Page 27 of His Arranged Duchess (Regency Wedding Crashers #5)

Frances shook her head. “He died. He fell from a bridge and drowned. It was said that he died by his own hand, the day my mother married the Baron. My mother lost the love of her life, and Cassian lost his brother. But Mama was already with child, not the Baron’s. That child was, of course, me.”

Lucien inhaled sharply, even though he must have already realized this from his eavesdropping.

“So, you see,” Frances continued doggedly, “I am not legitimate. I am—to use a vulgar term—a bastard. The Baron was kind enough to me and to Mama. I have no idea whether he knew I wasn’t his child or not, and they never produced any other children.

Cassian— Uncle Cassian loves me because he adored his brother.

He and Mama have always been close. When the Baron died, we learned that he was not as wealthy as we believed.

The bulk of his estate went to the next heir.

I was left with virtually no dowry, and Mama had a small widow’s jointure which barely covered our living expenses.

So, Uncle Cassian began to supplement Mama’s jointure with an allowance.

I received an allowance from him, too, and he gave me a substantial dowry.

The world assumed the dowry came from the Baron, and we are in no position to tell them otherwise. ”

The air seemed to grow still after this speech. Frances felt breathless.

Have I ever said all that out loud? We never discuss it. All of this must go unsaid. It must be hidden. It is my shame, even though it all happened before I was born.

“You have lived a lie,” Lucien murmured, half to himself. Frances glanced sharply at him, searching for judgment in his voice.

There was none. He looked… Well, he looked sad .

“I cannot call Cassian uncle in public,” Frances whispered.

“I made a mistake referring to them like that in front of you, but if I did it frequently, people would notice. Enough people would remember the connection between Cassian’s brother and Mama to begin to ask questions.

And, of course, if this comes out, I’ll be irrevocably ruined. ”

She sank back down onto the sofa. Lucien moved across the room, leaning against the mantelpiece and staring down into the empty fireplace.

“For my Season,” Frances continued, almost speaking to herself, “I was so terrified that somebody would make a connection and discover who I was, I hardly dared say a word. I just sat in the corner and prayed to be passed over. And I suppose I got what I wanted. I ought to have told you, I know that. If you wish to annul the wedding, I understand.”

He glanced sharply at her. “Why would I wish that?”

She reddened. “I’m a bastard. Weren’t you listening? Besides, I am not even sure if the wedding would be legal, as I’m not the Baron’s real daughter.”

Lucien crossed the room in two strides and knelt down before her. He grabbed her hands in his, holding them tight.

“In the eyes of the Crown and the ton , you are the Baron’s daughter,” he stated firmly. “And truly, it does not matter one bit.”

Her eyes widened. “Doesn’t matter? How can you say that?”

He gave a wry smile. “I can say that because frankly, Frances, I could not care less whose daughter you are. You might have a dozen prospective fathers for all I care, each of them more low and shameful than the last. You are still a lady. But this is not the point.”

She blinked at him, beginning to feel dizzy.

He isn’t going to throw me off. He… He cares. He must care for me!

“What is the point?” she stammered.

He grinned, leaning closer to her until she could smell the sharp spiciness of his cologne.

“I told you before. You are mine , my dear little duchess. And that is all that matters.”

Frances let out a long, ragged sigh of relief. It was as though she’d been carrying a great weight on her shoulders for far too long, and that weight had quite suddenly been lifted away. She was free.

I’m safe. For now, at least.

Lucien regarded her thoughtfully for a long moment, as if reading her thoughts on her face. Then, he leaned forward impulsively and pressed a warm kiss to the center of her forehead.

Before Frances could react, he had released her hands and stood up abruptly. Crossing to the window, he stood there with his back turned.

“You… You really aren’t going to annul the marriage or disown me?” she stammered.

“Of course not. You are the Duchess of Blackstone, and that is not something which can be undone. You are who you are, and you can be proud of that. You’re quite safe, my dear. But there is another thing which worries me a little, and that is your previous betrothed.”

Frances shivered, her blood running cold. “Lord Easton.”

“Yes. This puts his crude little poem in a worse light.”

“Do… Do you think he might be threatening me?”

Lucien glanced briefly over his shoulder. “I cannot tell, but I do not trust him.”

“What should I do?”

“Do? Why, you should do nothing. I will take care of this.”

He strode back over to where she sat and placed a warm, large hand on her shoulder.

Staring up at him in awe, Frances couldn’t help but remember how those firm, sure hands had felt sliding up the soft insides of her thighs.

She shivered, pressing her legs together to try and make the pulsing of desire go away.

“Really?” she whispered.

He dropped her a wink. “Really. Leave it to me. Now, we should go into the next room. They have been remarkably quiet for a while. I do not suspect your family of eavesdropping, but if they think I am threatening an annulment or making you unhappy, I may well find myself at risk of being hanged from a nearby tree. Besides, it will be pleasant to meet your uncle and aunt under their own names, as part of your family.”

Frances jumped to her feet, beaming. Was it possible to be so happy after being so thoroughly miserable? She wanted to sing and dance, to laugh aloud and recite her favourite poems at the top of her voice.

Instead, she took Lucien’s hand in hers and towed him towards the door.

“Come, then. You can meet my family properly.”

I’m not afraid of Lord Easton after all. He’s a silly man, spreading unpleasant rumors. I won’t listen to him, and nor will anybody else. I’m safe. I’m sure this whole business will simply blow over. What a fuss about nothing!