Page 61 of Road Trip With a Rogue

Finch gave an astonished cough. “Your duchess? And why would you say a thing like that?”

“To salvage her reputation. It’s my fault she chased Perry all the way to Gretna. I could have sent her back to London any time these past three days. But I didn’t. Which means it’s my fault some silly bitch of a gossip saw her at the inn and assumed she’d eloped.”

“Withyou?” Finch chuckled, then shook his head. “Dear God!”

Lucien scowled at him. “What?”

“It’s unlike you, that’s all. Since when have you cared about a woman’s reputation?”

“Daisy’s not some bored society wife or professional courtesan. She’s the daughter of a duke. My friends’ sister. I’ll not have her ruined and cast out of society on my account.”

“But offering tomarrythe girl? Surely there’s another option?”

“None that wouldn’t hurt her, or ruin her life.”

“From what I’ve seen, she’d think marryingyouwould ruin her life.”

Lucien grimaced. “That’s what she said.”

Finch sent him a thoughtful look. “It might be the best thing for you, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never had an ounce of interest in marrying any o’ those society chits. But I’ve seen the way you look at her. How you talk to her. It’s different.”

“How?”

“I’ve watched you with scores of women over the years. And you treat ’em all the same. You’re cool and suave, and they fall right into your lap. You converse, butneither of you really listen, because it’s all just shallow, frivolous things liketongossip.”

“What’s your point?”

“You talk with her, really talk.Andyou listen. You discuss important things, like the war, and your scar, and losing friends. You’re polite with every woman you meet, except her, because she’s the only one who makes you feel things. She makes you angry. She makes you hard. She makes you jealous.”

Lucien’s heart was pounding at being so unexpectedly scrutinized by one of his oldest friends. Finch had never said anything so personal in all their years together.

“Been eavesdropping from up there on the box, have we?” he retorted, stung into defensiveness by the accuracy of the words.

“Just giving you my observations,” Finch said serenely.

“Since when did you become her greatest admirer?”

“Since she threatened to stab you on the Hampstead road.” Finch grinned. “I’ve had the same impulse myself, on occasion. The girl’s got pluck.”

“She’s a bloody menace.”

“She’d have made a good soldier. She’s loyal. Driven. Gets the job done. Never complains.”

Lucien rolled his eyes. “She does nothingbutcomplain. At least to me.”

Finch sent him a smug look. “Exactly. How many women have you met who agree with every word you say,Your Grace? Who don’t have a single opinion of their own? A thousand. And they bore you to tears. That girl argues with you just for the fun of it. Out of principle. Even when she secretly agrees with you.”

Lucien frowned. Finch was right. Daisy would argue the moon was made of cheese if he said it was butter, andshe’d come up with some amusing almost-believable reasoning for her position too.

God, he’d do anything to hear her complain again. Or argue with him.

Anxiety tightened his chest as an awful sense of familiarity closed over him. He’d galloped across country like this a decade ago, a youthful knight filled with righteous fury, riding to the rescue of a different woman.

He’d failed. Elaine had died.