The Penitent Duke (The Untamed Nobles #1)

Chapter Eleven

I am betrothed.

Lucian watched as his cousin made her vows, relieved that the wedding ceremony was almost at an end so that he might then make his escape and hide away from the prying eyes of the ton. The fact that he too would soon be standing at the front of a church and making his wedding vows was something he could not, as yet, fully accept. It had been an astonishing, overwhelming moment when Lady Rosalind had announced she had accepted his hand in marriage and since then, Lucian had endured nothing but glances and outright questions and some rather rude demands from other members of society, each person clearly astonished at his news to wed the lady. Lady Rosalind had a good deal to endure also but, over the last few days, she had said less and less and though they had been out in society together, she had barely spoken even a word to him.

Lucian was not sure he liked that. What he knew of Lady Rosalind was that she was a determined, forthright young lady and that, now, all of a sudden, she was no longer that sort of creature. After all of his complaints, Lucian was quite sure that he ought to be grateful for such a thing but there was a niggle in his heart that would not fade. Whenever he looked at her, there was a dullness in her eyes rather than sparkle and he did not like that.

Though I am the cause of it.

“What a lovely service.”

Glancing to his right, Lucian frowned at Lord Radcliffe. “You do not even know my cousin.”

“That is not true! I know her and her family somewhat, though I am better acquainted with her husband, of course.” His eyes narrowed just a little. “Are you thinking of your own marriage?”

“No.” Lucian scowled. “I would prefer not to think of it, truth be told.”

“But you must have set a date, have you not?” Lord Radcliffe persisted, irritating Lucian with his questions. “Have you spoken to her father?”

Lucian cleared his throat and looked away, feeling a little uncomfortable. “I have briefly spoken with Lord Fairmont and we have decided not to set a date as yet. Not until Lady Rosalind is ready.” That had been an awkward conversation, for Lord Fairmont had not been pleased with the situation but had also not been angry or upset either. Though he had not spoken of it directly, it was clear to Lucian that Lady Rosalind was Lord Fairmont’s prime concern and that she was in a somewhat sorrowful frame of mind. That had brought Lucian a stab of guilt though he had quickly ignored it, just as he always did. He had enough guilt to bear already and adding to it was not something he desired to do.

“Strathmore?”

Realizing that he had become lost in thought, Lucian swallowed and then forced a smile. “My apologies. What were you saying?”

Lord Radcliffe smiled. “I was asking if you planned on stepping out of the pew at any point, for I think the rest of the guests are leaving.”

Looking all around, Lucian flushed with embarrassment as he hurried to his feet, having not realized that he was one of the only few left in the church.

“No doubt you have been thinking of your own wedding.” An older lady, one that Lucian did not recognize though she did seem to speak with an air of familiarity, grasped his arm. “Lady Rosalind is an excellent creature. I do hope that you will treat her well, Your Grace. She has endured quite enough already.”

Disliking being told what he ought – or ought not – to do, Lucian made to respond sharply but a warning look from Lord Radcliffe stopped him. Instead, he bit back his initial answer and merely nodded. “Of course.”

“Good.” The older lady released his arm. “Her character is beyond compare, if you ask me. I do hope she will not be wasted on you.”

“I would quite agree with that, Your Grace.”

Glancing behind him, Lucian’s eyebrows lifted at the sight of Lady Eleanor. “Lady Eleanor, I did not know that you would be in attendance.”

She smiled but it held no warmth. “It seems that my family are vaguely connected with the groom’s family, though I confess that our invitation was somewhat unexpected.” Her smile cracked, her lips thinning. “I will say again that I believe Lady Rosalind’s character is beyond compare and, despite what I know of you, I can only pray that you will treat her with kindness and respect.”

“I understand that you have very little faith in me, Lady Eleanor,” Lucian answered, stepping outside. “That is understandable, I suppose but –”

“Especially since you coerced her into marriage.”

Lucian stopped short, turning to face Lady Eleanor, his eyes wide. “Coerced?”

“Yes.” She lifted her chin a notch, her face a little pale as Lord Radcliffe came to join them, his own brows furrowed .

“I did not coerce her, Lady Eleanor.”

The lady snorted, shaking her head. “Then what would you call it, Your Grace?”

“Call what?” Flummoxed, Lucian spread out his hands, aware of the flickering anger in his chest. “I do not understand what it is you think I did.”

“You demanded that she give you an answer, did you not? You spoke to her alone, in a quiet corner of the hallway and when others appeared, you informed them that you were having a private conversation with the lady and practically demanded that they leave!” Lady Eleanor’s jaw tightened for a moment as she paused. “What did you think would happen if not for the fact that she would have no other choice but to accept you?”

Lucian blinked furiously, his chest suddenly heaving as he realized what Lady Eleanor meant. He had never once intended for Lady Rosalind to feel pressured into accepting him but in that moment, as they had stood in the hallway, he had felt the heaviness, the weight of her decision resting on him. He was eager to ascertain, at that moment, whether she could bring herself to accept him, his heart thundering with an intensity born from a consideration he had, as yet, declined to entertain. “That… that was not my intention, truly,” he rasped, awash with mortification as he began to see what had happened through Lady Rosalind’s eyes. “I did not think –”

“That is your main issue, Your Grace,” Lady Eleanor interrupted, coming closer to him, her face flushed, eyes narrowed. “You do not think.”

She turned on her heel and began to walk away, leaving Lucian and Lord Radcliffe standing together. After a moment, Lord Radcliffe gave Lucian a nod and then hurried after Lady Eleanor, leaving Lucian to stand alone.

Lucian closed his eyes, a tingling rushing through him. He heard the conversation and laughter from others around him, feeling it jarring against him. He had not thought when it came to that moment, had not even hesitated to speak just as bluntly as he had always done – and had not thought of the consequences. Lady Eleanor had needed to explain it all to him and even now, he was struggling to take it all in.

If only I had not looked into her eyes.

Turning away from the crowd, he made his way along the side of the church and into the gardens beyond, finding a solitary bench hidden amongst the bushes and flowers. Sitting down heavily, he rubbed one hand over his eyes, then leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he groaned aloud .

The memory came back to him and, this time, Lucian could not help but recall it. He remembered everything he had said… and what had shifted within him thereafter.

“It is not grief but guilt,” he had said, seeing her eyes widen just a little, her mouth a fraction ajar . “Grief was there, but the guilt I feel will linger with me every day of my life, I am sure of it. Do not misunderstand me, Lady Rosalind. I tell you this not because I want your understanding nor your compassion. I tell you because Lady Eleanor is right to say that you must understand what it is you are stepping into.”

That had been the moment he had seen something change in Lady Rosalind’s expression. Her eyes, searching his, had softened, a gentleness – even a tenderness – beginning to sweep through them and Lucian’s heart had instantly warmed to it. He had seen her as though for the first time, taking in the green of her eyes, the red of her copper hair, the sweetness of her lips and the kindness in her gaze and something in him had yearned for her. All at once, the desire to sweep her up into his arms, to pull her close and to feel the nearness of her had been overpowering and it had taken all of Lucian’s inner strength not to do that very thing. His whole body had flushed hot, the longing for her closeness still warring within him and it had been that which had forced him into action, which had made him practically demand that she give him her answer. It had been unreasonable, he had known, but all the same, those words had come to him and he had spoken them aloud – not thinking for a moment of what she would feel nor what others might think.

“That was somewhat foolish.” Muttering aloud to himself, Lucian rubbed at his eyes, sat up and leaned his head back, blowing out a long, slow breath. He had not imagined what Lady Rosalind herself might have felt in that moment. Surprisingly, he had felt a great swell of relief when she had told Lord Westlake that she had just accepted Lucian’s proposal but, now looking back on it, Lucian realized just how little he had given thought to her.

Letting out a groan, Lucian shook his head and closed his eyes. This was most unlike him, for why should he care about what others thought of him? Why should he care about Lady Rosalind’s feelings? He had not done so before now so why, at this juncture, was he evidently so troubled by it?

The memory of looking down into her eyes swept over him again and Lucian shuddered, the sentiments that had long lain dormant within him now stirred to life anew—and Lucian loathed them. He wanted to break them apart, to shatter them into pieces and then crumble them into dust. He would not, could not let himself think on any feelings of interest or, even worse, the minutest affection. Not after what had happened with Lady Pearl, not after what he was responsible for. That was to be his punishment, was it not? A life lived without happiness, without joy or contentment. He wanted this, wanted to bear the heavy burden of guilt and shame for the rest of his days for it was what he truly believed he deserved.

Which was why such feelings were so dreadfully unwelcome.

“Strathmore – Lucian!”

Lucian lifted his head, astonished to hear his Christian name being called. “Radcliffe?” Getting to his feet, he strode forward as Lord Radcliffe hurried towards him, his face white. “Whatever is the matter? Is it Lady Anna?”

Lord Radcliffe grasped his arm. “No, it is not your cousin. It is Lady Rosalind.”

Lucian blinked in surprise, seeing Lord Radcliffe’s drawn expression. “Lady Rosalind?” he repeated, as Lord Radcliffe nodded, then began to hurry away, practically pulling Lucian along with him. “What – what has happened?”

“An accident,” Lord Radcliffe replied, as Lucian’s breathing grew rapid. “Lady Eleanor has only just heard, a messenger was sent to tell her. Thank heavens we were still here so that I could inform you!”

Fright began to spread through Lucian’s body, his mind whirring with all the dread possibilities of what might have happened. A vision of Lady Pearl flashed through his mind, remembering her smile, recalling the brightness of her eyes and how she had laughed as she had followed after him on her horse. Lady Rosalind was not glad to be engaged to him as Lady Pearl had been but he feared now that she too might have suffered injury, just as Lady Pearl had done.

“Hurry!” Lord Radcliffe exclaimed, ushering Lucian into the waiting carriage with Lady Eleanor already sitting there, her mother beside her. “We will all go together.”

Lucian nodded, barely able to speak. His throat was constricting, his chest tight and heat behind his eyes. What had happened to Lady Rosalind? And could it be, in any way, because of her new connection to him?