Page 59 of The Duke of Deceit

There wouldneverbe absolution.

“Sir?” Dalton stiffly took a single step forward. Concern radiated from every inch of the former aide-de-camp, yet he knew not to ask if Lucien were all right or if he needed help. That single word would be all.

“I need you to run an errand for me in the morning.” Lucien returned to the desk and reached for the bronze writing set. He quickly scrawled out a short message on a note card, then folded it, sealed it, and placed it onto the investigator’s report. He slid both across the desk toward Dalton. “At dawn, deliver these to Seamus Douglass at the Prince of Wales Inn in Cheapside. Make certain you put them directly into his hands.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have my saddle horse readied and waiting out front. I want to leave within the half-hour.”

“Not your carriage, sir? You want to travel by horseback at this hour?”

In other words, was Lucien willing to risk his safety by traveling exposed on horseback through some of the darkest, most sparsely populated areas edging London, where he could be easily attacked? In other words, had Lucien lost his mind?

“Yes,” he answered.

“Very well, sir.” Dalton turned toward the door.

“One more thing,” Lucien called out to him, stopping him. He reached for the quill and ink to write out a second set of instructions and a separate note to go with it. He held out the instructions. “Send one of the footmen out to purchase this in the morning and deliver it to that house.” He held up the folded, sealed note. “With this.”

The valet took both and scanned over the instructions in the dying firelight. A bewildered expression crossed his face, yet as a former soldier, he knew not to question orders. “Yes, sir.”

Twenty minutes later, Lucien descended the front steps and mounted his horse. He rode off toward Ealing, his heart now truly dead to the world.

Chapter Eighteen

Jess sat ina chair and stared at her easel on the far side of the garden room. She couldn’t bring herself to go anywhere near it. What was the point? Her art had always brought her solace before, but now her heart was no longer in it. Just the thought of lifting her brush took so much mental effort—energy she no longer had since Lucien Grenier invaded her life—that she couldn’t bring herself to even try.

The blasted devil didn’t even have the decency to leave her completely alone. Not him.Hehad to be a gentleman and not only reject her last night but then send her a gift this morning. The most thoughtful gift she could ever imagine receiving, too.

Her eyes drifted to the side table she used for storing her supplies and the bouquet that sat there. Not one of flowers—oh no! That would have been too ordinary, too expected. Too unlikehim. Instead, Lucien had sent her a bouquet of brightly colored sketch pencils, all tied with a red ribbon in a crystal vase. The unsigned card with it read simply,

I cannot honestly say that I am sorry for what happened between us—only that I am sorry for how it ended.

Damn him!Damn him for being so thoughtful. Only Lucien would think to tie her art to her heart like that. Her eyes blurredwith hot, stinging tears until the colors of the unusual bouquet melted together into a deformed rainbow.

And damn herself for falling in love with him.

After experiencing the gentleman, she wanted the rake back. At least he would know how to break her heart in such a way that it would have been cauterized thoroughly enough to never let her feel love again.

Oh, she had wanted to scratch his eyes out! But also throw herself into his arms to beg him to change his mind about making love to her. Every step from the grotto back to Auntie’s group of friends in the supper box had been sheer agony because she could feel him walking beside her in his misguided attempt to protect her.Protect her?She’d wanted to laugh. He’d already ripped out her heart. What more damage did he think could have been done to her while crossing the gardens?

She hadn’t expected to hear from him again.Hadn’t wantedto hear from him. She wanted to fade away into her own misery with a clean break from him. But she hadn’t even been allowed to do that. Instead, she was now more confused than ever over a man who claimed to want her even as he was pushing her away.

A sharp rap at the door caught her attention, and she blinked hard to clear away her tears as Simms appeared in the doorway. The dutiful butler looked apologetic for disturbing her, yet also oddly excited.

“Yes?” she asked. Remaining seated was rude, but she didn’t have the energy to bring herself to her feet. Perhaps his appearance had something to do with Aunt Matilda, who was spending the day shopping at Burlington Arcade. Jess hadn’t had the energy for that, either.

“You have a special arrival, miss,” he announced, keeping a smile in check. “From Ireland.”

Thatbrought her to her feet, and her heart pounded back to life. Amanda must have answered her letters about Lucien!Finally, she would learn the truth about him and what happened that night between him and her sister. Despite everything, she still desperately needed to know.

“Thank you.” She came forward with her hand outstretched. “You can give it to me.”

With a gleam in the butler’s eyes, he stepped aside and announced as formally as a master of ceremonies at the grandest ball—“Miss Amanda St Clair!”

Jess’s heart lurched into her throat when her sister walked into the room. She was barely able to believe her eyes, which now stung and blurred for an all-new reason.

“Amanda!” She threw her arms around her sister and hugged her tightly against her. “What on earth are you doing here?”