Chapter 6
Six
By the time that Rhys arrived home that evening, the adoption of Lucy had been arranged. While Miss Wilks was surprised, and a little incredulous, she recognized and agreed how perfect the situation was for Lucy. She was happy to accept the adoption when the day came.
It was as Rhys signed those papers that the true weight of what he was doing finally hit him. Oh sure, he had thought long and hard over it, and he had accepted that it was what he wanted, but now that it was done…
Am I making a terrible mistake?
Too late now! And besides, even if Rhys wanted to change his mind, he knew that he could not.
Mostly, that was because of Lucy. But strangely, Miss Beaumont also factored into his reasoning.
The woman did not trust him, and Rhys felt a burning desire to prove himself to her.
Not that he should have cared, but he did.
What Rhys really needed was a night to himself. One to unwind. To consider. A night to unpack all he had done and what this would mean for him and his future.
Typically, he was denied such a desire.
“Your Grace!” a footman greeted him in the foyer. “I am so sorry, Your Grace, but you have a visitor.”
Rhys groaned. “Whoever it is, tell them… frankly, I do not care.”
“It is His Grace, the Duke of Eastmoor,” the footman said with a grimace. “He awaits you in the drawing room, and I have the sense that he will not leave without seeing you.”
“Sebastian…”
Rhys looked across the foyer as if he was able to see his best friend sitting in the drawing room, likely helping himself to a glass of brandy.
Sebastian Vale was not only Rhys’ closest friend, but he was also his cousin.
They got along well, almost like brothers, and few knew Rhys as well as Sebastian did.
Often, that was a boon, as the man was good to speak with, to expand on ideas, and tell Rhys what he needed to hear.
However, when considering the circumstances of Rhys’ current life, he shuddered to picture just how Sebastian was going to take this news.
I am sure he is going to have a few things to say… none of which I will want to hear.
With no choice, Rhys trudged across the foyer and made for the drawing room. And sure enough, there waited Sebastian, sitting by the fire, with a glass of brandy in hand. He saw Rhys coming, he took a purposeful sip, then he put down the glass and stood.
“Not the expression I was expecting,” Sebastian said when he saw Rhys’ glower. “I thought I’d find you with a smile on your face, a glaze to your eyes, and whatnot?”
Rhys scoffed. “Do you really think so highly of your own company?”
“Me? Not at all,” Sebastian dismissed. “But for a man recently engaged…” He flashed his dark eyes. “Is that not how one should behave when captured by the throes of love?”
“What…” Rhys reared back. “How did you hear about that? Who told you?”
“This town is not so big that such secrets can be kept,” Sebastian said. He turned and scooped up his glass of brandy again, taking another sip. “And while the marriage itself is rather unexpected, you can imagine my surprise when I learned who it was to.”
Rhys grimaced.
“Not that I recognize the name,” Sebastian said. “What was it… Beaumont? A damn member of the gentry! Worse still, a name that has attached to it no wealth, no reputation, and no —”
“Are you quite done?” Rhys stalked across the room, heading straight for the liquor cabinet. There, he snatched the bottle of brandy and started to pour his own glass. “If you have come here to mock me, I ask that you get it over with and leave.”
“Mock you?” Sebastian asked as if insulted. “I would never!”
Rhys turned and raised a questioning eyebrow. “You have a strange way of offering me congratulations then, if that is the intent.”
“Well, I am not going to do that either,” Sebastian admitted. “Not until you tell me what is going on. What caused you to…” He shook his head in disbelief. “Has this woman trapped you? Blackmailed you? Whatever it is, we can fix it, Rhys. You do not have to do this.”
“It is none of that,” Rhys said with a sigh as he took a long sip.
“Then why?” Sebastian stormed across the room. “Tell me the truth of it so that I can confirm that you have not lost your mind.”
Such a question was sure to be asked hundreds of times throughout the coming weeks. In those circumstances, Rhys intended to lie. The last thing he needed was to find himself at the center of the ton’s gossip, and to consider what that might do to Lucy.
Miss Beaumont and I will have to come up with a reason that makes sense.
However, as this was Sebastian, Rhys did not see the point of stretching the truth or breaking it entirely. Besides, all things considered, he hoped that once he told his friend the reason, he might agree that it was for the best. Rhys needed to know that he had not made a terrible mistake.
“You know that I have been funding a local orphanage for some time now,” he began.
“And I know why,” Sebastian countered.
Rhys ignored the comment. “I learned just this week that the orphanage is being forced to close its doors. There is nothing I can do, and the result will see the children sent to various other orphanages across the country.”
“Oh…” Sebastian frowned, a slight edge of worry to his voice. “I am sorry to hear that, Rhys. I know how important that project was to you.”
“It was,” Rhys said with a firm nod. “And while I cannot help all the children, I have decided to help one. Her name is Lucy, and I will be adopting her.”
Sebastian’s mouth dropped open. “What was that now?”
“It is the right thing to do.” Rhys took a hasty sip of his drink, and then spoke quickly, hoping to skip past questions of Lucy so that he was not forced to go down that road.
“In order to adopt her, I must wed so that the child has a home. Miss Beaumont is close with the girl, and I thought it prudent that she be who I chose. It is a marriage of convenience only,” Rhys continued, unable to look at his friend.
“Done for the right reasons. And Miss Beaumont is aware of that fact.”
“I do not…” Sebastian massaged his temples with one hand. “That is a lot to take in. A marriage of convenience, you say?”
“That is right,” Rhys said, thankful that Sebastian chose to focus on that fact. “Not a love match. Not romantic in any facility. It is strictly professional.” Rhys forced a glare on his friend, as if to warn him off the point he was sure to make.
“Oh yes…” Sebastian nodded seriously and took another sip of brandy. “Professional, I am sure. What is her name?”
“Violet, if you must know,” he answered, and then groaned when Sebastian’s eyes lit up.
“Violet! What a beautiful name. And let me guess, she is also a beauty? No, do not answer me.” He waved Rhys down. “I know that she is.”
“That is not…” He exhaled through his nose. “That is not the point.”
“Ah, so I am correct,” Sebastian laughed. “You were rather clever just now, throwing at me a cavalcade of excuses concerning why you chose to wed this particular woman. And you almost had me.” He shook his head as he continued to laugh. “Well done, Rhys. Oh, very well done.”
Rhys glared daggers at Sebastian, a foolish thing to do, as he was better to just ignore him. “That is not what this is about. Violet—Miss Beaumont’s looks are not a concern.”
“But you do admit that she is attractive?”
Careful now, Rhys. Do not give him any rope by which to hang you…
Of course he found Miss Beaumont attractive.
Hers was a subtle beauty, elegant but not obvious.
Mostly, it was her eyes that came to mind when Rhys thought of her, how expressive they were, how quickly they showed her emotions.
She was intelligent, she was fierce, and he saw it all whenever she looked at him.
She was someone who spoke her mind, but who was not arrogant or cruel. Most of their conversations had turned into arguments, but they had always left an impression, and Rhys had never walked away without her on his mind.
“Her looks are not what matters,” he spoke carefully.
“It is her… I chose her because of who she is, her personality. She cares for the children. She is kind and selfless, the type who puts others first. But she is not soft, and she is not one to back down when she sees wrong being done.” He did not mean it, but a smile tugged at his lips.
“Most of all, she is honest in ways that few people are…”
He trailed off as he spoke, picturing her in his mind, remembering how he had felt when they had argued and fought. But always, he admired her, and not once did he doubt that everything she did was for the good of others.
I might learn a thing or two from her…
“Well, I am convinced,” Sebastian said. “A beauty or no, the way you described her just now is proof enough. You are in love with this woman.”
Rhys’ eyes widened. “What? That is absurd!”
“What is absurd is how your eyes glazed over just now,” he chuckled.
“I… that is not…” Rhys cleared his throat and his mind as he fixed another glare on Sebastian, a final effort to batter him down. “I am doing this for Lucy, and that is all. She and Miss Beaumont are close, and it will be good for her to have someone in this home whom she trusts.”
“Oh right.” Sebastian shook his head. “The adoption. Good heavens, I can scarcely keep track of all your shenanigans and misadventures. Who is this girl?”
“An orphan. Nobody.” Seeing where the topic was going, he turned and walked back to the liquor cabinet.
“She must be somebody,” Sebastian said. “If you are marrying someone who you claim you do not care about, just to see this adoption go through.” Silence then, and as Rhys poured another drink, he felt his friend’s discerning gaze boring into the back of his skull.
“Rhys, what is going on with you? Really?”
“Nothing,” he said with little conviction.
“No jokes,” Sebastian said, voice softening. “No more mockery. This is me. Tell me what is going on. Not even because I wish to help, but because I think you need it. I am worried, Rhys. Please, speak to me.”
It was always going to lead to this. Rhys had avoided the question each time it was asked, refusing to open up and admit his motives. But that was just because Miss Wilks or Miss Beaumont would never truly understand, nor did he want to open old wounds so that he could explain it.
But Sebastian knew him like no other, so all he needed was a single, quick explanation… one name, and it would be done.
“She reminds me of Eleanor, is why.” Rhys’ voice came out as a broken whisper, spoken into his chest, and he could not bring himself to turn and look at his friend. “She is the spitting image, and I… when I look at her…”
“Oh, Rhys,” Sebastian sighed, with pain in his voice.
Eleanor had been Rhys’ baby sister. Fifteen years younger than he, their relationship was almost that of a father and daughter; a paradigm that only strengthened when Rhys inherited the dukedom from his deceased father.
He loved his sister as the moon loves the night’s sky, and there was nothing he would not do for her.
Naturally, when she fell in love, the man was not considered good enough, and ever the protective older brother, Rhys was not shy in letting her know it.
But Eleanor was always stubborn, and rather than listening to Rhys, she ran away with the man who she claimed to love.
She had only been seventeen! Still a child in Rhys’ eyes, and oh how mad he was that she had disobeyed him.
Furious, in fact, and the night that she had run off, their argument could be heard across the entire county.
She died several months later. Rhys got the news days after it had happened that she had died in childbirth. By the time he arrived, her great love had absconded, the child was nowhere to be found, and his sister was dead.
For months, Rhys had searched for the child. He went to every orphanage. He spoke to every private investigator he could find. He moved mountains… and nothing.
That was why he started to fund the orphanage. Partly because he wanted to help, and partly because he never stopped believing that one day he might find his nephew.
And then he saw Lucy… a mirror image of Eleanor… and for a brief moment, Rhys was happy like he had not been in years. His sister was dead; his nephew was likely dead too, but in Lucy, maybe he could fix those mistakes that he had made with Eleanor, and maybe he could make things right.
“I know that she is not Eleanor,” he said, still unable to look at his friend. “I know that she will not bring my sister back. But if I am able to help Lucy… If I can…” His voice cracked. “If I can give her the life that I was not able to give her son…” His hands trembled with the glass.
“Stop.” Sebastian’s hand rested on his shoulder. “Say no more, Rhys. Truly, I am sorry I pressed you so.”
“It is fine,” Rhys sighed, and his shoulders dropped.
“I am here for you, Rhys,” Sebastian said. “Whatever you need, say it. You know I will always help.”
“I do not need help,” Rhys said. “Lucy does, and I intend to do everything that I can for her.”