Page 4 of The Duke’s Wager

The cook grinned brightly at her excitement. “Your mother would have had the very same reaction, you know. She would have thought of clothes and blankets too, without a doubt.”

Lucy’s smile faltered. Though the staff in the kitchen had managed to lighten her mood after her awful dream, she missed her mother even more on days like this. When mama was alive, the house used to bustle with activity and warmth. She was the one who introduced Lucy to the kitchen staff and other servants and made sure that she knew they ought to be treated with kindness and respect.

Mama used to laugh with them, and Lucy could still remember the joy that permeated the walls of the house for her presence. Now she hardly remembered what laughter sounded like.

“Oh, Lucy…” Maria looked at her with a tender smile. Maria had become a substitute mother for her, and she appreciated – and loved – the woman more than she could begin to explain.

“Are you excited for the start of the season?”

Lucy scoffed at the question and shook her head firmly. “No, thank you. I am not interested in any of those ridiculous events whatsoever. I have no need to look for a husband to control me.”

Maria lifted a brow at Lucy’s scathing answer, and she sighed. “I apologize, Maria,” Lucy continued. “The dream upset me. And this time of the year, father gets even more ill-tempered than usual.”

“Of course…” Maria sounded sympathetic. “Your mother’s death anniversary is coming up.”

Lucy suspected it was one of the reasons why her dreams had become more frequent. “Did he ever…” Lucy hesitated and shook her head. Surely she could not ask the question that had been weighing on her mind ever since she had been old enough to understand. Yet something in Maria’s sincere eyes made her feel safe.

“Did he what, my dear?”

Lucy sighed. “Did my father ever love mama? Because… I just remember them shouting at each other. I remember mama crying a lot and I…”

Once again, Lucy hesitated. Could she open up about the harsh realities of what she remembered, or was it better to remain quiet about it?

“I remember bruises, Maria,” Lucy said finally. “So many. And I don’t think I understood it when I was young, but somewhere along the way it started making sense and I just knew—” She exhaled sharply, avoiding Maria’s sympathetic eyes. “I just knew where they had come from, and I hated him! And a part of me still hates him because…”

“Is this why you do not favor the season?” Maria’s voice was soft and gentle, and Lucy nodded quickly.

“I decided years ago that I would never marry. I will never give away my independence and power like mother did.”

Despite sounding convincing even to her own ears, Lucy knew how awfully empty her words were. Her father had paraded her mother like a show pony, and now that she was of age it was Lucy’s turn.

He did not care that she despised the events he forced her to attend, nor did he care that she had never expressed a wish to marry. He did not care that every minute of being paraded sickened her, that she hated every second of it, that she hated him.

To her father, she was a mere object, and hatred was far too complex an emotion for her to have. She had no choice but to bear it.

Maria did not respond. She merely looked at her sympathetically. The cook, for his part, placed a plate filled with delicacies in front of her. It was his way of showing care, and Lucy appreciated it more than she could express.

She forced herself to smile as she took a cream puff and brought it to her lips.

She knew that she was beautiful and that people envied her wherever she went. She knew that many a lady in the vicinity had expressed a wish to be Lucy Beaumont.

Sadly, she also knew that all she had said about being independent was a farce. She shared her mother’s fate for she, too, was a prisoner.

Yes, she had a beautiful home and everything that money could buy, but a gilded cage was still only a cage… And if there was one thing Lucy was most certain of, it was that she did not want to be in a cage.

CHAPTER TWO

Edward Lockhart hated the season. It was filled with vapid ladies who wanted attention and devotion without giving anything in return. Luckily for Edward, though his evening would be spent among women, they were certainly not ladies.

“Eddie? Where are you going?”

Only one person could get away with calling him Eddie, and that was his grandmother. Edward turned slowly to face the tall woman. The Duchess of Hartford was not one to mess with, and Edward knew for certain that he could not be honest with her.

He knew that he had been spending far too much time at the gentleman’s club, and his grandmother was growing weary of his shallow lifestyle. Evelyn was the matriarch of the family, and she was what one would call a ‘no-nonsense’ type of woman.

Edward did not believe that women like his grandmother still existed. No, she was a dying breed and in her wake, she left girls who flitted, flirted, and fluttered around daintily but offered nothing of substance.

“Grandmother! What a surprise…” Though he truly was surprised by his grandmother’s sudden appearance, Edward tried his best to keep his voice level.