Chapter 17
LUCIEN
The following day, Lucien stood at the bottom of the staircase.
Marianne appeared after a few minutes, looking ravishingly beautiful in a simple light blue gown.
It swayed around her in such a way as to hint at her curves without outright drawing attention to them.
Her hair was piled up with a few strands curling down.
Her gloved hand slid on the banister as she came down, and Lucien swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.
Their afternoon at the monastery had done something to him he had not anticipated. It had made him care for her, no matter how much he denied it.
Being alone with her and having shown her his once private space had cracked open something within him that he couldn’t seal again. He still wasn’t sure what had moved him to show her, for he had never taken anyone there. Not even Henry. He’d shown him the ruin, but no more.
Yet with Marianne, he’d been compelled to do so. With unexpected results. Was it the way her hand moved so quickly when he’d handed her the glass? Perhaps. Or the way she’d looked at him when she thought he didn’t see?
Either way, he had to keep his emotions in check. This would do no good. He couldn’t care for her. If he did, then he risked his history repeating itself. And that wouldn’t serve anyone.
“You look rather dashing,” Marianne said with a smile as she descended the final stair.
“As do you,” he replied. He proffered his arm, and she took it.
He didn’t want to admit how much feeling her hand on his arm filled him with longing he hadn’t felt since he had first been married.
Back then, when he had still thought that love was possible, he hoped he and Arabella might truly fall for each other.
He had longed for it then. Longed for love and affection and unity.
It had never come. And it wouldn’t come now.
“Where is Henry?” Marianne asked.
“Mrs. Harvey took him already. Rhys suggested that the governess take the boy out so that he’ll be tired out by this evening, and I thought it a wonderful idea.”
“I see,” she replied. Together, they made their way to the carriage, and Lucien handed her in. He felt the loss of her hand on his arm more intensely than he wanted to, but brushed away the feeling as he climbed inside.
“We shall have to be on our best behavior,” Marianne said. “We must pretend to be madly in love.”
“Really? Your sisters already know that we are pretending.”
“Yes, but my aunt does not,” she replied. “And my aunt must believe that we genuinely tried. She would be most upset if she ever found out that I attempted to betray her by playing this charade. Besides, the servants talk.”
“You are right,” Lucien agreed. “If Mrs. Greaves has taught me one thing, it is that servants always know everything that is going on. Well, we shall have to pretend.”
Although as the carriage made its way down the road, he realized that the more time they spent together, the less he had to pretend.
They arrived at Marianne’s aunt Eugenia’s home in Mayfair three-quarters of an hour later.
It was a modest home lodged between two grander ones, but as they exited the carriage and walked up the front stairs, Lucien saw immediately through the glass panes that it was a well-appointed home, despite its humble appearance.
When the butler allowed them entry, Eugenia greeted them almost immediately. She rushed their way and hugged Marianne before curtsying deeply. “It is so good to see both of you. I feel like it has been so long since I last laid eyes on you. But I know how it is to be young and in love.”
“Indeed,” Marianne replied with a smile Lucien could tell was fake. He knew her well enough now to be able to tell the difference between a smile that came from somewhere within her and a smile that was put on for the benefit of others.
“Marianne!” Henry burst out of the doorway on the right and launched himself at Marianne. She staggered backwards, but to her credit, recovered quickly and wrapped her arms around the little boy.
“Henry, there you are,” she said. “Did you have a pleasant day?”
“I did,” he said. “Uncle Rhys said that he has never seen a boy who was quicker to spot birds hiding in trees than me.”
“Did he now?” Lucien said and lifted him up. “And where is this uncle Rhys of yours?”
Henry pointed to the drawing room, and Lucien indicated with his chin for Marianne to follow him. She looked up at Lucien before whispering. “Does he always make it a habit of launching himself at people?”
“Only those that he likes,” he replied with a chuckle. “And he clearly likes you.” A faint blush appeared on her cheeks as he said this.
Yes, she was stiff with Henry. Yes, she was not used to children, but she was warming to him.
She didn’t need to love him. She wouldn’t be here long enough to love Henry. And he didn’t want Henry to begin loving her either. But Lucien wanted them to be friends.
Perhaps that had not been something he had thought through very well. Truly, what Marianne’s presence would mean to Henry wasn’t something he had considered. He had thought of the benefits for himself more than anything else.
Rhys stood and clapped his hands together. He greeted Lucien warmly and placed a kiss on Marianne’s cheek. Lucien looked around the room. Marianne’s sisters were there. And of course, Rhys and Nathaniel. Then, he spotted a third person sitting in the corner, and his stomach dropped.
Gideon Marsh.
He had known Gideon since their days at Cambridge.
Gideon had always been Rhys’s friend more so than Lucien’s.
Lucien had never liked him. He was quick with wit and had a sharp tongue.
Qualities Lucien always found questionable because one could never know when one would find oneself at the receiving end of said quick wit and sharp tongue.
“Lucien,” he said. Lucien set Henry down. Marianne made her way to her sisters, and the three chatted while Eugenia rang the bell to indicate that they were ready for dinner.
“Well, well, Wexford,” Gideon said. “I had to come and see it with my own two eyes. You, married. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“True. Well, one does what one has to.”
“I dare say you have done quite well for yourself. I had an eye on Marianne myself,” he said.
Lucien wasn’t quite sure if this was said in jest, as he had never heard Gideon mention Marianne before, but a little prickle emerged in his stomach, and he knew immediately what it was.
Jealousy.
He didn’t want Gideon to like Marianne. Not now, not in the past.
“Well,” Rhys said, “I for one am happy to call Lucien my brother, even if only by law.”
“Yes, I suppose things have rather changed between the three of us now,” Gideon said. “I shall never be able to elevate myself to such a position, given that there are no more sisters. At least none that I know of.”
“I got the last one,” Lucien said with a smile.
Then he glanced at Marianne. She was busy conversing with Charlotte.
As she stood underneath the chandelier, the candlelight cast a pretty glow on her face.
She smiled, and then she raised her head, and her eyes met his.
He couldn’t quite take his eyes away from her, even though he knew he should.
The corners of his lips curled up and she mirrored the expression.
“I see you are quite madly in love with your wife,” Gideon said. “Well, I shall consider myself thoroughly defeated then.”
“Defeated how?” Rhys said. “You never stood a chance anyway. It’s lucky that he got Marianne before she took a vow.”
“Oh yes, I thought she had a mind to become a nun,” Gideon said. “What a waste that would’ve been. Good on you for having saved her from that fate.” He smacked his shoulder into Lucien’s in what was meant to be a friendly movement, but Lucien only managed a weak smile.
“Shall we eat?” Rhys said, and they settled around the table. Marianne was beside Lucien, and he glanced at her, smiling once more when he felt Gideon’s eyes on him.
Gideon, who sat on his other side, smirked and leaned over. “I dare say I was quite right. Utterly besotted you are.”
“I am...” He was about to add the word ‘not’, but then remembered they were pretending. It was good if Gideon thought that he was really in love with her, wasn’t it?
He closed his eyes and then realized something. Henry wasn’t beside him. He looked around, left and right, for he knew that the children were supposed to eat with the adults this evening.
In fact, Evelyn and Nathaniel were sitting across from him with their little one between them. And James was on Charlotte’s lap. It was the most unusual arrangement, he knew this, but it was something that the Langley family had done ever since the first child joined the family.
Rhys had told him all about it, and he had thought it so wonderful to include the children in family dinners and not cut them away to eat on their own with their governesses just because they were of noble birth. Naturally, he’d expected Henry beside him.
Then he spotted him.
Henry was seated beside Marianne, and he saw the slightly panicked expression on her face.
“Shall we switch?” he whispered.
“I can manage,” she said, sounding as though she wasn’t at all sure.
“Wexford,” Gideon said, drawing his attention. “Will we be seeing you and your lovely bride at Lady Hazelton’s ball next week?”
“You will,” he said.
“They will?” Marianne asked.
“Yes,” he replied, adding “dearest” for effect. “We spoke of it just the other day.”
She nodded. “Oh yes. I forgot.”
“Yes, the mind of a newlywed is always adrift,” Gideon said and chuckled. Rhys likewise grinned at this, even though he knew the truth.
“Well, it has been quite some time since I saw you dancing. I do not believe that you danced much with the previous Lady Wexford.”
The comment stung. The truth was that he had attempted to dance with Arabella when they were first wed, but she had been opposed to it. “Well, at most formal balls, it is frowned upon to see husbands and wives dancing together,” he said.
“Oh yes, but not at Hazelton’s. And I shall most certainly look out for the both of you. I am sure Marianne is a wonderful dancer,” he said, bending forward. “Aren’t you, Lady Marianne?”
“Lady Wexford,” she corrected him, and Lucien had to suppress a chuckle.
That served Gideon right.
He should know better than to use the wrong title for a lady. However, the moment of levity did not last because just then Henry let out a yelp. He turned, but Marianne was already tending to him. By the looks of it, he had managed to spill a spoonful of gravy all the way down his attire.
Marianne quickly set to cleaning him up while Lucien sat by and admired how much she had grown over the last few weeks.
During the spillage, some had also dribbled on her clothes, but she did not complain.
At least not out loud. After she had finished cleaning Henry up, the conversation around the room continued, and she turned to Lucien.
In a low voice, she whispered, “Your son is in fine form.”
“What?” he replied, the sheepish tone creeping in. “He is on his best behavior. He takes after his father, after all.”
She shook her head, but there was no annoyance in her posture.
“Well, we will have to see about that.” She turned, but his eyes remained on her, and they continued to return to her time and again throughout dinner as she tended to Henry.
She did it with tenderness, as though she was beginning to care for him truly.
It warmed his heart while at the same time, he understood that the time might come when he would have to step in to ensure they did not grow too close.
Though truthfully, there was a part of him that wanted just that. But, he knew, it was a part he’d have to silence for he could not allow such foolish fantasies to fill his head again.