by Anna Bradley
He didn’t know if she’d done it intentionally, but he was grateful to her, all the same.
But his study was as dark and quiet as a tomb. With nothing to distract him, the thoughts he’d pushed to the back of his mind surged forward again, just as he’d known they would. He played the scene he’d witnessed between Isla and Lord Sydney over and over again in his mind, and inevitably circled back to the same question he’d asked himself a dozen times already.
Why had Lord Sydney left Huntington Lodge?
He’d remained for less than half a day, and then he’d left, and he’d done so with Isla’s blessing. It could mean any number of things, of course. Lord Sydney might be on his way to his country estate to see it was readied for his bride, but it didn’t seem likely. Surely, he could have written his housekeeper for that, or sent a servant in his stead?
Perhaps he’d returned to London, to see about ordering a new coach, or to consult with his own doctor about his injuries. It was possible, but it didn’t account for Lord Sydney’s haste. He hadn’t seen his betrothed in weeks, and in that time, he’d been gravely injured. One would think he’d want to spend as much time in Isla’s company as he could under such unusual circumstances.
No, only one explanation made sense.
Lord Sydney and Isla had ended their betrothal.
Hugh snatched up the letter opener again and balanced it on its sharp tip, uncaring that it left a nick in the smooth mahogany surface of his desk. He might have believed he was simply seeing what he wanted to see, if it hadn’t been for that kiss.
Isla had told him more than once she and Lord Sydney weren’t romantic—that they were dear friends only. Hugh had never quite believed it to be true, mainly because he couldn’t imagine any man could know Isla and not want her with the same fierce desire he did.
But when Lord Sydney had taken Isla into his arms…
It had been the sweetest of kisses. Lord Sydney clearly cared a great deal for Isla, and she for him. The affection between them, the trust and the friendship—no one could have seen that tender kiss and doubted they shared all of those things.
But there’d been no hunger there. No hint of desire. None of the frenzied need to touch and taste of a couple madly, passionately in love.
If Isla had been standing before him, with that beautiful face turned up to his and her sweet pink lips curved in a smile, nothing in the world could have stopped Hugh from taking her mouth in a desperate, lingering kiss. He was always eager for her, always ready to devour her.
Lord Sydney had kissed her on the forehead. The forehead, for God’s sake. It had been downright brotherly.
Hugh tossed the letter opener aside, rose from his chair, and braced his hands on the windowsill as he gazed out into the darkness. How many times had he stood at this very window, waiting for Isla to ride past? Dozens, and each time the sight of her made his breath catch hard in his chest. Even when he’d been cursing her, he’d never been able to take his eyes off her. Not since the first day they’d met.
He turned and let his gaze roam over the dark study. The night he’d found her in the woods, he’d brought her here. He’d laid her on the settee before the fire and watched as the color returned to her frozen cheeks, her blue lips.
He hadn’t wanted her here, but he’d told himself it was for a single day only. One day, and then he’d be free of her. He’d vowed to take her back to Huntington Lodge as soon as the weather allowed, and to never think on her again.
A single day only, in a lifetime of days without her.
Not three days later, he’d kissed her in this same room. He’d held her in his arms and he’d kissed her, and he’d known even a lifetime of days with her would never be enough.
Hugh dragged his hand down his face and turned back to the window. Darkness was falling quickly. Lord Graystone had retired to his bedchamber right after dinner to write some letters. Hugh had helped tuck Grace into her bed, and Lady Juliana had bid him goodnight not long afterward.
No one would notice if he left Hazelwood right now. He could be at Huntington Lodge in less than half an hour…
But once he arrived, what then? Lord Huntington would never permit Hugh to see Isla at this hour, and even if by some miracle he did see her, what would he say to her? Nothing had changed. She might have ended her betrothal to Lord Sydney, but he was still betrothed to Lady Juliana. Grace’s future still depended on their marriage. He would never break his promise to them, and Isla would never ask him to.
A hesitant knock on his study door interrupted his thoughts.
Hugh sighed. Mrs. Babcock, no doubt, with her tray in hand, intent on stuffing another meal into him. “Yes? Come in.”
The door cracked open, and a face appeared around the side of it. “Lord Pierce? Forgive me for intruding on you. May I come in?”
Hugh’s eyebrows shot up. It wasn’t Mrs. Babcock but Lady Juliana, and she was hovering in the doorway as if she weren’t sure whether to enter or flee.
“Yes, of course you may.” He hurried forward to take her arm and lead her to the settee. “It’s no intrusion at all, my lady. I thought you’d retired for the evening.”
“That was my intention, but as soon as I got to my bedchamber, I found I couldn’t sleep. I’ve something on my mind, and I…I need a private word with you, my lord.”
Hugh glanced at her in surprise. They’d been alone together outside Grace’s bedchamber less than an hour ago. Whatever she wished to discuss, it had come upon her rather suddenly. “Of course. What did you wish to talk about?”
“Well, there’s something I need to tell you. I should have done so before now, but…” She faltered and twisted her fingers together in her lap.
Hugh hadn’t the faintest idea what she wanted to discuss, but something in her tone made him cross the room and close the study door. When he returned he settled himself on a chair next to the settee and waited for her to speak, but the moments ticked by without a single word crossing her lips.
“My lady? What do you want to discuss with me?”
She’d carefully avoided looking at him since she entered the room, but now she shot him an anxious glance from the corner of her eye. “Oh, dear. This is going to be harder than I thought.”
Hugh shifted uneasily in his chair. It occurred to him she might be about to take him to task for being so distracted. She had every right to do so, but he hoped to God she wouldn’t mention Isla. If Lady Juliana brought Isla’s name up, he was certain his expression would give him away at once. After seeing Isla today, his emotions were too close to the surface for him to mask them. Love match or not, no lady wanted to marry a man who longed for another. “I realize I’ve been rather absentminded since you arrived, my lady. I beg your pardon for—”
“No, there’s no need for you to beg my pardon. You haven’t done anything wrong, Lord Pierce.” Lady Juliana rose suddenly and retreated to the window. She stood gazing out into the darkness, her back to him. “This is about something else. I’ve been meaning to discuss it with you since we arrived, but I didn’t…I suppose I wasn’t sure how to broach the subject.”
“I’m sorry you’ve been so distressed. Perhaps the best thing would be to just say it plainly and have it out.”
She turned from the window to face him, her hands clenched tightly in front of her. “All right. The thing is…you see, it’s just…I can’t marry you, Lord Pierce.”
For a moment, Hugh’s mind went utterly blank. He’d braced himself for any number of things, but Lady Juliana jilting him hadn’t been one of them. “You can’t marry me,” he repeated stupidly.
Her cheeks flushed a bright red. “No. I can’t. I’m terribly sorry, my lord.”
Hugh waited for some further explanation, but when she remained silent, he cleared his throat. “May I ask why?”
Her blush deepened. “I’m, ah…I’m going to marry someone else.
”
“You’re…” Hugh stared at her, too dumbfounded to finish his sentence. He and Lady Juliana had only been betrothed for a short time. They hadn’t called the banns or made the news public, and yet he was quite sure they were indeed betrothed. “I don’t understand, my lady. I’ve never been betrothed before, but I believe it’s generally frowned upon for a lady to betroth herself to more than one gentleman at a time.”
Lady Juliana grimaced. “Oh, dear. I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I?”
She certainly was, but even in the midst of what he was coming to realize was indeed a jilting, Hugh was too much of a gentleman to agree with her. “Perhaps you’d better sit down and begin again.”
“Yes, yes. That’s a good idea.” She crossed the room and sank down onto the settee. She sat for some moments, plucking nervously at her skirts, then she raised her gaze to his, her green eyes pleading. “Where should I start, do you suppose?”
Hugh raised an eyebrow. He’d known Lady Juliana for some time, and he’d never seen her so befuddled in his life. Then again, she likely didn’t jilt gentlemen every day, either. At least, he hoped not. “You could start by telling me the name of your…other betrothed.”
Good Lord, this was the strangest conversation he’d ever had. But Lady Juliana leaned forward eagerly, and at last words began to tumble from her lips. “Oh, yes. Yes, of course. That’s very good. He’s the Duke of Blackmore.”
Hugh’s mouth fell open. “What, you mean Fitzwilliam Vaughn? That Duke of Blackmore?” It was a foolish question. There was only one Duke of Blackmore, but it seemed Hugh was as befuddled as Lady Juliana was.
She shot him an uneasy glance. “Yes, that’s him. Do you…you don’t know him, do you?”
Hugh frowned. It sounded to him as if she hoped he didn’t, but he couldn’t imagine why that should be. “Not personally, no. I know his name, of course.” Blackmore was a duke, after all. “But I can’t say I know much about him, aside from the fact he only recently inherited the title.”
“Yes. His father died rather suddenly last year.” Once she’d offered this information, Lady Juliana seemed not to know what else to say, and she lapsed into silence.
Hugh shook his head. Either she was still making an awful muck of this explanation, or else he was a half-wit. “If you don’t mind, Lady Juliana, I’m curious to hear how you happened to decide to marry the Duke of Blackmore when you were already betrothed to me.”
She bit her lip guiltily. “Yes, of course, you would want to know that, wouldn’t you? Well, it’s rather a long story. The Blackmore estate borders Graystone Court, and His Grace and I used to play together as children. Our fathers were great friends, and it was always understood between our families we’d wed someday. I was, ah, promised to him before I was even out of the schoolroom, you see. My father in particular always wanted the match.”
Hugh stared at her, wondering if she could possibly think she’d adequately explained herself. “I do recall hearing something about Lord Graystone expecting you to become a duchess. I can only assume he intended for you to become the Duchess of Blackmore.”
She nodded. “Yes, yes, just so. But the duke and I…well, we didn’t have the smoothest courtship, I’m afraid. There were some misunderstandings between us, and we were estranged for some time. My father was thrilled to find His Grace and I have finally settled things between us at last.”
“I see. Then you have your father’s blessing to jilt me and marry the Duke of Blackmore instead?” Hugh asked, his voice sharper than he’d intended.
She flushed a little at the word jilt. “My father’s illness softened his edges somewhat, Lord Pierce, but he’s still the same man he ever was. Rank is tremendously important to him, and if I have a choice between becoming a marchioness or a duchess, he’d rather see me a duchess.”
Hugh had never known Lady Juliana to share her father’s preoccupation with rank, but it didn’t surprise him in the least to hear Lord Graystone had his heart set on a duke. In Lord Graystone’s mind, rank was second only to fortune, and the Duke of Blackmore had a good deal more of that than Hugh did, as well.
But none of this answered his questions. “Forgive me, Lady Juliana, but why would your father permit you to enter into a betrothal with me when you were already promised to the Duke of Blackmore?”
Hugh spared her the embarrassment of asking why she herself had permitted it, but she heard the implied question, and color rose in her cheeks. “Yes, it’s quite right of you to point that out. As I said, it’s all a bit complicated, but there was a brief period of time when I was certain the duke and I wouldn’t marry after all, and in that time, you and I became betrothed.”
Hugh stared at her, trying to make sense of this odd tale. “Let me see if I understand you. You were betrothed to the Duke of Blackmore. That betrothal ended, and you became betrothed to me. Now the duke is back and determined to wed you, despite your being betrothed to another gentleman?”
None of it seemed at all in keeping with what he knew of Lady Juliana. She wasn’t some dull-witted chit who thoughtlessly discarded one gentleman for another, as if she were tossing aside a pair of ruined stockings for another pair.
“Well, it’s something like that, yes. I, ah…it was very wrong of me to entertain his addresses, given the betrothal between us. I understand that, and I do beg your pardon for it, Lord Pierce. I realize how irregular this is. I should never have gotten you involved in this mess, but I’m afraid I panicked. I couldn’t afford to take the risk that I wouldn’t marry. Given the situation with Grace—”
“Yes, what of that situation?” Hugh rose to his feet and began to pace from one end of the study to the other. “What happens to Grace, once you become the Duchess of Blackmore? Will your father send her off to Lord Cowden then, or—”
“No, no. Of course not. As I said, my father has always wanted the marriage with the duke. He’s overjoyed to have his way at last. He’s promised to see to it the duke and I are given custody of Grace, and he duke designated as her guardian.”
“That’s all well and good for you and the duke and Lord Graystone, but I’m afraid it’s not good enough for me, Lady Juliana.” Hugh paused beside the settee and stared down at her. “Grace is my niece, the only child of my beloved sister—a sister I lost much too soon.” His voice was hard. “I won’t agree to any arrangement where I’m kept from seeing Grace.”
“My lord.” Lady Juliana laid her hand on his arm. “You must know I wouldn’t dream of keeping Grace from you. You may visit her as often as you wish, and she may visit you, as well, for as long as you both wish. I can see how much you care for her, and it’s clear she already dotes on you. I would never try to keep the two of you apart.”
Hugh remained quiet as he tried to untangle his thoughts. It was a damn peculiar story, but it seemed very much as though Lady Juliana had just jilted him for the Duke of Blackmore.
He was no longer betrothed, and if he was no longer betrothed, that meant…
No, he wouldn’t even think of Isla. Not yet. This tale of Lady Juliana’s was strange enough to warrant investigating. He had to make certain Grace’s future was secure before he let himself consider anything else.
“This betrothal to the Duke of Blackmore. I want to speak with Lord Graystone about it at once. As you said, this, ah…shuffling of betrotheds is highly irregular.” Hugh’s gaze narrowed on Lady Juliana’s face. “I won’t agree to release you from our betrothal until I assure myself all is in order and receive your father’s promise that I’ll be permitted to see Grace whenever I wish it.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll fetch my father to speak with you even now. But you needn’t worry about a thing, you know.” She squeezed his arm and met his gaze with a sweet smile.
Hugh softened a little at the anxious look in her pretty green eyes. “Is this what you want, my lady? Your father may be overjoyed at the prospect of your b
ecoming a duchess, but what of you? Is this what will make you happy?”
“Yes, of course, Lord Pierce! You’ve no need to concern yourself with me. He, ah…the duke and I are very much in love, and… well, we’re very much in love, and all that. I can’t think of any better reason to marry than love.” She paused, then added softly, “Can you, Lord Pierce?”
Hugh’s gaze jerked to her face. She hadn’t said Isla’s name, but it was the closest she’d come to acknowledging what they both knew to be the state of his heart. Lady Juliana was no fool—she’d likely seen the truth at once, the first night she arrived at Hazelwood.
Isla’s face flashed in Hugh’s mind—her sparkling blue eyes, the way her dark hair looked spread across his pillow—and it was then he realized he’d never given up hope that somehow, despite all the obstacles between them, Isla would someday be his.
That was the way of the heart, wasn’t it? Always hopeful, despite the odds against a fairy-tale ending. He met Lady Juliana’s eyes. “No, I can’t.”
“Of course not.” She patted his hand. “Now, shall I go and fetch my father for you? He’s anxious to speak with you and have the matter settled.”
Hugh smothered a snort. No doubt the old man was anxious to trade up from a marquess to a duke. Lord Graystone would do anything to see his daughter become a duchess before he died, and that included letting Hugh see Grace as often as he wished. “Yes, please do.”
She smiled, then made her way to the study door. Once it had closed behind her, Hugh fell back into his chair with a thud, his mind in turmoil.
Only one thing made sense, and it was the only thing that mattered.
When he’d entered his study this evening, he’d been betrothed. When he left it tonight, he no longer would be, but whatever else might happen before this night was over, he’d be betrothed once again when he returned to it.
This time, to the lady he loved.
A smile crossed Hugh’s lips when he thought of the fit Lord Huntington was sure to have when Hugh showed up on his doorstep tonight. Pity, but it couldn’t be helped. He refused to go another day without making Isla his.
