My Once and Future Duke (The Wagers of Sin #1)(74)
Chapter 22
Jack spent the day trying to determine whether or not Lucinda might consider herself engaged to him.
It had to be investigated with extreme discretion. As certain as he was that it was all a scheme his mother had concocted with Lady Stowe, if word got around that he was discussing it, everyone would believe it was true, or that he was on the brink of proposing and making it true. If all of London believed them engaged, he would be in an impossible situation. When engagements were rumored but then failed to occur, it was widely presumed that either the lady had declined the offer of marriage, or something had changed the gentleman’s mind about making the offer at all. The latter would spread a rash of unfair whispers about Lucinda, which Jack had no wish to do; but the former would put the matter entirely in Lucinda’s hands. And if she had indeed grown up expecting—-wanting—-to become a duchess . . . he could very well find himself caught, with no honorable way out.
He made very little headway in either direction, though. His solicitor assured him that legally he was under no obligation to a woman until settlements had been negotiated. But Percy produced records showing the extent of his “looking after” of Lady Stowe and her daughter that surprised even Jack. He had approved everything at the time, but only when he saw the sum of it over seven years did he realize how devoted it appeared.
In desperation he called upon a man he knew only slightly. Once upon a time, before his father died, Jack had run with a crowd of hell--raising rogues. The wildest of them all had been Lord David Reece. He doubted Reece would have anything helpful to add—-Reece still possessed a wild streak and would never be called discreet—-but his elder brother was a different story. The Duke of Exeter, Jack dimly remembered, had been supposedly engaged to a society lady when he suddenly presented an entirely different woman to the ton as his bride. The new duchess had set tongues wagging; she was a commoner, the widow of a country vicar, and London seethed with curiosity to know how on earth Exeter had ever met such a woman, let alone married her.
Since Jack was considering doing very nearly the same thing, he felt a fiendish desire to know how Exeter had managed it. Fortunately the duke was in when he called.
“I have a rather intrusive question,” he began after being shown into Exeter’s private study. “One I would like to keep utterly private between us.”
Exeter’s dark brows went up. “How intriguing.”
“Once upon a time it was rumored you were betrothed to Lady Willoughby.”
The polite interest in Exeter’s face died, and his expression grew forbidding. “There was no betrothal,” he said coldly.
Jack nodded. “I never meant to suggest otherwise. It is the rumors I am concerned with—-specifically how they affected Lady Willoughby when proven untrue.”
For a long moment the other man glared at him. Jack remembered David Reece saying his brother’s stare could turn a man inside out, and thought that it might be true. Jack, however, was far too desperate to know the answer to his question, and simply waited. Finally Exeter spoke. “Dancing attendance on rumor will drive a man into an early grave.”
“Right.” He wished intensely there was anyone else he could ask. But he’d lost touch with most of his mates from years past, and was only realizing there was almost no one he could approach about this. “I would not ask if I did not find myself potentially entangled in a similar knot, utterly without warning or action on my part.”
Finally Exeter’s face relaxed. Something like a smile crossed his lips. “Ah. I know one thing—-marriage to someone else puts a quick end to the matter.”
His heart jumped at that thought. “But the lady presumed to be your fiancée . . . How did you tell her?” He could not leave Lady Lucinda to face a storm of whispers about why he hadn’t married her. If, indeed, everyone—-or anyone—-thought he was about to.
Exeter turned and gazed toward the windows. The casements were open slightly, and the faint sound of a child’s voice, raised in excitement, drifted into the quiet study. “I believe she read it in the newspapers,” he murmured. “It was . . . regrettable, but as I said—-there was never an engagement between us.”
Jack let out his breath in disappointment. He couldn’t possibly do that to Lucinda.
“I always thought it ludicrous that society took such an interest in my bride,” remarked Exeter idly. “As if my judgment could be trusted in the House of Lords to steer the course of Britain, but my choice of wife must be approved by all of London.” He glanced at Jack. “There are undoubtedly some among the ton who believe any man with a title and fortune rightly belongs to one of them, and they take his marriage to someone outside their society as a personal affront.”
“But you did it,” said Jack in a low tone.
An honest smile bloomed on the other man’s face. He rose from his seat behind the desk. “I did. Would you care to step into the gardens with me?”
Mystified, Jack nevertheless bowed his head in agreement. Exeter had been remarkably forthcoming on a very private topic. It hadn’t helped him on the question of Lucinda, but it did add to his growing belief that he was willing to chance a scandal to have Sophie.
That belief only grew as they went into the sunlit gardens. Exeter House, as one of the older great houses in town, was a small estate in the middle of London, not hemmed in by neighboring houses as Ware House was. A formal garden lay behind the house, and as they skirted a bed of roses, a little girl with long blond curls bolted toward them. “Papa!”