Page 90 of The Duke’s Wager

Lucy waited for the beating, the shouting, a kick or a stomp. Instead, he turned and left.

She sighed deeply when she heard the lock turning in the door.

She was alone. Completely and utterly alone.

* * *

He had to find Julian Pembroke and kill him.

How dare he! How dare Pembroke even speak to Lucy, much less tell her about the wager! Edward was going to destroy him.

He searched through the ballroom, practically blind with rage.

The anger boiled over in him when he spotted the other man, surrounded, as always, by his usual clique of fools.

Julian was speaking loudly – no doubt about some woman he had bedded – and laughing. Edward could not hear a word coming from the man’s lips, nor did he allow a sound to come from his. The time for talking had long since passed.

His fist shot forward as he stepped into the circle, hitting Julian square in the jaw. He watched with glee as the man toppled over.

To his ire, Julian laughed as he sat on the floor, rubbing at his jaw.

“I was wondering when you’d show up, Lockhart.”

This was it, Edward thought. He had finally had enough of Julian Pembroke and all he stood for.

In truth, had anyone asked him later what had happened, Edward would have been unable to provide a satisfactory answer. One minute Julian was sitting on the floor, and he was standing a good step away from the man.

The next minute, he was on top of him: punching, hitting, strangling…

Julian’s face disappeared as his fists made quick work of the man’s inflated ego. All he could see in front of him was the pain in Lucy’s eyes.

“Edward… Edward!”

Alfred’s voice drifted towards him as if through a haze, and then arms suddenly pulled at him, dragging him away from Julian’s bloody body.

“Get him out of here!” It was Alfred speaking again, directing his words at the frozen bystanders. Edward was vaguely aware of Julian’s barely-moving body being dragged away. Once the unusually silent group had left, he fell to his knees.

If he could cry, he figured, he would now.

“Edward? My dear boy…”

Suddenly, soft hands pulled him to his feet. His grandmother. He followed her quietly to the library, where she looked at him with an unusually sad expression.

Her sadness increased as he told her the truth – as he told her everything.

His love for Lucy, the wager, Julian’s betrayal, Lucy’s pain. Once he was done, Alfred shook his head sadly. Evelyn, however, put a hand on his shoulder.

“You were a fool, my boy.”

Harsh as her words were, her tone was gentle, and Edward nodded sadly. “I was. I blamed Julian for all of this when in reality the blame lies with me.

No one could deny the truth of this.

“Yes,” Evelyn agreed after a long silence. “You were rather foolish… but Edward, you cannot believe that Lucy no longer cares for you. Now is the time to fight for the woman you love, my grandson. I have seen the way she looks at you. Now—”

He started speaking, wanting to tell her that he could not go to Lucy and ruin her. That was all he was good for: ruining everything good and pure.

Evelyn shook her head sternly.