Page 41 of The Duke’s Wager

Yes, father.

The words did not come. Instead, years’ worth of suppressed anger and frustration came to a blow and she shook her head tearfully.

“It wasn’t my fault!”

“What?”

Stupidly, Lucy thought that her father’s question was stated as permission for her to continue.

“I didn’t invite Edward here, I did not even want to see him! He came of his own accord, and I was merely being polite. What would you have me do? Turn away the grandson of the Duke, throw his kindness back in his face, refuse to see him… all because my father isn’t at home?”

One look at his pale face told her that he had not expected an answer – or reason – from her. He was angry. Far angrier than she’d seen him in quite a while, and yet she could not stop.

“I am not a harlot. I only ever behave in a manner that attempts to make you proud, despite what that has done to my own reputation and…”

The smack echoed through the room.

She only became aware of the burning sensation in her cheek when he yanked her even closer, a hand grabbing her face and forcing her to look at him.

“You will not humiliate me like your mother did. I will not allow it. Do you understand me?”

There was nothing she could do but nod blankly, painfully aware of the stinging sensation on her face and the tears burning in her eyes.

She would not let him see her cry.

“Come, Lucy. Let’s get you out of here.”

She only remembered Maria’s presence when the other woman spoke, and Lucy looked up at her with wide eyes. There was a dangerous look on the woman’s face; her lips were pursed, and her eyes held barely contained rage.

She wouldn’t say anything, would she? Fear had a chokehold of her, and she reached for Maria blindly, shaking her head ever so slightly. The older woman nodded almost imperceptibly and Lucy took a large stride forward, into her comforting arms.

“Lucy.” Her father’s voice was cold. “This conversation is not over.”

She needed to get out of here, away from him – before his temper rose even further. Lucy knew that only two words were going to get her out of there without consequence.

She strangled them out. “Yes, father.”

She hated him. It was the only thought that she was aware of – the only thing that made sense even in the slightest.

She hated him.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Of all the days he had to live, year after year, this one was by far the worst. Unfortunately, it repeated every year.

The anniversary of his mother’s death.

Edward grimaced as he walked the all-too familiar path of the graveyard where his mother was laid to rest. The tulips in his hands were nothing compared to what he owed her – what he wanted to give her.

They were his mother’s favorite flowers, but they were such a weak gift compared to what she’d given him: life. Not that he was too fond of his life the way it was going, but that was not her fault – it was no one’s fault but his own.

Edward grimaced as he put the flowers down at the headstone. “Well…” He whispered the words dryly, trying to push down the emotion welling up in him. “Happy birthday to me.”

As usual, he had been unable to sleep the previous night, plagued by thoughts of his late parents. Ever since he could remember, this day had been filled with misery – where other children celebrated their birthdays with pomp and joy, his was marked with sadness.

His father had hated his birthday, Edward knew that much. He’d always lock himself in his study with a bottle of brandy on this day and not be seen again until the day had passed. Even his grandparents, great as they were – and hard as they tried – could not fully escape the misery this day brought.

It was Evelyn who sat him down as a young boy, trying her best to explain to him why this day had been tainted.