Can’t Buy Me a Duke by Bianca Blythe

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Lucy scampered fromthe garden, wishing they’d been anywhere else besides a maze. At one horrible point, she ran toward a dead-end and had to sheepishly hurry back, afraid someone would see her. Heavens. Her heart ached as if somebody were twisting it, turning it into some horrible knot.

Tears filled her eyes.

I won’t cry. I won’t cry. I won’t cry.

But in the next moment, the whole world went blurry. In the moment after that, hot tears fell on her cheeks, and her nose erupted with liquid.

She pressed her handkerchief against her face, hoping for some semblance of respectability. None was to be found. There was only the sound of her hiccupping breaths.

This had been a terrible plan. She never should have succumbed to the sensation of having Harrison’s arms about her. She should have known better. She had known better. And yet, when he’d sat near her and his dark brown eyes had bored into her, her heart had simply fluttered.

It had seemed impossible not to narrow the distance between them, not to marvel at the firmness of his sturdy chest, not to do anything else but kiss and kiss and kiss him.

Yet, when they’d been discovered, he’d been so quick to announce he could not marry her. All the love they’d shared together, all his insistences there was no one else he cared for, no one else he wanted to marry. No one else, even, that his mother was encouraging him to marry.

Despite all this, at the first prospect of a forced marriage, he’d pretended nothing had happened, even though everyone could see her bare bosom, flushed face, and tangled hair. Heavens, even his hair had been tangled.

He would rather let her be ruined. He’d rather let her destroy her reputation in the most permanent of all manners, would rather besmirch her, so people would think that not only had she been too available, but that she’d also not been sufficiently enticing.

Because if she had been enticing, wouldn’t he have proposed? Wouldn’t he have said he wanted to spend his life with her? Hadn’t that happened to her other friends who’d made matches that everyone deemed impossible? But with her, despite her money, it hadn’t happened.

Lucy slinked through the garden, avoiding the large windows that stared at her. She didn’t want to imagine the people inside. Would they see her now, clutching a handkerchief, or would they hear about her later and think about her in amused tones?

Would they scoff that she’d imagined there could actually be something between her and Harrison, the Duke of Sturbridge? Would she serve as a warning symbol for other people about the importance of maintaining low expectations? When one hoped for more, even for a kiss with a man who was everything, only disaster could ensue.

Lucy’s chest tightened, and she continued to blink. She cleared the wet tears from her face and pretended everything was perfectly normal and as it should be, even though it was a lie.

She gazed back at the maze. Heavens, they were still there. Were they still arguing with the duke? Was the duke still listing all the reasons he couldn’t possibly marry her?

A sour taste invaded her throat.

This was supposed to be a pleasant weekend. It wasn’t supposed to end in tears. She’d been so happy before, so utterly, completely naïve.

Leaves and twigs clung to her dress, remnants and reminders of the maze. She lowered her torso and strove to remove them. She squeezed her eyes and willed herself not to cry.

Finally, after she’d achieved some semblance of a twig-free dress, she raised her chin. Her heart felt like it had gone missing from her chest, but she proceeded inside the castle.

Lucy entered the house, thankful the butler was not waiting at this entrance. She hurried toward the stairs, hoping no one would see her.

Somebody opened the door behind her quickly, and footsteps thundered behind her. Her heart sank.

“Lucy Banks!” her father roared. “We’re leaving this moment!”

Her throat dried, and she turned around. Her father surely hadn’t just screamed, had he?

Yet, her father most definitely was here. And worse, his loud voice, which he’d never put on display before, had brought the attention of other people from the drawing room. Some stared at her with concerned looks on their faces, but most appeared amused. Their lips curled and their eyes glimmered, and a few whispered to one another.

“Very well,” she said.

“But first, I’ve got to kill that duke.” Papa looked around at the surrounding guests. Unlike her, he did not seem to view the sudden abundance of people as a problem. Instead, he beamed at them. “Say, does anyone have a gun?”

A few eyebrows darted up at the statement.

“Some of us were going hunting tomorrow,” one man said cautiously. “We have guns.”

A few other men nodded.

“Good. I’ll need to borrow one,” Papa said.

“Papa!” Lucy cried. “You mustn’t speak like that. You must not harm the Duke of Sturbridge.”

He shot her a disappointed look. “I don’t desire to harm anyone, but the way this man treated you, it’s inconceivable that I wouldn’t try to punish him. Don’t you understand?” He turned around. “Besides, I thought you British people did duels here.”

“Not anymore,” somebody said.

“Yes, it’s outlawed,” a man sighed.

“Oh.” A sullen scowl marred Papa’s normally staid face, then he jutted out his sizeable chin. “Never mind the law.”

“I don’t want you to fight,” Lucy pleaded.

“I don’t like to see you get hurt, honey.” 

She shut her eyes. If he didn’t like seeing her get hurt, what was he doing now?

“That man was compromising you,” Papa continued. “And then he refused to marry you.” 

“Mr. Banks!” Mama’s voice bellowed as if she’d been performing in Covent Garden for years. “What are you discussing?”

Papa’s face reddened. At least he knew he should be ashamed. “I was just asking for a gun.”

Mrs. Banks scoured the faces of the people around them. She must have seen their looks of pity and amusement, and on some, sheer disgust.

Her family didn’t belong here. They were the Americans. They were too coarse. They didn’t have titles. They were tolerated at some social events, but they didn’t truly belong.

Mama shot Lucy a stern look, then turned to her husband. “Mr. Banks, we should go upstairs.”

Lucy’s chest hurt. Mama was disappointed in her as well.

None of this would have happened had she not made that arrangement with the Duke of Sturbridge.

Mama would have been able to enjoy these house parties without everything being violently removed from her. She would simply have been a woman with two unmarried daughters in London, and that would have been enough.

Now though, she was foolish, and Lucy had made her that way. Lucy’s heart shattered. She’d hurt people. She’d hurt her parents. She’d hurt her sister. After all, Isabella was planning to enter this society. If her parents ever gave Isabella permission to marry Lord Brooke, could she be accepted as his viscountess? She’d even hurt the Duke of Sturbridge. His reputation was also tarnished, perhaps not as much as hers, but surely it could hardly be a benefit to him that he’d been found in the maze with her.

Though some men prided themselves on being rogues and called rakes, that wasn’t the case for all men. She doubted it had ever been the case for Harrison. The man was naturally kind, naturally cautious. He wasn’t the type to boast about ruining a woman’s life because he’d wanted to spend some time with her on a bed.

“There’s something you should know about the duke.” Lucy raised her voice.

Mama shot a worried glace around her. “We really shouldn’t be having this conversation.” “This isn’t the place.”

“This is exactly the place, since Papa insulted him in public.”

Other guests leaned forward. Lucy was aware of how large their presence was in this room. Her heartbeat quickened, but not in a pleasant manner. It quickened as if she were running for her life. Unfortunately, there was no way for her to escape.

Still, she could rescue the duke, and she addressed the guests. “The Duke of Sturbridge is not at fault.”

Leticia’s eyes glanced at the grass stains on Lucy’s dress, and Lucy covered them awkwardly with a hand.

“But he lured you,” Mama said. “He made you think there was something between you. He made you think there was an understanding.”

“No, he didn’t,” Lucy said.

“We all saw him. We all saw how he danced with you multiple times at balls. We all saw how he sat next to you. Why, he even went to Hyde Park with you.”

“Yes,” Lucy said. “I paid him to court me.”

Mama stared at her with a horrified expression on her face, then she laughed and looked around nervously. “My dear child, you are so amusing.” She turned to her husband. “And you are amusing as well. Let’s go upstairs. It’s time for a nap.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. Mama hadn’t demanded she take naps, even when she was a child. There was no reason she would do so now.

“No, this is important,” Lucy said. “I paid him.”

“You absolutely did not,” the Duke of Sturbridge said in his tenor voice. Evidently, he’d entered the manor house after them.

She turned to him. Heavens! His mere presence was enough to turn her to liquid. For one moment, she remembered his hands on hers, his lips on hers, his chest pressed against hers, and her legs quivered. Even her fingers shook, as if her fingernails had suddenly become heavy.

They hadn’t.

The Duke of Sturbridge’s presence merely changed everything.

“You’re correct,” she amended. “I didn’t pay because you already have money. But I offered to pay, and that’s similar.”

“So he took it on as charity work?” Leticia asked.

More people giggled.

Mama’s face reddened, and she jerked Papa toward her. She marched him to the stairs, then grabbed hold of Lucy’s hand and dragged her with a force Lucy did not know her mother possessed.

“That will be quite enough,” Mama scolded her, once they left the staircase and the eyes of the ton. “I’ve never been so ashamed in my life.”

“I just needed to rectify things,” Lucy said. 

“Some things cannot be rectified.”

Unfortunately, Lucy agreed.

*

HARRISON WATCHED MRS. Banks drag Lucy and her husband up the stairs. Lucy’s tall, slender body became slimmer and slimmer until she reached the top of the steps and hurried away.

“That was incredible,” Leticia said dryly, then turned to him. “I’m so sorry. How awkward.” Her tone was icy yet somehow understanding. Not too long ago, he’d criticized her, but now she seemed to think the behavior of the Banks family had vindicated her earlier actions.

Sir Augustus elbowed him and laughed. “You certainly made an impression on that woman, you rogue.”

“I’m not happy.”

Augustus’s eyes glimmered. “It’s not terrible.”

They didn’t understand. They considered it amusing. They didn’t care he might have broken someone’s heart or that he might have ruined someone. For them, it was a cause for laughter.