Can’t Buy Me a Duke by Bianca Blythe

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Lucy Banks was herebeside him, and Harrison’s heart warmed. She looked marvelous. Her red hair gleamed against her emerald afternoon dress. He wanted to kiss every freckle. He wanted to kiss her.

Her large eyes looked at him questioningly, and he remembered he was supposed to speak. His throat dried. There was so much he needed to tell her, but all he wanted to do was take her in his arms.

He didn’t want to think about what her reaction to his secret to be.

Carriages rolled by, and they proceeded to stroll along Fifth Avenue. Well-dressed men and women passed them, speaking in the same accent as Lucy.

“How do you like New York?” Lucy asked.

“So far, I’ve only seen the harbor and here.”

“I see.”

“But it was quite nice.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad.” She gave him her customary wide smile.

“Everyone is friendly.” Then he paused and frowned.

Her succulent lips twitched, as if arguing whether to laugh at his expression. “You mean everyone is friendly except for my parents?”

He nodded. “Yes, that is more correct.” Then he shot a guilty look at her. “I mean, normally your parents are nice and friendly. That was my first impression of them. It’s just that—”

“Things have changed,” Lucy finished for him, and her face sobered.

“Yes. That’s my fault. I’m sorry I landed you in this. I hurt you.”

She gave him a wobbly smile that managed to strike him in the chest. Polo balls had less force.

Damnation.

He didn’t want her unhappiness, and he certainly didn’t want her to mask her emotions. She should be pummeling him with her fists.

Harrison put his hands around hers, and energy surged through him. Lucy had left the house so quickly she hadn’t taken her gloves, and every curve of her slender hands was apparent. They were small against his own. “I’m so sorry.”

Lucy averted her gaze, but he needed to continue. She had to know.

“I never wanted to involve you in my past,” Harrison said. “I never wanted to involve you in my secrets. I love you. I love you completely and utterly.”

The air was suddenly still, even though he was certain he should be hearing the cacophony of conversation, trotting of horses, and rumbling of carriage wheels over the tilestones.

Lucy’s mouth opened. “And I—”

He pressed his finger to her lips and pretended he didn’t want to taste them. “Nothing has changed, of course. You needn’t say anything.” 

She frowned slightly. “If you truly do love—”

“I do,” he said quickly. “I wouldn’t say it otherwise.”

Confusion flitted over her face. “Why cannot you marry me?”

“Right.” He inhaled, then exhaled. Then inhaled and exhaled again. Normally, Harrison didn’t have such trouble talking, and she tilted her head. Concern filled her eyes.

Lucy looked down and fiddled with her sleeves. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me. I suppose you want to marry someone British, someone with a title. Someone who can be a true Duchess of Sturbridge. Someone not like me. I-I understand.”

“No. That’s not the reason. I have to tell you the whole story. It began when I was born.”

She stifled a laugh. “That sounds like it could be a very long story.”

“In fact, it started before I was born. My father, you see, is the Duke of Sturbridge.”

“Yes.”

“But I don’t think you know who my mother is.”

She furrowed her brow. “I’ve met your mother.”

“You’ve met the Duchess of Sturbridge.”

“I don’t understand,” Lucy said, but she looked like she was beginning to do so.

“My mother was a parlor maid at the house.”

Lucy turned and stared at him. “But that’s not . . .  I don’t understand. It’s not possible.”

“My father enjoyed spending time with women. It’s an activity I’ve also found pleasurable.”

Lucy averted her gaze.

“Not that that’s of importance,” the duke said hastily. “But the point is, my father had a son with his wife, and then at nearly the same time, he had a son with the scullery maid.”

“I don’t understand. You’re a duke, and well—”

He gave a wry smile. “Dukes don’t have mothers who were scullery maids. They certainly don’t have mothers who weren’t married to their fathers. My brother—half-brother—was never well. We were tutored together. I’m not certain the duchess even knew I was the duke’s son to begin with, though I think by the time I was two, it would have been fairly obvious, judging by the portraits. I have this.” He brushed a finger against his sturdy jaw, then pointed at his Roman nose. “And I have this.”

“I see,” Lucy said faintly.

“My father died, then my brother.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Harrison shrugged. “We weren’t particularly close. But since we were the same age, we spent all our time together. It’s common for aristocrats to have tutors teach their children, along with servants’ children. It’s not a horrible thing for servants’ children to have some education. Maybe they hoped I could be more helpful on the estate once I learned to read. It’s also not a horrible thing for aristocrats’ children to have some added stimulus in the classroom. My brother was always sickly. They always worried he would die. He didn’t go to boarding school because of his health. And then both the duke and he died. Tuberculosis.”

“How dreadful to lose them both.”

“I was even less close to my father. I was an embarrassment.”

“What happened?” Lucy asked.

“Rightfully, my education should have stopped. I should have simply become a servant, perhaps a valet or butler, because of my education. That’s what would have been customary.”

“But that’s not what happened.”

“No. The duchess liked me. I reminded her of her late husband. You see? And I reminded her of her son, who was dead. I suppose she could have hated me, but she didn’t. She was a nice woman. She is a nice woman. She was also concerned about what would happen to her. She didn’t want to leave the castle so some distant relation of her late husband could barge in. And she felt that . . .”

“Oh.” Lucy blinked. No doubt, she knew where this was going.

“I think you understand. Since so few people had actually met my brother, she thought she could simply declare me the new duke.”

“I see.”

“She could keep me at home, continue my education, obviously with a new tutor. And the few servants there who knew what had occurred would be silent, conscious that if they weren’t, some stranger would come to the castle with his own servants and disrupt their lives.”

“They must have liked you. They could have resented you.”

“Yes. I was lucky, I suppose. They liked me.”

“And you went along with it?”

“I was twelve. I was being offered the chance to be a duke by a woman who had provided everything for me. I didn’t like seeing her distraught. And I’m afraid since my father had been the duke, I thought maybe it wouldn’t be truly wrong to pretend to be one.”

“So your true name is not Harrison?”

“No.” Harrison smiled, and his eyes adopted a dewy quality as if he were witnessing a far-off memory. “It’s Samuel actually, though I haven’t heard that name in a while. You can call me Harrison.”

“Very well.”

“But only afterward did I realize this was a game I could not renounce. Changing my mind is an impossibility. The law might not look kindly on someone who impersonated a duke for years. If someone discovers my deception, I would destroy my life and that of my family. So, you see, I can never marry. I can never let any woman, no matter how much they cared for me, no matter how much I cared for her, risk ruining her life.”

She stared at him. “Go on.”

“I can’t marry knowing any children we were to have might be suddenly, violently disinherited. It wouldn’t be right.”

“You should have told me,” Lucy said.

“I-I wanted to do so,” Harrison said. “In the boat, on the Serpentine, I almost did. I-I hated myself for being so weak. I-I hated myself for the secret too.”

Lucy bit her lip.

“I’m sorry,” Harrison said. “That’s what I came to tell you. I should have been better at staying away from you. And I certainly shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“I thought you didn’t want to marry me because I wasn’t duchess material.”

He gave a sad smile. “I assure you, Lucy Banks, that you would be an excellent duchess. Unfortunately, I’m not just a faux suitor. I’m also a faux duke.”

“I’m sorry I asked you to pretend,” Lucy said softly.

“I’m not sorry,” he said. “I-I enjoyed myself. Too much.”

“That must have been a difficult secret to bear,” Lucy said.

“I’ve felt guilty my whole life,” Harrison confessed. “I’m not leading the life I should lead. I should be in service. I shouldn’t be the person being served.”

“You were being helpful,” Lucy said.

Harrison gave a wry smile. “It’s what a good servant does, isn’t it?  You’re rich and beautiful and intelligent. You don’t need a life with me. My life could be destroyed at any moment. I don’t want you to have that scandal, I don’t want any children to bear that scandal. I don’t even want your family to be affected by that scandal.”

Lucy nodded.

“I trust you’ll keep it secret?”

“Of course, I will.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you told everyone.”

“I won’t. I would never do that to you.”

“I thought you wouldn’t.” He sighed. “I should go. It’s a long way back to London.”

She nodded, but he continued to stare at her. He cupped her cheek with his hand, and a rush of heat moved through him at the contact. “Farewell, dear Lucy.”

*

HARRISON HAD JUST SAIDgoodbye to her. This was when she was supposed to turn around and return to her home.

Instead, she hesitated. Her heart ached, imagining that twelve-year-old boy who’d had his whole life changed at the request of his grieving employer. Everything now made sense.

“You have another option,” Lucy blurted.

Harrison wrinkled his brow. “What do you mean?”

“You could renounce your dukedom. I’m not saying it for my sake, of course,” she continued hastily. “I don’t want you to think that. But if the dukedom is a burden to you, you do not have to keep it.”

“But Parliament—”

“I know. But you were a child when it started. They might be lenient.”

Harrison shook his head. “They would be betrayed. And they would want to make certain no one else attempts a similar deception.”

“Move here.” Lucy grasped hold of his hand. “This is a whole country where people don’t care about your past.”

He blinked.

“I mean, they might find your past mysterious and intriguing, but I don’t think you would experience the same snobbery as you would in England. You would not worry about the law.”

Perhaps he had no interest in such a life. He was a duke, after all. Or at least, he lived like one.

Her cheeks warmed, and she ducked her head. “I’m sorry. It was probably a silly idea. I understand you don’t want to do anything. And I do respect that. I do. He was your father, after all. You are the son of a duke.”

Harrison shook his head. “I think it’s not actually such a terrible idea.”

“Well, I make a point of not giving out terrible ideas. Only potentially mediocre ones.” She laughed weakly, but her voice struggled against her ever-tightening diaphragm.

“Not mediocre.”

Her lips tightened into a polite smile. “I should return now. My parents might notice I’m gone, and I would hardly want to bring them out screaming on the street especially—”

“Since this might be my new home,” he murmured, his tone silky.

This time she stared.

“You mean to move here?” Her voice was soft. 

He nodded solemnly. “I have one condition, though.”

“Is it something I can help with?”

“Yes,” he said. “You would be essential to it. Most essential.”

“Well, if I can help,” she said uncertainly, unsure how she could be the least bit useful.

For some reason, his eyes glimmered. “My question is this: would you do me the great, utmost highest honor of becoming my wife?”

Lucy’s mouth dropped open. She must have misheard him. She tucked some hair behind her ear as if the action might help her hear better. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a proposal.”

She stared up at him. He couldn’t mean that.

“It’s a marriage proposal.” He took her hands in his, and her heartbeat quickened. He was gazing at her with such intensity. “I would like you, Lucy Banks, to be my wife.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I absolutely do.”

“No.” She shook her head. “You would be escaping the life you liked. It was a silly suggestion. I never should’ve made it.”

“I love you, Lucy,” he said, and his voice was calm. “It was the hardest thing to not propose to you all year. And when I discovered you had gone to New York, and I would never see you again. . .”

“That’s why you followed me?”

“I didn’t want you to think my hesitance to marry had anything to do with you. I didn’t want to put you in a difficult position. I didn’t want our children to be in a difficult position.”

“Did you just say our children?” Her voice shook.

“Oh yes, Lucy, our children. Let’s have many. What do you say, my dear?”

Heavens.

This was truly happening. He loved her and wanted to marry her.

She nodded hastily, and he grinned and took her in his arms. His sturdy muscular arms pressed against her waist. In the next moment, he was kissing her and kissing her and kissing her.

Finally, he withdrew his arms from her reluctantly. “I think perhaps we should tell your parents. If you’ll still have me.”

“Oh, I will,” she said. “I most certainly will.”

They marched back to the townhouse, striding side by side. Their fingers touched, then their hands clutched together as they began their new life.