Lucy and the Duke of Secrets: A Sweet Regency Romance (The Wishing Well Series Book 1) by Sofi Laporte

Author:Sofi Laporte [Laporte, Sofi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-10T05:00:00+00:00

The study was silent. Brown threw a furtive look at the duke.

“Brown.”

“Your Grace?”

“What in the name of all that’s good and holy am I to do?”

A look of understanding crossed Brown’s face. He cleared his throat. “The truth?”

“If you please.”

“I think you’d better marry her, Your Grace.”

Chapter 12

The next morning, the company slept in late. Lucy stood by the window of the drawing room, watching raindrops glide down the windowpane, when a low voice accosted her.

“Miss.”

She turned. Felix Xaver Zornmann, the footman, stood in front of her. “Yes?”

“His Grace would have a word with you in the library. If you could follow me.”

Lucy’s stomach jolted. She followed him to the duke’s wing.

He bowed and opened the library door for her.

Lucy swallowed.

She’d never been in the library before. It was a beautiful, oblong room, with windows on one side that allowed light to flood in, and tall, open bookshelves on the other. There was an ornate fireplace and several armchairs to invite reading and relaxation. The duke stood by the window, his back to the room, feet apart, his hands clasped behind his back. Dressed in breeches, top boots and dark blue topcoat, he was a stern, commanding presence. Lucy wanted to flee. Instead, she positioned herself behind the green fauteuil.

Silence.

Either he wasn’t aware that she was standing behind him, or he didn’t give a tuppence and let her wait intentionally.

Should she clear her throat? Rustle about with her dress? Drop into a curtsy? Even before he opened his mouth to say something, he made Lucy feel foolish, awkward and entirely ill at ease.

On top of everything, her nose tickled.

Lucy grabbed the edge of the fauteuil for support and waited with a sense of doom for the inevitable. “Aaah-chooo!” Unfortunately, it wasn’t a ladylike, cute kind of sneeze, but a violent eruption that sprayed moisture over the furniture. At least she’d got his attention. He spun around.

“Sorry.” She covered her dripping nose with one hand. She never had a handkerchief when she needed one.

The duke produced one, and she blew her nose noisily, while he watched with a raised eyebrow. She crumpled it into a wet ball and held it out to him. He looked at it through his quizzing glass and flared his nostrils.

“You may keep the handkerchief, Miss Bell.”

He couldn’t have said that with more condescension.

“Thank you.” Lucy sniffed. She had no place where to put it, so she kept pressing it into a smaller and smaller ball, while the duke kept looking at her in an austere way that gave her the chills.

What on earth was wrong with him? They were alone in the library. He could drop his mask.

“Well?” She raised her chin.

“Well?”

Lucy’s nerves snapped. “If otherwise you have nothing to say to me, I suppose I’ll return to the drawing room.” Wonderful, now she’d dismissed the duke in his own home. She turned and started marching to the door.

“Two things.”

Lucy froze in her tracks.

“Well?” For heaven’s sake. Couldn’t she think of another word? “I mean, Your Grace.

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