Sins of a Duke(66)
He hoped the fact that Calydon had given his blessings, indicated a change of heart on the lady’s part. While Lucan and Calydon had formed some sort of tentative friendship, the man had never once hinted where Constance had traveled to, no matter how often Lucan had demanded. He had wanted to travel the oceans, follow her to wherever she traveled and convince her to marry him. These past three months had been agony for him, where he envisioned several scenarios of the men he had scouring the continent for her, finding her, and giving him her location. He would then kidnap her and take her to his castle in Scotland where he would make love to her for days until she agreed to be his wife. But they had only been dreams, while he had waited for the year to draw to an end.
He glanced at the note a final time and then launched into motion, exiting the library where he had been ensconced for the long morning dealing with several business matters, namely the restoration of his entailed estates. He ordered his carriage around and for his bags to be packed, and sent out several missives alerting his friends to where he traveled, for it would take him a couple of days to reach Sherring Cross to see her.
Lucan prayed like he had never done before.
He prayed Constance returning was a sign in the lessening of her anger.
He prayed it meant she would forgive him. That she still loved him.
And he prayed he would have the strength to let her go if she did not want him.
Because Calydon would hunt him to the end of the earth if Lucan executed his plans of kidnapping her and secluding her at his castle until she married him. He smiled, though it was without humor, for he was fully aware, he would do anything to bind his green-eyed bewitching beauty to his side.
“Your Grace.”
He paused in the act of climbing the final steps of the mansion’s winding stairs and looked down at his butler. “What is it, Alfred?”
“There is a young lady here to see you.”
Lucan glanced toward the parlor, not wanting any delay in his leaving. “Lady Penelope?” he asked drily. Since his retirement to Wynter Park, his ducal estate these past weeks, the young lady tended to travel miles to visit him. She and her mother, the Viscountess of Fordham. It seemed the ambitious mammas of the haute monde were everywhere. He had not the withal to entertain them today.
“No, Your Grace, and this young lady is in the gardens. She said to tell you she is waiting for you. She refused to leave a name, Your Grace.” The butler sounded disgruntled and bemused at the same time.
“She refused to identify herself?” Lucan did not have time for foolish games. “And you did not refuse entry?” he demanded.
Alfred flushed. “Though petite, the lady has the will of—”
“Petite?” Lucan demanded a little too forcefully. For a split second, he felt as if he had been stabbed through the chest and his knees went weak. It couldn’t be her.
“Where exactly is she?” His estate was large with several gardens and lakes.
“She is by the rose gardens, Your Grace, I—”
He bounded down the stairs two at a time, passed the startled Alfred, and ran into the gardens. Lucan’s heart thudded and he forced his mind to be quiet. It could be anyone, but God, he knew.
He broke into a sprint after he couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. He slowed to a stroll as he neared and entered the secluded gardens as quietly as he could. A lady sat on a stone bench, spine taut, her back to him, dressed in a black crepe that covered her from head to toe. He saw the flash of her hands and a letter in them.
His letter.
The raw fear that filled him was unwelcomed. She was here to give him her answer, a yea or a nay. He held his breath in an agony of anticipation willing her to feel him, to face him.
…
Dear Constance,
My very first memory was seeing my sister Marissa take her first halting step. I had not thought to start this letter in such a manner, but the depth of affection and love I felt for my sister dictated much of my life and subsequent actions. It is not an excuse for the unforgivable way I have treated you. But I hope that in reading my words, you can find it in you to forgive me for hurting you.
Marissa had flaws and I own to them. They were flaws that allowed her to behave recklessly and hurt others with her selfish desires. She was also a warm, caring, and beautiful young lady, a most beloved and cherished sister. We grew up believing we had no ties to nobility or anything to recommend us to the life Marissa craved. When we lost our parents, I became her rock, and she was my solace in the enduring hardship I faced in working and living in London. I was in the Americas when I came into the possession of her last letter. She swore to end her life after being rejected by everyone she thought loved her, after being cruelly abused by her husband. I cannot express how my heart broke in that moment knowing she must already be dead, knowing how much she must have suffered and I had not been there. I traveled to London post-haste to discover she had already been dead and buried for several months. I will not burden you with the sordid details, but I am sure you know by now Marissa had been Calydon’s mistress before and after she was married. I see now they were both misguided, reckless and more than foolhardy in their passion for each other. But before I reached this opinion, I vowed to destroy everyone that played a part in her tragic death. It was the only way I felt I could repay her for not being there when she needed me. It was with this thought sustaining me that I directed my attentions to you when I realized Calydon also had a sister he cherished. I thought to repay hurt with hurt and pain with pain. But I was wrong.