Simply Voracious (36 page)

As she ascended the stairs, her conscience niggled her about Constantine. Paul had obviously abandoned him, but why? What did Paul think he had to prove to them both? She still didn’t understand, and he was giving her no opportunity to talk to him.

She halted at the top of the stairs. She hated this new sense of uncertainty in her life. She was caught between her fear of Paul thinking she was meddling in his affairs again and her usual desire to fix things. If she talked to Constantine, would Paul consider that another betrayal? But she couldn’t stand this indecision. She had to do something or she’d end up confronting Paul over the ducal dining table and revealing far more than she’d like to her horrified parents.

She found herself smiling as she pictured the scene and a faint spark of hope lit up inside her. If anyone needed to act in a more mature manner, it was her and not Paul. She would not allow herself to give up. If she did, all the pain and suffering she had endured would mean nothing, and that was unacceptable. She had to make Paul see that he was loved for himself and
that
was worth risking everything for.

Milly glanced up and smiled as Lucky hurried into the room. “Did you enjoy your dinner, my lady? You look much better.”

“I haven’t eaten yet, Milly. Can you get me something on a tray?” Lucky sat down at her writing desk. “And then can you have this note delivered to Lieutenant Colonel Delinsky?”

Con presented himself at Haymore House promptly at two and was admitted to Lady Lucinda’s presence by the butler.

“Good afternoon, my lady.”

Lady Lucinda held out her hand to him. “Lieutenant Colonel. It is so good of you to call.”

He bent and kissed her hand, noticing that she was still a little pale but very composed. She wore a pretty long-sleeved lilac gown that made her eyes look very blue. His feelings couldn’t be denied. He wanted to stare into those beautiful eyes forever, wanted to wake up to them, to see them smiling at him every day.

The butler retired, and Lady Lucinda’s gracious smile vanished. “Constantine, I am so sorry.”

“About what?” He took the seat closest to her and held her hand.

“About dragging you into my appalling blunders.”

He kept hold of her hand. “Are you sure you want to talk about that?”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake. Please let me talk about it! Paul won’t even let me apologize to him. He keeps telling me that everything is all right and that I’m not to worry.”

“Perhaps he doesn’t know what to say to you.”

“He knows what he wants to say. But he’s convinced himself that everything is his fault, and that he needs to change into a different man so that I will be able to depend on him absolutely and not get into scrapes.”

“That doesn’t sound like Paul,” Con said cautiously.

“Exactly,” she sighed. “But I know him, Constantine. I’ve had a lot of time to think this through. He’s convinced himself he doesn’t need either of us.”

“I guessed he didn’t need me,” Con said wryly, “but I can’t imagine him thinking he can do without you.”

“He can’t do without either of us.” Lucinda’s mouth set into a stubborn line. “If we don’t get him back, he’ll turn into some boring Member of Parliament and a political mouthpiece for my father and his cronies.”

Con was quietly amused by her vehemence but tried not to show it. “And how will you stop that from happening if he refuses to talk to you and ignores me?”

Lucinda squeezed his hand. “I’ll need your help for that. We’ll take him somewhere where he can’t get away from us and
make
him listen.”

The butler entered the room, and Con hastily dropped Lady Lucinda’s hand.

“My lady, I apologize for interrupting you, but there is a letter for Lieutenant Colonel Delinsky that was described as extremely urgent.”

“Thank you.” Con took the letter and looked at Lucinda. “Do you mind if I read it?”

“Please go ahead.” She gestured at a nearby desk. “There is paper and ink if you wish to reply.”

Con used his knife to break the seal and studied the writing on the covering sheet. “It is from an old friend of mine. He apologizes for not bringing the note personally, but he has had to return to France because of his wife’s ill health.”

Con grimaced at that bad news and hurried to open the letter. It was written partly in French and partly in Russian. As he began to read, Con had to sit down and squint at the tiny writing.

Apologies, my old friend, but Anna is unwell and I must take her back to France with all speed. I enclose a letter from Madame LeNy. Apparently your wife is here in London with her “husband” and children. He is working at the French embassy.

Yours, Andrei.

Con sat back as the pieces began to form a pattern in his head. “She has children.”

“Who does?”

“My wife.” Con looked up at Lucinda. “Apparently my wife is married, currently living in London, and has children by another man. I caught a young boy leaving one of the anonymous notes under my door last week. I wonder if that was her son warning me off?”

He shot to his feet and began to pace. “When she knew I was looking for her, why didn’t she seek me out herself instead of sending her child? What did she think I would do?”

“Force her to come back to you?”

“Why would I wish to do that when I’ve found you and Paul? That’s the last thing I want.”

Lucinda regarded him seriously. “You still want us?”

He came down on one knee in front of her and took both of her hands in his. “I think I could love you both.”

“Oh, good,” she sighed, “because I think I could love you too.”

Con stared into her eyes and couldn’t look away. “Are you really feeling well, Lucinda?”

“Yes, remarkably well, considering everything.” She disengaged her hands. “What do you plan to do about your wife?”

It seemed she really didn’t want to talk about anything after all, but he was content with that. He’d learned that grief was a contrary beast that manifested itself in its own particular time and way. He just hoped either he or Paul would be able to help her through it when it finally broke through her reserve.

“I still don’t know her last name, or where she is residing, or why she hasn’t faced me herself.” He frowned. “I also cannot fathom why I haven’t met her at any social functions if she is based in London.”

“Perhaps she moved here quite recently.”

“That’s possible. Louise didn’t mention how long Natasha had been here.”

Con rose and began to pace, his hands behind his back. “I just want to talk to her. Is that too much to ask?”

“I think that is perfectly reasonable, Constantine,” Lucky said firmly. “Perhaps something happened to her in Moscow, and she has no recollection of her previous life with you and truly believes she is a different person.”

“Then why would she send notes trying to dissuade me from investigating the past?”

“That’s a good point. Maybe she didn’t know that her son was writing the notes.”

Con shook his head. “It still makes no sense. I need to speak to her.”

“And hopefully you’ll soon be able to do so.” Lucinda stood too. “Will you let me know what happens? I would like to help you.”

He smiled at her. “Thank you. I’d be honored to share my woes with you—as long as Paul doesn’t object.”

Her smile disappeared. “I’ll have to discuss it with him. If he ever lets me near him again.”

Con bowed low and kissed Lucinda’s hand. “I understand. And now I must leave you in peace. I have a meeting with the Duke of Wellington’s secretary at four.” He hesitated. “Don’t despair, my lady. I’m sure everything will work out as you desire.”

“I hope so, Constantine,” she said softly. “I really do.”

Lucky remained in her sitting room curled up in front of the fire, her feet tucked up under her, and read a racy novel Emily had recommended to her. It held her attention so well that she jumped when Paul appeared before her with a branch of candles in his hand.

“Are you all right, my dear?”

She blinked at him and let the book fall to the floor. He looked tired, the faint lines around his brown eyes more prominent, and his smile was perfunctory. “I’m quite well, sir.” If he refused to call her Lucky anymore, she’d be damned if she called him Paul.

He set the candles on the mantelpiece and sat opposite her. “You didn’t come down for dinner.”

“I didn’t realize the time.”

He slowly exhaled. “I thought you might be avoiding me.”

“Avoiding you? You are the one who disappears every time I try to have a conversation with you.”

He shifted in his chair, his gaze fixed on his clasped hands. “I hear that Constantine Delinsky visited you today.”

“Yes, he did.” Lucky deliberately kept her answers short. If he wanted to know about Constantine, he would have to ask properly. “Is that why you finally decided to talk to me?”

“Did you invite him, or did he take it upon himself to visit you?”

Anger grew in her chest. She was tired of his prevarication, and if he was at least willing to speak to her, she would make the most of it. “Does it matter?”

“It matters to me.”

“I suppose you think he came crawling around begging for news of you. Well, he didn’t. He came to inquire as to my health and well-being. We didn’t even mention you.”

“As I said, Con has always preferred women, and he is very fond of you.”

“In truth, he loves me.”

Paul’s gaze flew to her face as if he was surprised at her combative tone. “That is hardly surprising.”

“He is certainly more considerate about asking how I feel than you are.”

Paul swallowed hard. “He is more considerate about everything. I should have asked you how you did as soon as I sat down.”

“You should have asked after I fell down the stairs!”

Paul winced. “I know. But I didn’t know what to say.”

“Because you assumed the worst?”

“I didn’t want you to berate yourself for what happened.”

“You
assumed
that I was carrying another man’s child and hadn’t thought to mention it to you.”

He looked at her steadily. “Yes.”

“And you didn’t want to ask me about that.”

He shrugged. “No. What was the point of causing you more pain? If you had carried that man’s child to full term, I would have accepted it as mine and loved it because it came from you.”

Lucky drew in a painful breath at his simple words. “But we don’t even know if that is true, Paul. It’s a possibility, but there are others. The child might have been yours, or there might have been no child at all. I’ve never had regular monthly cycles, and I might just have been late. I just don’t know.”

“Lucky . . .”

She swallowed hard. “I almost wish I hadn’t recovered so quickly. It feels wrong somehow.”

“In what way?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “If I had been pregnant, how could I not mourn forever over a loss caused by my own stupidity?”

“You weren’t stupid, Lucky. You did what you thought was necessary to protect yourself. I understand that.” Paul sat back, his placating smile firmly in place. “Please don’t upset yourself.”

Lucky blew her nose and glared at him. “I didn’t go and see Jeremy to protect
myself
. I went to protect you and my family.”

“Do you think that makes me feel any better? A man should be able to protect his own family. I failed to do that. The fault is mine.”

“No!” Lucky realized she was almost shouting. “We are married and we should protect each other. I don’t want to turn into one of those women who rely on their husbands for everything! Can’t you see that?”

“And I don’t want you to.” He paused and met her gaze. “But you promised to be honest with me, and you weren’t. How do you explain that?”

“Because I didn’t know for certain if I was pregnant or not. I asked Madame Helene’s advice, but even she said—”

“Wait,” Paul interrupted her. “You discussed this with Madame Helene and not with me?”

Lucky realized she was twisting her hands together on her lap. “Madame is a very knowledgeable woman.”

“Indeed she is.”

“I had to talk to someone.”

Paul sighed. “You could have talked to me.”

“And then what? You would’ve regretted marrying me even more!”

“I don’t regret marrying you.”

Lucky closed her mouth and stared at him.

“I don’t regret it at all.” He rose from his chair.

“But what about Constantine? You are in love with him, not me,” Lucky whispered.

His smile was sweet. “Lucky, I love you both, but I am married to you.” He hesitated, his hand on the back of the chair. “If you want him more than you want me, I’ll let you go. I’ll never hold you in a marriage that is abhorrent to you.”

“It’s not a question of letting me go. I’m not here against my will. I love you, Paul. I’ve always loved you.” She raised her chin. It was time to take the gamble of her life. “If you can give Constantine up, so can I.”

Paul frowned. “That’s not necessary.”

Lucky rose, too, and faced him, her anger gone, replaced by a quiet, burning certainty. “It doesn’t work like that, Paul. Either we both love him, or we don’t.”

His expression faltered, and she saw the regret in his eyes. “Then we don’t love him.”

Lucky picked up her book from the floor and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders. She walked past Paul, her head held high, and only looked back at him when she reached the door.

“I don’t believe
that
for a second!”

By the time Paul gathered his wits and chased after Lucky, she was already at the bottom of the stairs and heading toward the dining room. He caught her by the elbow and steered her into one of the empty salons.

“What in damnation is that supposed to mean?”

She raised her chin to look at him, her blue eyes clear. “I think you know.”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking you to explain yourself, would I?” he snapped.

“You are trying to become the man you think I want you to be.”