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Page 19 of A Wife for the Beast (Scandals and Second Chances #6)

"I find her observations on the marriage mart to be remarkably astute, particularly her insight that 'happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance.' Though perhaps I am not the ideal judge of such matters, given my own rather unconventional approach to matrimony."

"Unconventional but eminently practical," he replied with what might have been approval. "Miss Austen would no doubt appreciate the efficiency with which you resolved your circumstances."

"Would she indeed? I am not certain she would find much romance in a union based upon mutual necessity rather than mutual affection."

"Romance, in my experience, is a luxury that few can afford and fewer still can sustain. Mutual respect and shared objectives provide a more reliable foundation for domestic tranquility."

"How very pragmatic of you. Though I confess myself curious whether you have always held such measured views on the subject of matrimonial felicity."

The question seemed to strike him as unexpectedly personal, and she watched as he retreated once again behind the emotional barriers that protected him from unwelcome scrutiny.

"My views on marriage have been shaped by observation rather than experience, and observation suggests that passion is more often destructive than beneficial to domestic harmony."

"Yet surely you cannot deny that affection between spouses enhances the quality of their shared existence?"

"I can deny nothing that I have not experienced myself," he replied with finality that suggested he considered the topic closed.

It was while they were debating the merits of Mr. Johnson's literary criticism that Evangeline became aware of a subtle shift in the atmosphere between them, a growing ease that seemed to develop naturally from their shared intellectual interests.

Lucian had gradually relaxed his rigid posture, his responses becoming less guarded and more genuinely engaged, while she found herself studying his face with increasing fascination as animated discussion brought life to features that harsh experience had rendered habitually stern.

There was something deeply appealing about witnessing his transformation from intimidating duke to engaged scholar, and she began to understand how he must have appeared to others, before injury and disillusionment had taught him to conceal his more attractive qualities behind walls of cynicism and self-protection.

"You seem surprised by something," he observed, noting her scrutiny with the sort of sharp attention that missed little. "Have I said something particularly outrageous?"

"Not outrageous, merely illuminating. I am beginning to understand why my father held you in such high regard, beyond the obvious bonds of military service."

"Your father was generous in his assessments of others, sometimes dangerously so."

"Or perhaps he simply possessed the ability to recognise qualities that others might overlook or undervalue."

Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of Higgins, who approached with the sort of careful deference that suggested he bore news requiring delicate handling.

"Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but I thought you might wish to know that the young animal in the stables has made considerable progress in its recovery. The stable master reports that it has begun to take solid food with enthusiasm and appears to have regained much of its former vitality."

Evangeline felt a flush of pleasure at this information, though she was careful to maintain a composed expression as she absorbed the implications of the dog's improvement. "That is gratifying news, Higgins. Please convey my appreciation to the stable master for his diligent care."

"Certainly, Your Grace. The animal has also begun to respond to basic training, showing considerable intelligence and eagerness to please. Perhaps Your Grace might wish to observe its progress at some convenient time?"

The suggestion was delivered with such careful neutrality that Evangeline recognized it as Higgins's diplomatic way of acknowledging her interest in the creature's welfare while maintaining appropriate respect for her position and her husband's authority in such matters.

"That would be agreeable, provided His Grace has no objections to such an arrangement."

She glanced at Lucian, noting that his expression had grown carefully neutral at the mention of the rescued animal.

"The creature's welfare is hardly a matter requiring my specific attention," he said with studied indifference.

"If you find such pastoral pursuits entertaining, you are naturally free to pursue them. "

His dismissive tone was clearly intended to minimize his own role in the dog's rescue and recovery, though Evangeline detected something in his manner that suggested he was not as indifferent to the animal's progress as he wished to appear.

"Thank you, Your Grace. I shall endeavour not to allow such pursuits to interfere with my other obligations."

After Higgins departed, an odd silence settled between them, as though the mention of the rescued dog had reminded both of considerations that extended beyond their intellectual discourse.

Evangeline found herself wondering what impulse had prompted Lucian's intervention on behalf of the suffering creature, and whether such compassion might extend to other circumstances requiring similar mercy.

"The evening grows late," Lucian observed finally, rising from his chair with the controlled grace that characterized all his movements. "I should not monopolize your time with such extensive conversation."

"The time has been most pleasantly spent," she replied with complete honesty. "I had not anticipated finding such stimulating intellectual companionship in my new circumstances."

"You sound surprised by the possibility that a scarred recluse might possess interests beyond brooding over his misfortunes."

"I am surprised by the discovery that my husband is a man of considerable learning and insight, qualities that might have been mentioned during our negotiations as additional advantages to our arrangement."

Her frank acknowledgment of her growing respect for his intellectual capabilities seemed to both please and discomfort him, as though he were unaccustomed to receiving recognition for qualities other than his title and wealth.

"I trust such discoveries will not prove disappointing upon further acquaintance."

"On the contrary, they suggest that our practical arrangement may prove more agreeable than either of us initially anticipated."

***

The sight of Evangeline seated in his library, absorbed in reading with the sort of complete concentration that marked genuine intellectual engagement, struck Lucian as both deeply appealing and profoundly dangerous to his carefully maintained emotional equilibrium.

She belonged in such surroundings, he realized with a start of recognition—her natural grace and evident intelligence making her appear as much at home among his books as though she had been born to such circumstances.

The discovery that she possessed not merely beauty and practical competence but also a mind capable of sophisticated literary discussion filled him with a complex mixture of pride and apprehension.

Pride that his wife could hold her own in intellectual discourse, and apprehension that such qualities made her even more desirable than her physical beauty alone had suggested.

Watching her quote Wordsworth with such evident appreciation for the poet's deeper meanings reminded him forcibly of conversations he had once enjoyed with cultivated women in London drawing rooms, before his scars had made such social interactions impossible to contemplate.

There had been a time when he could engage in exactly this sort of literary discussion without self-consciousness, when his own thoughts and opinions had been welcomed rather than endured out of deference to his rank.

That Evangeline seemed genuinely interested in his perspectives rather than merely politely tolerant of them was both gratifying and troubling.

He had grown accustomed to isolation, to conducting his intellectual life through solitary reading rather than shared discourse, and her evident enjoyment of their conversation awakened longings he had thought permanently suppressed.

Her reference to her father's friendship and her suggestion that Captain Hartwell had valued him for qualities beyond military competence touched upon wounds that remained painfully fresh despite the passage of years.

Edmund Hartwell had indeed been one of the few men who had treated him as a complete person rather than merely a fellow officer, and the knowledge that such regard had extended to intellectual as well as professional matters was both comforting and agonizing.

How could he be worthy of such friendship, or of the trust that had led Captain Hartwell to commend his daughter to Lucian's protection?

The man who had earned such regard no longer existed, replaced by the bitter, damaged creature who now struggled to maintain even basic civility in social interactions.

Yet as their conversation progressed, Lucian found himself gradually relaxing his vigilant self-control, drawn into discourse that seemed to awaken aspects of his personality that he had thought permanently buried beneath layers of cynicism and self-protection.

Evangeline's quick wit and genuine curiosity about ideas rather than appearances made it possible, briefly, to forget the extent of his physical and emotional damage.

Her laughter at his occasional attempts at humor was particularly dangerous to his peace of mind, transforming her already beautiful features into something approaching radiance and reminding him of how long it had been since he had inspired pleasure rather than pity or revulsion in another person.

The sound seemed to echo in the library long after she had fallen silent, a reminder of possibilities he dared not contemplate too closely.

When she quoted Miss Austen's observations about marriage being a matter of chance rather than choice, he found himself wondering whether their own practical arrangement might indeed prove more fortunate than either had anticipated.

She possessed exactly the qualities he would have sought in a wife under different circumstances—intelligence, wit, strength of character, and a natural dignity that seemed unaffected by her reduced circumstances.

Under different circumstances. The phrase haunted him as he watched her face animated by intellectual engagement, reminding him that whatever her qualities, she was bound to him by necessity rather than inclination.

Her obvious enjoyment of their conversation was gratifying, but it did not alter the fundamental reality that she had married him to escape destitution rather than from any genuine attraction to his person or character.

The mention of the rescued dog brought a flush of embarrassment that he struggled to conceal, for he had hoped that his intervention on the creature's behalf would remain unacknowledged and unremarked.

That Evangeline clearly understood his role in the animal's rescue, despite his attempts to minimize such involvement, suggested that she possessed more insight into his character than he found entirely comfortable.

Her evident pleasure in the news of the dog's recovery was both touching and troubling, reminding him of the compassionate impulse he had witnessed during their estate tour and the restraint she had imposed upon herself in deference to her new position.

She possessed exactly the sort of natural kindness that he had once valued above all other qualities in human nature, before bitter experience had taught him to view such characteristics as dangerous vulnerabilities.

That she might recognize similar impulses in him, despite his efforts to conceal them behind harsh practicality, represented a threat to the emotional distance he had worked so carefully to maintain.

If she began to see him as something other than the cold, calculating man he presented to the world, she might develop expectations that he could never hope to fulfill.

When she rose to take her leave, thanking him for the evening's conversation with what appeared to be genuine appreciation, Lucian found himself struggling against the urge to prolong their discourse indefinitely.

The library felt smaller and more oppressive after her departure, the silence that had once provided comfort now seeming merely empty and lifeless.

As he sat alone among his books, surrounded by the intellectual treasures that had once provided adequate compensation for his isolation, Lucian reflected upon the dangerous transformation that marriage had begun to work upon his carefully ordered existence.

Evangeline's presence in his life was awakening desires and possibilities that he had thought permanently buried, reminding him of everything he had lost while simultaneously suggesting that such losses might not be as irreversible as he had believed.

The prospect of continued evenings spent in such discourse was both tantalizing and terrifying, for each conversation seemed to reveal new depths to her character while simultaneously making his own emotional armor feel increasingly inadequate to the task of protecting him from hope.

She was becoming dangerous to his peace of mind in ways that extended far beyond the original terms of their practical arrangement.

Yet he found himself already anticipating their next encounter, already planning topics of conversation that might draw out more evidence of her remarkable mind and engaging personality.

Perhaps, he thought with a mixture of longing and guilt, he was not as immune to the appeal of intellectual companionship as he had believed himself to be.

The future stretched before him, filled with evenings that might bring continued discourse and gradually deepening understanding, and for the first time since his return from the war, Lucian found himself contemplating the passage of time with something approaching anticipation rather than mere endurance.