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Page 34 of A Wife for the Beast (Scandals and Second Chances #6)

The morning that would alter the entire course of Lucian's existence dawned with the sort of deceptive tranquility that often preceded the most devastating of storms, its pale winter sunlight filtering through the tall windows of Grosvenor House with an innocence that belied the catastrophe about to unfold.

He had risen early, as was his custom, to review correspondence and estate business before the social obligations of London life claimed his attention, though his thoughts remained occupied by the previous evening's triumph at Lady Melbourne's soirée.

Evangeline's success in London society had exceeded even his most optimistic expectations, her natural grace and intelligence winning acceptance from arbiters of fashion whose approval could make or break reputations with devastating efficiency.

Watching her navigate the treacherous waters of ton society with such remarkable skill had filled him with a pride so fierce that it bordered on the possessive, though he was careful to conceal such primitive emotions behind the mask of civilized restraint that his position demanded.

Yet beneath his satisfaction at her social conquest lay the persistent awareness that their very success made them more vulnerable to those who wished them ill.

Edmund's presence at various gatherings had not gone unnoticed, nor had the calculating attention with which his cousin observed their growing acceptance within the fashionable world.

Lucian possessed sufficient experience with his relative's character to recognize that such observation boded ill for their continued tranquility.

It was while he was contemplating these uncomfortable realities that Morrison appeared in the doorway of his study with the sort of grave expression that invariably preceded the delivery of unwelcome intelligence.

"Your Grace," the butler announced with careful precision, "Mr. Norris, from the law firm has arrived and requests an immediate audience regarding matters of urgent legal significance. He is accompanied by Mr. Blackburn from the same firm, and both gentlemen appear considerably agitated."

The names meant nothing to Lucian, though the formal designation suggested that these were not the family solicitors who had served the Hollowbridge interests for generations.

The appearance of unknown legal representatives at such an early hour, combined with their apparent agitation, filled him with immediate apprehension about the nature of their business.

"Did they indicate the specific nature of their urgent concerns?" he inquired, though he suspected that whatever had prompted such a visit would prove both unpleasant and potentially devastating to his carefully ordered existence.

"They mentioned proceedings regarding Your Grace's competency to manage your affairs, though they declined to elaborate upon the particulars without speaking to you directly."

The words struck Lucian with such force that for a moment he could not process their implications beyond the immediate recognition that his worst fears regarding Edmund's machinations were about to be realized.

Competency proceedings—the legal mechanism by which a man's right to control his own life could be stripped away and transferred to others deemed more suitable to such responsibilities.

"I see," he managed with a calm that concealed the tumult of emotions the announcement had stirred within him. "And where have you installed these gentlemen?"

"The blue drawing room, Your Grace. I thought it prudent to maintain some formality for such a sensitive discussion."

After Morrison departed to inform the visitors of his imminent arrival, Lucian found himself staring at his reflection in the window glass with the sort of grim assessment that had marked his most difficult moments since returning from the war.

The scars that twisted the left side of his face seemed more prominent than usual in the morning light, while the slight tremor in his damaged arm appeared to mock any pretense of complete recovery from his war injuries.

Perhaps Edmund was correct in his assessment of the situation.

Perhaps a man whose appearance inspired fear in children and whose physical limitations were visible to any observer was indeed unfit to manage the responsibilities that his title entailed.

The thought was agonizing in its implications, yet he could not entirely dismiss its potential validity.

The blue drawing room, when he finally steeled himself to face whatever accusations awaited him there, contained two gentlemen whose sober dress and grave expressions marked them as representatives of the legal profession at its most serious and formal.

They rose as he entered; their bows precisely calculated to acknowledge his rank while somehow suggesting that such recognition might prove temporary.

"Your Grace," the elder of the two began with the sort of careful courtesy that barely concealed underlying hostility, "I am Mr. Norris, and this is my colleague Mr. Blackburn.

We represent certain interested parties regarding questions that have arisen concerning your capacity to fulfill the obligations of your station. "

"Interested parties," Lucian repeated with dangerous quiet, settling himself in the chair that commanded the best view of both visitors while positioning himself to minimize the visibility of his scarred profile.

"How fascinating. And what manner of questions have these mysterious parties raised regarding my competency? "

Mr. Blackburn, a thin man whose pale eyes seemed to catalog every visible evidence of damage for future use, leaned forward with obvious relish at the opportunity to detail their accusations.

"Questions regarding the circumstances of your recent marriage, Your Grace. Specifically, whether a man suffering from the effects of severe war injuries possesses sufficient mental acuity to make rational decisions regarding such momentous matters as matrimony and the management of vast estates."

The suggestion that his marriage to Evangeline represented evidence of mental incapacity rather than sound judgment filled Lucian with rage so pure that he struggled to maintain even basic civility.

Yet he forced himself to respond with the sort of controlled precision that his military training had ingrained as second nature.

"I am unaware of any deficiency in my mental faculties that would render me incompetent to manage my own affairs," he replied with frost that would have discouraged further inquiry from anyone possessing normal sensitivity to social cues.

"Perhaps you might elaborate upon the specific evidence that supports such extraordinary allegations. "

"Certainly, Your Grace," Mr. Norris said with obvious satisfaction, withdrawing a sheaf of papers from his leather portfolio with ceremonial precision.

"We have testimony from various sources regarding your altered behaviour since returning from military service.

Extended periods of isolation, avoidance of social obligations, apparent inability to maintain normal human relationships—all consistent with the sort of mental deterioration that often accompanies severe physical trauma. "

Each accusation struck him like a physical blow, highlighting aspects of his conduct that could indeed be construed as evidence of diminished capacity by those inclined to interpret his behavior in the worst possible light.

His withdrawal from society, his reluctance to resume normal social interactions, his years of self-imposed exile at Ravenshollow—all could be presented as symptoms of mental instability rather than rational responses to changed circumstances.

"Furthermore," Mr. Blackburn continued with the sort of relentless precision that marked skilled practitioners of legal warfare, "there is the matter of your hasty marriage to a woman of significantly inferior social standing, contracted under circumstances that suggest either diminished judgment or undue influence.

The timeline between her arrival at your estate and the ceremony itself was remarkably compressed—barely a week, we understand? "

"The timeline of my courtship is hardly a matter for legal scrutiny," Lucian said with barely controlled violence. "I fail to see how the speed of my decision-making process could be construed as evidence of incompetence rather than simply efficiency."

"Efficiency, Your Grace? Or perhaps desperation on the part of a woman facing destitution, combined with impaired judgment on the part of a man whose injuries may have affected his capacity for rational thought?"

The implication that Evangeline had somehow manipulated him into marriage for her own advantage filled him with such fury that he rose from his chair without conscious volition, his imposing height and obvious physical strength creating an atmosphere of potential violence that made both solicitors retreat slightly in their seats.

"You will moderate your tone when discussing my wife," he said with the sort of deadly quiet that had once preceded cavalry charges.

"The Duchess of Ravenshollow is a woman of impeccable character whose marriage to me represents the culmination of a courtship conducted according to all proper forms and legal requirements. "

"Of course, Your Grace," Mr. Norris said with hasty agreement, though his manner suggested he was filing away Lucian's violent reaction as additional evidence of mental instability.

"We intend no disrespect to Her Grace. We merely observe that the circumstances of your union might appear irregular to those unfamiliar with the particular details of your acquaintance. "

"And who, precisely, are these mysterious observers whose opinions you represent with such apparent authority?"