Can’t Buy Me a Duke by Bianca Blythe

CHAPTER NINETEEN

No message from Lucyhad come, but the next day, Harrison returned.

“Your Grace.” The butler shot him a shocked look.

“I am here to see Miss Lucy Banks and whatever chaperone she deems necessary in the drawing room.”

“I see.” Normally he would offer to take Harrison’s coat. Instead, his expression seemed stiff, and his face took on an unusually pale color despite the fact most people in London already tended toward paleness. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Your Grace.”

“Oh, is Miss Banks out again?” Harrison smiled. This was not terrible news. She was out. That might mean she was feeling better. And if she was feeling better, well, perhaps then he had not utterly destroyed her life.

“She is out,” the butler said, “in the ocean.”

Harrison’s eyebrows darted up. “I don’t understand.”

Perhaps Lucy had wanted to take an excursion to see the Thames.

Harrison wouldn’t call the Thames an ocean. It was obviously connected to the ocean though—perhaps the butler had simply exaggerated.

After all, butlers were prone to exaggerate both the importance of the guests who were visiting and the importance of the inhabitants themselves. Could it be any wonder that a butler might exaggerate the importance of the Thames and accord it ocean-like qualities?

Perhaps though, Lucy had visited Brighton or some other seaside location where she could appreciate the beauty of nature and come back in a fortnight.

Heavens—a fortnight was too long away. Hopefully, she would only be gone for two or three days.

He did want to see her again soon.

The butler’s expression remained somber. “She is sailing for New York City.”

“Oh.” Sturbridge suddenly felt cold despite the fact the butler had not taken his frock coat and despite the fact there was no earthly reason for him to feel cold when the sun seemed intent on shining with even more than its normal force. Even the clouds had stayed away today.

“But that wasn’t the plan. They were supposed to stay until September.”

“No,” the butler admitted. “Indeed not, Your Grace. It seems Miss Banks was determined to form a new plan.”

“I see.” Sturbridge raked a hand through his hair, and his top hat fell.

The butler bent to pick it up.

“I’m sorry.”

“You look like you’ve had a shock, Your Grace. You’re welcome to come into the drawing room. No one is there. Her—er—entire family is gone. We’re just packing up. There will be new guests to rent it later, but I’m sure the housekeeper could prepare some tea or coffee to fortify you.”

“I should leave and let you continue your preparations.”

The butler gave him a tight smile, but his eyes remained worried. Blast. No doubt Harrison’s pain was obvious. It didn’t matter. Everyone could know he was devastated. He deserved it after what he’d done. He deserved all this pain.

“Do you know if they are returning to Grosvenor Square?” Harrison asked, even though the question was ridiculous. He knew they weren’t returning. “Was there perhaps an urgent issue that required the attention of everyone in the family?”

“I think you know the urgent issue.”

Harrison swallowed hard. “I see.”

“I’m sorry, Your Grace. I think you were fond of Miss Lucy Banks.”

“I was,” Harrison said.

“I hope that you had some happy memories with her.”

Harrison nodded and thrust his top hat onto his head with rather more force than the action required. No doubt, his valet would have to work extra hard to ensure it was not ruined. Then he swung around and marched back to his barouche. His heart pounded, and his steps faltered as if uncertain where he could place them.

She was gone.

She was gone his life and from all of London, all of England, all of Britain, all of Europe.

He gave a wry smile.

Well, Lucy never did anything in half measures. That was for certain.

He would never see her again. He would never speak with her across from the punch table. He would never waltz with her around the ballroom, conscious of everyone’s stares.

He would miss her. He would miss her most awfully.

There was nothing he could do.

He imagined the ship moving faster and faster across the Atlantic, tearing her away from him forever.

He’d placed her in scandal. Perhaps in New York, she could rectify some of her reputation. Perhaps if they arrived home quickly, fewer rumors would have had the chance to reach New York and its high society.

It was for the best.

After all, he couldn’t marry her. He hadn’t realized when he accepted the Duchess of Sturbridge’s request that he would be giving up all chances for love.

Harrison climbed into his barouche. The horses glided in their customary manner, waving their tails from side to side. A few people stared in wonder, just like they always did. It was a nice barouche, but he would prefer to have her.

Still, Lucy might be upset now, but in a few years, doubtless, she would be married and happy living a life with someone else. She wouldn’t be burdened by his secret.

He returned to Robertson’s Gentlemen’s Club. The two guards nodded at him, just as they always did. He entered the club, quiet except for the sound of newspaper rustling as people turned the pages.

In truth, he had the money, certainly, to buy a larger townhouse. In fact, if he wanted to, he could buy the one Lucy and her family had abandoned. But it wouldn’t be right to do so. He didn’t like spending the money.

When he’d agreed to take on the role, it had been to be helpful. The duchess had insisted all the servants and she would be destroyed if a new family came to live at the castle. Since then, the true heir, some second cousin, had died. His son had also died in the war. Harrison wasn’t certain who would come after in succession.

No, he absolutely refused to burden Lucy with his secret. How could he let her think he did not care? It wasn’t true. He did care.

Harrison turned around abruptly and practically strode into Sir Seymour.

“Excuse me,” Harrison said.

Sir Seymour’s eyebrows lurched up. “Ah, want to get more alcohol? Well, I certainly understand.”

“No,” Harrison said. “I want something else entirely.”

Sir Seymour bored his beady eyes into him, as if simply staring at Harrison would make him grasp Harrison’s desire. On another day, the action might’ve made Harrison’s lips twitch. Today, though, was different.

“I have the sudden urge to be on the water,” Harrison said.

*

THE HORSES HURRIEDthrough Grosvenor Square with rather more rapidity than normal. The carriage bounced.

“Speeding is unnecessary,” Mama said.

“We are not missing that ship,” Papa replied. “Besides, it will give you practice for the voyage. This is nothing compared to the Atlantic Ocean.”

Isabella and Lucy groaned. Even Rose looked worried. 

“The girls haven’t forgotten,” Papa said.

Even Mama’s face appeared whiter than before, and she was wearing a fur coat over her pelisse and afternoon dress out of a suspicion of the ability of the porters to deliver their trunks to the ship correctly.

Isabella bit her lip and glanced out the window. Lucy followed her gaze. Would this be the last time she would see these elegant buildings? The last time she would be in London? Had she already seen Harrison for the last time?

She knew the answer though: of course, she’d never see him again.

She’d half-wondered whether he might dash to see her in London, but he had not. No doubt, he was in Cornwall now, merrymaking with his aristocratic friends as they made jests about her. Nausea moved up her throat.

She’d been anxious to return to New York and resentful her parents had dragged her here, but now she would miss London. She would miss him.

But of course, everything with him had been for pretend, and now everything was over.

“Halt! Halt!” A voice interrupted her thoughts.

Harrison.

He’d come for her.

Happiness surged through her, and she was conscious of the sound of horses’ hooves following, then thudding beside the carriage.

“Halt!”

The voice didn’t sound precisely like Harrison. Perhaps he’d sent a messenger. No doubt, he didn’t know the exact route the carriage would take. He sometimes spoke of his valet, Fletcher. Perhaps this was him now.

But how had Harrison known to come for her? Why had he changed his mind?

The coach stopped, and her heartbeat quickened.

“What is this?” Papa’s face reddened. “A common hijacking!”

“No one has asked for the coach, dear,” Mama said reassuringly, but even her hands trembled.

“I suppose that’s why people say to stay away from the East End,” Papa blustered.

The door opened.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the groom said, “but this man was most insistent. I thought perhaps it related to your work...”

“I’ll speak with them. Don’t worry.” The man’s voice was elegant, and his vowels were rounded in the most upper-class manner. This man was no common hijacker.

Unfortunately, this man was also not Harrison.

She knew that voice, and now that horses’ trots were no longer masking his words, she recognized it.

“Benedict!” Isabella squealed.

Mama’s lower lip toppled down.

“What’s all this?” Papa barked.

In the next moment, Lord Brooke popped his head inside the carriage. His golden curls clung to his skin, which now had a velvety sheen. He beamed when he saw Isabella. “I got your message.”

“Message!” Papa exclaimed. “What message?”

“I’m not going to let you leave London,” Lord Brooke said. “I don’t care what anyone says.”

Isabella’s eyes sparkled and shone.

“What’s all this?” Papa asked. “We’re in a hurry, young man.”

Lord Brooke turned to him. His fingers shook, but he fisted his hands and jutted out his chin. “I love your daughter and plan to marry her.”

Papa blinked. “You’ll have to court her first.”

Lord Brooke’s face reddened. “I—er—am quite confident. I’ve been spending time with her, and—”

Papa’s eyes goggled.

“Well, she told me last week that she would marry me.”

“You did?” Mama breathed and jerked her head toward Isabella.

“Yes.” Isabella nodded. “We’re engaged.”

“I don’t want her to sail to the United States,” Lord Brooke said solemnly. “I don’t want to be without her for another second.”

“But I haven’t said yes!” Papa exclaimed.

“But Isabella has.”

“And why didn’t you tell us about this?” Mama asked.

“It was because I was unmarried,” Lucy blurted. “And you had said that Isabella wasn’t allowed to court anyone until I had a suitor.”

“That’s why you made that unspeakable arrangement with the duke?” Mama wrinkled her nose.

Lucy nodded.

“Well, Lucy isn’t being courted now, so the rule still holds,” Papa said. “And we’re still late.”

“I think—” Mama bit her lip and cast a sorrowful gaze at Lucy. “I think that Isabella should marry this Lord Brooke.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Banks!” Lord Brooke beamed. “I’ll look after her. I’ll be the best husband in the world.”

“But you said...” Papa wrinkled her brow.

“I don’t think Lucy will ever marry after this scandal,” Mama said. “So if Lord Brooke wants to marry Isabella, he can.”

“Oh.” Papa was momentarily silent.

Lucy’s heart shuddered.

Mama was right. Who would have her now? And even though she didn’t want to marry anyone, even though it seemed impossible to ever be close to anyone after Harrison, she didn’t like that she didn’t have any choices.

But this was what she’d known would happen. Isabella would marry Lord Brooke. That had sufficed as a happy ending for Lucy months ago, and it would have to suffice now.

“I’m delighted for you, Isabella,” Lucy said.

“You are?” Isabella’s eyes were dewy with tears. “I’d hoped Harrison might come for you too.”

“You haven’t seen Harrison?” Lord Brooke asked abruptly.

“No.” Lucy’s heart panged.

“Why?” Isabella asked. “Should she have seen him?”

Papa fiddled with the tassels on the curtain. No doubt, even he was embarrassed that Harrison hadn’t tried to see Lucy.

“I just thought—” Lord Brooke shook his head. “I suppose not. It’s—er—not important.”

“Perhaps we can all stay in London?” Isabella asked.

“Nonsense. Your big sister is in disgrace. We’re not having her presence impacting the start of your future life.” Mama scrunched her lips together, then clapped her hands. “I have it! Rose, you must stay with Isabella.”

Rose’s eyes widened. “Indeed?”

“You like London, don’t you?”

Rose nodded rapidly.

“Good,” Mama said. “We must bring Isabella and you to a chaperone until the wedding.” She scrunched her lips together. “I think the princess is in town. Let’s go there.”

Lord Brooke returned to his horse, and there was much celebration inside the carriage. But when Lucy closed her eyes, it was thoughts of Harrison, and not thoughts of Isabella’s upcoming nuptials that occupied her mind.