Page 91 of The Duke’s Wager

“I did not raise a quitter, and I most certainly did not raise a coward. You go bathe yourself and get dressed in clothing not stained with Julian Pembroke’s blood, then you fight for this woman!”

Edward was not certain what exactly had convinced him. Perhaps the certainty in his grandmother’s voice or the encouraging nod from Alfred. All he knew was that he was going to do as she had said.

He was going to fight for Lucy.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Lucy did not know that one person could possibly be as miserable as she was. Her bed, the place that had been her haven and source of comfort when she hid from her father’s rage, was cold and foreign to her.

She felt so alone that she could no longer stay in it. Though it was cold, Lucy had not bothered to wrap herself in a cloak or coat. Dressed in nothing but the flimsy nightdress she had pulled over her head after tearing the miserable red frock from her body, she sat by the window, watching with fascination as the cold caused small bumps to appear on her skin.

To her surprise, the night passed rather quickly. She had been certain that it would drag by slowly, but no. Sunrise came far sooner than she had thought it would.

Sunrise.

Was it not a single sunrise ago that she sat waiting for the day to break with Edward’s arm wrapped protectively around her?

Their tryst in the cemetery felt as though it was a century ago – as though it belonged to a different time. As if it was a lifetime ago, and she had been a different person.

Where she sat next to the window, Lucy realized that she did not only mourn the loss of the man she had grown to love. She mourned the loss of the woman she thought she could be – a woman deserving of love, a woman with the ability and opportunity to find happiness.

Now, that woman was a mere memory, a fleeting shadow of another lifetime.

Lucy laughed sardonically to herself. It was shocking, was it not, how much could change in a mere day? A single sunrise ago, she had been a woman on the verge of being courted – a woman who believed in the sanctity of love, who believed that she may live a happy ending, have a healthy marriage.

It all seemed so tragically laughable now.

Lucy jumped at the sound of a gentle knock at her door. It could not be her father.

The door opened slowly, and Lucy watched with heartache as Maria’s terrified eyes appeared in the doorway. She stood quickly, her heart going out to the other woman.

“Maria! I do not understand. How— Why are you here? If my father catches you…”

“I brought you something to eat.”

‘Something to eat’ consisted of a steaming cup of tea and some of Nicolas’s lemon cake. A rather delightful breakfast, yet despite this being her favorite dish, Lucy could not stomach the idea of food.

What good was eating when you’d been betrayed by the only man you had ever loved?

“Thank you, Maria, but… I am not hungry.”

Maria did not look surprised in the slightest. She merely sighed and put the tray down regardless.

“I did not expect you to be hungry. The food… If I am being truthful, it was an excuse to get in here and see you. How are you doing?”

Lucy merely shrugged at the caring question. What was she to say? How was she doing, being locked up in her room and betrayed by the person she believed would save her from her misery?

“I am far more worried about you, Maria,” she answered eventually, quickly glancing over Maria for any signs that her father had gone to hurt the other woman. “Did he… did he leave you alone after you left?”

Maria looked at Lucy with a gentle smile. “He left me alone, Lucy. He did not touch me, I swear.”

Lucy nodded absently. It was one relief, at least – though it was a temporary one. Her father’s rage often got the better of him – and if it was not Lucy who paid for it, it would undoubtedly fall on one of the servants.

“Is he still angry? I mean… how—”

It was not that she wanted to know how her father was, per se. She merely wished to know if everyone else was safe from his wrath.

Maria hesitated at the question, then rushed forward and grabbed her hand. Her gaze was open and honest, more desperate than Lucy had ever seen it.