Page 28 of Her Lion of a Duke (Dukes & Beasts #3)

Cecilia did not want to leave, but she saw no other way forward.

She packed some clothes immediately after their argument and then waited for the sky to darken until she was certain that she would not be seen.

She did not want to cause any more trouble that night, though she was also aware that she was not in her right mind. All she could think of was leaving, and the easiest way to do that was to wait for night to fall.

“It’s awfully late, Your Grace,” the footman said, looking at her uncertainly. “Are you quite certain that you wish to leave?”

“Indeed. I must visit my cousin, and it is of the utmost importance that I arrive sooner rather than later.”

“But the Duke—”

“The Duke is my husband. Should he take issue with us leaving now, I will make sure that no trouble comes your way.”

The footman studied her for a moment, and she hoped that she had been convincing enough. For all he knew, Clara was in need of assistance, and that had to be enough.

The footman sighed in defeat, looking from her to the carriage and then back to her. “Come on, then,” he relented. “But we will not be away long, will we?”

“Of course not,” she lied, climbing into the carriage.

She did not know how long she would be staying with her aunt, but she knew that she would not be returning to Pridefield Manor.

She could not do it, not if it was going to make her miserable.

She would be under her husband’s watch constantly, and he would always assume that she was going to hurt him again. She could not do that to herself.

They arrived as the sun rose in the sky.

Suddenly, Cecilia did not know how to speak to her family. She could not reveal too much, as she had to keep her work secret, but she had to give them a reason. As far as they knew, her marriage was a happy one, and she was pleased with her life.

That had, after all, been the case until the night before.

Clara could hardly believe her eyes when she saw her in the drawing room, sitting on the settee.

“Cecilia!” she exclaimed. “What are you—why are you—”

“I did not know where else to go,” Cecilia sighed. “Is Aunt Margaret awake?”

“No. She has been sleeping in of late, as I have so many suitors that she must take every minute she can.”

Cecilia smiled, pleased that her cousin was faring well. It also gave her something to talk about that was not her marriage, at least while her aunt joined them.

“Have you taken an interest in any of them?”

“Not yet. There is one man—an earl—but my mother thinks that I can find better.”

“Is she hoping for something illustrious?”

“Perhaps not as incredible as yours, but she has high hopes for me. I can only hope that I don’t disappoint her.”

“You won’t,” Cecilia assured, taking her hand and squeezing it. “But, more than anything, it is crucial that you find someone you can spend the rest of your life with. It does not matter whether he has money or hoards it, nor does his status matter if you are lonely at home. Marry for love, Clara.”

“We cannot all do what you did.” Clara laughed sadly. “Some of us must simply take the best option, and it seems I am no exception to that.”

“You will find the man you’re looking for. If you follow what your mother tells you, then the choice won’t be yours. Many young ladies are happy to do that. Are you?”

Clara nodded hesitantly, and Cecilia knew exactly why.

Clara was not one to disobey her mother. She hardly disobeyed anyone. If she was told to do something, it was done before the order was given.

Cecilia liked that about her, but she was not blind to the threat it posed. If her cousin did not speak for herself, she could end up miserable.

Then again, Cecilia had done exactly what she wanted, and she was still not happy. Perhaps she might have had someone else to blame for that, had she done what was expected of her.

“Ah, Cecilia!” Aunt Margaret greeted them brightly when she joined them. “We were not expecting you. It is no trouble, of course. If anything, you should be here while the gentlemen visit this morning.”

“I am more than happy to be here.” Cecilia smiled. “But before that, I must speak with both of you. I know that I have arrived without prior notice, and I need to explain myself. You see… I may stay with you for a while.”

She instantly saw the concern flash across her aunt’s face.

Aunt Margaret sat down, looking at her in a motherly way that Cecilia had never seen before.

“We do not have very long,” she said kindly, “but I know how quickly you can tell a story when needed.”

Cecilia sighed, knowing that she could not tell the truth.

“The Duke and I are separating,” she announced shortly. “We cannot reconcile our differences, so it is for the best that I live elsewhere.”

Both ladies gaped at her in disbelief. She did not blame them; she and Leonard had never had a disagreement for years, and suddenly everything had changed.

“I do not understand,” Clara whispered. “The two of you were so happy together. I saw it!”

“I do not know what you saw, but it was not the truth. He and I… we—”

Cecilia felt her throat tighten.

She had chosen to leave, but that did not mean she wanted any of it. She wanted things to go back to the way they were, but that was not possible. She had made her choice—she ran away.

If her aunt did not want to house her, she would go to her parents. Their home was always open to her, but she did not want to see the pity in their eyes when they realized that she had failed them once again.

“We know that this is for the best,” she continued, sitting straighter. “It is not ideal, but it is for the best.”

Aunt Margaret studied her for a moment. Cecilia felt her skin prickle, slightly intimidated, before her aunt gave a sad smile.

“I know that you are hiding something,” she sighed. “You are a married lady, so you may do as you please. But should you wish to tell me everything, I will gladly lend a listening ear.”

Cecilia thanked her, and then they went to the breakfast room. It was strange because she was ravenous, but when she looked at all the food, none of it tempted her.

In the end, Clara gave her an apple and buttered toast, and Cecilia picked at them until her hunger kicked in and she ate quickly.

The first caller soon arrived, a handsome gentleman named Lord Thompson. He took a seat beside Clara, and the two of them had a conversation while Cecilia was dragged to the opposite side of the room by her aunt.

“What do you think of him?” Aunt Margaret asked.

“Of Lord Thompson?” Cecilia murmured, so as not to be overheard. “He is a perfectly fine gentleman. I have never had any qualms with him.”

“He is not one of those who tried to speak to you, then?”

Cecilia thought back on her time among the ton, and she could not recall a single instance where Lord Thompson had shown any interest in her. He was a young man, the sort to try his luck, but he had only ever been cordial with her. Which, given her reputation, was for the best.

She shook her head, and her aunt smiled.

“Good. I would not like Clara to accept the suit of a man who was willing to speak with just anyone. I do worry about his age, though. Can a man be a good husband at only twenty?”

“As good a husband as a lady can be a good wife at such an age.”

“I suppose, but do you not think that Clara deserves a man who is more… mature? She has always been less girlish than her peers, and I would hate for her husband not to be the same way.”

“That might not be too terrible of an idea. Who did you have in mind?”

“Nobody, not as yet, but it is a huge concern for me. I know it is easy for you to think of love and nothing else, but as her mother, I must consider everything. She must be taken care of, first and foremost, and an earl is not quite what I had in mind.”

“An earl is perfectly acceptable,” Cecilia reasoned, lowering her voice further. “I know that he is no duke, but from what I recall, the Thompsons are a very wealthy family, and they are well-connected. If this is what Clara wants, then I would say that he is an excellent choice.”

Aunt Margaret nodded, and soon Lord Thompson left the room, to be replaced by another gentleman, and then another.

Cecilia knew that her cousin had not been exaggerating, but it was a surprise all the same to see so many men court her.

Her marriage to Leonard had undoubtedly improved Clara’s prospects, and she was pleased with that. At least some good had come of it.

When the last suitor left, Clara looked quite breathless. Cecilia and her aunt smiled at her with pride and joined her on the settee.

“Is it like this every morning?” Cecilia asked.

“Each and every,” Clara replied softly. “What did you both think of them?”

“It does not matter what we think,” Cecilia said. “I trust that you will make the right choice, and I will be thrilled regardless.”

“I am of a different opinion, of course.” Aunt Margaret chuckled. “Thus far, I have not seen anyone worthy of you, Clara. I am willing to be convinced otherwise, but you know how difficult that will be.”

“Pardon me, My Lady,” the butler said, reentering the room. “There is another gentleman here to see Lady Clara.”

“Oh! Very well, send him in.”

All three ladies rose to their feet, prepared to curtsy. But when the gentleman in question entered, Cecilia froze. Aunt Margaret nudged her, but she could not bring herself to stoop down before him.

She would never have expected Lord Renshaw to take an interest in her cousin.

She knew that the visit would not last very long.

“Good morning, ladies,” he greeted, looking past her.

“Good morning, Lord Renshaw,” Aunt Margaret returned. “My, what a surprise to see you!”

“It has been too long.”

Cecilia’s stomach lurched. Lord Renshaw was the same age as her aunt, and yet here he was, seeking to woo Clara. She thought back to their conversation, and it made her feel unwell.

He was searching for a young, blushing bride. Unsuspecting, moldable. He was searching for Clara.

“Why are you here, Lord Renshaw?” Cecilia asked bluntly, before turning to the ladies. “This is my husband’s cousin.”

She was hoping that her aunt would hear the warning in her voice. Alas, her eyes lit up. The Pridefields were incredibly wealthy, and that had to extend to the Renshaws.

“I heard that there was a jewel to be found in London.” Lord Renshaw smirked. “One that would convince me to marry. I had to see it for myself.”

Clara’s distaste showed plainly. She did not want to speak to a man who could have been her father, nor did she feel any particular attraction toward him.

Cecilia knew what her cousin was searching for: kind eyes and a gentle nature. Lord Renshaw did not possess either.

“Do take a seat,” Aunt Margaret urged. “My niece and I shall be over there.”

Cecilia shot Clara an apologetic look and then followed her aunt away.

“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Clara could not possibly marry him.”

“It is not right to turn him away. Besides, it is as you said. He is related to a duke, and that can only be a good thing.”

“But he is—”

Cecilia was going to say old, ancient even, but then she thought better of it, seeing as her aunt was of the same age.

“He is not the right sort,” she said instead.

“You do not know that. I have known Lord Renshaw for years, and he comes from a respectable family. He runs several successful businesses, and he has high standards for both himself and those around him. If he deems Clara worthy, I can hardly refuse his offer.”

“But Clara could.”

“Yes, well, Clara would do well to remember her situation. She is well-liked for now, but that could easily change.”

Cecilia gaped at her aunt. She could not believe that her aunt was considering something so awful for her daughter, but she knew that not all families were like her own.

Aunt Margaret had always wanted more for Clara, and she had made it clear that the final decision would be hers to make.

She had to be both a mother and father to Clara, and that came with a terrible amount of responsibility, but Cecilia could not bear watching her dear cousin be chained to a man who would ruin her.

“Let us look at you, then,” Lord Renshaw said silkily, pulling Clara to her feet and circling her. “Your posture is very good, and you are pretty enough. Do you play any instruments?”

“The pianoforte and the harp, My Lord.”

“And your languages?”

“Four, My Lord.”

“He is treating her like cattle,” Cecilia whispered.

“And that will be a good thing for her. She will be able to tell him what he wants to hear.”

“And how many children do you want?” he asked.

“As many as my husband wishes.”

“Good. Very good. Of all the ladies I have met, you are the least objectionable.”

He crossed to where Cecilia and her aunt were sitting, leaving Clara behind.

“I shall write to you soon, Lady Punton,” he declared with a bow. “But you should know that I am very interested.” Then he turned to Cecilia. “I will see you soon, Your Grace. Though I must say that I am surprised to see you in London.”

“I shall be here for a while,” she said firmly, slightly baring her teeth. “I am helping my cousin.”

“I do not doubt that,” he drawled, before leaving the room.