Chapter Ten
A fire in the brazier warmed the parlor in Lucan’s apartments, but its heat did not reach him. He felt cold and empty. For the first time since he’d taken on his path to end Calydon, Lucan felt a deep wash of regret. He had convinced himself over the long months of plotting, his revenge would be sweet when he ruined Constance in the same way Calydon had done Marissa. Instead, its taste was bitter and vile, and Lucan had not even executed his plan.
It had been his full intention to have them discovered in a compromising position and to then refuse to marry her. Her ruination would have been completed. But he had been unable to do it. He had decided to find another path to bring down Calydon. But, God, the look in Constance’s eyes.
I feel you when you stare at me, you know. I felt you tonight before I even saw you. That has never happened to me before. Is it the same for you, Lucan?
When she had asked Lucan that, he had wanted to howl “yes”. He’d remained silent, fearing if he answered, she would see the truth. The instant her gaze touched him, it was as if some unseen force burned him, bespelled him, and he only had to quickly scan the crowd to find her stare hot with need caressing him.
He was aware of a strange numbness somewhere deep inside himself. After what had happened to Marissa he had promised himself he would never bed an innocent, never entangle himself with one. He had shattered the dreams and hopes he saw in Constance’s eyes. He supposed every young girl dreamed of courtship and marriage. It had been clear she expected him to declare for her. It made him feel hollow to think he had planned on doing worse to her. And for what? He doubted Calydon could feel the pain Lucan had felt when he learned he had lost Marissa so cruelly.
Please confide in me.
The memory of the heartfelt plea tormented him, and the knowledge of how much he had hurt Constance cut into him like a knife. He could hardly explain that he had been trying to save her from himself. The huge pool of pain that had reflected in her green eyes had shredded something inside of him.
His sister had been brutally beaten for months, then hung herself. At least Calydon still had Constance. At least Lucan had not executed his vengeance on her. But he could find no comfort in his reasoning.
“Tell me what happened?” Ainsley prompted for the second time from his spot near the mantel.
Lucan did not look at him. Instead he went to the cabinet in his office and poured himself a glass of scotch. He downed the liquor in one swallow and poured another. The door opened and closed quietly, but he did not look up. It would be the Reverend.
“What the hell is going on? Did someone die?”
Lucan lifted his head, surprised to see the club’s accountant, his friend Marcus Stone entering. He was their fourth partner in the club. The man took in the wrecked office, the shattered glass, and overturned chairs with cool aplomb, saying nothing at Lucan’s apparent loss of control.
“Should I leave and come back?”
Before Lucan could answer him, the Reverend entered, scanned the destruction and poured himself a drink. They all waited on Lucan, his friends, the only ones he had trusted with his plans of vengeance.
“I failed in executing my plan to compromise Lady Constance last night at Lady Beaumont’s ball. In order to prevent her from further designs by me I pushed her away with cruel words.”
Marcus righted one of the overturned chairs and sat. Lucan could see the puzzlement in his friend’s blue eyes. “I don’t understand. Isn’t that what you wanted? The chit’s ruination? Why would you change your course?”
Lucan walked to the east windows that overlooked St. James Park. He dropped his forehead on the cool panes of the glass. He wanted Calydon to pay, but it was Constance enduring the most hurt now.
“I struggled against it, tried to push her away and find another path. When I told her that what has been burgeoning between us meant nothing I…I had not expected the evidence of her anguish to affect me so. There is a pain in my chest, a torment in my mind that will not ease.”
There was a pregnant silence.
“I have never seen you wax poetic over any female before,” the Reverend said, moving to stand beside him. “If you have such feelings for Lady Constance why not simply marry her? You are now a duke, I expect marriage to be somewhere in your future with your responsibilities to the title.”
“I cannot.”
“You can do anything you wish, Lucan,” the Reverend countered.
Lucan straightened, closing himself off from all the feelings ravaging inside. “I will not marry into the family of the man that helped to destroy my sister. I will not forgive Calydon, and I will not halt my destruction of him. I shall direct my actions so that Constance is not adversely affected.”