Page 34 of A Lord in Want of a Wife (Daring Debutantes #2)

‘I didn’t make the bets! I’m just telling you what’s going on.

And how everyone thinks it romantic that he came to Almack’s just to apologise to you.

It’s remarkable, you know. Men don’t do that kind of thing.

And yet he did.’ Phoebe’s words ended with a sigh that seemed to come from her toes. ‘It was very romantic.’

‘It was terrifying,’ Lucy retorted. ‘I thought he’d died. And he still might.’ She purposely kept the wail from her voice, but it hovered in the back of her throat.

‘No, he won’t!’ Phoebe declared as she gripped Lucy’s hand. ‘He’ll get better and better, and then he’ll propose because he’s madly in love with you.’

Lucy’s heart squeezed, wishing it were true. ‘I don’t think love was what he felt.’ Lust, yes. Desire for how she could help him? Of course. But love was a complicated emotion, and Cedric was a complicated man. Only he knew what he wanted now that he was back.

‘He once told me he couldn’t say he loved me. He couldn’t!’

Phoebe frowned. ‘Why not?’

‘He doesn’t think it’s honourable to love a woman when he has no money. He’s trying to be worthy of me.’

Grace frowned. ‘Have you disparaged him for that?’

She shook her head. ‘You know I haven’t.’ She’d known good and bad men with all different levels of money. So long as they had food and shelter, she could be happy.

‘Then—’

‘Men!’ Phoebe huffed. ‘They don’t understand us, do they?’

The three sipped their tea in silent agreement while her sister watched her with a steady, concerned gaze. In the end, Grace spoke, her words soft but no less jarring.

‘Men are all idiots sometimes. Why does this man haunt you?’

That was the very question she’d been asking herself for the last three days and nights of worry.

They’d been apart from one another for nearly two years.

In that time, she’d met scores of gentlemen, many more accomplished than Cedric.

And yet if they disappeared from her life for a week, she’d completely forget them.

Only Cedric made her breath catch and her heart soar. He didn’t even have to be near. She’d spent countless hours remembering him, reliving what they’d done and wondering how he fared.

‘He thought I wanted to talk about the cargo,’ she complained. ‘He is upset that it didn’t do as well as he wanted.’

Phoebe frowned. ‘I thought you looked at the account. You said Prinny will be pleased.’

She had to do something while sitting by his bedside. So she sent to Captain Banakos for the account book.

‘Yes, yes. His investors will be happy. There were losses because of the storm, but not too bad. The biggest cost was in repairs to the ship because of the damage.’

‘Then why does he think it failed?’

She threw up her hands. ‘I don’t know. All he talked about was how he was a failure. That he didn’t have enough money. That all his hard work has amounted to nothing.’

Her sister smiled gently at her. ‘Meimei,’ she said, using the Chinese endearment for little sister. ‘He has been gravely ill. What does any person think about when they believe they are dying?’

Lucy didn’t answer the question, but Phoebe did, her voice bright. ‘I’m miserable when I’m sick. I think about everything bad that’s ever happened. All the things I didn’t do right or all the ways someone has hurt me. Everything and everyone is awful, especially me.’

Lucy looked down at her tea. Her head was thick, her body achy and her every thought was consumed by Cedric. Why him? When she’d met so many other nice men.

‘I used to love him,’ she finally said. ‘I used to dream about the time we could be together.’

Phoebe leaned forwards. ‘And now?’

She shook her head. She didn’t know how she felt. He could be so damned aggravating! She’d imagined their reunion a thousand times. Never had she thought his first words to her would be about money!

‘You’re tired,’ Grace said. ‘You haven’t slept in days. He’s not the only one who cannot think straight in such a state.’

‘It’s not about thinking!’ Lucy huffed. ‘It’s about what we feel for each other.’

‘And what do you feel?’ Phoebe pressed.

Frustrated. Confused. Anxious. Tired. And so damned happy he was alive and back here with her.

‘I think I will go back to the sickroom. He shouldn’t be left alone.’

‘No,’ her sister said as she set down her teacup. ‘There is a footman with him. You need real sleep.’

‘Every time I close my eyes, I think…’ She pressed her lips together, unwilling to speak the words aloud.

‘About him?’ Phoebe pressed.

‘That he might die.’

Her friend nodded. ‘Did you get him to drink the herbs I sent? Did you put it in his broth?’

‘I did. I think it helped. It’s so hard to say.’

‘He’ll keep getting better,’ Phoebe promised. ‘You’ll see. He’ll get stronger. You’ll get some rest. Everything will be better by tomorrow.’

She hoped so. In truth, a part of her knew it would be so. He was on the mend now. But the rest of her was still a tight knot of anxiety.

‘If he wakes up and talks about money again, I think I shall strangle him!’

Her sister chuckled. ‘Perhaps we should warn him about that before you murder him.’

Phoebe snorted. ‘We should leave a note by his bed.’

‘And perhaps,’ Lucy said, ‘we should all talk about something other than him!’

The two women obliged her and changed the topic.

They spoke about which gentleman were interesting this Season.

Answer: not many. Worse, Lucy already knew the men were not for her.

None of them set her heart beating. None of them consumed her.

And none of them were Cedric. For good or for ill, he was the one she must deal with now.