Simply Voracious (5 page)

But was she willing to sacrifice herself to a life with Jeremy by assuring her parents that she wanted to marry him? Wouldn’t those lies be equally as cruel as not telling them the truth? She stood for a moment at the top of the stairs and stared at nothing. She couldn’t tell them the truth.

A couple of uniformed men came down the stairs on the opposite side of the landing, and Lucinda ducked out of sight. She might not be able to talk to her parents, but perhaps she could talk to Paul. It seemed she had little choice. If she made him swear not to ask her exactly who had dishonored her, he might at least have a fresh perspective on her dilemma.

The thought of his knowing what she had done made her heart clench, and she brought her hand to her bodice. She could only hope he would still speak to her afterward and would be able to think of a way out of her horrible plight.

Paul glanced up as Constantine reclaimed his seat beside him. “Where did you go? I lost you in the crush.”

“I met with an acquaintance of mine, and stopped to ask her how she did.”

“An old acquaintance?”

Constantine squeezed Paul’s knee. “Not that kind of friend.” He hesitated. “In truth, I’m not even sure exactly who she is.”

“Cinderella, perhaps? Did you retrieve her glass slipper for her at a ball?”

“Nothing quite so romantic. I merely assisted her when she needed a way to escape an uncomfortable situation.” He frowned. “Not that she would accept much in the way of help from me.”

Paul studied the other man’s face. “You seem concerned about her.”

Constantine sighed. “You know how it is when one of your young soldiers faces his first enemy fire, or makes his first kill? That terrible look of shock—as if the whole world has suddenly become a far more brutal and uncaring place?”

Paul shuddered. “Unfortunately I do.”

Constantine shook his head. “This will sound ridiculous, but you do not expect to see that look on the face of a young woman at a ball.”

Paul put his hand over Constantine’s clenched fist. “It sounds as though you did the best you could for her.”

“I did, but you know yourself that once that comfortable screen has been ripped from your eyes, the world is never the same again. I wish I could restore it to her, but I have no idea how to do it.”

Paul waited until Constantine looked back at him, and could only admire his lover’s character even more. “I don’t know about you, sir, but I’d rather be back in bed than here with all these people.”

“Indeed. Shall we go?”

Paul rose to his feet. “I would be delighted.”

4

“P
aul, I’m so glad you could come.”

“It is always a pleasure to see you; you know that. Now what is the dark mystery that made me have to skulk around the house until your mother left?”

Paul squeezed Lucky’s hands and then gave her a hug. Her whole body tensed, and she immediately shied away from him and returned to pacing the rug in front of the fire. She looked as if she hadn’t been sleeping well, with dark circles under her eyes and her mouth pinched and drawn. He took a seat by the fire and continued to watch her carefully.

“There is something I want to ask you.”

“Then go ahead.” He gestured at the seat opposite him. She didn’t seem to notice and continued to walk, this time with her back to him.

“A friend of mine finds herself in a difficult situation, and as I have no useful advice to give her, I thought of you.”

“A friend.”

“Yes, she . . . behaved quite indiscreetly at a ball recently, and now the man with whom she . . . dallied is insisting that they must marry to save her reputation.”

Paul frowned and rapidly tried to work out exactly what Lucinda was really saying. “When you say ‘dallied,’ what do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean? She was alone with this man without a chaperone. That alone is enough to force an offer of marriage—you know that.”

“But does she want to marry the man?”

An almost imperceptible shiver shook through Lucinda, and Paul tensed. “No, I don’t believe she does.”

“Then surely all she has to do is tell him she doesn’t wish to wed him. If he is a gentleman, he’ll accept her decision and withdraw his suit.”

She slowly faced him, her expression blank. “And what if he won’t?”

“Then he is a complete and utter scoundrel, and she should inform her parents and ask them to deliver the news for her.”

“And what if she doesn’t want to tell her parents?”

Up until then, he’d quite decided they were talking about her, but that didn’t fit at all. Lucky’s parents adored her and would never hesitate to set any man about his business who had offended their daughter.

“Why wouldn’t she tell her parents?”

She turned away from him again. “Perhaps she dreads upsetting them, or they are already burdened with great responsibilities she fears to add to.”

Paul considered everything she had told him anew. “I would still counsel her to talk to her parents. I doubt they would reject her entirely.” Her sudden, brittle laugh was unexpected. “What exactly did I say to amuse you?”

“Nothing in particular. It’s just that your advice is exactly the same as the advice I thought to give her.”

“What else did you expect me to say?”

She stared down at the floor. “I’m not quite sure. I just hoped . . .”

Paul sighed. “Lucky, will you please sit down and talk to me? None of this is making much sense.” She didn’t move, and he got out of his chair and went over to her. “Lucky . . .”

When she finally raised her head, her eyes were full of tears, and he instinctively took her into his arms. “What is it, love? Surely you know you can tell me anything?”

“Not this,” she whispered against the lapel of his coat.

He smoothed a curl back from her pale forehead and tucked it behind her ear. He couldn’t have his Lucky in tears, and whatever had happened, he was sure he could fix it. If some young fool had tried to compromise her over a stolen kiss, he’d soon sort that out. He gave her his handkerchief.

“Nonsense, you can tell me anything.” He paused. “What will it take to make you confide in me? Must I swear not to tell another soul under pain of death?”

She finished dabbing at her face with the handkerchief and raised her head to look at him. “You would promise that?”

He hadn’t really expected her to believe his melodramatic statement, but the desperate hope in her blue eyes undid him. Mentally he berated himself. How bad could it be? He was sure he would be able to persuade her to confide in her parents anyway. He traced a cross over his heart.

“I promise I will not tell a soul.”

She sighed and fixed her gaze on his waistcoat. “I wasn’t talking about a friend.”

“I gathered that,” Paul said gravely. “Are you saying that some man is pestering you to marry him?”

“He’s not pestering me. He’s insisting.”

“Because you let him steal a kiss?”

She pulled out of his arms. “No, because I let him steal
everything
.” She raised her chin, her gaze defiant. “Do you understand now why I don’t want to tell my parents? Their only daughter, ruined for the marriage mart.”

Paul heard her through a gathering cloud of disbelief and rage. “Who was it?” She shook her head, but he took a step toward her. “Who in
damnation
was it?”

She swallowed hard and flinched away from him. “I’m not telling you.”

His rage cooled to a deadly white heat and his hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword. “I’ll kill him.”

“And create exactly the kind of scandal I am trying to avoid?” Her voice was shaking, but he had to give her credit for standing her ground. “I will not marry him. I just need to find a way to avoid the scandal.”

“When I’ve lopped off his head you’ll be able to avoid him permanently.”

She touched his arm. “And have you facing a murder charge for me? I don’t think I could live with myself if that happened.
I’d
rather kill him.”

“Lucinda, we can have him disposed of quietly. I have friends who could arrange it, I swear it.”

“I can’t condone another human being’s murder. I just can’t.”

“You won’t have to. I’ll take care of it for you. You’ll never even have to know,” Paul said urgently.

“All I care about is protecting my parents from the folly of my actions,” Lucinda said. “My father has recently become a
duke
. I
cannot
let him down now.”

Paul had taken up pacing now. “Lucky, he won’t care. His first priority will always be you and his family. If you won’t let me kill the bastard, tell your father and leave him to sort it out. Mayhap the fool will allow himself to be bought off.”

“I don’t think he will. I truly believe he wants to marry me.” She sighed. “He thinks to influence my father and gain a substantial part of his fortune, supposedly on my behalf.”

“He
told
you this?”

“Well, he has no reason to lie to me anymore, does he? I met with him yesterday, and he laid out his plans quite plainly. He thinks the dukedom can be milked for his entire lifetime.”

There was a bitter weariness in her tone that he’d never heard before. “Lucky, you have to tell your father.”

“And what will he do, Paul?” She faced him, her hands clasped tightly at her waist. “Have you thought this through?”

Paul slowly shook his head.

“He’ll either face the scandal head-on and we’ll all be ruined, or he’ll try and solve it in a different way.”

“Exactly. He’ll find a way to avoid a scandal.”

Her gaze softened. “Yes, he’ll try and make you marry me. You know that is his fondest wish, and he’ll have the perfect opportunity to push for it.”

Paul stared at her for a long moment, as all the air in his chest seemed to explode outward. There was a terrifying sense of inevitability to this moment that made him want to howl and rage at the Fates. Instead, he took a deep, steadying breath.

“Then we’ll have to marry.”

Lucinda stared at Paul.
“What?”

He straightened like a man ready to walk out to his death. In other, less personal circumstances, she might have laughed at his resolute face.

“We’ll have to marry.” He nodded jerkily. “There is no other solution.”

“No! That’s not what you are supposed to say!”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You’re supposed to offer to take me away for a few months until the scandal dies down, or
something
. You’re not supposed to offer yourself up as a willing sacrifice!”

He looked at her steadily. “But I am willing. Didn’t I just tell you that I’d do anything for you?”

“But I can’t let you do that.” Lucinda gathered herself and practically galloped toward the door. “I’ll think of another way.”

“Lucky, don’t you dare run away from me again,” Paul said quietly and started after her. “We haven’t decided what to do!”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I can’t drag everyone down with me, Paul. I’ll just have to marry him.”

He marched toward her, his expression furious. “You will do no such thing!”

She didn’t dare wait to see if he would try and catch her but sprinted for the relative safety of her bedchamber, leaving her confused Sir Galahad behind. Talking to him had only made her even more aware of her folly and her stupid belief that someone else would come along to make everything right for her. She now knew that the price for that help was far too high. She alone could make this right, and she would have to find a way to do so.

After ascertaining that his uncle wasn’t home, Paul made his way to the pleasure house, his thoughts in a daze. He was supposed to be meeting Constantine there anyway, and somehow it seemed the most natural place to go to deal with his suddenly upended life.

Ambrose was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking from a tankard of ale and reading a newspaper. He looked up as Paul entered the kitchen and nodded an absent greeting. Paul took the seat opposite and poured himself a pint of ale. He drank it down in one swallow and poured another.

“Are you feeling all right, St. Clare?” Ambrose inquired. “You look a little green around the gills.”

Paul sighed. “Is it that obvious? I’ve had something of a shock.”

Ambrose lowered the paper. “Are your family all well? The duke and duchess? Lady Lucinda?”

“They are all well, thank you,” Paul replied.

“And yourself?”

“I’m fine too.” He groaned and buried his face in his hands. “I’m just grappling with an impossible dilemma.”

“Is this about your relationship with Constantine Delinsky?”

Paul peered at Ambrose through his fingers. “You are full of questions today. How is it that you know everything that goes on in society without appearing to move from this kitchen? What
about
Constantine Delinsky?”

“He is your commanding officer. Has that led to any official inquiries as to your relationship?”

“Not at all.” Paul glared at Ambrose. “Don’t add to my list of potential worries. Actually, I’d already decided to sell out.”

Ambrose nodded. “If you intend to pursue a relationship with the lieutenant colonel, then that would probably be the wisest thing for both of you.”

“I’m not selling out because of him.” Paul rested his chin on his hand and stared at the scarred pine table. “There is little hope of advancement unless I choose to go overseas. I’m not exactly a favorite among the top brass. And my uncle wants me to sell out.”

“As you are the heir to a dukedom, I suppose that’s fair enough.”

Paul fixed Ambrose with his most quelling stare. “It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair at all. I’ll make a bloody awful duke and you know it.”
A bloody awful husband as well, but that seemed almost inevitable too....

Ambrose opened his mouth, and Paul held up his hand. “And don’t tell me how lucky I am.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Ambrose patted his hand. “I wouldn’t want that responsibility either.”

“Thank you,” Paul said. “I’m sorry. I’m not in the best of humors.”

Ambrose laughed, his teeth white against his dark skin. “
I’m
surprised you haven’t slit your throat.”