The Penitent Duke (The Untamed Nobles #1)

Chapter Nine

Lucian cleared his throat. “Thank you for seeing me, Radcliffe.”

His friend said nothing, his gaze measured and his jaw set.

“I know that you are displeased with my behaviour of late and I have come to inform you that –”

“If you have not come to offer your apologies and to inform me that you intend to make amends with Lady Eleanor and Lady Rosalind as well, then I shall have no desire to continue our discourse any longer.” Lord Radcliffe gestured to the door. “I was quite serious when I spoke to you about my determination to separate our friendship. I do not think I have ever been more humiliated! And that in front of Lady Eleanor, whom you know I have every intention of pursuing.”

For a moment, Lucian was quite lost for words. He had taken in what Lord Radcliffe had said on the night of the ball but he had not thought that he had been entirely serious in it all. He had presumed that it had been spoken at a time when his friend had felt embarrassed and perhaps a little angry and that now, after having some time to reflect, he would recant a little.

It seemed he had been wrong.

“I did not mean to upset you, my friend. I spoke to Lady Rosalind as I did because I have had some thoughts as regards matrimony.”

At this, Lord Radcliffe’s eyes narrowed. “That does not sound anything like an apology, Strathmore.”

“That is because it is not.” Letting out a long sigh, Lucian rubbed one hand over his eyes, feeling a slight sense of worry knotting his stomach. “I do not want our friendship to break apart. I understand that what I said and in the manner I said it was most inappropriate. Lady Rosalind had made quite clear what she thinks of my character and you have done the same, it seems.” His hand fell to his side. “Mayhap I need to take a little longer to consider what has been said of and to me.”

“Mayhap you do, though again, not a word of apology has crossed your lips.” Lord Radcliffe folded his arms across his chest, his eyebrows lifting – and Lucian winced. Those words were not about to come easily to him. All the same, he took in a breath, paused and then spread out his hands. “I apologise.”

Lord Radcliffe lifted an eyebrow.

Lucian sighed heavily. “I apologise for speaking so rudely to Lady Rosalind. I apologise for being impolite, inconsiderate and for not silencing myself when I ought to have done it. I am sorry for embarrassing you for, in our connection as good friends, I have no doubt that you must have been ashamed to have introduced those two ladies to me.”

“I was, yes.”

“Then I am sorry for that. I recognise that I behaved badly and I am sorry for it.”

Lord Radcliffe tipped his head. “Do you know, I believe that you are quite genuine.”

Lucian’s jaw tightened, a flash of irritation crossing him. “Of course I am genuine. That was very difficult for me to express.”

Lord Radcliffe unfolded his arms and then shrugged. “It will have to become a little easier, my friend. You will have to apologise to Lady Eleanor and Lady Rosalind – though it ought to be Lady Rosalind first.”

Lucian’s stomach twisted. “I have already spoken to Lady Rosalind.” He watched as Lord Radcliffe’s eyes rounded just a little. “I did not apologise, however,” he continued, aware that he should express nothing but the truth to his friend for fear that he would soon learn about it otherwise, if he did not. “I spoke to her for an entirely different reason but indeed, I can see why you think I ought to apologise. I shall. Profusely, if required.”

“I think it shall be required,” Lord Radcliffe answered, sounding a good deal less frustrated than before. “Though you must tell me why you spoke to Lady Rosalind, for if it was not to apologise, then I cannot imagine what else it was for.” He rose to his feet and walked across the room, seemingly preparing to pour them both a brandy.

Lucian hesitated. He had come to inform his friend of his intention to wed Lady Rosalind but after all that he had just spoken, after all that his friend had made him aware of, it felt a very strange conversation to have. He was not certain how Lord Radcliffe would react.

“My friend?”

With a clearing of his throat, Lucian forced the words to his lips. “I want to inform you that I have asked Lady Rosalind to marry me.”

What followed was not only a gasp of astonishment but then a cry of surprise as the glass in Lord Radcliffe’s hand slipped and clattered back onto the table, sending brandy in all directions. Lucian made to hurry forward, but Lord Radcliffe only waved a hand and then rang the bell, gesturing to the entering footman to clear up the mess.

Then he and Lucian waited in silence as the brandy was wiped up, the glass taken away and then fresh ones returned. Thereafter, the footman poured them a measure each and, with a nod of deference, handed one to Lucian and the other to Lord Radcliffe before finally, leaving them in silence.

Lord Radcliffe let out a burst of breath as though he had been holding it for a very long time indeed. He swung around to face Lucian, his eyes huge.

“ Marry her?”

Lucian nodded. “Yes, that is so.”

“Whyever should you want to do such a thing as that? Surely it cannot be that you thought she would be willing to accept you?”

Grimacing, Lucian took a sip from his brandy glass before answering. “You mean to say that you think I offered her such a poor impression that she would not even think to accept me?”

His friend did not even hesitate. “Yes, that is precisely what I mean.”

Lucian winced, his jaw jutting forward. Am I truly as terrible a gentleman as they both think? Or is it not that they simply do not understand my situation and my ongoing grief and pain?

“You think I do not understand, but I do understand a little. I have lost my parents and my younger sister, if you recall.

Shooting his friend a sharp look, Lucian cleared his throat, wondering if he had spoken aloud.

“While I say that I understand, I also must tell you that I do not accept your determination to be as dark and as morose with it also,” Lord Radcliffe continued, when Lucian said nothing. “There is a time for upset, of course, a time for sorrow and sadness but that does not then lead into a desire to push everyone away from you, by any means possible. The grief is one thing, the discontent and disenchantment is quite another.”

Lucian looked away. “That is not really what I came to discuss with you, Radcliffe.”

“I know that but I think it is important for you to consider what life might then be like for your wife, should you marry. Are you going to continue on in the same manner with her as you are at present?”

Feeling a little uncomfortable, Lucian shifted from foot to foot. “Lady Rosalind understands that I have no real interest in her but instead, that I think only of what must be done as regards continuing on with the family line.”

Letting out a low groan, Lord Radcliffe cast one hand over his eyes, making Lucian scowl.

“I do not know what the trouble is!” he exclaimed, as Lord Radcliffe shook his head despairingly. “I have made it quite clear to her that the only reason I wish to marry is to do my duty as regards the family line, which is what you yourself said, is it not? ”

“Yes, it was, but I did not think that you would act so quickly nor with such inconsideration!”

Lucian had no response to this. He had done just as he thought he ought, having realized his duty and acted upon it. What now was the trouble?

“Have you truly thought about this?” Lord Radcliffe continued, quietly. “Have you truly thought about what it will be like to take a bride? To have her as your wife?”

Again, Lucian could give no answer. The truth was, he had not thought about it a good deal.

“She will be living at your estate! You will dine with her regularly, will need to have conversation and connection if you are to produce your heir. You cannot simply march into her bedchamber and demand your conjugal rights!”

This made Lucian flush. “I had not any thought of being demanding.”

“Then you must realise there will be a need for you to know your wife – not merely in the physical sense,” Lord Radcliffe continued, albeit a little more quietly now. “I am sure that you do not want a miserable wife, despite the fact that you have no real desire to wed.”

Lucian swirled his brandy in his glass. “I have no desire for her to be under a heavy cloud for all the days of our marriage, no,” he answered, taking his time to pick his words considerately. “I presume that, should we both have separate quarters in the house and only meet on occasion, then that should keep her fairly contented.”

“That will keep you fairly contented, you mean,” came the quick reply. “You have not thought about what it will be like to be wed, have you? You have not thought what it will be like for her to be wed to you!”

“I have spoken about it all with the lady herself, surely that is enough to satisfy you?”

Lord Radcliffe put one hand to his heart. “I mean no disrespect, Strathmore, but you must understand that I say this only out of concern for yourself and for her. I cannot imagine what it would be like for a young lady to be wed to a gentleman who has no interest in her whatsoever, who speaks to her as though she is the enemy, who pushes her away at every opportunity so that he might only seek out solitude. In short, I am telling you that you cannot continue to behave with her as you have been doing. You must let go of your past, release yourself from the guilt and the shame that I know you still carry for Lady Rosalind’s sake.”

A heaviness draped itself over Lucian’s shoulders and he dropped his chin, fixing his gaze to the floor. “I cannot let it go. It is a part of me, though I think I understand what you mean when you speak of Lady Rosalind.” He dropped his head a little lower. “Truth be told, I had only thought of the practicalities. I require a wife; therefore, I must find one. Lady Rosalind would do very well, since she has no other great hopes of a match, given her situation with her brother. That is how I have put things to her.”

A slight flicker of mirth came into Lord Radcliffe’s eyes though Lucian, having only glanced at his friend, pulled his gaze away just as quickly. “I presume that she did not respond particularly well?”

Lucian sipped at his brandy before he replied, remembering the fierceness of Lady Rosalind’s demeanor. “She was astonished at my request, it seemed. Her father had informed her of it and permitted her to come and talk to me about it all, in lieu of him which, in turn, astonished me .”

Lord Radcliffe’s lips quirked. “So you were both rather taken by surprise, yes? But I think it quite wise for Lord Fairmont to send his daughter in to speak with you. After all, she is the one who will be marrying you. Though, given your grimace, I might imagine that you did not take as well to that as I might have done.”

A rueful chuckle left Lucian’s lips. “I did not make the best impression. I believe that I let my emotions catch me at one point and that was embarrassing indeed.”

“In what way?”

Lucian closed his eyes, sighing. “I told her that often, ladies did not listen to advice and went against what was best for them, so determined they are to follow their own path.”

“Oh.” Lord Radcliffe frowned. “You spoke of Lady Pearl in that moment, did you not?”

“Yes.” Lucian sighed and closed his eyes. “I did not mean it, of course. Not in the way that she accepted it, though I did tell her that I find her tenacity and firmness to be a fault in her character.” He watched as Lord Radcliffe’s eyebrows lifted, though his friend did not say a word. “Her response was to remind me of how much I do not match the requirements of a gentleman for any young lady. She certainly has spirit, Radcliffe. More than I had perhaps anticipated.”

Lord Radcliffe smiled but it was gentle, rather than mocking. “Did you think to step away from her, then?”

“I did, for a time, only to remind myself that I do not have any other choices, really. I want to remove from London, I want to return to my estate and yet, it is wise to consider matrimony before I do so – something that you have shown me. If I was to pull my offer of marriage away from Lady Rosalind, then I would have to go and seek out another suitable young lady and that might take me a good deal of time.”

“And then, once you had singled such a lady out, she might refuse. Or her father could refuse.”

“Precisely.”

“So you are to continue on with her, then?”

Lucian nodded slowly, realizing that Lord Radcliffe had given him a good many more things to think upon. “We are to take a fortnight. Rather, she wishes to take that time to consider things and we have agreed to spend a little more time together also, though quite what difference that will make, I do not know. She already knows who I am and I know her.”

“But not particularly well,” Lord Radcliffe pointed out. “Mayhap she is hopeful that there is another side to you, a kindness and consideration that she has not yet discovered.”

At this, Lucian harrumphed quietly, scowling.

“Do say that you will, at the very least, think on what I have said?” Lord Radcliffe asked, rising to his feet to go and fetch the brandy decanter. “You know that I seek only your happiness and, if she will accept you, Lady Rosalind’s also.”

“I have no need of happiness,” Lucian answered, his tone dull and gaze heavy as he looked back down at his empty glass. “Though I will think on what you have said as regards the lady herself. That is something worthy of thought, indeed.”

His friend smiled. “I am glad to hear it though, Strathmore, as you have heard me say before and as I shall say again, there is no need for you to continually cling to this sense of responsibility and the guilt that comes with it. It is not yours to bear.”

Lucian scowled, his heartbeat beginning to quicken. “If it is not mine to bear, then whose is it?”

Lord Radcliffe lifted his chin, his gaze steady. “Do you truly wish for me to say? Or is it that you already know the answer?”

The scowl on Lucian’s face grew even heavier as he looked back into Lord Radcliffe’s face and knew precisely what it was that his friend would say. He would say that it had been Lady Pearl’s own doing, that she had made the decision to come with Lucian, had made the decision to ride and had made the decision to take a slightly altered path from him. Yes, Lucian agreed silently, all of that was true but there was also the recognition that he, as her betrothed and as the Duke of Strathmore, could have been firmer, more determined and decisive… and if he had been, then Lady Pearl might now still be alive .

“It is a burden you have placed upon your own shoulders,” Lord Radcliffe murmured, quietly. “A burden that you need not carry. You need to release it, Strathmore, if you are ever to have even the smallest semblance of contentment.”

Acknowledging this with just a nod, Lucian finished his brandy and then got to his feet, feeling as though the conversation with his friend was now becoming weightier – more than he had anticipated. He did not want to think about his past, did not want to consider his role in Lady Pearl’s death. Indeed, it was a burden that he had taken upon himself but Lucian was quite certain that he deserved to carry it.

“Thank you for your willingness to listen to me, despite my reluctance when it comes to apologising,” he said, as Lord Radcliffe too got to his feet. “I meant what I said. I will take into consideration everything you have said, I assure you.”

“I am glad to hear it.” Lord Radcliffe set one hand on Lucian’s shoulder for a moment. “Mayhap we shall both find ourselves wed by the end of the Season. What a surprise that would be!”

Lucian tried to smile but his heart only twisted, recognizing that the happiness, the hope and the anticipation in Lord Radcliffe’s voice and expression was more than he himself felt when it came to the prospect of matrimony. For him, there was a heaviness, a frustration and a pulling back from the idea and, even though he knew it was the right thing to do as regarded his own responsibilities, he also knew that he was reluctant.

He had no choice though.

***

“Your Grace, good evening.”

“Good evening.” Reminding himself to speak civilly despite his ongoing frustration with the presence of the ton around him – many of whom seemed to be quite determined to look at him but say nothing more – Lucian inclined his head and then took in a breath. “Thank you for the invitation, Lord Falconer.”

“But of course, Your Grace.” The surprise, it seemed, could not be hidden from Lord Falconer’s voice. “I do hope you enjoy the soirée.”

Lucian forced a smile. “If there are to be cards, then I am certain I shall be.”

At this, Lord Falconer directed him to where the card games were going to be played and Lucian took his leave at once, eager to sit down at a table and hide himself away from the prying glances of the other guests. The only reason he was present this evening was because Lady Rosalind’s father, Lord Fairmont, had stated that he would be present and hoped that they might have a conversation or two regarding the situation with his daughter. Lucian had not wanted to attend, preferring instead to remain at home for the evening and mull over all that had been shared with him of late but, as he had reminded himself, this was what he ought to do. It was what a respectable gentleman should do instead of simply demanding that an answer be given to him and thus, albeit reluctantly, he had come to Lord Falconer’s soirée.

“Good evening, Your Grace.”

“Good evening, Butterworth, Lucian muttered, looking at the gentleman who was already sitting at the card table, expectantly waiting for others to join him. “Clearly, you are already eager to play, yes?”

“Yes, just as you are, it seems!” Lord Butterworth replied, with a chuckle. “I am not the only one who is less than inclined towards conversation this evening, which I am glad to see.”

With a wry smile, Lucian sat down opposite him in a seat which gave him a full vantage point of the room. He did not want to have his back to the others present, quite sure that there would be a good many whispers about him if he did such a thing. At least here, with the other guests aware that he could see them all, they would be disinclined towards whispers… at least, whispering too obviously.

“How do you fare, Your Grace?” Lord Butterworth inclined his head, observing Lucian with circumspection, as though he were mindful of his query, lest he provoke the ire of the gentleman before him. “I do hope that you have found yourself a little happier? I am glad to see you returned to society for it has been a long time away from society.”

Lucian stiffened, the memories of the last time he had been in society – and happy within it – pouring into him. “Indeed, I have returned,” he muttered, passing one hand over his eyes, determined now to stop any further, prying questions. “That is all I shall say on that matter, however.”

Lord Butterworth flushed red, one finger pulling gently at the collar of his shirt. He coughed, then shrugged but did not say anything more, leaving both Lucian and himself in silence.

For himself, Lucian did not care about the silence. He preferred it over the questions that might otherwise have been asked of him. Aware that Lord Butterworth might soon go and inform the rest of the ton about how short and sharp he had been, Lucian shrugged inwardly. He still did not really care about his own reputation nor what society thought of him. It was barely a passing thought for, if Lady Rosalind accepted him, then all he had to do was wed her and then return to the estate with his bride. There would be no requirement to linger in London, no need for him to stay in society any longer. Lady Rosalind knew of his reputation already and there was no requirement for him to attempt to hide that from her. Thus, Lucian simply sat back in his chair and waited for which ever other gentlemen might wish to join them for a game of cards, caring nothing for the silence between Lord Butterworth and himself.

“It has been some time since we have been in company together, Your Grace.”

Everything in Lucian’s frame snapped with a tightness which forced him to catch his breath. He could not move, could not turn his head to see who had come into the room from the door just behind him, the one place he had not been able to see. His breathing grew ragged, his strength weakening as his hands gripped the arms of the chair, a loud buzzing in his ears.

“I did not expect to see you in London society,” the voice continued, as Lucian tried to gather himself, attempted to find any semblance of strength with which to even look at the gentleman. “But, then again, neither of us have done anything to correspond with each other and, therefore, I suppose that should not be expected.”

“Westlake,” Lucian breathed, closing his eyes tightly for a moment, dragging in air as he finally opened them again and, with sheer force of will, turned his head to look up at the fellow. “Whatever are you doing here?”

Lord Westlake shrugged, an easy smile on his face which Lucian had not expected to see. “I am here to enjoy society, that is all. Why, might I ask, are you present?”

“My cousin has her wedding very soon,” Lucian answered, stumbling over his words just a little. “That is the only purpose for my presence here.” He looked into the face of the gentleman, recalling that the last time he had seen him, Lord Westlake had been a broken man. News of Lady Pearl’s passing had brought Lord Westlake to his knees and Lucian had been too lost in his own grief to be of any comfort. He did not know Lord Westlake particularly well and felt the distance between them even more at this very present moment.

Lord Westlake put a hand to Lucian’s shoulder. “I have startled you, I can see that. I am sorry for it. I did not mean for my presence to upset you.”

“You have not upset me, not in the least!” Lucian exclaimed, trying to smile though it felt fixed and forced. “I am only surprised to see you, that is all. It has been a long time, has it not? I know that things were not in an excellent state between us at that time –” He coughed, his voice rasping now, hands curling into fists as he fought to speak clearly. “It was a trying few months, I know, but I do wish that I had been better able to speak to you. From what I recall, there was very little said between us.” Watching Lord Westlake’s expression, Lucian took in the shadow that passed over the gentleman’s face and immediately regretted what he had said. Perhaps Lord Westlake wished to forget about Lady Pearl’s passing and, in saying what he had, he had brought dark and painful memories to the fore. All the same, Lucian considered in the silence that followed, it was not as though he could remain silent. The only thing that bound them together was Lady Pearl herself and the grief which Lucian knew they both felt keenly still.

“I do hope, Your Grace, that we might leave the past as it is.” Lord Westlake finally spoke but did not smile. “I have decided that my life must have meaning and purpose again and therefore, as I have said, I have come to enjoy society as it is. I do hope that you are going to be able to do the same?”

Lucian said nothing but kept his smile in place.

“Speaking of enjoyment, might I join you for cards?” Lord Westlake asked, gesturing to the table. “There are plenty of seats still available, I can see, though if I sit to play then that might hopefully encourage some others!”

A little surprised at the strange urge to refuse this request, Lucian merely shrugged, glancing to his companion whom, he noticed, was attempting to make it appear as though he had not heard a single word of their conversation given the way his head was a little turned away and gaze darting all across the room.

Lucian rolled his eyes inwardly. “Lord Butterworth?,” he said, a little more loudly than he had meant, making the gentleman start. “Lord Westlake wishes to join us. I presume you have no complaints?”

“Of course not, of course not!” Lord Butterworth exclaimed, gesturing for Lord Westlake to sit down though, Lucian noticed, he sat opposite Lucian rather than next to him. “We shall be able to begin a game very soon, I am sure.”

“Very soon,” Lucian murmured, finding the very strange desire to remove himself from the table entirely growing stronger and stronger. He did not do such a thing at all, however, aware of just how demonstrably rude that would appear and how much of a tension it might build between Lord Westlake and himself which was the very last thing he wanted! Why was he feeling this sense of urgency to remove himself from the game? Was it simply that Lord Westlake’s presence brought him some dreadful memories and, as such, he wanted to avoid the fellow ?

“Ah, here is Lord Ulminster come to play with us!” Lord Butterworth exclaimed and, with that, all of Lucian’s thoughts of leaving the game before it began came to a sudden and swift end.