charles is here.”

That was gladsome news at least. “I need to see him.”

“In your father’s study, my lord.”

He was, Lucien discovered; his brother’s dark head, bent over a sheaf of papers, snapping up when the door opened without so much as a knock. It was a testament to the reaction he thought he could expect when Charles’s outraged expression at the interruption slid into a mask of disbelief.

And then joy.

“Lucien!”

They had never been particularly demonstrative; their father was a duke after all, but Charles rose to dash around the desk and throw his arms around him in a warm hug, and there was no choice—and he wouldn’t have it any other way—but to respond in kind. “In the flesh,” he said when they parted, his smile tinged with sentiment. “I cannot tell you how good it is to see you. To be here.” He gestured at the familiar wainscoted walls and bookcases. “I will explain it all later, but how is he?”

“Not well.” Charles stepped back, not needing clarification on who he was asking about, his features suddenly set and taut. “Damnation, where have you been?”

“I was afraid it was getting worse.” He’d been afraid, in fact, that he would greeted with the news his father had died in his unwilling absence.

“It is worse.” His brother confirmed.

Hell and blast
.

“The story is a bit involved and not just mine to tell.” It took some effort, but he managed to ask hoarsely, “Vivian? I missed our wedding.”

“That isn’t all you missed,” Charles said, but a slight smile suddenly touched his mouth. “Let me say, though it has been quite grim around here with your unexplained defection, she will be more than overjoyed to see you, I expect. I hope you have a good excuse, for you will need one, Luce.”

“I do.” He could picture her, with her sable hair and glorious eyes. “Is she here?”

“Most of the time she’s spent at Cheynes with father but yes, you are in luck. She is in London at the moment.”

Thank God. Lucien felt, that like his contact with Landscomb, it was a well-deserved bit of providence.

“I knew there had been an accident of some kind. You’re thinner.” Charles frowned, his gaze probing. “And that is an interesting scar on your face. What the devil happened to you?”

When finally able to look into a glass, Lucien had discovered a scythe-shaped cut from one eyebrow down almost to his jaw, which was no doubt why his face had throbbed so badly during his initial recovery. He suspected that before the current had taken him into the little cove where Fernando had found him washed ashore, he’d encountered the rocky coast with a vengeance. How he didn’t perish was a mystery to him because he didn’t remember it at all.

“It was no accident. Shall we say that several barbaric individuals took me on a little journey. Minorca is lovely this time of year.”

His brother swore softly and said, “Spain? Northfield was right, then.”

It was startling to hear Damien Northfield had deduced what had happened, but then again, his talents in espionage had caused the entire debacle. “I need to send him word, but first and foremost, I need to see Vivian.”

“Yes, you do. I’ll send a note at once while you bathe and change. Go upstairs to my chamber and borrow something of mine. We are almost of a height and it will be better than what you have on now. If you take the time to go to your townhouse, it will only delay things.”

It was true. Though Colonel Landscomb had done an admirable job of scrounging up something passable for him to wear, the garments were ill fitting. With a crooked smile, he nodded. “I suppose that would be in order, but forget the note. I wish to surprise her.”

“I do not know if Vivian
should
be surprised with you just springing up so suddenly.”

Lucien was already halfway to the door, but he swung around. “Why not?”

Charles had a most peculiar look on his face. “She’s been grieving for you.”

“Trust me,” he said grimly, “knowing she was no doubt bewildered, alone, and the subject of gossip once again was the worst part of my little adventure—and the other parts weren’t pleasant at all. When an engagement and a wedding date are announced publically and the groom suddenly disappears, I don’t imagine the
haut ton
is very kind.”

“You know Viv,” Charles said with unswerving loyalty. “That part of it didn’t quite so much bother her. She wasn’t worried about what anyone else was thinking in particular, she was worried she’d lost you forever.”

“I wouldn’t desert her voluntarily and you know it.”

“I do, and more importantly, so did she. That,” his brother said quietly, “was why she has been so worried.”

He could explain that was why he’d jumped blind out a window, thrown himself into the sea, and lived through the aftermath to sail back to England. “Then I need to see her as soon as possible. If you wish to send a note to someone, contact Northfield and tell him I’ve returned and we need to meet. But Vivian comes first.”

Always, he realized.
Always Vivian first
.

“I’ll go with you to the Lacrosse household. I can perhaps aid to gain you some time alone so you can explain. Your future mother-in-law is most distraught at the moment.”

Not to be judgmental, but Lucien suspected that might be more due to the potential loss of her daughter becoming a duchess one day than concern for him. “Come along then by all means,” he said as he walked out the door of the study and headed for the stairs with long, purposeful strides.

His brother’s valet must have been informed of his return for he was hovering in the sitting area of Lucien’s personal suite of rooms, his face lighting in a gratifying smile of genuine warmth. “Welcome home, my lord.”

“Thank you, Despers. It is good to be here.”

“I’ve sent for hot water.”

“Thank you for that also.” He shrugged out of his borrowed jacket. He wasn’t sure he needed hot water considering his impatience. Warm would do just fine. Cool would also suffice. His entire life in upheaval, he needed to see Vivian as quickly as possible. Being near death, he’d found, was a powerful incentive to embrace life.

“Choose whatever clothing you deem suitable for a return from the dead,” he said wryly as he discarded his cravat. “This might be the most important call of my life.”