Page 50 of The Duke’s Wager

There was something sincere in Edward’s eyes as he reached out to kiss her hand. “Better now that you’re here. I must admit, Lady Lucy, that these conversations have become the best part of many of my days.”

It had become the best part of her days as well. Still, she did not want to admit this… yet. So she merely smiled and took a seat next to him.

“I have something else to admit…” Edward spoke suddenly after a long silence. “My grandmother is rather protective of you.”

This was surprising.

“Your grandmother?” Lucy tried in vain to hide her shock. “She hardly knows me, why on earth would she be protective over me?”

Edward smiled sheepishly. “I have to be honest… I wondered the same thing, and I asked her about it.”

“Oh?” Lucy looked at him eagerly, and he nodded.

“She…” He hesitated, seemingly thinking about what he wanted to tell her, then continued softly. “She knew your mother. It seems as though she was rather fond of her.”

Even if he had said those words a million times, it would have surprised her the same way each time.

So his grandmother expressing concern for her because she knew her mother… It was different. It was as though she had a connection to her late mother – through him.

“Edward…” Lucy’s voice was a whisper, faint and delicate. “Oh, please Edward you must… you must tell me everything you know about her.”

She did not care for even a second that desperation and eagerness were evident in her voice. It did not matter what Edward thought of her, or if he’d laugh at the cracks in her armor. Nothing mattered other than the fact that she desperately hungered for anything that would make her mother’s memory feel more alive.

“I expected you would want to know more about her,” Edward admitted with a gentle smile. “And I asked my grandmother about her.”

“What did she say?”

Lucy watched wide-eyed as Edward relayed his grandmother’s words – painting the picture of a beautiful albeit shy woman who elicited charisma and friendliness, endearing her to all who came into contact with her.

“She was a graceful, elegant woman. One who was adored by all who met her. There were not many women like Henrietta, my grandmother said. As a girl, she was more than spirited. She took risks, loved adventure, and knew how to get exactly what she wanted.”

Edward’s face darkened, and his voice became more hesitant as he continued. “She changed, grandmother said, when…”

His voice trailed off, and Lucy closed her eyes. She knew the truth. She knew what he wanted to say but could not. She had suspected it for years.

No, she realized. She did not merely suspect it.

Lucy knew.

“She changed,” Lucy said with an emotionless voice, though tears burned behind her eyes, “when she married my father.”

“Yes. My grandmother… she does not seem to believe that your parents had, well, a happy marriage.”

Lucy smiled sardonically and stared at a leaf in the distance for a while. When the wind blew it away, she turned to face Edward once more.

“From what I can remember, your grandmother is right. My parents did not have a happy marriage.”

There was so much more to say. Yet something, perhaps a sickening twist of loyalty, kept her from elaborating. Instead, she waited quietly for Edward to speak.

“My father loved my mother very much,” he said softly, avoiding her eyes. “Too much, I think sometimes. When he lost her, he lost a part of himself too, and he was never the same again. My grandmother tells me that love like that is rare but true. That’s not…” He paused, then turned to face her. “That’s not your experience of love, is it?”

Lucy almost laughed. It was far from her experience of love.

“I don’t remember much,” she offered kindly, taking the cue from Edward to speak. “What I do remember is that there was a lot of yelling. Mostly from my father. I remember my mother crying a lot, and one of the servants lamenting that she used to be a happy girl. There’s this memory…”

She perked up slightly at this, glad to remember something clearly, even if it was rather tragic. “I was not allowed in my parents’ bedchamber often. My father… he did not care for my being there. Sometimes, when he was out, I was allowed in there, with my mother.”

Lucy closed her eyes and sighed. If she tried hard enough, she often found herself magically transported to this particular moment.