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Page 16 of A Wife for the Beast (Scandals and Second Chances #6)

"Ah, but that presupposes the marriage shall indeed result in offspring, does it not? And that the matrimony remains unchallenged. There are, after all, legal recourses available when marriages are entered into under circumstances indicating undue influence or mental infirmity.

The threat was delivered with such polished courtesy that it took Evangeline a moment to comprehend its full implications.

Pembroke was suggesting that he possessed both the means and the inclination to challenge their marriage in court, using Lucian's war injuries as evidence of his incompetence to make rational decisions about his future.

"I believe you have said quite enough on that subject," Lucian said, rising from his chair with the sort of controlled movement that suggested he was struggling not to resort to physical violence. "Your concerns about the family's welfare are noted, but they are neither welcome nor necessary."

"Of course, of course. I meant no offence, merely expressed the natural interest of a family member in ensuring that all is well. Perhaps Her Grace might find some comfort in knowing that she has relations who take an interest in her welfare?"

Pembroke turned to Evangeline with the sort of oily charm that made her shiver, his pale eyes studying her with an intensity that suggested he was cataloguing her potential weaknesses for future exploitation.

"You are very kind, my lord," she replied with frost that would have done credit to a duchess of far greater experience, "but I find myself quite adequately protected by my husband's consideration and the arrangements he has made for my welfare."

"Consideration," Pembroke repeated with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "How charming. Though I suppose it must be somewhat challenging to inspire such feelings in a gentleman whose experiences have left him rather changed from his former self?"

The casual cruelty of the observation struck Evangeline with such force that she found herself rising from her chair without conscious volition, her entire being consumed with righteous fury at this man's deliberate attempt to wound both Lucian and her.

"I find my husband to be everything our arrangement requires, my lord—honourable, intelligent, and possessed of the sort of character that marks true nobility. Perhaps those qualities are difficult to recognise for someone unfamiliar with their authentic manifestation."

The insult was delivered with such sweet courtesy that it took Pembroke a moment to register its cutting edge, though when he did, his charming facade slipped sufficiently to reveal the calculating predator beneath.

"How refreshingly pragmatic of you, Your Grace. Though pragmatism based on incomplete information can sometimes prove inadequate to the complexities of one's situation. Perhaps, in time, you will come to appreciate the full scope of your circumstances more thoroughly."

***

From Lucian's perspective:

The sight of Edmund Pembroke darkening his doorway had filled Lucian with the sort of cold rage that had become his most familiar companion since returning from the war.

His cousin's presence at Ravenshollow Manor could mean nothing good, for Edmund was not given to family visits unless they served some specific purpose related to his own advancement or enrichment.

The intervening years had been kind to Pembroke in ways that they had decidedly not been kind to Lucian.

Where war had carved furrows of pain and suffering into the Duke's features, time had only refined his cousin's conventional handsomeness into the sort of polished charm that opened doors in London society and hearts in fashionable drawing rooms. Edmund possessed all the superficial attractions that Lucian had lost, combined with a ruthless ambition that made him dangerous in ways that extended far beyond mere social competition.

Watching Pembroke's interaction with Evangeline filled Lucian with a familiar sense of inadequacy that he had hoped marriage might somehow diminish but which seemed instead to have intensified.

Here was everything he was not—young, handsome, charming, unmarked by the brutalities of war—and here was his wife, beautiful beyond description, being subjected to the sort of practiced seduction that had undoubtedly proved effective with countless other women of her station.

That Evangeline appeared immune to Edmund's considerable charm provided some small comfort, though Lucian could not help but notice the way his cousin's eyes lingered on her face, cataloguing her beauty with the sort of calculating appreciation that suggested he viewed her as a prize to be won rather than a woman to be respected.

The knowledge that Edmund found his wife attractive was both gratifying and terrifying, for it meant that his cousin would view her as both an asset worth acquiring and a weapon potentially useful against her current husband.

The conversation's progression from superficial pleasantries to direct threats had been as predictable as it was infuriating.

Edmund had always possessed a talent for wrapping his malice in such elegant courtesy that his victims often failed to recognize they were being attacked until the damage had already been inflicted.

His suggestions about Lucian's mental competency were particularly galling, not merely because they were insulting but because they represented a genuine legal threat that could not be dismissed as mere family spite.

The law regarding mental competency was complex and potentially treacherous for someone in Lucian's position.

His visible injuries, combined with his years of reclusive behavior, could indeed be construed as evidence of mental instability by a court inclined to listen to such arguments.

If Edmund possessed sufficient evidence to support a formal challenge—testimony from servants, perhaps, or documentation of neglected responsibilities—he might well succeed in having the marriage declared invalid or, worse still, in having Lucian declared incompetent to manage his own affairs.

The thought of losing everything—his title, his estate, his freedom to manage his own life—was terrifying enough.

But the prospect of Evangeline being drawn into such a legal battle, subjected to public scrutiny and potential humiliation, filled him with a rage so pure and overwhelming that he struggled to maintain even basic civility in Edmund's presence.

He had married her to provide security and position, to discharge his debt to her father and ensure that she would never again face the sort of destitution that had driven her to accept his proposal.

The idea that his own family obligations might instead expose her to scandal and social destruction was almost unbearable to contemplate.

Watching his wife face down Edmund's calculated cruelty with such magnificent composure reminded him forcibly of why he had found her so intriguing during their initial encounters.

She possessed not merely beauty but the sort of inner strength that marked true nobility of character.

She had recognized Edmund's attack for what it was and had responded with the sort of cutting wit that drew blood while maintaining perfect propriety.

Yet he could not escape the knowledge that she was defending a marriage she had entered from necessity rather than choice, standing by a husband she barely knew against a threat she should never have been forced to confront.

Her loyalty was admirable, but it was the loyalty of duty rather than affection, and he was bitterly conscious that she deserved far better than the circumstances fate had forced upon her.

"How refreshingly pragmatic of you, Your Grace," Edmund was saying with the sort of condescending smile that made Lucian's hands clench involuntarily.

"Though pragmatism based on incomplete information can sometimes prove inadequate to the complexities of one's situation.

Perhaps, in time, you will come to appreciate the full scope of your circumstances more thoroughly. "

The suggestion that Evangeline had been deceived about the nature of her marriage, combined with the implicit threat that Edmund possessed information that might change her feelings about her husband, pushed Lucian's self-control to its absolute limits.

He found himself moving around the desk with the sort of predatory grace that his military training had ingrained so deeply that no amount of physical injury could entirely erase it.

"Edmund," he said with the sort of quiet authority that had once commanded battlefields, "I believe this interview has served its purpose. Your concerns about the family's welfare have been noted and dismissed. I suggest you take your leave before our conversation deteriorates further."

His cousin's pale eyes widened slightly at the implicit threat in Lucian's tone, though his charming smile never wavered.

"Naturally, cousin. I would not wish to overstay my welcome, particularly when my presence appears to cause such distress.

Though I do hope we might have occasion to continue our conversation at some future date? "

"I think not. Any future communication between us should be conducted through our respective solicitors, should circumstances make such correspondence necessary."

"How very formal of you, Lucian. Though I suppose formality becomes necessary when one's situation is precarious enough to require legal protection."

The parting shot was delivered with Edmund's characteristic blend of courtesy and malice, designed to leave its target uncertain whether they had been insulted or merely subjected to an unfortunate choice of words.

Lucian, however, had long since learned to recognize his cousin's tactics and was not inclined to give him the satisfaction of a visible reaction.