Page 35 of His Arranged Duchess (Regency Wedding Crashers #5)

“This… This is a good thing, I suppose,” Frances managed at last, her voice wobbling. “It means that Lucien is not a murderer. And no matter how much he deserved it, killing one’s father is a weighty sin indeed.”

Benjamin’s eyes lingered on her. “You are a remarkable woman, Duchess. Remarkable indeed. Anyone else would assume that a man capable of keeping such a secret from his wife—endangering her reputation as well as his own—would be capable of really anything. Of course, I’ve known the truth all along, but I think that if I had just learned it here and now, I would never be able to trust Lucien ever again. ”

The curtained walls seemed to be shifting and moving around Frances. She felt ever so slightly ill, with nausea roiling in her gut.

I’m just a plaything to him. Of course, he would never trust me with anything important. Here I was, thinking that I meant something to him…

“I think I would like some air,” Frances stuttered, rising unsteadily to her feet. Benjamin watched her with glittering eyes.

“You don’t look well, Your Grace. Should I call someone?”

At that precise moment, the curtain swept back, revealing Lucien with a basket of oranges over his arm.

“Here are our treats,” he announced. His smile faded when his gaze fell on Frances, white-faced, and Benjamin sitting demurely in his seat. “What is it?”

“Excuse me,” Frances muttered, and pushed past her husband.

She half-expected to be followed, and she was not disappointed. After the vibrant glow of the theatre just beyond the opera-box, the hallways were dark and dingy. She heard Lucien’s padded footsteps coming after her, hurrying to catch up.

“Frances, whatever is the matter?”

She rounded on him. “Is it true? Did you lie about killing your father? Was your brother James really the one who did it?”

Lucien blinked, eyes wide, and missed several beats.

“You have to understand,” he said at last, “James was going to be the next duke. I was simply the spare son. James’ reputation was paramount.

And with the added motive of inheriting the dukedom…

” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I was afraid that I would see my brother hanged. At the time, I was prepared to hang for the murder myself. I never admitted to anything, but I never… never denied it, either. My father was hated enough for people to turn a blind eye.”

Frances passed a hand over her face. “You never thought to tell me.”

“Frances, I… I don’t understand why you are so upset. This is good news, surely? I’m not a murderer!”

“It is the principle of the matter.”

“What principle?” he shot back.

Frances did not laugh. She removed her hand, looking him straight in the eyes.

“The fact of the matter is, you did not consider me important enough to be told the truth. You didn’t—don’t—care whether I consider you a murderer or not. I simply don’t matter.”

He recoiled. “That’s not true.”

“No? I told you the greatest secret I have, Lucien, and you saw fit to let me continue believing the same lie as the rest of the world. If you had any feelings… If you cared about me and my opinion at all, you would have told me the truth. I’m a fool, aren’t I?

” She gave a short, mirthless laugh, holding out her arms. “You told me quite plainly that all this was a means to an end. You told me that you were not wooing me, and yet here I was, believing that I was being wooed. I’m a stupid girl, and nothing more. ”

“Frances…” he tried to lay a hand on her arm, but she whisked it away.

“An heir,” she said steadfastly, looking up at him. “That’s what you wanted. That’s what you needed. So, we should get it over with, don’t you think?”

Before he could respond, Frances lunged upwards, fitting her lips to his.

It was like kissing a statue. He didn’t move, even to duck down to her level, so Frances clamped her hands on either side of his face. She half-expected the familiar rush of desire to appear, but it never did.

Hollow. That’s how it feels. Hollow.

Gently, he wrapped his fingers around her wrists, sliding her hands away.

“Not like this, Frances,” he murmured, his voice soft and his gaze sympathetic.

No, not sympathy. It was pity , and Frances’s blood boiled at the sight.

“I don’t know how you dare,” she whispered, yanking her arms free. “You lied to me, Lucien.”

“I did not lie. You simply never asked the right questions.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!”

“Frances, please.”

“I am offering you me, plain and simple, for tonight only,” Frances snapped, refusing to meet his eyes clearly. “Let us get it over with.”

He shook his head. “No. Not like this, Duchess. I want you… I want you to want me. I want you to want me the way you write about me in your stories.”

She tilted up her chin, meeting his gaze squarely at last.

“Then my offer is rescinded. I can’t do this anymore, Lucien. I’m so very tired. I have had quite enough, and I think this whole charade has gone on entirely too long. Don’t you?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Frances suspected that he simply did not have anything to say.

She sighed, a long and deep sigh that seemed to dredge up from the pit of her stomach.

“Goodbye, Lucien. I am going home. I shall take the carriage, but don’t worry, I will send it back for you.”

“Frances, please.”

“Go back to the box,” she insisted. “I imagine that Benjamin is still there. You should spend time with him. You have neglected your friend since we were married.”

Not waiting for a reply, Frances turned on her heel and strode down the hallway.

This time, she was not followed.