Page 11 of His Arranged Duchess (Regency Wedding Crashers #5)

“ C ome, come, your Grace! You must dance with me,” Mrs. Black repeated coyly. She actually reached out, taking Lucien’s hand, trying to pull him to his feet.

“Go on, Lucien, dance with the poor woman!” Benjamin laughed, his arms around Miss Tabbs. Or Tupps, or something along those lines. Lucien had not met the women before and had already forgotten their names.

Footsteps echoed along the hallway. Before anybody had time to react, Frances came bursting into the room, red-faced and furious.

The silence was sharp enough to cut oneself. The next few minutes passed in a painful rush. Lucien introduced his guests, and Frances glared at them all in turn.

Benjamin, as usual, took charge. He ordered the ladies around, deftly sending them both to the other end of the ballroom and, therefore, hopefully out of sight and out of mind. The women seemed happy enough to go.

They’d been cheerful enough before, but now that Frances had arrived and been introduced as a duchess and Lucien’s wife, their spirits had deserted them entirely. He imagined that they would make their excuses and prepare to leave sooner rather than later.

Another few minutes, and Benjamin had chairs set out for the three of them, angled towards each other as though they were sitting in a drawing room.

Lucien wished that they were, but it seemed as though he could not suggest otherwise now.

Benjamin had that effect on people, making them feel as though they did not have agency in their own homes.

It had always been very amusing when they were younger, but not so much now.

He felt eyes on him and glanced over to find Frances looking at him, a frown scrunching up her brow. She looked away at once, and he could not help but feel that he had disappointed her, somehow.

No, that is foolish. I was extremely clear this morning that ours was a marriage of convenience. She’s not a fool. She knows what that means.

So why did he feel as though there was a stone sitting in his gut, weighing him down?

Gray came shuffling in, bearing a laden tea tray that was undoubtedly too heavy for him. Without thinking twice, Lucien got to his feet and took it from him, setting it down on a low table. Benjamin watched him, lips pursing.

“So, your Grace,” Benjamin began, leaning forward with a particularly charming smile which had all the women fluttering and falling over themselves in Paris. “I wasn’t able to celebrate your wedding. I was most disappointed, I must say. One always hopes to attend the weddings of one’s friends, eh?”

“So, you are friends, then?” Frances managed, a trifle dubiously. She glanced between Lucien and Benjamin, probably trying to read their expressions.

She was wasting her time. Lucien had played enough card games to know that he could keep a smooth and composed face if he chose to hide his feelings. After all, hadn’t he and Benjamin played countless card games with the aim of earning enough to pay for their lodgings? And hadn’t it worked ?

Benjamin was just as impenetrable. That cheery smile of his never gave one any indication of his real feelings. Perhaps that was why they’d gotten on so well.

“Yes, we shared lodgings for years when Lucien was abroad,” Benjamin responded smoothly. “But we have been friends since we were small, eh? We knew each other at Eton and beyond. We used to be inseparable, did we not?”

Frances leaned back in her seat a little. There was still wariness in her eyes.

Does she understand how easy she is to read? Really, it’s adorable.

No, this is not the time. Concentrate.

Benjamin certainly had some sort of plan here, and Lucien was determined to keep ahead of him.

As if they were sharing a joke, Benjamin threw an amused glance at Lucien.

“The wedding took place rather quickly, didn’t it?” Benjamin continued, carefully pouring out three cups of tea. “I’m hearing some rather terrible rumors. But fear not, Your Grace, I shall pay them no heed.”

Frances stiffened again. She took a teacup when Benjamin handed it to her, but made no move to drink from it.

“That’s enough, Benjamin,” Lucien spoke up sharply. “I won’t have you teasing my new wife. And make no mention of any ridiculous rumors, if you please.”

Benjamin lifted his eyebrows in a challenging manner and said nothing.

“Our wedding was a rather strange affair, I must admit,” Frances responded, discomfort evident in every word.

No, no, you silly, beautiful fool! Never let anybody know when you are uncomfortable or afraid! It’s a recipe for disaster.

Frances, it seemed, had never been warned to hide her feelings at all costs. As her discomfort increased, Benjamin seemed to grow more amused. He threw Lucien another half-smile and leaned forward.

“Heavens, Your Grace, you’ve gone quite red! Have I said something to offend you?”

“No, of course not.”

“If you have,” Lucien interjected, “you’ll be made to apologize, Benjamin. I quite mean it.”

His friend threw him an impish grin. “Ah, but her Grace assures me that she is not offended, so all is well. Now, I have only been in England for a short while. I’d quite given up on Lucien here ever returning to our lodgings, so I was determined to come here instead.

I do hope you aren’t going to be one of those wives who doesn’t let her husband stir from her side, ha-ha!

I’m not sure that our Lucien would stand for such a thing.

Men must be men, you know, and there’s no getting around it. ”

His smile widened again, and Frances seemed to stiffen a little further.

“Benjamin,” Lucien said softly, a warning tone evident in his voice. Benjamin did not push the issue, perhaps sensing that he had already gone too far.

There was a moment of cold silence, then she abruptly leaned forward, setting down her teacup on the table. The cup rattled in the saucer, spilling tea over the side. Her hand was shaking, it seemed. Benjamin had unsettled her.

“Excuse me,” Frances muttered. “I had better leave you to your party. Good day to you all.”

She rose without another word, almost scurrying out of the room. Lucien rose to his feet, too, without even realizing it. Did he mean to follow her? Did she want him to?

He was distracted by a light chuckle at his side and glanced down to find Benjamin shaking his head and smiling. He reached into his coat to take out a hip flask and took a sip.

“I fear that you have offended your bride, Lucien,” Benjamin remarked. “She’s a prickly little thing, ain’t she?”

Lucien didn’t bother to respond, turning on his heel and striding out of the room after Frances.

He caught her mere feet from her bedroom door. She must have heard him coming, but did not slow down or turn around. Lucien was obliged to leap forward and grab her wrist.

She stopped dead at that, spinning around to face him.

For a moment, the two of them stood like that, with her wrist in his hand.

He could feel her pulse thrumming beneath the soft skin at the inside of her wrist, warm against his fingertips.

Heat coursed through Lucien’s chest, pooling deep in his gut.

She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving and her eyes wild.

“Release me, sir,” she said at last, her voice clipped.

He held her gaze. “No, Frances. I want to talk to you. Can’t we be civil?”

Her lower lip trembled. It was damp, as though she’d been biting it, and Lucien found himself longing to run the pad of his thumb across that soft warmth. How would she react? Would her breath hitch, her eyes widen? Would he watch a flush of arousal creep across her cheeks and descend her neck?

In a flash, Frances yanked her wrist out of his grip.

“Well, I do not want to talk to you ,” she responded tartly. She turned on her heel and dived into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Lucien stood there for a moment, somewhat breathless from the sudden, powerful desire which had swept through him.

Frances’s bedroom door remained resolutely closed, but Lucien was determined not to leave without speaking to her. Sighing, he knocked twice.

“Who is it?” came the suspicious reply.

“Who do you think, my dear? It is your devoted husband, Duchess,” Lucien responded, trying to keep things light and amusing.

She snorted loud enough for him to clearly hear it through the door. At last, the door creaked open, and Frances peered distrustfully out.

“Go away.”

“Go away? That is not a very ladylike thing to say.”

She sighed heavily. “I think you ought to go downstairs. It’s not polite to leave one’s guests unattended.”

“Well, the ladies have left.”

“How disappointing for you.”

He paused for a moment, frowning. Was that jealousy he saw in her eyes? Or was it simply disgust? Jealous or not, any woman might be angry at her new husband for entertaining strange women the day after their wedding . It wasn’t a matter of feelings; it was a matter of respect, plain and simple.

“I didn’t invite those women,” Lucien confessed at last, leaning against the doorframe.

He noticed that he was resolutely not invited in, but at least the door was open between them now.

“Benjamin did. It’s the sort of thing he would do when he took lodgings together—invite ladies and gentlemen over for me to meet. There’s no malice in it.”

“I’m sure you believe that.” Frances shot back.

Something like irritation curled in the back of Lucien’s mind.

It’s not my concern what she thinks of me. Why should I care? I simply do not care. Pretty women are common. Why, I can think of half a dozen women prettier than Frances at this moment.

He paused, thinking, but struggled to summon a single woman to mind. There was something infuriating about this. Sighing, he knocked again.

“I did not mean for you to be so offended, Frances. Let me in, and we’ll talk about it.”

“No, thank you. I am reading.”

He pressed his lips together, tight. “Very well. Suit yourself. Benjamin will be joining us for supper. I haven’t asked him, but the lure of free food is generally too strong for him to resist. Will you be joining us?”

There was a beat of silence. Then, at last, she replied.

“No, thank you. I’ll take a tray in my room. If I’m allowed, of course.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re the Duchess of Blackstone. You can eat your supper on the roof if you should choose. Well, suit yourself.”

“I will, thank you.” She closed the door at once with a resounding bang .

Infuriating woman.

Turning on his heel, Lucien stamped down the hallway. He was inexplicably angry, red-faced and flustered in a way that was not usual. What was it about the wretched woman that bothered him so intensely?

Why should he care if she shut herself up in her room all night? Why should he care if she was offended over something foolish? If her feelings were hurt, well, that was her own matter, was it not?

Behind him, there was a faint squeak which sounded suspiciously like a door opening, just an inch. Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder.

Frances’s bedroom door was resolutely closed. He had probably imagined it.

Even so, Lucien wavered for a moment, eyes fixed on the door.

I want it to open. I want to see her again. How strange.

The door stayed closed, and at last Lucien had to move away down the hallway, leaving Frances behind.

It didn’t take him long to find Benjamin, who was now looking over the whiskey collection in his study.

Lucien pressed his lips together.

“Benjamin, you were impolite,” he said, without warning. “You should not have come here without warning.”

Benjamin blinked, a little taken aback. He turned around, lifting his eyebrows. “Well, why not? Aren’t we friends?”

“I mean, not with those two women,” Lucien clarified. “And why were you so rude? Don’t you dare deny it. You were .”

“Well, how was I meant to react?” Benjamin responded hotly, rising to his feet. “She came charging in here, glaring balefully around as if she were Medusa trying to turn us all into s-s-stone!”

Lucien deliberately did not acknowledge the stutter. It always made Benjamin worse when people drew attention to it.

“What sort of bride would be pleased to come back to find two pretty, flirtatious women fluttering about her new husband in her absence?”

“Oh, you are ridiculous. It’s only a bit of fun. A joke!”

“A joke? Well, Frances was not laughing.”

At that moment, the pianoforte playing ceased. Lucien fell silent as Mrs. Black came scurrying across the ballroom, with Miss Tubbs or whatever her name was in tow.

“I think we had better leave,” Mrs. Black murmured, picking up her shawl from where it was draped across the back of her seat. “The duchess does not seem happy that we are here.”

There was an unspoken accusation there, indicating that Benjamin had not warned them that there was going to be a duchess.

Benjamin threw himself back into his seat, folding his arms tight across his chest like a petulant child.

“Oh, very w-w-well!” he snarled. “You c-can go if you want. I can’t s-stop you.”

Mrs. Black gave him a strange look. Apparently, Benjamin’s stutter had not presented itself when she had first met him.

The two women mumbled insincere pleasantries and scurried out as fast as their slippered feet could carry them. That left Lucien and Benjamin alone in the ballroom, silence hanging heavy between them.

“I suppose you want me to go too,” Benjamin murmured, a little more subdued.

Lucien bit his lip. “Of course not, Benjamin. Look, I always intended to introduce you to my wife; I only wanted to do it properly . And I was terribly remiss in not writing more often, it’s just that there has been so much to do here.

But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.

I only want you to be friends with Frances, that’s all. ”

“I’ll be back soon. Hopefully, Frances will come with me, and you can introduce yourself again. Try and behave, can’t you?”

“No promises,” Benjamin responded, sounding more cheerful this time.

Lucien left him to it, setting off at a brisk trot after Frances.