Page 80 of The Duke’s Wager

He suddenly looked at her, as though he had forgotten that she had been there.

“You. You will need to impress them, Lucy. You cannot wear anything you own, no… not for a ball at the Lockhart estate.”

Lucy simply looked at him, mildly surprised by his generosity. Her father was not one who was ever eager to give her a new dress – or anything.

“Maria! Maria! Get in here!”

His voice bellowed through the room.

Maria entered quickly, her head downcast. Lucy knew this look – it was one she carried far too often, and one that meant Maria had already been in trouble that day. She vaguely wondered what it was about, but there was no time to truly consider it, as Henry suddenly pushed her forward as though she was some prized pony.

“Lucy needs a dress. A new one. Get the required material and a seamstress. We have been invited to the Lockharts, and I want to impress them. Perhaps blue… or purple. You ladies can decide, but it needs to be dazzling, are we clear?”

When Maria looked up, her eyes were twinkling. She was as excited about this as Lucy was, and the latter could not help but smile.

“Yes, my lord. I will send for a seamstress at once.”

It took all Lucy’s self-control to follow Maria upstairs quietly, as opposed to grabbing her hand and dragging her all the way there.

Once they were in the room, Maria clapped her hands eagerly.

“I am thinking dark blue! Almost like the dress you had worn to the opera, with silver lacing and—”

“No.” Lucy shook her head, her voice clear. She knew what she wanted. She was certain of it, and she was not going to change her mind.

“I am wearing red.”

“Red?” Maria’s eyes widened in shock. “But Lucy… Is red not the color of a harlot?”

Lucy merely shrugged at this. Gone were the days when she cared about being regarded as a virgin or harlot. She was a woman, more of a woman than she had ever been. She would not allow anyone to make her feel less than she was.

“I am wearing red, Maria.”

The conversation was repeated when the seamstress arrived – a conservative woman, who was scandalized by every idea Lucy mentioned. Rather than the demure woman who merely took the suggestions of those around her, however, Lucy found her voice. When they finally agreed on a design, the seamstress clapped her hands eagerly.

“Oh, my lady! You will look lovely. Like a princess walking out of a fire!”

Lucy smiled at this. It was exactly what she had hoped for.

* * *

For Edward Lockhart, time passed far too slowly. Where he stood in his room, dressed in a dapper suit, he could hardly contain his excitement.

Today, after nearly a week of being unable to see the woman of his dreams, Lucy would once again be close to him. He would see her, speak to her… perhaps even dance with her and hold her in his arms once more.

It had been a torturous week, filled with dreams of the woman he adored. In the more beautiful of the dreams, he relived their passionate encounter in the carriage. He told her that he loved her, and she whispered a passionate reply. Once or twice, however, the dreams had turned into nightmares – torturous nightmares, where he was outside the carriage, and looked in to find Lucy sharing the intimate moment with Julian Pembroke.

It was after these dreams that he woke up in a cold sweat, with the full realization that he had to tell her the truth. Though he feared losing her, he needed to be honest with her.

He caught sight of his reflection and smiled. He looked different, even to himself. He looked – in Alfred’s words – lighter. As though he no longer carried such heavy burdens as the death of his parents. For the most part, he felt lighter too.

Tonight would be the night. He would finally admit the truth. He would tell her everything about the ill-thought-out wager with Pembroke, and how he did not care about winning or losing anymore. The only thing he cared about, the only thing that mattered, was her.

He loved her, and he would beg and plead for her forgiveness if she so required. He would do whatever it took to convince her to forgive him and allow him to court her.

He would even beg her father for his permission to court Lucy. He knew that Henry Beaumont had no time for him, but with the influence of his grandparents behind him, perhaps there was a way for Henry to relent.

Of course, neither his grandparents nor Henry would ever know the extent to which their relationship had progressed already.