Page 43 of His Arranged Duchess (Regency Wedding Crashers #5)

The man wheezed, falling onto all fours and scrabbling as far away from the banister as he could get.

“You’re mad,” he gasped, putting his back up against a wall and glowering fiercely at Lucien.

Lucien strolled over to him, biting back a smile at the terror on Lord Easton’s face. He squatted down in front of him, tilting his head.

“Listen to me very carefully, sir,” he murmured, his voice soft and light.

“You’ll do as I say and leave London tonight.

If you don’t, I will come and find you. Frances’s name will never pass your lips again.

You’ll never come near her. You’ll never trouble any of us ever again.

You won’t talk to the papers again, naturally.

Never come back to London, and never try to rejoin the ton .

There’s no place for you here. Carry on your life as best it pleases you, but for your sake, I suggest you avoid ever crossing paths with me ever again.

Like I said, my dear viscount, you were concerned about the wrong reputation. ”

There was another silence, while Lord Easton held Lucien’s stare.

Let him look, Lucien thought, his gaze never wavering. He’ll see the truth in my eyes.

Gulping audibly, Lord Easton glanced away, his face reddening.

“Very well,” he whispered, his voice catching in his throat. “I don’t much want to see you again, either.”

“How nicely this has worked out for us all, then,” Lucien said pleasantly, rising to his feet. “Good day to you.”

He strode across the landing, picking his way down the chipped stairs. Part of him expected Lord Easton to try a last-ditch attempt to regain his honour, perhaps pulling out a knife or aiming a gun at Lucien’s back.

For all his flaws, however, it seemed that Lord Easton did know when he was beaten. He stayed where he was, mulishly silent.

The man could not resist a go at the last word, raising his voice as Lucien reached the door.

“I didn’t want to marry her, anyway!” he called, his voice catching.

Lucien turned, beaming up at him. “Of course you didn’t. A man like you could never manage a woman like Frances. I think it’s worked out remarkably well for everyone that I am married to her and you are not. Good day, Lord Easton. I look forward to never seeing you again for the rest of my days.”

There was no further response to that, and Lucien stepped out of the door and headed towards his carriage, allowing himself a small smile.

There was a single carriage in front of the Abbey when Lucien arrived home. He didn’t recognize it.

The house was silent when he stepped inside.

“Frances?” he called hopefully. “Is anybody about?”

“In here,” called a female voice that was certainly not Frances’s. “In the drawing room.”

He peered inside and found Miss Katherine Luton on the sofa, with her feet propped up on a footstool. She was reading a book and barely spared him a glance.

“You’re home,” she remarked idly, as if she had every right in the world to sit comfortably in his drawing room as if it were her own. “Nobody knew when you’d be back. I take it you’ve heard of the scandal?”

“Yes, and I’ve just come back from dealing with the perpetrator. It was Lord Easton spreading the rumors, but he’s leaving London and I doubt he will return.”

“That’s good,” Katherine said, her eyes still focused on her book, “but it won’t undo the damage that has been done.”

“Where is Frances?”

“In her room, the same place she has been all day,” Katherine said with a sigh, and finally closed her book with a snap.

“I arrived in the morning, and she was in quite a state when she heard about what the papers were saying. She took to her room shortly after, and she hasn’t been out since.

She hasn’t eaten either, despite Mr. and Mrs. Gray’s best efforts.

Her mother has visited three or four times, but Frances won’t see her.

She won’t see anybody. The Duchess of Clapton came, and the Duke, but she wouldn’t see them or even respond to them. We’re at our wit’s end, frankly.”

Lucien swallowed hard. “I imagine she wouldn't open the door for me.”

Katherine threw him a pitying look. “No, I should think not. I’m sorry, Your Grace. I have run out of things to try to cheer her up, so I thought I would wait here. Oh, at one point, she slipped this note out under the door. It has your name on it.”

She handed him a slip of paper with Lucien scrawled on the front. Wordlessly, Lucien took it and opened it.

Lucien, I am sorry for the scandal. This was never meant to happen. You did not deserve this. Although I am ruined, at least I can now be free. I want you to be free, too, and happy.

Yours, Frances.

A lump formed in his throat. Lucien stared down at the note until the words blurred. Swallowing hard, he folded it carefully and slipped it into his pocket.

“I have an idea,” he said firmly. “Although it will require a good deal of work, and I imagine will take up most of the night and part of the morning.”

Katherine, who had gone back to her book, set it aside, eyeing him inquisitively.

“How fascinating. Well, consider me intrigued, Your Grace. What would you like me to do to help?”