Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

A fter dinner, Lucy ushered everyone into the drawing room where Caroline settled at the piano, the lingering warmth from the fireplace following closely behind them. Her slender fingers danced across the ivory keys. The room filled with the gentle strains of a Mozart sonata, the melody weaving its way through the air like a calming balm.

The final notes of the Mozart sonata faded, leaving a gentle silence in its wake. Lucy, nestled beside Duncan on the plush velvet settee, couldn't help but steal a glance at him. The firelight cast a warm glow on his face, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw and the way his brow furrowed slightly in concentration as he listened to her father's booming voice.

He seems to be enjoying himself, Lucy thought, a small smile playing on her lips. Earlier, his discomfort with her family's boisterous gestures had been evident. Yet, as the evening progressed, a subtle shift had taken place. He participated in their debates with a quiet wit, his own laughter rumbling in his chest, a sound that sent a delicious tremor down her spine.

A pang of guilt pricked at her conscience. Perhaps she hadn't fully appreciated her family's warmth before. In a bid to find balance in navigating her new life, she had failed to realize how much she missed their open affection, their ability to laugh freely without fear of judgment.

"That was delightful, Caroline," Augustus boomed, his voice tinged with genuine admiration. "Your talent never ceases to amaze me."

Caroline blushed a delicate rose. "Thank you, Papa," she murmured, rising from the piano with a graceful curtsy. "I can play another one if you'd like." This she said, referring to the duke.

"Go ahead, Miss Hatcher," Duncan encouraged.

As the music swelled and ebbed, Augustus leaned towards Duncan, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Ah, Your Grace," he began, "I've been mulling over a business proposition..."

Lucy caught a flicker of concern flit across Duncan's face. His brow furrowed slightly, and his gaze seemed to pierce through the room, analyzing some unseen detail.

"Hold on a minute, Viscount," Duncan interjected, his voice a touch sharper than usual, "what exactly is the nature of this venture?"

Augustus, surprised by the interruption, blinked in momentary confusion. "Well, Your Grace," he began hesitantly, "it's a new cotton mill, Lord Harrington assures me it will be a goldmine. Promises the latest technology, booming demand, the whole shebang."

Duncan's lips pursed into a thoughtful line. "And what is the asking price for this investment?"

Augustus puffed out his chest slightly. "A hefty sum, to be sure, five thousand pounds."

A low whistle escaped Duncan's lips. "Five thousand pounds for a venture with such…uncertainties," he mused, his voice laced with concern.

Augustus's initial bravado faltered. "Uncertainties? What do you mean, Your Grace?"

Duncan leaned forward, his posture radiating an aura of quiet authority. "Viscount Pemberton, if I may be frank, the textile industry is a fickle beast. The market saturates quickly, and new technologies often become obsolete within a few years. This Harrington fellow, is he reputable? Does he have a proven track record of success?"

Augustus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, I wouldn't say proven, exactly," he admitted sheepishly, "but he seems like a genuine sort, wouldn't you agree?"

A grateful look flickered across Duncan's face. "Indeed," he agreed, his tone softening as he addressed Augustus directly. "Viscount, I wouldn't want you to make a hasty decision you might regret later. Perhaps I could take a look at the details of this proposition? I may have some insight that could be helpful."

Augustus's initial apprehension melted away, replaced by a spark of hope. "Your Grace, I would be most grateful! Your expertise would be invaluable in this matter."

He reached out, his hand hovering instinctively towards Duncan's shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie. Lucy, mindful of Duncan's earlier discomfort with such physical contact, discreetly placed her hand on Augustus's arm, gently deflecting it.

"Perhaps, Papa," she said gently, "a handshake might be more appropriate."

A flicker of heat rose to Lucy's cheeks. She realized the sharpness in her tone might have been perceived as rude. "Oh, forgive me, Papa," she stammered, her voice laced with apology, "I didn't mean to sound so harsh."

Augustus, ever the jovial soul, boomed with laughter. "Nonsense, my dear! You're quite right, a handshake it is." He extended his hand towards Duncan, who grasped it firmly in a formal greeting.

Stephen, ever the mischievous one, piped up from his corner. "Well, well," he quipped, a playful glint in his eyes, "it seems our Lucy is becoming quite the protective wife."

His remark sent a wave of laughter rippling through the room. Lucy playfully swatted at her brother's arm, a blush creeping up her neck. The warmth that spread through her wasn't solely from the crackling fire. Duncan's quiet defense, his willingness to offer his expertise to her father, had touched her deeply. It spoke of a kindness and a genuine desire to help that she found incredibly endearing.

"Stephen!" she exclaimed, a mock scolding lacing her voice. "Must you always tease me so?"

Stephen, unfazed, merely grinned. "Someone has to keep you on your toes, sissy," he retorted, his voice laced with a fondness that belied his teasing.

Duncan, observing the playful interaction between Lucy and her siblings, couldn't help but smile. A stark contrast to his own upbringing, where formality and decorum reigned supreme, the Pembertons' openness and affection for each other was refreshing. He felt a flicker of something unfamiliar stirring within him, a warmth that spread through his chest at the sight of their close-knit bond.

However, the memory of his earlier discomfort with their physical gestures – the casual pats on the back, the friendly arm nudges – returned. Despite the growing connection he felt with Lucy, a part of him remained hesitant. Years of social distancing and emotional restraint could not be undone in a heartbeat.

As if sensing his silent struggle, Lucy reached out and subtly squeezed his hand, her touch warm and reassuring. He glanced down at their intertwined fingers, a silent conversation passing between them. It was a small gesture, barely noticeable to the others engrossed in their conversation, yet it spoke volumes.

He was touching her! He half expected his hands to seize up at any moment, but they remained perfectly calm.

He used his thumb to stroke the back of her hand, feeling the slenderness of her hand against his, and the urge to have her alone to himself, to explore what other textures her body could provide, surged powerfully in his mind.

But decency had the better of him.

The rest of the evening flowed by in a pleasant haze of conversation and laughter. Through it all, Duncan found himself drawn into their world. He participated in their debates, offering his own witty observations and insightful commentary. He even found himself laughing along with Stephen's outlandish tales, a genuine smile gracing his lips for the first time that day.

As the clock struck ten, Viscount Pemberton rose from his seat, a hint of weariness in his eyes. "Well, I daresay it's getting late," he announced. "Perhaps we should all retire for the night. We have a busy day planned for tomorrow, with the hunt and all."

There was a chorus of agreement, and the Pembertons rose from their various seats. Lucy, feeling a pang of regret at the evening's end, led Duncan towards the grand staircase.

"That was a delightful evening, wasn't it?" she whispered, her voice laced with a hint of melancholy.

Duncan offered her a genuine smile, the warmth reaching his eyes. "Indeed," he agreed, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. "Your family is…unique. In the best way possible, of course."

Lucy chuckled. "Unique? That's one way to put it." She hesitated for a moment, then blurted out, "Duncan, I apologize for Papa's…enthusiasm earlier. I know it can be overwhelming at times."

Duncan shook his head, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Don't worry about it. Though boisterous, Augustus' intentions were good. I simply…am not accustomed to such physical displays of affection."

Lucy felt a wave of relief wash over her. "I see," she murmured, understanding dawning in her eyes. "Well, you needn't worry. I shall endeavor to keep them at bay, at least until you feel more comfortable."

Her throat seized at the unmistakable heat in his eyes. Heavens, his eyes were too clear. Too intense. Too dark. They called to her, to drown her in their endless depths.

"Duncan," Lucy whispered, unable to stop herself from stepping forward and reaching out to him. She found her fingers trailing up the length of his arms and resting on his hard chest. He reached out and tucked a stray curl behind her ear, shooting sparks through her entire being.

"Lucy." Duncan all but whispered, making her shiver. His hand snaked to her waist, pulling her closer. How wonderful he felt against her, all hard and male. All she could think was how warm he felt against her skin. Her eyes rested on his lips, urging, inviting, yearning for him to bring them to hers.

It seemed he read her mind, as he lowered his head ever so slowly, nearly killing her with anticipation. It was any moment now. They were merely a breath away, mingling breaths as neither dared to close the gap.

Her senses were heightened in the quiet of the hall. She couldn't deny the raw hunger in his eyes. All she'd known was his kiss, his touch, him. And yet, something within her ached for him. For more of him.

As though in answer to her inner pleas, his lips parted. Her heart raced and she closed her eyes, tilting her chin up, waiting for that familiar burst in her belly.

And then, nothing.

Her eyes flew open. There was no one there. The halls lay empty, and her husband– disappeared. Her heart sank. A wave of sadness and disappointment threatened to consume her.

What use was it to crave the touch of a man who would treat her in such a manner, to abandon her without so much as a word or a … kiss. Perhaps, ‘twas futile to hope that a man such as him could care for her in the ways that she wished.

Fighting off the urge to further wallow in self-pity, Lucy began the slow and arduous journey up the steps towards the only place that seemed to offer her comfort.

The crisp air whipped Lucy's hair around her face as she stomped along the gravel path with Caroline. They'd been doing these morning walks every day for the past few days, a chance to catch up and escape the usual early-morning hustle.

They reached the familiar weathered sign that pointed towards the stables. The familiar whine of horses was a comforting sound, instantly transporting Lucy back to childhood days spent learning to ride and sneaking cuddles with her favorite horse, Starfire.

"They're magnificent," Caroline whispered, awestruck.

"Indeed," Lucy agreed, running a gentle hand down the flank of a chestnut mare. "Duncan prides himself on his stable. Each horse has its own distinct personality, just like people."

They spent the next hour exploring the stables, chatting with the stable hands, and learning about the newest additions to the herd. As they stepped back out into the crisp morning air, Caroline announced, "Mother informed me yesterday that I shall be making my debut into society next season!"

A wave of excitement washed over Lucy. "Oh, Caroline, that's wonderful! I'm so happy for you."

Caroline's smile faltered slightly. "I'm a bit nervous."

Lucy's smile softened. "Of course you are. It's a daunting prospect, isn't it?"

Caroline nodded, a flicker of apprehension in her eyes. "The endless balls, the scrutiny, the pressure to find a suitable match…"

"But you'll do brilliantly," Lucy assured her, squeezing her sister's hand. "You're intelligent, beautiful, and possess a wit that could disarm a dragon."

Caroline chuckled, a hint of light returning to her eyes. "That's quite an image, Lucy. But thank you, truly."

The conversation took a more personal turn. Caroline's gaze swept over Lucy, a question lingering in her eyes. "Speaking of dragons," she began hesitantly, "how is your life as a duchess? I know everything happened so suddenly."

Lucy took a deep breath. "Different, that's for sure. But surprisingly pleasant. The duke…Duncan…is…not what I expected."

"Not what you expected?" Caroline echoed, a brow raised. "Explain yourself, my dear."

"No, he's not," Lucy replied with a warm smile.

"And he's not a snobbish brute, then?" Caroline interjected, a playful smile dancing on her lips.

They both burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the crisp morning air.

"No," Lucy admitted, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, "thankfully not. He's a good man, Caroline. Kind, intelligent, and surprisingly…amusing."

Wiping a tear from her eye, Caroline linked her arm with Lucy's once again. "Now, back to the important matters," she declared with a mock frown. "Who should I set my sights on next season? Tell me, does the duke have an eligible bachelor friend lurking about somewhere?"

Lucy chuckled, picturing Duncan's stoic expression facing an onslaught of matchmaking attempts. "Let's not push our luck, Caroline. But fret not, I'm sure there will be plenty of worthy gentlemen vying for your attention next season. And I, for one, can't wait to witness your grand debut!"

As Lucy and Caroline continued their walk, their laughter echoing through the crisp autumn air, they spotted two figures standing amidst the trees in the distance. Upon closer inspection, they recognized Duncan and Stephen, both clad in sturdy walking boots and breeches, each holding a long-barreled hunting gun. A flicker of apprehension crossed Lucy's brow.

"Do you see who that is, Caroline?" Lucy squinted, shielding her eyes from the rising sun.

"It appears to be Stephen and…the duke," Caroline replied, her voice laced with a hint of curiosity.

Intrigued, the sisters quickened their pace, their silk skirts rustling against the dew-laden grass. As they drew closer, the scene became clearer. Stephen, clad in his usual hunting attire – a worn leather jerkin and breeches stained with mud from past escapades – stood impatiently, a hunting rifle clutched in his hand. Beside him, Duncan, looking slightly out of place in his finely tailored coat, held a similar rifle with an air of bemusement.

"Stephen! What in heaven's name are you doing?" Lucy exclaimed, the worry in her voice evident.

Stephen, startled by his sister's sudden arrival, whirled around, his youthful face breaking into a wide grin. "Lucy! Caroline! Just enjoying a spot of morning exploration with His Grace," he announced, his voice booming through the still air.

Duncan, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes, offered a polite bow. "Good morning, ladies. Stephen and I were merely following a deer trail. We seem to have lost the scent, however."

Lucy's brow furrowed. "A deer trail, Stephen? At this time of day? You know perfectly well Papa wouldn't approve of hunting before breakfast."

"He doesn't know now, does he?" Stephen replied, his voice low and shy. "‘Tis not quite hunting. More like…investigating. But the blasted beast seems to have gone into hiding. No doubt they caught our scent and scurried off to a safer corner of the woods."

Lucy shook her head, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips despite herself.

"Well," she declared, her voice regaining its usual authority, "lost or not, you both look like you could use a good washing up. And I daresay breakfast will be ready soon. You wouldn't want a cold breakfast now, would you?"

"Quite right," Duncan readily agreed, his gaze fixed on Lucy for a beat too long. "Perhaps we should be ready to head back to the house."

Stephen slung his rifle over his shoulder. "Okay…"

As they started their walk back, Duncan fell into step beside Lucy, a comfortable silence settling between them. Caroline, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, lingered behind with Stephen, their conversation punctuated by bursts of laughter.

"Forgive Stephen's enthusiasm, Your Grace," Lucy said finally, breaking the silence. "He possesses a boundless energy that can be…trying at times."

Duncan shook his head. "Not at all, Duchess. In fact, I rather enjoyed our little…expedition. Stephen's enthusiasm is infectious." He paused for a moment, then added, "Besides, it provided a welcome distraction from the usual morning routine."

As they retreated towards the mansion, the duke, with a boldness that surprised even himself, reached out and gently intertwined his fingers with hers.

Lucy's breath hitched in her throat. The touch was unexpected, sending a jolt of electricity through her. The feel of his warm, calloused fingers against her own, delicate and pale, was a stark contrast that somehow felt perfectly complementary.

For a moment, they walked in comfortable silence, the only sound their footsteps crunching on the gravel path. Lucy stole a glance at Duncan, his profile bathed in the warm glow of the morning sun. His lips were curved in a faint smile, his gaze fixed intently on the path ahead.

Lucy felt a blush creep up her neck, a warmth spreading across her cheeks.