Sins of a Duke

by Stacy Reid

  A grin split her face. “Yes.”

  There was no hesitation, and the surety of her response and the joy in her eyes humbled him. He would endeavor to make her the happiest of woman.

  “I will visit tomorrow and call upon your father, then I will speak with your brother.”

  She nodded, then laughed, infecting him with her happiness. Lucan dipped his head and pressed a soft kiss against her lips, burying the need to blurt the truth of his involvement in her pain and ostracism from society. He would unburden all to her, but not today. A deep part of him wished he would never have to reveal it, but he would not start their life together with deception.

  For now, he basked in the sweetness of her kiss and the comfort of her touch, knowing he would face the day he had to reveal all his sins to her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The cheery gathering in the breakfast room was for Constance’s benefit. She understood that, and loved her family for their support, but she pled a headache and took a tray into her room. She wanted to tell her family Lucan would be calling, but knew it was best to remain silent. While he had promised to speak with her father, he had not mentioned anything in relation to his sister and Sebastian. It was as if Lucan simply closed away the raw grief she had seen in his eyes, where she knew it would simmer and seethe with the possibility of exploding into something horrible one day. They all needed to discuss it as a family, but no one was confiding in her. She hoped after Lucan called on her father and brother, an amicable resolution would be found.

  With the need beating in her to understand the rife between her love and her brother, she had sought out Jocelyn, and spoke of what had been overheard between Sebastian and Anthony in the library. Constance had also told her of Lucan’s visit, and all that had been said between them after securing her promise to remain silent. Jocelyn had in turn tried to shed some light on Marissa and Sebastian’s relationship. Constance did not comprehend fully what paramours did, but what made it all more shocking was that Marissa had been married. Sebastian had an affair with a married woman. Constance could hardly credit it.

  It had not been easy for Jocelyn to speak, Constance had seen that. And she had been grateful Jocelyn had confided in her. For Constance had already realized Sebastian would omit the details. Before breakfast she and Sebastian had taken a turn in the gardens where he had shared some of his past with her. He told her Marissa had been his dear friend whom he lost. Dear friend. Constance had bitten her lips so as not to blurt out that she was well aware of what Lucan’s sister was to him, and that there was no need to spare her the details.

  She looked at the folder gripped so tightly in her hands.

  Do I want to know?

  She had not meant to eavesdrop on her brothers again. She had only intended to confess to Sebastian that she had overheard him and Anthony, and to ask him to somehow resolve the storm that was still brewing between him and Lucan. It had also been her intention to inform him that Lucan would be offering for her. She’d heard Anthony informing Sebastian that the report on Lucan was completed. She’d had no intention of stealing the report until Anthony asked if they should inform her of what they found. Sebastian’s “no” had been unequivocal. Disappointment and frustration had surged in her. Even with everything crumbling around them, her brothers still thought it necessary to withhold information.

  She had made quick work of stealing into Sebastian’s chamber and finding the folder. She knew she needed to read it and discreetly return it before breakfast was over. Constance sat on the chaise in her chamber, ignoring the food on the small table by the window. She flipped open the report, amazed at what had been gleaned in as little as three days.

  Fifteen minutes later, she slowly closed the file, her heart beating so hard she feared she would faint. She had never meant anything to Lucan. The torment that had followed her since last year had been orchestrated by him.

  The anger that gripped Constance was better than the cold pain snaking around her heart. What a fool she had been. With a distant sort of calmness she walked to Jocelyn and Sebastian’s chamber, entered, and replaced the folder in the top drawer of the chest. She returned to her room, and sat in the high wingback chair looking out the window that faced the small but beautiful garden.

  The tears would not come. She felt incapable of crying. The hurt was too much. She felt as if a dagger had been plunged inside of her and was still knifing through her with vicious intensity. She had been filled with much romantic idiocy of a prince charming wooing and sweeping her off her feet. A prince charming she had been so sure was Lucan. Constance vowed then, never would she allow her heart to be open to another man.

  …

  Lucan alighted from his carriage, not liking the feelings of nervousness wafting through him. He was not the type of man to be affected by nerves. Bloody hell. He’d been unable to sleep after leaving Constance and had spent better part of the night boxing bare knuckle with Ainsley, and then Marcus. Yet tension still wound Lucan tight. While he had all intention of offering for Constance, he would not call on her father, until Lucan had unburdened all to her. It was damn tempting to bind her in marriage to him, then reveal his complicity in her pain. But the thought of once again deceiving her left a sour taste in his mouth. He would first speak with her and beg her forgiveness for his past actions, then he would speak to her father and Calydon.

  Lucan had glimpsed her blond hair from his carriage, pacing in the gardens. He avoided the front of the townhouse and walked to the side gate where he quietly entered. Luckily the gate was unlatched. He walked on the stone path toward her. Dressed in a peach day dress, and with her unbound hair rippling to her waist, Lucan thought she had never looked more ravishing.

  “Constance.”

  She jerked and spun around to face him, her hand pressing against her chest.

  “Forgive me if I startled you.”

  “What are you doing here?” No excitement lighted her eyes or her voice. She sounded bland. She looked behind him to the gate and then back toward the house.

  He frowned. “I am to call on your father, but I first wanted to speak with you on an urgent matter.”

  “And you did not think that you should call at the front?”

  “I wanted to converse without any interruption from your family. I understand they are all here?”

  She closed her eyes almost as if in pain and walked farther into the garden. When it seemed as if she determined they were far enough away to be accorded full privacy, she looked at him.

  “My brothers and their wives are not here. However, my father is in his study and my mother in the parlor.”

  Her stare was filled with a curious state of detachment. Concern curled through him. “Are you well, Constance?”

  “Why would I not be? Tell me, Your Grace, what is this urgent matter you wish to discuss? ” she asked icily.

  Your Grace? Whatever happened to referring to me as Lucan? He took a few steps closer to her. “Before I start I want you to know how much I love you and—”

  “Love?”

  She looked at him as if she had never seen him before. It was not the look of sweetness and want that he was used to seeing from her.

  “Yes… I do, more so than I thought possible, but before I speak of the affections I hold for you, I need to confess my sins and hope that you will forgive me. Then if you will have me, I—”

  “Your Grace, I—”

  “Let me finish—”

  “I cannot!”

  Her hands fisted at her side and what flashed in her eyes was pure rage. His gut knotted in a way it had never before, and the cold chill that slithered through Lucan was alarming.

  She took a deep breath and firmed her shoulders. Her head tilted and she met his gaze. “I cannot listen as you spout to me sentiments of love and affection, Your Grace. It would be cruel for me to allow you to express yourself and lay your heart bare when I have no intention of returning your regard ever.”

  Lucan felt the ground shift un
der his feet, and he crushed the hat in his hands. Had he been mistaken in her affections for him? He could not have been. She had expressly told him of her love, kissed him, and surrendered her passion to him so ardently. Did she believe he was crying off?

  “I have all intention of asking Lord Radcliffe for your hand, Constance. I wish to marry you. If it is that you doubt I—”

  “Marriage? What makes you think I could ever be persuaded to marry you?” she asked with such withering scorn it drew him up. “Your Grace, I beg of you to leave and forget the conversation we had yesterday. I will not tell my family you called. I am too ashamed of my naivety to tell the truth of my situation to anyone.”

  Her eyes glistened with tears, but her lips were firm with determination. He felt gutted. The lack of any tender regards in her gaze hurt him far worse than he could have ever imagined.

  What makes you think I could ever be persuaded to marry you? “Tell me why you will not marry me. If this is because of my foolish words yesterday I—”

  Her expression became even more unreadable. “Good-bye, Your Grace.” She spun and made to exit the garden.

  He grabbed her hand, halting her retreat.

  She rounded on him like a tigress. “You will not touch me again without my consent, Your Grace, and I can assure you it will never be given.”

  Lucan released her. “Tell me what happened,” he demanded. “When I was foolish enough to discourage you from me, you pursued me all the way to my club demanding an answer. Answers I gave truthfully. I now demand to know why you reject my offer, and let me inform you, Lady Constance, you do not want me pursuing you for the truth.”

  She vibrated with indignation. “I owe you no such courtesy, but I will tell you, and then you may never darken my doorstep again. Do you think I could marry the man that deliberately left me open to ridicule and scorn? The man who sought to use me so cruelly to exact revenge against my brother? All your kisses were lies. Our laughter and passion were lies. The thing that has hurt me most was revealed by you. And it was all done so spitefully. You told the world of my bastardy, Lucan.”

  A harsh sob ripped from her, and she pressed her fist into her stomach. Tears ran down her cheeks, and her voice went hoarse. “You have brought hurt to me and my family in the most abominable way. I have no friends. We are not called upon. My mother and I were given the cut direct too many times to count, and this repulsion from society was done by your design. Yet you stand here and tell me you love me and you wish to marry me? You have no heart to bear affections, Your Grace.”

  Everything inside of him crumbled. He stepped closer to her. “Constance, please let me explain. I had all intentions of telling you today how incredibly stupid I have been and to beg your forgiveness. I—”

  She stumbled away from him, and he dropped the hand he had held out in entreaty.

  She drew herself up, though he could see what it cost her to hold onto her composure. She seemed brittle, as if she was holding on from breaking down and screaming at him. “There is nothing for you to explain. I understand enough. You told me your sister was ruined and driven to her death. For that I cannot express enough sympathy despite the fact that I did not know her. She must have been lovely to command such depth of love and loyalty, where you would be driven to ruin another in a similarly cold and cruel fashion. You are heartless to hold me accountable for the sins of others, Your Grace. For while my brother was a young foolish man to have been embroiled with a married woman, your sister must have been fully aware she was also a married woman having an affair!”

  Lucan fought to stave off the anger that washed over him. “Do not speak ill of my sister, or of a situation I can see you still do not comprehend,” he snarled.

  She jerked back, her eyes wide and her frame trembling.

  He slapped his hat against his thigh, burying the flare of emotions. It would not do for the two of them to be in such a state. “Condemn me if you must, hate me if you must, but do not breathe a word that would taint Marissa’s character further after all your brother has done. You judge me, and I deserve your reproach, but she does not. You claim your brother was a young and foolish man, only misguided, but I am cruel and heartless for attempting to do the same thing he himself executed on my sister?”

  Constance sucked in a harsh breath. “You dare compare my brother’s actions to those of yours? You have used me in the most hurtful of ways. What was his error but in loving a woman that was already married? I do not seek to besmirch your sister’s good name, I only seek to defend my brother whom you hold in such contempt.”

  “Your brother took my sister’s innocence then refused to marry her. Her connections were too low for him to make her his duchess. But not low enough to keep her as his mistress even after she wed. But his greatest crime against her, was that he abandoned her when she needed him. Has your beloved brother explained his actions to you? For I will never see them in a favorable and forgiving light.”

  She shook her head as if in a daze. “Yet you want to marry me with such continued contempt for my family? I think, Your Grace, it is yourself you are unable to forgive.”

  Lucan jerked as if she had slapped him.

  Tears split down her cheeks. “Do not leave thinking you have not had your revenge on my brother. You succeeded well. If you wanted to hurt me as how he must have hurt your sister, you have succeeded. That you set out to cause me harm is unforgivable. You deliberately revealed the circumstances of my birth to society, and encouraged all to remember. My heart is shredded, and I feel as if I have lost everything. I feel no hope…only anger and pain.” Tumultuous emotions blazed in her green eyes.

  Self-loathing filled him. She turned and walked away, but he could only let her go.

  I feel no hope…only anger and pain. Those were the last words of Marissa’s last letter before she took her life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lucan calculated that he had lain in the same position for almost six hours. Staring at the ceiling, wondering how it had all gone so bloody wrong. How could he have sunken so low as to take his revenge on a young lady that had been as sweet as Marissa? “How do I fix my fool-hardiness,” he said softly to the Reverend who had been sitting beside him in silence for the past hour.

  The Reverend got up and drew the drapes allowing sunlight inside the library. Lucan cursed, and draped a forearm over his closed eyes. Imbibing so liberally upon his return had been foolish. For the second time in a decade he had gotten drunk. He looked at the bottle of brandy on his oak desk and swore then and there that never would he allow it to happen again.

  “So the lady turned from you the minute you confessed what you had done,” Ainsley murmured. “I had not expected that, my friend. I can now only beg your forgiveness for what my action has wrought. I was foolishly playing matchmaker.” He ended on a grimace.

  Lucan slowly stood and rang the bell. He ordered a pot of tea and some sandwiches to be delivered to the library, then moved across the room and sat behind his desk wondering how much to share with his friends. He observed Ainsley closely. The man did look contrite. His method to get Lucan to recognize his feelings for Constance was unorthodox to say the least, and it would take some time for him to forgive Ainsley the censure he caused society to levy against her.

  Lucan grimaced, he was the guiltiest culprit of all. All the pain, anger and hate she felt led directly back to him. “I did not get to confess my shame.”

  That had both his friends giving him their undivided regard.

  “I do not understand,” the Reverend said with a frown. “If Lady Constance is not aware of the role you played in her downfall from society why did she reject you, and more importantly, why did you not confess all to her as you had planned?”

  Lucan leaned back in his chair, clacking his fingers against the surface of his desk. “I did not confess because the lady was already aware. It is on the basis of my sins she has rebuffed all affections I hold for her and refutes them as lies.”

  “Good God man
,” Ainsley rasped. “How did she find out? You have been most discreet.”

  “It hardly matters now,” Lucan said. “I have injured her beyond repair and I do not know how to fix it. What can I do to regain her good opinion?”

  “I doubt you ever had her good opinion,” the Reverend countered. “She saw you in a romantic light as do all the young ladies of society. For her to so easily discredit your offer of marriage when it is the best thing for her under the circumstances does not speak of a young lady that had affections for you.”

  Lucan launched to his feet and walked over to the windows. He was silent for a few moments reflecting on Constance. How she laughed, her strength of character despite being faced with such adversities, ones he had wrought. Her passion as she had expressed her contempt for his behavior. Despite having declared her love for him. Despite being so ruined, knowing society would never forgive her, she refused his hand. She refused a duke, when being married to the wealth and status he controlled would have made her sins forgotten. “She reacted as a lady who was wronged,” he said to the room at large. “As a woman who had been hurt and betrayed, and I cannot shy away from it or condemn her for it. I must either choose to move on or to fight for her.”

  “And what will you do?” Ainsley asked as he moved to stand beside him.

  “I want her. I realized far too late that the thought of her not in my life…at this time I cannot imagine such a future. Mayhap in time it will fade…”

  “So you will fight for her?” Ainsley murmured, sounding pleased.

  “I will try my damnedest and the lady still may not have me.”

  “I do not believe her brothers will allow you close to her for courtship, and if Lady Constance has hardened her heart against you, how will you get the opportunity to soften it?” the Reverend asked.

  Lucan was silent, thinking on Constance’s words to him.

  “I do not believe I will ever be able to convince her of my affections.” No, her pain had been too real, too deep. “But I will give her what she most wants before I depart from her life.”