Page 33 of Scoundrel Take Me Away (Dukes in Disguise #3)

“I-I—” she stammered miserably, seeming at a complete loss, and Gabriel found he didn’t like to see her distressed.

Giving her a smile, he tilted his chin up and spoke as if it were only the two of them in the room. “Ah, but that’s just it. Who are you?”

She gazed down at him, color flooding her cheeks until they were almost the same dark pink as the lip she was currently digging her straight white teeth into. She searched his eyes for a long moment, and Gabriel would almost swear he saw the moment she reached some sort of decision.

Even without remembering one single thing about her, somehow Gabriel knew to brace himself for whatever was about to come out of her pretty mouth.

“I’m Lady Lucy Lively,” she said, tilting her chin up in an adorable way that made her look as though she was preparing to swan dive off a cliff. “And we are engaged to be married.”

* * *

What had she done? What was she doing ?

She heard herself say the words as if from the depths of a cave, echoing and strange. But the moment they were out there, she knew it was the only thing to do.

This bastard had mocked her, rejected her, lied to her, manipulated her, and bedded her. But that didn’t mean she wanted to see him throttled by her brother for trifling with Lucy’s virtue.

She’d seen the way Nathaniel had looked between them, narrow-eyed and assessing. Her brother clearly knew, or at least suspected, that Thornecliff had spent the night in Lucy’s bedchamber.

Lucy didn’t give a toss about her reputation, but she knew that her brother very much did. And she also knew that her reputation affected more than just herself.

A scandal like the Duke of Thornecliff getting injured and losing his memories after spending the night with an unmarried lady under her brother’s nose… That would reverberate through the Ton like an earthquake.

It would bury Nathaniel and Bess… Even Kitty would be dragged down, by association. Kitty’s life would be forever altered, through no fault of her own, before it even truly began.

Lucy couldn’t allow that to happen. A false betrothal, however temporary, would do a lot to stem the tide of gossip and outrage. If it meant Lucy had to spend all her time being a comforting presence at the bedside of a man she despised, so be it.

As for what would happen when his memory returned and he realized she’d lied about their engagement, well, Lucy would cross that bridge when she came to it. He would be angry, of course, but at this moment she didn’t care.

There was a not-so-tiny part of her that felt he deserved nothing less than monumental deception on a life-ruining scale for everything he’d done.

So, into the face of her brother’s stunned, gaping disbelief and Bess’s wide-eyed interest, Lucy said, “This isn’t how I would have wished to tell you both. It is very new, but Thornecliff and I are engaged.”

She was proud of the way she was carrying it all off, until she happened to glance down at her supposed husband-to-be to find his coal-black eyes fastened upon her as though he could peer right through her.

Putting her shoulders back, she gave him a smile that only wobbled a bit, before turning to Nathaniel.

“Of course, this means there can be no thought of Thornecliff recuperating at Dr. Perry’s surgery.

He must stay here, with us, where I can make sure he is receiving every possible attention and all the best care. ”

Dr. Perry sputtered a bit, offended at the implication that he and Mrs. Perry might provide something less than the best possible care, but Lucy held firm.

She needed Thornecliff close, to keep an eye on his recovery so that she had some hope of salvaging the situation whenever his memories returned.

Thankfully, Bess chimed in to agree that Thornecliff should certainly remain at home with them at Ashbourn House, and it was sorted.

While Bess rang for a footman to see Dr. Perry out, promising to send for him if there were any interesting developments in Thornecliff’s condition, Nathaniel spoke to a maid about setting up one of the guest bedchambers as a sickroom.

Lucy and Thornecliff were left alone, or near enough to it, for the first time since he’d awakened.

“You and I are engaged to be married,” he said, tone neutral.

Lucy couldn’t help stiffening, ready to be offended. Was he implying he would never have asked someone like her to marry him? “Yes. It’s rather recent, which is why my brother and sister-in-law were so surprised,” she explained stiltedly.

“I would have thought my betrothed would call me by my given name, not my title,” he mused. “Or even the nickname the duchess used. Thorne, was it?”

He was still holding her wrist, and as he spoke he absently turned her palm up and traced the lines on it with the tip of his forefinger. Lucy shivered, unwillingly aroused.

It was unfair that he did this to her so easily, she thought angrily. Her reply was perhaps unnecessarily bitter. “Only your friends call you Thorne. I never have.”

His finger paused. He looked up at her, and there was something in his face she’d never seen there before. A certain openness that startled her. “Were we not friends? Even at the start?”

Throat tight, Lucy admitted, “We began as enemies more than friends.”

“Another reason for your relatives’ startled reaction to our impending nuptials. But clearly we are no longer enemies,” he suggested, watching her carefully. Then he smiled with enough devilish charm and charisma to choke her. “I won you over.”

She swallowed another surge of anger. It simply wasn’t fair that he could still affect her. “Something like that.”

“So perhaps it might be time for you to call me Gabriel. And what do I call you?”

“Lucy,” she said, though in her mind she heard the Rogue’s rough, caressing voice calling her Lively .

This was going to drive her mad. How was she meant to reconcile the different parts he had played with her, going back years …

God. This meant that the night he rescued her from the carriage crash after she ran away from London, he had known exactly who she was.

When he’d spoken to her so gently and taken her up on his big black stallion, he had known she was the same girl he’d insulted and antagonized on the Thames riverbank at the head of his pack of cronies.

But what did that mean ? Which was the real man?

And why did she still care?

“Lucy,” repeated the man in front of her now, going sloe-eyed and heavy-lidded.

Apparently, seduction was a reflex for him, no memory required.

She would have rolled her own eyes had it not been quite so effective. Instead, she felt her cheeks flame. Her tongue twisted around her reply. “Yes. That’s me.”

“How did we meet?”

“You and your sister and another lady spent a night at my family’s coaching inn,” Lucy said, deciding to stick as close to the truth as she could. She also watched him carefully, interested to see his reaction to having a prospective wife who was part owner of a roadside tavern.

His dark eyes lit with something like fascination. “The sister of a duke owning a coaching inn! Is that common in the future?”

“Not terribly.”

“But you own one. And I went there, and saw you across the crowded taproom, and instantly wanted you.”

“That’s not what happened.” Lucy shook her head, frowning at the memory of Thornecliff’s low, caressing tone shifting to bored dismissal when he found out she was Gemma’s younger sister.

The man on the chaise gave her a slow smile. “I may not remember the night in question,” he said huskily, “but I am entirely certain that I wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you. I know, because it happened in this drawing room, not half an hour ago.”

This man was lethal, Lucy realized with no small amount of dismay. No matter what name he went by.

But Lucy wasn’t going to tumble into his arms so easily this time. Removing her hand from his before he could catch her, she gave him a brisk pat on the shoulder. “Aren’t you sweet?”

“Am I?” He quirked a brow, looking pleased, and Lucy realized that it was true. This version of Thornecliff—Gabriel— did seem sweet. There was an ease to him that she’d never seen in any other incarnation of the man.

“So I’m sweet, and we are no longer enemies, to the extent that you have even consented to marry me. And this morning at dawn I fell out of your bedroom window.” He grinned. “Clumsy of me.”

He’d caught that too, had he? Well, Lucy refused to be abashed. “You didn’t exactly fall from the window. You fell while climbing down the trellis,” she corrected calmly. “It rained last night, so I expect it was quite slippery.”

Lucy thought he’d pursue the matter, that he’d ask her what he’d been doing in her room, be suggestive and insinuating and teasing, but instead he said, “That must have been frightening for you.”

Had she ever heard him sound so…gentle? It flustered her more than the boldest inuendo could have.

She didn’t have time to come up with a response. Nathaniel had finished ordering people about and stalked back over to the chaise to loom over Gabriel.

Clearly feeling at a disadvantage, the younger man struggled again to get himself upright. And before she could think better of it, Lucy had slid an arm behind his shoulders to help prop him up.

“Thank you, Lucy,” he said quietly.

The way she’d leaned over to support him put her face quite close to his. Unbidden, her gaze dropped to his lips and she recalled, with perfect clarity, what it felt like to kiss him.

On the other side of the chaise, Nathaniel cleared his throat loudly. “Your room is ready. You should probably go get cleaned up and rest. Charlie? Help His Grace to the Blue Room, please.”

This close, Lucy could see the muscle that ticked in Gabriel’s jaw. But rather than protest Nathaniel’s high-handed behavior, after a swift glance at Lucy, Gabriel visibly forced himself to relax. He even managed a smile.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Ashbourn. I know this is an…awkward situation. I’m sure I’ll be recuperated enough to be out of your way soon enough.”

“Not too soon,” Lucy protested, standing back reluctantly to let Charlie take her place. “You mustn’t rush your recovery. You’re welcome here for as long as you need.”

“Yes,” Nathaniel said, a touch dryly. “My prospective brother-in-law must be considered, of course, part of the family. Even if no one saw fit to seek my approval for this match.”

“Ah,” Gabriel said, as though putting together a puzzle. “If you are duke, that means Lucy’s father is no longer with us, and you are the head of the family. My apologies, sir. Obviously, I don’t know what circumstances led me to propose to Lucy without speaking to you first?—”

This, Lucy could not allow to stand. “Oh, please. As if I need my brother’s permission to wed. I am a grown woman with my own income!”

“You are,” Nathaniel conceded mildly. “And God knows I’ve learned better than to attempt to control and direct your life, Lucy. But it’s traditional, all the same. No doubt Thornecliff was on the point of speaking with me, once he had secured the promise of your hand.”

Was this charade going to destroy her brother’s friendship with Gabriel? Well, surely no more than Nathaniel finding out Gabriel had taken Lucy to bed without promising to marry her.

What a mess. Lucy pressed her lips together and told herself she didn’t care about Gabriel’s friendships or his reasons for turning highwayman, or whether he’d only slept with her as a cruel, humiliating joke after she’d told Thornecliff she hated him.

As she hovered by Gabriel’s side while Charlie helped him walk slowly from the drawing room, she knew that none of that mattered.

She would see this through, to protect her family.

And perhaps along the way she might begin to answer the question that had begun as a whisper and grown to an incessant drumbeat at the back of her mind.

Who was Gabriel de Vere?