Page 89 of The Duke of Deceit

He looked over his shoulder, and his gaze met Jess’s. In that all-to-brief moment, she couldn’t read his thoughts, his eyes dark and his expression impenetrable. But she knew one thing for certain—despite his determination, he wasn’t at all happy to be doing this.

He turned back to the committee. “I am hoping that we can move with expediency to resolve the situation and push forward the petition. After all, the dukedom needs an heir—a legitimate one—which requires a wife, and I know how much all of youwould love to permanently keep me away from your wives while shackling me to one of your daughters.”

The men laughed stiltedly, letting the joke break the tension permeating the room.

But Jess didn’t find that at all funny. This time when she rose to her feet, Matilda didn’t stop her.

“I’m sorry, my lords,” Jess interrupted as she stepped past the row of dukes and up to Lucien’s side. “But His Grace will not be marrying any of your daughters.” She wove her fingers through his and tightly held his hand. She swallowed, hard, and prayed she was right when she added hoarsely, “Because he’s marrying me.”

Lucien stared down at her but didn’t say anything. Didn’t agree. Didn’t correct her assumption. Didn’t laugh. At least that last was a hopeful sign. She didn’t dare look away from him, even as she heard the men shift with irritation around her.

“I don’t care if they take the dukedom away from you,” she whispered, so softly only Lucien could hear. “We will find a way to care for Phillip and the family we’ll have, and we will be happy because we will be together.” She squeezed his hand. “Without fear of our pasts.”

Lucien’s expression didn’t change as he continued to stare down at her. “Mr. Graham!”

“Yes, Your Grace?” Henry came to attention at the side of the room.

His eyes never left hers. “You are to act as my legal representative going forward with the committee. You have a proxy for me to sign stating such?”

“Right here, sir.” He placed a piece of paper onto the table and handed him a quill set.

Finally turning away from her, Lucien let go of Jess’s hand to scrawl out his signature. Then he dropped the quill to the table. “Dartmoor and Greysmere will assist you as needed.”

Behind them, the two dukes seemed to grow impossibly larger and even more unmovable.Good heavens.

“Now wait one moment, Crewe,” Trenmear grumbled as he rose to his feet. “This isn’t at all normal. We need to—”

“My sincerest apologies, Trenmear, but an important matter needs my urgent attention.” He turned toward Henry. “Mr. Graham, did your fiancée pack a bag for Miss St Claire as requested?”

Henry gave a firm nod. “It’s waiting in your carriage.”

Jess frowned with confusion. “Mybag? What are you two talking about?”

Without warning, Lucien scooped Jess into his arms. A crooked grin broke across his face as he carried her toward the door, not caring about the confusion he was leaving in his wake. Jess clung to him, one arm looped around his neck, her other hand clasping his jacket lapel.

“Miss Davidson,” he called out to Matilda over his shoulder, “I’m eloping with your niece. I’ll return her to London within the fortnight, just in time for her sister’s wedding.”

Jess’s mouth fell open. “Lucien…”

“Enjoy Scotland!” Matilda answered, waving goodbye.

Jess swung her head to gape at Matilda. “Auntie!”

But her aunt wasn’t at all chastised. In fact, Matilda looked happier than Jess could ever remember, beaming with joy and on the verge of breaking out in a jig.

Henry Graham ran after them to open the door so Lucien could carry her away.

“You were in on this all along,” Jess scolded Henry as Lucien turned sideways to carry her through the door and gave her one last look back into the committee room. “You said you needed help with a wedding surprise for Amanda.”

“I said I needed help for a wedding surprise,” Henry explained a bit sheepishly. “I never said it was formywedding.”

Then he closed the door after them so the committee could proceed with their business, muting the sound of laughter from the lords and sobs of happiness from Auntie. The last glimpse Jess had was of a befuddled Duke of Dartmoor patting Auntie consolingly on her back as the plump woman threw herself into his arms and cried with unabashed joy.

“Lucien, put me down,” Jess ordered.

“No.” His long strides didn’t slow as he carried her toward the main entrance, earning surprised looks and amused laughter from the men they passed in the hallways.

“Let me go.”