“Neither do I,” Ethan said.
She gave him an appraising look, and he saw the beginnings of respect in her eyes. “That’s what Cesca said about you. That she forgave you because you’ve had to learn to be callous.”
“She said that?”
“It was what she meant. She said she can’t imagine what it must be like for you every time you appear in public.”
“What it must be like for me?” He scowled, uncertain how to take the girl’s revelations. He was used to being the subject of discussion and generally found it vaguely annoying, but the idea of Francesca discussing him was also somewhat—he groped for the right word—flattering? Or at least it would have been if it didn’t seem as though she felt sorry for him.
The girl took a quick step forward, blocking the light from a wall sconce. “She wasn’t pitying you—just commiserating. After you abandoned her at the Harcourts’, everyone was talking about her. I told herIhad a few things I’d like to say to you.” She glowered at him, pretty face scrunched into a look of contempt. “But Cesca said—” Her voice changed pitch, becoming higher and sweeter.
Ethan imagined it was supposed to sound like her sainted sister.
“‘Everyone makes mistakes, Lucia. And I know the Marquess of Winterbourne is an honorable man.’”
The girl looked at him expectantly, but Ethan was speechless. She’d defended him? Even after he’d humiliated her at the Harcourts’ ball, even after he’d treated her as callously as he might a beggar on the street, even when there clearlywasno defense for his behavior, she’d defended him.
“You’re right,” he finally managed. “I don’t deserve her.” He raked a hand through his hair. Francesca was beginning to annoy the hell out of him. No one could be that perfect.
“So you’re really betrothed to her then?”
“Yes.” He was surprised how easily he told the lie. He was surprised at how little itfeltlike a lie and at the ache of disappointment he experienced knowing it was. The disappointment faded rapidly when he thought of Victoria and her betrayal.
Lucia nodded and turned back to her door. “It’s just too good to be true,” she murmured.
Still in a daze, Ethan moved toward his own door, but her half-whispered words filtered through the haze. He turned back.
“What did you say?”
Lucia shook her head, a gesture of disbelief tinged with irritation. “Her life is too good to be true. Here she’s been in love with you—pining over you—for years.” She flung her arms out in exasperation. “And now she’s actually betrothed to marry you!”
Ethan’s heart stopped as though a large fist punched him hard and fast on the sternum. Francesca had been in love with him for years? He knew she was attracted to him—had called him the handsomest man in England, even said she loved him. But she’d been medicated and half-asleep, and her present behavior gave him no indication that she felt anything more for him than mild attraction. If anything, she seemed to activelydislikehim, wanted to be rid of him.
Perhaps her sister was mistaken. He scrutinized the girl more closely. She was young and silly, but not stupid.
“And it isn’t just you, you know! She always has her way,” the girl whined. “Mammaeven excused her from dinner, and with no guests invited well, except you—it will be sotedious.”
“She won’t be at dinner?”
“Francesca argued untilMammaand I had megrims. Finally,Mammatold the cook to send a tray to the hospital,” her sister prattled on. “Francesca insists she won’t leave the rabbit yet. I wishIcould eat in the hospital, butMammasays no. I’ve been trapped in the house all day with Miss Russell and her Latin and haven’t even had a chance to see the poor rabbit!”
“I’ll take you tomorrow,” Ethan said absently, his thoughts still on Francesca. He didn’t like the idea of her in the hospital after dark, even if Peter was with her.
“Really?” the girl shrieked. “Oh, thank you!” She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him fiercely. Ethan held his own arms rigid, afraid to move. “You will be the best brother ever!” She finally released him, then raced on long, gangly legs into her room.
Ethan didn’t blink for a full minute after her door closed. Pray God he never had a daughter. If she was anything like Francesca’s sister, he wouldn’t know which way to turn. Finally, shaking his head, he went to his own room.
Pocket lay in wait for him. The valet paused in mid-stride across the chamber, whirling to face him.
Ethan held up a hand. “Quit worrying, Pocket. I won’t be late to dinner.” He shut the door.
Pocket looked pointedly at the open watch he held in his hand. “I fear you may, my lord. But, in an effort to assist you, I have taken the liberty of laying out the blue coat and the white brocade waistcoat.”
“I won’t need it.”
“Oh, dear.” The valet looked anxiously at his watch before pocketing it.
Ethan strode to the small desk. There was a letter from Alex perched against the inkwell. He picked it up and broke the seal.
